Americans Not Yet Ready to Go Green, Too Busy Going Blue

As an individual who works in the behavioral health field, I often just automatically assume everyone is nuts. Before we go any further I think it’s important for me to define Schizophrenia to those of you who are unfamiliar with the DSM IV’s definition of the disease. There’s a lot to it but for the purposes of this post all you need to know is that “The characteristic symptoms of Schizophrenia involve a range of cognitive and emotional dysfunctions that include perception, infernal thinking, language and communication…and symptoms associated with impaired occupational or social functioning.” To put it simply, those with schizophrenia often times have trouble with reality and perception and much of the time they have visual and auditory hallucinations. As in they see and hear things that are not there. Often they talk to themselves. I’m talking full out conversations. There’s so much flow to these conversations that at times I’m wondering if I’m the crazy one because I can’t see the other person they’re talking to. The conversation almost makes sense…Like, it’s so detailed on the one end that I can almost imagine what the other (imaginary) person is saying. Or maybe schizophrenics see/hear dead people…but then what do dead people have against me that they’ve several times told my patients to stab me with a pen or to throw books and furniture at me…and, WAIT! I’m getting off track!

Ok, now that you’re all armed with behavior health knowledge and the characteristics of a schizophrenic, enter THE BLUE-TOOTH.

I assume you’re familiar?? That little thing that attaches to your ear and is a phone. So you don’t need to use your hands and your actual phone is no where near your head, allowing you to walk down the street and just talk without having to really deal with your phone. The blue-tooth, though noticeable up close, is pretty small and only attached to one ear. So even from close range, unless you’re on the side of that person’s head where the blue-tooth is attached…well, you just have no idea that it’s even there. It pretty much looks like they’re talking to themselves.

Now most of you know that in any major city the crazies are aplenty. And can be even more easily found on public transportation…which I ride everyday. Further, it’s not as easy as profiling, because there's no shortage of people who skip their rent (and their shower) so that they can afford to have a super-duper neat-o cell phone. And there are a lot of white collar crazies too. TRUST. ME. But either way, the blue-tooth owner is too busy and important to even bother with using their hands. This has lead to some great confusion for me. I find that my everyday life now includes one more very important question. “Crazy person or just really, really busy and important person?” Either way, I’m sure I don’t want to sit near you on the CTA. Actually, if I had to choose (which I often do) I think I’d pick the crazy. They have more time for me, and I like to feel like I matter every now and again.

Urban Sidewalk Waterers

Dear Chicago Sidewalk Waterers,

Really? I have to wait for you? When I’m trying to make my bus/train to get to work at the exact same time that you decide you not only need to water your lawn, but your sidewalk and the strip of grass between the sidewalk and the curb? Now it all comes down to timing and my ability to run in heels. I’m now forced to wait until your rainbow of arcing water moves to one extreme side or the other…then I sprint! Full-force. To make it through before my business casual gets soaked. Again I ask, “really?” If it’s soooo important that your 5’X4’ lawn (and the sidewalk that borders it in your urban oasis) be quenched; do it at 5 am. I assure you the city will have fewer morning commuting sprinters at that time. I have to be honest, at that hour of the day my quads are still tight.

Stop it.

Sincerely,

REM

Who Knew?

My name is REM, and I am the smartest woman alive. It's true. For reasons that are too boring to name my laptop smashed to the ground. When I picked it up the 6, 7, 8, U, I, H, J, K, N, and M keys didn't work. Did I panic? No. Ok. Yes. I did. I text my computer friend. He didn't answer. I have like ZERO computer skillz, outside of writing papers and using the internet.

What happened next is a true story:

I popped off the strip thing at the top of my laptop (using a butter knife) where it like, folds shut/has the power button/volume button. I saw two mini screws, so I figured I'd unscrew them. I did. THEN I popped off the whole key board. I blew on it and poked at it and scowled at it. Then I noticed a pluggy looking thing. It looked like it would fit into another pluggy looking thing. It did. I popped back on the keyboard. Screwed back in the mini screws. Popped back on the strip thing at the top aaaaaaaand.............

I. FIXED. IT.

All the keys work. I have computer skillz that I didn't even know about! Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and realize I can speak Thai. Or Russian. I mean, what kind of other super-skillz do I have that I don't know about!?! This is HUGE!

Thank You CTA, #22 Bus!

Dear CTA #22 Bus,

I’d like to take a moment out of my day to say, thank you! Thank you for making it so that all three of me can commute at the same time. I just know that my boss won’t care that because the bus was 15 minutes late my one self was 15 minutes late. Not when three #22 busses show up at my stop at pretty much exactly the same time. Again, allowing all three of me to arrive at work at exactly the same time. Though my one self was 15 minutes late, my other two simultaneously commuting selves came with. Three of me equals triple the work, right? So who needs that extra 15 minutes? Not me. Not my boss. Not my clients. That 15 minutes (should I ever actually get it back) is just gravy! Between the three of us, looks like I might get out of work early today! Maybe the three of us will get home in time to watch a 4:00 Gilmore Girls rerun. We love that show. So again, thank you CTA #22 bus! Without your precise planning and execution only one of me would show up to work…on time.

p.s. I hope the simultaneous commuting me's didn’t smell what I did on my bus on their busses. I don’t know if they’d bounce back from something like that.

Nice Guys Finish Last...

Nice Guys Finish Last…

I mean, that’s what they say right? Well it has to come from somewhere…like ALL stereotypes (right Linda Lee?). So a friend and I were talking today and we (she) decided that I’m pretty nice (in a Gal way...not guy.). Like, to people’s faces. And so is she. Anyway, long story short…we decided that puts us at risk for coming in last! (Whatever that means. But it sounds HORRIBLE!) HOLY. SHIT. That is NOT ok! So we decided to be mean for seven days and see if our lives drastically improve. I can’t be sure, BUT I HAVE A GOOOOOOD FEELING ABOUT THIS!!! So far I’ve decided to ignore people I love and not to share my pretzels with my big dog. Also, I plan on telling people who chap my ass in the LEAST bit to get out of my life…AAAAND STAY OUT!!! over the next few days. It’s gonna be good. Tomorrow I plan on telling a few of my patients in the morning that they’ll never get better and no one cares whether or not they do…oh, and that daddy drinks because they cry. Also, I plan on telling my afternoon clients to go back to where they came from.

That’s all I’ve got so far, but I’m willing to take suggestions. As far as my partner in crime, I’ll keep you posted on her and my practice and findings. But let’s just hope we come out on top, eh? Or rather, first? Like, if nice = last, then mean = first, right? I’m onto something. Wish me luck! CHEERS!

WELCOME TO FUKUDOME!!!

The Cubs signing a dude named Fukudome…the bringing of a fabulous baseball player to a club in need or a GENIUS publicity stunt?

Either way, does it make anyone else want to say WEL-COME-OME-OME-OME TOOO-OOO-OOO-OOO FUCK-U-DOME-OME-OME-OME…!!!!?[Insert that “Y’all Ready Fo This?!” song or “Let Me Clear My Throat.”…oooh! And if they really know what’s up, “You’re Unbelievable!”]

Loop/Downtown Rush Hour Traffic Control—I don’t get it.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the rush hour traffic control team (TCT), let me briefly break it down for you: During rush hour periods downtown there are people in neon yellow vests that stand at intersections with traffic lights and instruct vehicles to stop when the light turns red and go when the light turns green. They also hold the responsibility of directing pedestrians to walk when the white man shape walk sign illuminates and to stop on the corner and wait until the walk sign comes back up when the orange stop hand becomes illuminated.

This is a HUGE responsibility, considering that thousands of lives are at stake. But there is some assistance offered to the traffic control team. The walk and don’t walk icons will begin to flash when they near the end of their current increment. This allows the TCT time (though not nearly enough, if you ask me) to prepare for their next move.

And since it’s an entirely new system that red light means stop and green light means go and white man walking icon means walk and orange hand icon means stop, this team is ESSENTIAL for the survival of downtown commuters. Fortunately there are A LOT of them. They’re very pleasant and the look on their faces says “There no where else I’d rather be right now then here with you and these cars.” Seeing these people before getting on the spacious and reliable red line with my fellow pleasant and spatially aware commuters is actually a really nice way to end the work day. I don’t know what they’re getting paid but I know that this city department is worth EVERY penny. Thank you Rush Hour Traffic Control! And on this mother’s day my mother thanks you too for getting her little girl home from work safe and sound each and everyday, which without you would otherwise be highly unlikely.

In other news, nearly all of the public health clinics in Chicago were closed because the city could no longer afford to keep them open. Understandable. They clearly have more important things to spend their (OUR) money on.

Unrelated: What’s really going on between Mary Poppins and Bert?