Oh Mighty Isis!
Many of you are aware of Dr. Ding’s fascination with the padonkadonk-kickin’ Mighty Isis.
My Beyonce-In-Law, Tater, got me the DVD for GirlJesus’ Birthday! Thank you again, Tater!
Now, if I could only get my piggy mitts on Killer Drag Queens On Dope, my life would be complete.
Yes yes, not truly complete in an existential sense, but my life would definitely be more entertaining and fabulous if I had this movie in the clutches of my hot lil’ hands.
Bad Blog Contest Reminder
Click here for more deets.
Let the proclamation go forth across the land: the AskDrding reader who sends me a blog even worse than DateJesus will receive at no cost a free Dr. Ding CafePress item of their choice when the store opens in January of 2008.
CONTEST RULES
1. You must be over 18 and under 100 years old to participate.
2. The blog submitted must be an obviously active blog. It should have the most recent entry made not prior to October 31, 2007.
3. You may submit only one blog at a time to AskDrDing@gmail.com. If you’d like to change your entry, just email me a new blog and tell me to cancel your prior entry.
4. Last date for blog submission: January 2nd, 2008.
Adorable Primate Picture
Dr. Ding has nasty headcold this date. Cute monkey make feel better. Damn monkey good!
Dear Dr. Ding
Dear Dr. Ding:
Help. I had a huge fight with someone in my family over the Christmas holiday, and I am supposed to go to a family lunch on New Year’s Day. My problem is that the person I had the fight with is my sister, and no one knows we’re not on speaking terms at the moment. My Mom has cancer, and I don’t want to go upsetting her by having to explain why we’re not talking (my sister and me, I mean). Mom is having chemotherapy and is pretty run down. She’s hosting the meal, she does it every year, cancer or not.
I guess I should mention the fact that the reason my sister and I had the fight is really stupid. She for some reason dislikes my boyfriend and made a crack about him being a “biker without the bike” type of guy while we were washing dishes after Christmas dinner. It was just the 2 of us in her kitchen. I blew it off and didn’t react but she kept going. She kept asking “where is this relationship of yours going, anyway? Can’t he afford a ring? Is he working at a real job now?” agggh!! I’m not describing it right because I know this sounds not that bad, but it was the way she said it. She also said she thought I was above him and that I would be better taken care of by pretty much anyone else.
I think I should add that my sister is 4 years older than I am and hasn’t had a serious relationship in like 7 years. I don’t think she’s had a date in the last 2 years either. She wouldn’t let it go, she kept on asking questions in this snippy “trying to be funny” tone, and I just blew my stack at her.
I tried, Dr. Ding. I tried to be zen about it, but nothing I had said to her seemed to have an effect - she just kept washing dishes and looking very happy with herself! I’m proud of myself that I didn’t try to explain or justify my boyfriend’s choice of clothes or work as a mechanic. He definitely looks the biker part, but who cares? When I first met him I couldn’t even see his tats, so WTF. But…I did say to her that I thought she was probably just jealous because she hadn’t gotten laid since we had a democrat in the White House, and that she might not be so tempted to pick on me if she had a social life. I know, not the best thing for me to say.
I’ll get to the point: my sister never apologized, despite me later apologizing for my low blow about her needing a good lay, and despite me confronting her about her catty critical statements. She stomped out of the kitchen and when I finished drying, she was out in the living room with the whole family, my boyfriend in included, laughing and acting like nothing was wrong. She wouldn’t even look at me. The next day I tried calling her lots of times, left a bunch of messages, no answer. Nothing. No email either.
So now we’ve got this big family traditional lunch thing coming, and I can’t stand the thought of being around my sister when she’s acting like this. I guess I should also mention that this kind of crap has happened before, but usually it’s not so mean-spirited. I think she’s jealous of me somehow, even though she’s the one with the nice house, stable job, lots of money in the bank. I’m an artist and teach at a community college. I know we’re different in lots of ways but our disagreements have never been so long lasting.
How do I handle New Year’s Day without freaking out Mom or having my brain explode?
Seething in Splendora
Dear Seething:
Okay, you’ve laid (no pun intended) this out very nicely, and I like how you tried to remain detached and calm whilst your sister was busy poking you with sharp verbal sticks; good job! That’s not easy. And okay, so you unloaded a few choice vulgarities in her general direction. But, again to your credit you immediately apologized. Here’s the shocker though: your sister’s reaction may have more to do with the timing of your argument than any other variable in this cozy little family equation.
It’s Christmas. Stressful. Mom has cancer. Stressful. Sister is probably feeling pretty damn lonely and hasn’t had her sinuses cleaned in a dog’s life. Stressful.
To wit: she’s older than you, of a different temperament, has a more conventional lifestyle, and probably is seen by the family as the more “responsible” one, I’d wager. She’s probably standing there in her immaculate suburban castle that inexplicably always smells like scented toilet paper, looking at your hip beatnik self washing dishes, your equally exotic and unpredictable boyfriend a mere door’s breadth away, and realizing that maybe she’s never walked on the wild side of life, never stepped more than one single sensible brown leather clog’s step away from her comfort zone.
Your sister, being older and more staid, may identify in some ways with your mother’s issues of mortality that may seem alien to you. Often, people with cancer take a kind of stock of their lives, an existential inventory. And often they find they haven’t taken enough risks in life, or that they’ve inhibited themselves emotionally to the detriment of their relationships with others. So, after the surgery/chemo/radiation tango, they decide to travel or actually say I Love You or write their memoirs or get a gigantic boob tattooed in the middle of their chest. Truth. Trust.
Your sister may be looking at your mother’s struggle and thinking “Aw Christ, I knew I should have howled at the Midsummer moon/taken that trip I couldn’t afford/never decided that beige was my color.” And kicking herself. And then you come waltzing in like some fabu Riot Grrl, spreading pixie dust and farting butterflies, being all artsy and shoot-from-the-hip, and she can’t quite handle her anger at herself, so she takes it out on you, you biker-boning betty, you. How dare you follow what makes you happy whether in love or work, when you could be polishing your chromed-out BreadMaker and working for some gigantic conglomerate where everyone wears that same goddamn navy sweater on Casual Friday?
In other words, try not to worry too much about this. Your sister has problems with her own life that she’s playing out with you.
Consider not trying to hide stuff from Mom: she probably knows something ain’t right. And further, just because she has cancer doesn’t mean she’s made of glass. When folks have serious illnesses, one of the most insulting things we can do to them is act like they’ve suddenly lost their ability to function or problem-solve or just simply deal with life’s little shitstorms. It effectively creates this weird cloud of faux pleasantry and unwitting condescension around the sick person and eventually they get this idea that because everyone’s tiptoeing and hush-hushing and pasting on pained smiles when they’re nearby, that Oh Mah Lord, I’m Gonna Die Any Fucking Minute Here, Take Me In Your Arms Sweet Lil Baby Jesus.
Ideas for you to consider:
Friday Diatribe
Dr. Ding hasn’t written a good, old-fashioned, ass-whuppin’ Friday Diatribe in a long time, but here goes.
Life isn’t all about being smart, or funny, or talented, or cute, or athletic, or rich, or brave. It also isn’t all about being responsible, always-caring, dutiful, efficient, or organized.
If you want to have a better life, have better relationships with other people.
And, if you want to have better relationships with other people, start with yourself.
How to do this? Deceptively simple. Remember that you have all you need, a sacred soul inside you, to have a good life. Sure, you may have learned some really crappy stuff from your early childhood experiences, but that’s the neat part about having a prefrontal cortex; we get to override the conditioning of our developmental years by making choices that honor our inherently divine nature.
- Start making those good choices. Now. You’re more intact, more resourceful, more whole and strong than you realize, so get going.
- Stuck in a dead-end job? Nursing a sick relationship? What does that say about how you regard your pretty-damn-magnificent inner being?
- Think you’re stupid, unattractive, and inherently unlovable? Quit. Change your thoughts. Question your assumptions.
Bottom line: you must begin to relate to yourself how you would like others to. Simple, right?
I know, I know, it all sounds glib and all popular-paperback slick. But it’s true nontheless. At some point in all of the insight-oriented and transpersonal psychotherapies, the patient has to get to the point where they realize they’re worthy of respect and real love, period.
The rest is just filler. The Buddhists had it right: the ultimate goal is to realize one’s true nature.
DingChild In The Promised Land
Fuck yeah, my peoples!
Dr. Ding has busted out of her hibernation-like exile from the nurturing teat of the Internet, from the thrilling roar and crash of the Information Superhighway, to return to your loving gaze.
At least I think it’s loving.
No matter.
Dr. Ding has been having strange dreams since her wilderness sojourn, and I dreamt that I was back in my hometown of Shampoo-Banana, visiting.
I’m touring my old High School, and suddenly the class of 1987 is informed that an entire semester of our senior year didn’t count, and we must needs complete it immediately, on campus, lest our college and post-grad degrees be stripped from us. Hilarity ensues.
People start wearing A Flock Of Seagulls hairdos again, and enormous shoulder pads are shockingly abundant. It’s not a pretty time.
Dr. Ding is then forced by the intensely Darwinic forces of the late-century Midwest teenage social climate to eat alone in the school cafeteria, and later returns home to sullenly watch Ultravox videos in the basement.
Oh Midge Ure, reap ME! Featured here for your listening pleasure, Reap The Wild Wind, and Lament.
Sigh.