Matilda

Matilda lurks by the side of the road, in broad daylight ..near Cabbage Town. She blends in so well ..hardly anyone notices her at all. Like a chameleon, nature has outfitted her with urban camouflage exterior. Her appearance changes to match her surroundings. Now, to a passerby, she looks like part of the scenery ..like a mural ..a storefront ..or another piece of roadside debris. However, when young children come around, whose senses haven't yet habituated and become so narrowed down ..they know she’s there. I know that they know because, when we go by in the car, I hear little Francis yelling: “Hey look, there’s somebody living in the graffiti.”

Graffiti waif

Graffiti ~~> CookieWonton
Waif ~~> FroweMinahilds Stock

Drug warp

Looks to me as though drug laws do a better job of warping reality than the drugs themselves. They turn neighborhood suppliers into cartels with enough guns and money to control police departments. Traffickers gun down government officials in the streets of Mexico City ..and stack the heads of narco-agents on the steps of police departments in Vera Cruz. Meanwhile, we spend billions of dollars to fight a ‘war on drugs’ that hasn’t made a dent in the supplies reaching our shore. Misguided drug laws are the culprit ..they make smuggling a high risk venture that commands a high price for it’s contraband ..enriching suppliers ..and exacting a heavy toll on the lives of people trying to stop it. A legal but controlled chain of supply for recreational drugs makes a lot more sense to me. Even former secretary of state George Schultz agrees with this. So, how do you explain why government leaders continue to repeat the same policy over and over again ..without success ? Stupidity ..? Ignorance ..? I mean, we all know that prohibition didn’t work. The only thing left for me to believe is that there’s a political conspiracy keeping these failed drug laws on the books ..it gives people in power another way to persecute their opponents and maintain their position of authority ..regardless of which party they’re in (and I’m not saying this because I’m a conspiracy theorist ..although it helps). For me, the war on drugs is a tragedy on the same scale as the other un-winnable wars we wage.

Further investigation

C~c~c~cool day outside ..I’m listening to the birds ..Andy smells creatures that I never see, living in the creek next to me. Work has resumed on the Appalachian shack I’m happy to report. Arron says he’s keeping it low key ..not like the condos downstream. There’s an ‘onshore flow’ blowing inland. Andy gets on his feet ..lifts his nose ..and, with the focus of a laser beam ..we head upstream ..I’m not about to argue with a canine on a mission ..besides, I welcome the opportunity for further investigation. Along the way we meet Joe, who has moved into Rex’s old cabin ..he gestures like he owns everything ..declares his property off-limits ..and says that good fences make good neighbors ..yeah well, Rex gave me the combination to the gates a long time ago ..sounds like that’ll be changing soon. Now I feel a sense of gloom ..there are too many fences already. The sweet scent of ganja blows by ..coming from somewhere farther on. Around the bend, Andy and I meet a group of people: Kent, George ..a girl named Starshine ..and their dogs: Hero, Rusty and ..oh shit, I forget ..no wait, Luna. That’s it ..! Everyone likes Andy ..because Andy likes everyone ..and every living thing is his friend ..except, of course, those little creatures that I can’t see ..he tracks them but can’t say I’ve ever seen him actually catch one .. Kent tells me he’s not supposed to catch ‘em ..his job is to flush ‘em out ..perhaps trap ‘em. Later on, I’m walking home singing “Andy is a good ol’ dog ..he chases possum in a hollow log” at the top of my lungs ..from a bluegrass song ..I don’t remember the name ..oh wait, yes I do .. ‘Old dog Blue’.

Lab rat

It’s been awhile since I worked in a laboratory setting. Although I can’t say I miss it much ..I still have insatiable curiosity and powerful exploratory instincts. So now I’m using myself as a lab specimen ..and performing a periodic ‘content analysis’ of the commentary inside my head ..the one that interprets events in my life and tells me how badly I’ve screwed them up. Preliminary results show an accelerating trend toward critical self-loathing ..fear-mongering ..and reckless catastrophe theories ..in other words, it doesn't sound pretty. It uses a lot of profanity ..constantly mis-labels things ..and delivers mostly bad news ..multiplying the smallest matter ..for example, I miss a couple of payments ..and all I hear is how badly I screwed my credit ..how I’m never going to get a loan again ..so I’m personally screwed for the rest of my life ..forget about ever attracting babes ..because they’re going to foreclose on me ..and I can kiss the California dream good bye ..not to mention what a fucking dumbass I am ..and that I’d probably be better off drowning myself in the bathtub. I open the envelope and discover that my crime was forgetting to pay the grocery bill. Tentative conclusion: (we always had to make up one of these) Interpretation and commentary happen so fast .. I don’t stand a chance of catching a glimpse of the way things really are ..which makes worrying about them a big waste of my imagination..

Disturbing flashbacks

A police helicopter hovers above ..a voice over the loudspeaker gives the order to ‘disperse or be arrested’. Police in riot gear charge ..unarmed citizens flee ..some are trampled and beaten ..a peaceful assembly turns into chaos ..bullets fly. This was the scene at Macarthur Park in Los Angeles last week ..but my mind is also receiving images of People’s Park, in Berkeley ..from 1969 ..and they don’t look much different. Furthermore, I’m experiencing all the feelings of fear and loathing that I felt then ..and I'm not the only one ..those early images were burned into the psyche of nearly all the school-age children of my generation. It occurs to me that the ‘class of 2007’ is graduating next month ..after attending all four years of high school ..during wartime. Experiencing a culture at war, at this age ..is something you never forget. It becomes part of you ..like the Vietnam war is part of me. I have a built-in mistrust of government ..ongoing problems with authority ..and a career in ‘conspiracy theory’. History repeats itself, not only when government leaders ignore it ..but also when their minds are so scripted by it ..they can’t do anything different.

Entity

My fingers have blisters ..making it hard to type, hold a fork or cut tomatoes ..my shoulders ache and my forearms burn. I spent yesterday in the garden ..building a rock wall and topping trees ..I’m good at these things. Growing season starts in Novermber around here ..which makes this like ..fall. Everything was quiet ..just lifting stones ..listening to my breath ..not much going on ..except for someone in my head using a bullhorn ..shouting instructions ..and criticizing every mistake I make ..I think it’s an entity that gets activated in the morning as part my wake-up routine ..but gets lost in the buzz and strum of the day ..he’s coming in loud and clear now ..I’m going to see if I can de-activate him ..and still function OK.

Blur

My nightmares entertain me ..it takes a sonic boom to wake me ..daylight blocks my view ..ideals surround me. I follow a windy road ..compounding delusions as I go. People whoosh by like signposts at ninety ..their expectations confound me. Daylight dissolves into disappointment ..and the mist of ideals fading ..but that’s OK ..most of them are my own anyway. My niece Karla spent the day ..which I enjoy greatly ..goes by like a blur though ..we ate at IHOP ..walked around the lagoon at UCSB ..Andy explored ..I showed Karla where the students live ..we cruised Isla Vista ..walked on the bluff ..Andy ran into a volleyball game ..they told him it’s his turn to serve ..got a pair of converse for Karla ..then everyone disappeared ..people sure hang on and let go in a hurry ..only the voices in my head still remain.

Aria

I think my neighbor needs an exorcist for her teenage daughter ..while I don’t believe in medicating troubled adolescents ..it's gone way beyond a ‘talking cure’. Yesterday she took her mother’s new BMW for a joyride ..without permission ..and smashed it into a tree on a winding road. The car was totaled but fortunately no one was hurt. I drove the daughter, Aria, home while her mother rode with the police officer. Aria was in the twilight zone, as you might imagine ..but she did manage to tell me what her two biggest concerns were: “I wonder what my mom is telling the cop ..” and “I don’t want to go to jail”. I tried to assure her that she wouldn’t go to jail for this ..although things could get awfully tense around the house ..she might prefer jail. She didn’t laugh ..instead she went on to explain that one of the conditions of her probation was that she not drive. I asked, probation for what .. bad driving ..? No, for assaulting an officer. Did you slap him ..? No. I kicked him. Like, in the shins ..? (I’m thinking traffic stop). No, in the face .. I knocked him on the ground first. Was he giving you a ticket ..did he get out of line ..? No, it was at the police station ..he grabbed my arm before I could kill my mother. Turns out she was being released to the custody of her mother .. after being held for assaulting her mother ..and when mom arrived ..Aria attacked her in the lobby of the police station. It took three officers to restrain her. Although Aria is only 16 ½ years old ..she’s six feet tall ..athletic and well-ribbed ..with the temper of a mad bull ..she regularly uses her mom as a punching bag ..and trashes the inside of their house so often that the building department has condemned it ..the mother has been staying at her office (she’s an architect) ..while Aria stays with the only boyfriend she hasn’t beaten up ..at least not yet anyway.

New entrepreneurs

I wake up feeling pretty weird ..the toothpaste smears ..coffee spills ..it rained last night so the newspaper is soaked ..everything I touch turns to shit ..the toaster oven malfunctions ..and the top of the blender isn’t on right ..but there’s a momentary break in the clouds ..so, I lay the paper out to dry ..give the plants some sun ..walk up the road .. chat with a teenager sitting in a cherry ‘38 ford pickup ..because a friend of mine has one too ..he tells me he’s waiting for his girlfriend ..and they’re late for class ..I can hear them saying: “Really professor, there’s a long-haired lunatic out there ..!” I expect another visit from the police. Back inside, I experience a momentary break in consciousness ..and reawaken in the shower. Downstairs, the coffee is hot ..the newspaper is dry ..I sit down to breakfast ..and read about a group of marijuana entrepreneurs turning quiet suburban homes into hydroponic gardens ..in my old hometown no less (San Gabriel Valley) ..how ingenious ..until you get caught ..then I wonder ..if marijuana were decriminalized; perhaps a suburban homeowner wouldn’t wake up one mourning to find that his neighbor is a pot farmer ..and there’s a swat team outside the door.

Virginia Tech

They’re calling it a ‘thought disorder’ instead of a ‘personality disorder’ ..I suppose that’s because this goes way beyond driving cross-country, wearing diapers, to whack a romantic rival. It doesn’t make sense to say that someone committed mass murder because of a personality flaw. But, thought disorder ..now that sounds like something that registers higher on the scale of mental disturbances. I watched the video where Cho talks about being: “forced into a corner” ..but he wasn't sweating much ..not like I’d expect from someone who really felt threatened. Judging from the things I heard, he didn’t have much in the way of social skills .. I mean, stalking isn’t the best strategy for ‘hooking-up’. Sounds like he pushed people away ..and pushed himself into a corner ..then turned around and blamed others .. like the trust fund students ..for the situation he was in. I’ve seen other students deal with this by joining fringe groups ..I remember a kid who actually cut himself with a razor to show them how tough he was. However, in Cho’s case ..he was trapped by his own delusions ..and the only way he knew how to get out ..was the way he got in ..cold-hearted disordered thoughts.

I feel pretty heart-sick about the whole thing ..I guess a psych 101 post is my way of explaining it to myself.

Day at the beach

I get up in the morning ..splash water on my face ..go outside .. sit on the deck and drink coffee while reading the newspaper. There are more reports that dinosaurs aren’t extinct ..they’re flying over my head ..and I think of ‘Leghorn Foghorn’ ..except I know he can’t fly. There's absolutely zero breeze ..I figure the windstorm must have blown over. I grab a towel ..put the top down and drive to Butterfly beach. Now I’m sitting in a powerful onshore wind ..watching the surf getting chopped to smithereens. I take a deep breath and jump in ..to the amazement of everyone sitting on the beach. Arctic currents have replaced the warm water that was here yesterday ..feels like an iceberg just melted ..the pain knocks the wind out of me ..my brain freezes up and goes numb. I ride a wind-wave back to shore ..cover myself in towels that people have donated ..and shake uncontrollably ..trying to imagine what they think of me. I hop in the car, figuring a few minutes at the sangha might do me some good ..but the roads are closed for construction ..and people are forced to use surface streets. So, I decide to take an alternate road winding into the mountains ..and get lost. I manage to find some relief by peeing in the woods ..but end up rattling around for about an hour and a half until I find a road I recognize. Now I’m sitting in the sangha surrounded by people meditating ..trying to keep my hands from shaking ..my lungs from breathing too heavily ..and still trying to imagine what people think of me.

Monster wind

I found out what a ‘60 mph wind’ is like ..it’s a wild beast that howls through the canyon at night ..with jaws that gnash anything that hasn’t got sense enough to get out of the way. Like me, I spent the night staring at the ceiling ..imagining what a ten ton eucalyptus tree would feel like ..and wondering what the odds are of surviving the wind storm in a pickup truck on highway 101. I spent the morning clearing debris from a path of destruction coming right up to my door step ..and singing a tune, out loud, over and over ..that goes something like: ‘The sun will shine in my back door someday ..the sun will shine in my back door someday ..March winds will come and blow my troubles away..’

Ordinary events

The ringing in my ears turns into an air raid siren ..my heart starts racing and the room is spinning. I stumble downstairs ..check my laptop for messages ..then pop a provigil and a shower. I pick up a large cup of coffee at Muddy Waters ..which empties onto the passenger seat a few blocks later ..I pick up another one at Starbucks. I duck into IHOP ..chat with Adrian ..spread the contents of the newspaper on the table ..order a stack of German pancakes ..and wash them down with grapefruit juice and the Starbucks coffee. It says here that ‘shock jocks’ show just how low social values can go. I disagree. I think they show how low someone’s ‘verbal inhibitions’ will go ..especially when they’re rewarded so highly for broadcasting the first thought that crosses their mind every second of the day.

IV league

I’m walking down the road in Isla Vista with one foot in the present and the other foot somewhere in the past. Street vendors sell jewelry from the sixties ..the fragrance of incense and ganja drifts out of open doors and windows ..UCSB students, with dreadlocks and tie dye shirts, weave skateboards between people and cars ..girls on beach cruisers chat as they ride by ..defying traffic laws ..that’s why Diane won’t drive here anymore ..she says they do that to cash in on insurance claims. I don’t think they’re looking that far ahead. On campus, bicycles have the right-of-way ..out here, traffic signs don’t register ..there is no borderline ..they’re probably unaware they left school grounds. It’s a ‘beachy’ college town. Chris surfs the point in the morning, then leans his board against the cliffs, puts on a pair of Tevas and walks to class ..he’s back in the water before noon. Students with sandy feet cluster around computer screens in the library ..some are playing galactic conquest ..others are downloading articles from scientific journals. I can usually count on seeing Joseph here ..he lives on the beach but drops-in on classes in the religious studies department. He tells me that they’ve released a new volume of letters by Thomas Merton. His beard is neatly trimmed and his clothes are always clean.

Deception detection

I’m hiking up a trail wondering: does the building department protect the identity of people inquiring about construction permits ..or will my new neighbors end up hating me forever ..and are they really the new owners ..or a diversion set up by real estate developers so they can start excavating without permits (which can take forever in this town) ..or am I being paranoid ..distrusting soul that I am ..I do believe that I am being misled and I don’t like it ..after all, I’m smarter than I look ..and if it turns out that, I am just being paranoid ..well, I’m sure that my inquiries will remain anonymous ..another bend in the trail ..should I keep going or should I bail .. it feels all right so onward I go ..I think the ‘Phrenologists’ had it almost right ..they used to believe that a person’s ‘character’ could be traced to specific areas of the brain ..they even had a map for traits like ‘honesty’ and ‘integrity’ ..nowadays, we admit ..we do not have a clue where ‘character’ resides .. but we do know the location of various ‘mental abilities’ such as ‘speech recognition’ and ‘impulse control’ ..I wonder if they’ve discovered a site for ‘deception detection’ yet ..and if so, does it border on the site for paranoia ..?

Monster calamari

God-awful, gigantic, flesh-eating squid are swarming off the coast of California. They’re so big that, if you made calamari rings out of one of their tentacles ..they’d be as big as tractor tires. What‘s more, they don’t limit their diet to fish ..they will devour human flesh just as fast as a school of piranha. I always thought that ‘monster squids’ ..the kind that could crush ships and eat people ..were myths ..the things that horror stories were made of. Apparently not ..they’ve been around a long time ..but only in water so deep we never see them. That’s changed. Pollution and agricultural run-off have tilted the balance in their favor. By depleting the ocean of oxygen, water at the surface is beginning to resemble water in the deep ..allowing these foul creatures to rise up ..escape the grasp of their natural predators and multiply like crazy. They’ve been piling up on beaches in San Diego, Orange County and Palos Verde. I guess that means it won’t be long before I see them in the waters off the coast of Santa Barbara and Monterey ..joining the ranks of all the other horrors that populate my nightmares.

Chatter bots

A programmed ‘chatter bot’ opens Yahoo’s messenger service ..goes into the member directory ..looks up user ids ..and, for each one it finds ..opens a Yahoo message box and fills it with canned chat ..sending out invitations for people to look at them on a website where the number of page-views gets tallied ..giving someone the numbers they need to command higher fees for the banner ads you see. I usually respond by inviting them to look at my website first ..knowing full well that chatter bots are not programmed to listen. My college roommate used to do something similar when people came to the door handing out religious pamphlets. He always acted so delighted, telling them how much he loved these. He would ask them to wait at the door ..while he went into a hallway closet where he kept boxes full of pamphlets that other people had given him ..he’d select one at random ..and return saying: “I would like to show my gratitude by giving you one of mine to read.” Turns out those religious messengers weren’t programmed to listen either ..they usually just handed them back saying: “Sorry ..I can’t do that.” My roommate responded by acting hurt ..taking the pamphlet back ..and saying: “Well, if you won’t read mine ..then I’m not going to read yours.” ..and close the door. However, once in a while, someone would come to the door ..and actually sit on the steps and read one. My roommate didn’t mind inviting them in for a chat. So, who knows, maybe one day I too will find an IM waiting in my box from a ‘chatter bot’ who actually took the time to listen.

New medz

Flashing lights wake me in the morning ..my brain is trying to tell me something but I refuse to listen ..so it yanks me out of bed and slams me against the wall ..I try to focus but my eye sight is shattered .. it’s like looking through a kaleidoscope .. part of the floor drifts above me ..while things in front of me stretch around my periphery ..a hand reaches down ..then breaks into pieces that drift out of sight ..I figure I’ll catch up with it later and go downstairs for a cup of coffee ..but my kitchen has turned into squalor ..all the windows are broken ..and a group of skin heads have established residency in my living room ..I hear them talking but it sounds like gibberish ..I see grubby fingers juggling razor blades ..and bloody handprints smeared on the walls ..they turn to me and start to laugh ..I turn around and see tentacles reaching through the broken glass ..I try to run but get wrapped up by my neck and face ..and pulled through a portal into outer space.

The doctor just nods his head and says: “Please, tell me more“ ..while he writes me a ‘script for new medz.

My front door

Its’ been a long time since I was in the middle of nowhere ..not sure if I remember how to get there. One thing is certain however ..I feel like I’m getting stuck in the middle of ‘somewhere’. Fences are going up so fast that, pretty soon ..I won’t be able to recognize the canyon where I live anymore. It looks like the city of Los Angeles has leapt a firebreak ..somewhere around Calabasas ..and is spreading fast. Where it will end ..God only knows ..but now it’s right outside my front door. I’m finding out what happens when destructive forces cross natural barriers ..attorneys with unscrupulous practices follow. They steal a million dollar view and sell it to somebody else ..there ain’t nothing you can do. I hear when psychological boundaries collapse ..they bring doctors with the latest medications ..which is a good thing because maybe then I can find the middle of nowhere ..take off my clothes ..lay in the grass ..look up at the sky ..and feel like I’m part of the earth again.

Night sweats

I wake up in the middle of the night with a jolt ..my anxieties are coming out of the closet .. pressing against my chest and squeezing my throat. I try to shout but no words come out. My thoughts are loud and clear though ..and they are broadcasting like an air raid siren: “You gotta stop treating your attorney like he’s just a necessary evil ..and you better do something about that dead eucalyptus tree in the backyard before it does something to you ..and you might want to spend some time helping Laura with her banking situation before it becomes a bail-out operation ..and when are you going to deal with the mice living in the kitchen ..aren't you afraid of contacting hantavirus ..? And how long have you been driving with a busted tail light ..and unpaid parking tickets ..unpaid taxes ..aphid attacks ..and what about that pile of discarded electronic devices ..or those unpaid invoices ..?!” My hands are shaking ..adrenaline is leaking into my stomach ..my nerve-endings are frayed .. and I feel like my brain has turned against me ..I inhale deeply ..climb out of bed ..drive down to the shore ..run across the sand ..and dive into the sea. I’m laying on the beach ..waves crashing over me ..when a young bleached blonde helps me to my feet .. and says: “.. isn’t it funny how your thoughts gather ‘round ..and attack you in your sleep.”

Creekside sounds

The music stops .. the deck is quiet ..and I begin to hear the sound of birds ..and the swoosh of traffic on nearby Anapamu street. Words don’t come easy for me ..but I think sounds do. Sometimes, when I re-read my journal ..I hear a rhyme that I didn’t intentionally put there. Makes me think that language was built on sound patterns ..like the beat of African drums ..or the melody of bird songs. Nearby, a dog howls ..and I howl back ..it’s quiet again. I hear the couple arguing across the creek. I know they’re arguing even before I understand what they're saying.

“Where are you going with those (plants) ..?” she yells.
“I don’t know ..I’m just following your directions ..“Dear”.
“Well, how can you do that ..I haven’t made up my mind yet ..!”
“Oh, OK ..sorry (?)”

I get the feeling that she was just tossing out ideas ..and wants him to participate more in the planning process ..whereas he just wants to get the job done and go back to his beer ..so he’d like her remarks to be the last word. But I think there’s more to it than that. I say this because he and I have talked before .. he’s not interested in planting a garden by the creek .. we both agree that it should be kept natural. Like him, though ..I would probably keep my mouth shut too.

Jen'sphere

Sister Jennifer

Demolition man

My laptop went hurtling through space the other day ..then came crashing down on the living room floor ..the result of a high speed chase to the front door ...with my legs still tangled in the power cord. It works OK ..only now the monitor displays all the colors of the rainbow. So, I borrow Karla’s flat screen monitor to use until I get a new laptop ..but it looks so cool, I put it upstairs with my desktop PC instead. ..and the laptop, along with that big old desktop monitor, goes out into the garage .. and I’m sure Karla is sitting here wondering if she’ll ever get to download songs on her iPod ..burn CD’s ..or log on to MySpace again. Since then, my home theater system crashed ..my multi-media PC speakers burned ..and I’m starting to experience withdrawal symptoms from not getting a regular supply of auditory stimulation. I make a frantic run to all the electronic stores ..circuit city .. compUSA ..frys ..and radio shack. I go online to the manufacturer (Hercules) ..then amazon ..eBay ..even someplace called DJsupply. I learn that it makes no sense to try and repair anything ..but, replacing them with something that I think I can hook together seems fraught with confusion and despair ..time is running out ...and I'm beginning to feel hopelessly strung-out. I call my friend Dave, who has a small, store-front consulting service for people building high-end, computer gaming systems ..I never thought I would have to go to this extreme. When I say store ..I mean a bunch of closets crammed full of shiny silver boxes with work orders attached. He tells me to come by ..he may be able to do something for me. After sitting there and patiently listening to me jabber on for like twenty minutes ..he pulls, from out of nowhere, a set of multi-media speakers that sound killer ..next he shows me a notebook PC with high definition monitor ..DVD and CD burners ..built-in wireless networking ..a zillion and a half gigabytes of everything ..Bose speakers ..and while I’m sitting there salivating like Pavlov’s dog ..he says he’ll throw in a 22 inch flat screen monitor by View Sonic ..for Karla ..and I’m thinking, does Karla really have to know about this ..?

Writing behaviour

Birds are fluttering over my head ..I don’t see them but their shadows look like giant bats swooping across the deck ..I look away but now it feels like they’re coming at me from out of the corner of my eye ..so, I deliberately block images from that channel ..only to see them come in on a different one ..yesterday a hawk landed on a nearby tree in Franceschi park ..Karla and Andy were playing in the woods ..I called them but it flew away before they got there ..probably because I was yelling ..after that we walked into a grove of spongy leaves where Andy could pick up some speed .. I can watch him run like that for hours ..reminds me of ..uhhh ..what’s the name of that Greek god ..the one with wings on his feet ..the Flash ..? Anyway, I turn down the volume of those thoughts and return to the writing table in front of me ..a cold wind blows by ..leaves fly ..the candle goes out ..images of Big Sur arrive ..fade ..and pass away ..now I’m in a gap between images ..now I’ve stopped writing altogether ..and I’m wondering why .. I guess my thoughts are not registering very high on the scale of things that interest me .. I remember reading an interview in the paper yesterday with a college instructor ..and I ask myself what’s so interesting about that. He says that an inflated sense of ‘self’ can actually interfere with success in college ..I guess it seems interesting because it sounds so contrary to popular belief ..I mean, isn’t that how you get ahead in this country ..? No, he says .. it’s actually better to believe that there are things out there that you don’t already know ..softens your defenses ..and puts you in a more receptive frame of mind. He says that students come to school so full of themselves ..they don’t have room for anything else ..the ‘buzz’ of self esteem actually blocks whatever the instructor is saying. I think back on my college days ..and I remember learning pretty quickly that ..I did not know shit ..so I figured I better stay tuned ..otherwise, I’m not sure I would have stuck it out .. probably would have bailed right from the start ..but I stumbled along ..come what may ..now, I don’t remember much ..but I have a vague feeling that I can continue stumbling over most obstacles that get in my way .. but I’m still not so confident that I can quit doing things to bolster my esteem. So, I tell myself, when I look back .. I better have some strange stories to write about.