How to be a day-to-day person

For those of you who know baseball, a "day-to-day player" is someone who is mildly injured and therefore whose status must be re-checked day-to-day. As a person with Asperger's syndrome and severe, chronic depression, I've begun to treat myself in the same fashion. If you should ever be in the position of having barely enough energy to function, here's some help. Of course, before anything, you should find a therapist to work with. I see a terrific psychologist. There are great people out there. I am also indebted to my friend Sharon who has taught me how to try to harness my energy and to be honest about it. She's also taught me that depression is a real disease, not just a "sad feeling". People act like you can just "put on a happy face." Sometimes, you HAVE to fake it, but that doesn't make it real, my apologies to Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree who wrote a story which supposed otherwise. Sharon also taught me that no two persons' depressions are alike, so if what I say here doesn't make sense, don't do it. This is just how I manage. In a sense, these are instructions for me. I guess most instructions are really for the creator of the product and any ability of another person to follow them is purely coincidental -- unless you have a lot of users edit them.

First, relinquish all but the most important commitments. You have to go to work and, despite the fact that you have no desire to engage in fashion or its subtext, you have to wash and look, "respectable". GAP, LL Bean or some impersonation of such clothing (i.e. the K-mart version) will be fine.

Send out your laundry. You won't do it, and you certainly won't fold it. Just keep it simple. Something like: five pairs of khaki pants, two pairs of weekend jeans, seven shirts, two sweaters. Unlimited supplies of socks and all "foundation garments." I'm serious. You can't have too many pairs of white socks (or black socks) and the other stuff. If you get lazy about even sending out the laundry, having lots of those things will keep your clothes going for a few more days.

If you can, get some sort of permanent internet access. It helps to have a connection to the world.

Listen to Air America and the Head on Radio Network. If they get boring, listen to Bloomberg radio. All three stations tell the truth and the first two are pretty angry about it. The third means to make money off of your misfortune, but is honest about it.

Find a sport you can stand and watch it. If you are really lonely and standing in line at a store or on the subway, you can always find someone wearing the insignia of some team you recognize. Ask how the team is doing. You might make a friend, or, at least, you will pass the time nicely.

If you can handle it, get a pet. Preferably, get the pet from a shelter. Even goldfish, though, or hamsters, etc. are great. My cats engulf me in love and make me laugh. Any pet is a good idea, though. Having to care for someone in basic ways gives me hope and it is bound to make you feel more capable than before. There's nothing like feeding a little creature and making him/her feel safe. If you can't handle a pet of your own, I hope you have a friend with one. My godson, Queequeg, saved my life just by looking up at me. One time, he sat on my lap for 40 minutes and refused to get up (and you didn't make Queequeg do anything he didn't want to do, if you knew what was good for you.) I know he's in cat heaven chasing Karen across the clouds. He loved airplanes and took them with his mom to see his grandma in Illinois. He should have had his own frequent flyer miles. He's also protecting his mommy Sharon, as he always did. I miss you, Quiggy and I miss my first cat, Fred. I hope they are both bothering Karen and making her pet them.

Reach out when you can, but let people know that sometimes you falter.

Take a cab if you need to. It's not how you get there. It's that you GET THERE. Especially work.

Try to eat right. There are good frozen meals out there. If not, at least buy some good bread and some healthy peanut butter. Drink lots of water. If you need to, get cans of things -- soup, chili, vegetables. Try not to gorge on sugar if you can avoid it.

Make home comfortable. If you can afford it, hire someone to come in and help you clean. If you can't, try to take out little bags of garbage a day.

Do not beat yourself up about what you can't do. Level with yourself. If you can't socialize and go to work, well go to work and save up some energy for another day.

Make pals when you can -- email, phone and live. Sometimes an email is enough to get you going. Sometimes it isn't.

Don't make plans in advance. The tickets you wanted a week ago might not mean anything to you this week. Then again, it's good to get out of your head, if you can. I try to buy cheap seats if I buy any, so it's not the end of the world if I don't go.

Don't be afraid to ask for help. People like to help and you can probably think of small things they can do to make a difference. Like just coming over and helping you pick up a bit while you listen to the radio or music.

Remember that being "day-to-day" means that you might very likely be able to play as much as that you might not be able to do so.

Can We Create Oil Out of Garbage?

In many in-car conversations – those conversations partly energized by long drives and also irritated by them (as in, “When do we get out of Jersey, huh? When! Have I told you what I really feel about malls?”) – my friend Karen suggested to me that she had read of other ways to make oil than just hauling it out of the ground. Since I have always had a morbid fascination with the recycled dinosaur who fuels cars and is now fossilized in the remains of my record collection, I was loathe to believe her. Then one night, a few weeks ago, while waiting for a prescription at the 24 hour drug store (which has become my second home), I pulled out a shiny paged magazine about cars to find a one-page article about oil which can be made out of the remains of …old cars and other garbage. Inspired by this week’s Sunday Scribblings, I decided to do some casual research, though I have much more to do.

“Our Pétrole Epoque has left us with a TREMENDOUS endowment of trash. After oil runs out, immediately we shall begin to power our civilization on this heaped up refuse, and in fact, create NEW stylish trash with our trash endowment,” notes the blog Peak Oil (http://peake.blogspot.com/2005/07/trash-returned-on-trash-invested.html) And his pronouncement is supported by a dozen articles, including one in a 2003 issue of Discover which describes how all sorts of left-overs and other denizens of the dustbin can easily be converted into oil, also noting that Howard Buffett, son of the famous millionaire, was among those interested in investing in the Changing World Technologies which already has the machinery in place in a plant in Philadelphia. (Anything Into Oil Brad Lemley / Discover v.24, n.5, 1may03)


I haven’t quite mastered the science, yet, or found time to do an aggressive research on the failings of this process – initial research didn’t turn up much. Brian Lemley, in Discover notes that this process can utilize any source of carbons and that the refuse which is produced by this process is non-toxic. Just imagine the possibilities of taking the over-abundance of garbage we have in our world and transforming it into fuel! Certainly this, combined with ethanol and all of the other alternative energies proposed out there, should be able to help us end our addiction to crude oil and the cycle of destructive power it encourages.

And maybe then, I won’t get so aggravated on long drives because instead of contemplating the long lines of endless bargain shoppers I will be facing, I will think about how, ultimately, their and my obsession with particular items can be translated, surprisingly, into a source of energy cleaner than the anxiety which fuels us.

For more Sunday Scribblings, go to www.sundayscribblings.blogspot.com

Fortunes and Other Wishes

For Karen Beth Hunter, November 23, 1951 – September 2, 2005

Fortune No. 1: “Fly over the Brooklyn Bridge.”

My friend Karen Hunter, who died one year ago, September 2, loved fortunes and psychics and all things deeply spiritual, especially music. It’s amazing how much I took for granted that her tender person would always be with me. I’d readily admit, and I still say that “she was like a little baby” – she folded, much like a fortune cookie, into a soft curve on her side when she fell asleep and her skin was cool and sensitive the way a cat’s or an infant’s is. I have never felt as comfortable using my hands to communicate calm, respect or love with anyone else. The paradox was that her tenderness was sustained in large part by surprise and by adventure, whether this meant perching 3000 feet above the city in her plane and photographing it, or just riding across the Brooklyn Bridge on her bike.

Fortune No. 2: “Never leave anything loving unsaid.”

Karen said it was a sin to deny your feelings. I regret the many times that pride stopped me from just admitting I needed her presence. To Karen, I say now things I wish I had said and will live to regret holding back:
1) I had fun with you no matter what we did, whether it was shopping, attempting to fill out those insane Medicaid billing forms or just sleeping on your shoulder.
2) I overate because I WAS afraid. You were right. I was just as afraid of any kind of commitment as you were.
3) I am sorry that I was bossy at the July 4th party. I was frenetic with jealousy.
4) I cried on your back while you were asleep because I did not want to go home to the cats, even though I said I did. Thursday morning, the day before you left me, I wanted to tell you that I desperately needed to find a way to work this out. I could not stand it. I should have brought the boys over more, like you had started to suggest, but I was afraid that you would eventually get bored with me and them. I was also afraid to be hopeful, and to some extent, to try. I had become bitter because I knew you needed more space and more chances to meet people before committing to me and, knowing that, I felt a bit hopeless. Which meant I overate more and continued to cry on your back.

Fortune No. 3: “You will fall in love with a ‘Righteous Dyke’”
Karen had an MA in Divinity and she loved to talk to people about their misconceptions of the Bible, particularly of Sodom and Gemorrah.
I defy anyone out there NOT to fall in love with someone who can STILL get all charged up while singing the gospel song, “This Little Light of Mine, I'm Gonna Let it Shine” and can out-argue a Bible-thumping phony. In fact, I think everyone should have the chance to fall in love with their very own “Righteous Dyke” metaphorical or actual. By the way, Karen had wanted to dress up as a minister (aka the “Righteous Dyke”) and march in the Dyke March in New York, handing out flyers which corrected popular misconceptions about the Bible. (For a good article on Sodom andGemorrah go to http://www.religioustolerance.org/miles01.htm )

Wish No. 1: That you were here, Karen.

Wish No. 2: That I had never, ever been dishonest with you about when I was impassioned or angry with you. You could see the slightest change in my feeling on my face, and I had no right not to articulate what I desperately needed to tell you.

Wish No. 3: That I could get Wish No. 1

(photo by Dan Heller.)