Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 583

Time bomb

The medication that my wife is taking warns that it can cause diarrhea "weeks to months" after taking it. 

So when she's suffering from diarrhea in March of 2012, should she remind her doctor that less than five months ago, she was taking penicillin?

Seriously?

"Yes, doctor.  I had some questionable shellfish last night, and I just returned from a vacation in Mexico City where I drank tap water from public restrooms, but you should also know that 158 days ago, I was taking a medication that was probably responsible for this illness." 

Better question: 

How were the drug companies able to link incidents of diarrhea months after taking a pill to the medication?

Whoopi Goldberg apparently just learned yesterday that the N-word is considered offensive to some people. Shes also apparently an idiot.

This exchange on The View is stupid in many ways, but I found Whoopi Goldberg's opening comment especially moronic.

In discussing Republican Presidential candidate Herman Cain's recent use of the N-word, she said:

When the candidate Herman Cain talked about it, how radically insensitive it was, he didn't use the term N-word, which I guess is what we're supposed to be saying now.  It's so hard to know what to be saying now, so I just use the word.

Really, Whoopi?

You didn't get the memo on the N-word? 

We've only been avoiding its use for the last fifty years.

Sure, I have an older friend who will occasionally use the word Oriental instead of Asian, but this is an honest mistake made by a woman born more than sixty years ago, and the word Oriental is still used today to describe items like carpets and teas, so it's not as though the word has gone completely out of fashion. 

Not to mention Oriental is not nearly as racially charged. 

But the N-word? 

Seriously, Whoopi?

Is it really so hard to know what to be saying now? 

I understand that some people continue to use the N-word word, including African Americans who purposefully use the word as a means of stripping it of it's power, but am I supposed to believe that Whoopi Goldberg is not aware of the history and nuance involved with the use of the N-word and its general avoidance in most of popular culture today?

The moral high ground

From The Daily Beast:

President Obama bashed the Republican presidential candidates for not speaking out against the booing of a gay soldier during a recent televised debate. Obama said he did not believe in the "smallness" that's allowing major political leaders to be silent when an American soldier is booed.

"You want to be commander in chief? You can start by standing up for the men and women who wear the uniform of the United States, even when it's not politically convenient."

Is this a sign that my President is finally going to stand up and hitting back?

I hope so.

A near-perfect assemblage of words

When I was a kid, I watched roller derby matches on television.  In the Boston market, the television stations would air this sport at odd times opposite things like candlepin bowling and Saturday's Creature Double Feature. 

I haven't seen a roller derby match since those childhood days, but I have a friend who actually plays the sport in North Carolina, and I am secretly hoping that my next book tour will take me there so I can see a match. 

This week in his Idyll Banter column, Chris Bojalian explains the beauty of roller derby perfectly:

There are any number of reasons to explain the crowd at the Champlain Valley Exposition, but my sense is that any sport that combines interesting, athletic women in fishnets and ripped stockings with speed and the possibility of violent collisions is going to have appeal. There is also a soft, gauzy halo of nostalgia (didn't our grandparents watch roller derby?) combined with the hard edge of good-natured and completely filthy sexual parody. Half the skaters have derby names and numbers that are brilliant and, alas, unprintable. Here, however, are a few that are: "Ivana Thump," "Terminate Her," "Miss Dairy Air," "The Atomic Muffin" and "Track Infection."

Naked donut run or embarrassing tattoo on your bottom?

Which is worse?

A man forced to run around the parking lot naked in front of his coworkers with a donut affixed to a uniquely suited appendage…

…or a man forced to tattoo an image of his coworkers' choice onto his butt?

This was a plot point in this week's episode of The Office, and I contend that the naked donut run was the decidedly worse option (though it was portrayed on the show of the lesser of the two evils).

My wife disagrees, claiming that the permanence of the tattoo overshadows the momentary embarrassment of the parking lot streaking.

I argue that the discreet nature of the location of the tattoo creates a problem in only the most intimate circumstances, whereas the outlandish and embarrassing imagery associated with the run would be just as permanent in the minds of the coworkers as any tattoo. 

Thoughts?

Bittersweet

While I was away at for three days at a YMCA camp with my students, my father-in-law took some photographs of my little girl and sent them to me.

I know a lot of excellent professional photographers, and my father-in-law is one of them. 

It's remarkable how much instantaneous joy and simultaneous heartache these images brought me.

So happy to see my girl, so anxious to see her again. 

       

Resolution update: September 2011

1.  Lose 23 pounds, bringing me down to my high school track and field weight.

I am still down exactly 21 pounds as of this morning.  Three days spent at a YMCA camp followed by the Patriots home opener tailgating bonanza killed me.  

2.  Do at least 50 100 200 push-ups and 50 100 sit-ups a day.

I did not miss a day in September.

3.  Practice the flute for at least an hour a week.

I practiced for 15 minutes this week, the first bit of practice all year.  Maybe it's the start of something great… 

4.  Find a wine that I can drink every night or so.

Did not drink any wine in September.    

5.  Complete my fifth novel.

I am three chapters into the new book.  I had to rewrite the first two chapters about ten times until I got them right, and even now they still might not be right.  My half-finished novel occasionally calls to me, urging me to take the path of least resistance and finish it. 

I refuse. This new book will be better. 

I have a lot of work ahead of me.

6.  Complete and submit one children's book to my agent.

Still done. Revisions of the story continue, and a new story has been written. I meet with my critique group next week to hear first impressions.      

7.  Complete the book proposal for the non-fiction collaborative project that I began last year.

My photography partner and I have ironed out our differences and are ready to move forward.  Unfortunately I am devoting most of my writing time to the new book.  But I still hope to have a proposal written before the end of the year.  Still possible but less likely.      

8.  Complete an outline for my memoir

Done. The writing of the memoir continues.   

9.  Convince my sister to write on http://107federalstreet.blogspot.comat least once a week and do the same myself.

I'm not giving up, but I feel like giving up.  Maybe it was wrong to choose a goal that depended so much upon another person.   

10.  Drink at least four glasses of water every day.

Done.

11.  Complete at least one of the three classes required for me to teach English on the high school level.

I am scheduled to take the high school English certification test in November.

I will need two more classes, plus a passing score on the test, in order to be certified to teach middle and high school English. 

Since I originally needed to complete three classes and now only need two, I feel like this goal is accomplished, since it was only through my persistent efforts with the Department of Education that one of the required classes was eliminated. 

Anyone buying this rationalization?

12.  Try liver.

Nope.

13.  Publish an Op-Ed in a national newspaper.

The piece that I have written for The Millions, an online magazine offering coverage on books, arts, and culture, might be my last chance at completing this goal, though I may still repackage a blog post in the form of an editorial and shop it around.   

14.  Participate in The Moth as a storyteller, at a live show or on their radio broadcast.

Done.  I will completing in the the Moth's GrandSlam event on October 17.   

15. See our rock opera (The Clowns) performed on stage as a full production or in a dramatic reading format.

Our reading is scheduled for November 5 and 6.  You can read all about it and find out how to purchase tickets on the theater's website by clicking here.

16.  Organize my basement.

Progress continues, but a full day will still be required to complete the job. December break is my target. 

17.  Land at least one paying client for my fledgling life coach or professional best man business.

Done!  In fact, I met with my client today!  

18. Rid Elysha and myself of all education debt before the end of the year.

Still waiting on the funding.

19. Replace the twelve ancient windows on the first and second floor of the house with more energy efficient ones.

Still waiting on the funding.

20. Make one mortgage payment from poker profits.

No poker in September. I remain stuck on a little less than 25% of a mortgage payment so far.

21. Post my progress in terms of these resolutions on this blog on the first day of every month.

Done.

Before getting married, ask yourself this:

It's a picturesque Friday afternoon in mid-September. I am supposed to play golf with friends immediately after work and then join my wife and daughter for dinner at a restaurant of her choice following the round. 

Elysha has been at home alone all day with our daughter and can't wait to get out of the house.

What I thought would be a 3:45 PM tee time turns into a 4:20 PM tee time, setting our round back considerably.  As I round the bend and approach the third hole, I see that there are two groups backed up and still waiting to tee off.

I've never seen this course play so slowly.   

As I wait under the shade of a maple tree, I realize that there is no way I am going to make it to dinner with my wife and daughter.

At this rate, I might be playing the last couple holes in the dark.   

I decide that I should walk off the course so I can keep my dinner date with my wife and daughter. 

I text her the news.

Her reply:

Finish the round. Try to make the most of it. It's gorgeous out. You're with your best friends. Relax and have fun.  We can have dinner another time.

I know.  It's unbelievable. 

Here is my advice to anyone thinking about getting married:

If you think you have found Mr. or Mrs. Right, ask yourself this:

Had you been standing at the third hole that day, offering to walk off the course and head home, would your future spouse have sent you a text like the one I received?

If the answer is no, cancel the wedding and keep looking.

Every time I show this text to someone, I am told how incredibly lucky I am to have Elysha for my wife.

A couple of people have read the text and actually stared at me in disbelief. 

One person sighed the sigh of someone longing for a better in life.  

I know how lucky I am. I know very few few women as supportive of their husbands as Elysha, and I know even fewer husbands as equally supportive of their wives.

It is true.  I am incredible lucky.

But doesn't everyone deserve to be as lucky as me?

Elmo

I would've never given this film or its trailer a moment of my time prior to the birth of my daughter.  After witnessing the insanity of the Tickle Me Elmo craze, I had nothing but negative feelings for the stupid orange puppet.

But now that I've seen him in action, I love the little guy.  I want to be his friend.  He makes me wish that I could live on Sesame Street. 

There's something so innocent and kind and joyous about Elmo that I am forced to stop and watch every time he is on the screen.

I can't wait to see this film.

Marcel Prousts childhood sucked

There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favourite book." - Marcel Proust

As a lover of books and an author, this is a lovely thought, but Proust's childhood must have really sucked for him to feel this way.

I have many wonderful childhood memories of time spent with books, but can a rainy day spent reading a great book really trump an afternoon of tackle football in the mud or fishing from a canoe with the prettiest girl in school or getting lost for two days in the White Mountains of New Hampshire with your best friend?

I don't think so.

Proust's childhood must have really sucked for him to have felt this way.