Tag Archives: advice

Bill, does this look infected?

Hey Bill, I can’t really concentrate on my writing, not lately. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ve got this clicking in my jaw. It’s like, I was chewing some gum last week, everything was fine, but then there was this one chew where my jaw just, well, something happened, I can’t really describe it. It’s almost like the jaw bones, it’s like they missed, like wherever they’re supposed to connect when they go up and down, I don’t know, maybe something slipped out. But I was chewing so fast, it’s not like it just popped out. No, it popped, but then I continued to chew. And I don’t know how you chew gum, but this was like a hard chew, all of my jaw strength clamping down on a joint that, as I far as I can guess, was now totally out the socket. And that hurt, there was like an audible chnk sound, an intense pain that shot up the side of my head.

Right after that it started swelling, and I couldn’t close my mouth all the way. That was for like two or three days, and while it’s a little better now, there’s still some stiffness, my bite hasn’t really gone back to the way it was. And the clicking, that’s what I was getting at, even when I do manage to warm up my jaw and get a good bite rhythm going, there’s that click, like I’m imagining something just a little off, each time I chew I can hear it, click, click, click.

Do you think I should go to the dentist? I’m worried that they’re going to try to sell me on some experimental procedure that hasn’t really proved its effectiveness in the general public. From everything that I’ve read online, it’s like, if you have a jaw problem, just deal with it. Modern medicine hasn’t yet come up with a consensus on how best to deal with these issues. There are so many horror stories of people enduring painful surgeries and long recoveries, only to have things wind up worse than when they started.

And yeah, one obvious solution would be to just stop chewing gum for a while, maybe give my body as good of an interrupted chunk of time as I can string together to really try to heal itself. But I love gum. Which is a dumb reason to keep chewing, I get it, but it’s just that, I’m not entirely convinced that the gum chewing was the problem. I keep having this idea that something just got slightly out of whack, like a door that’s just barely off of its hinge. And I don’t know, I have this feeling like if I could only knock it back into place.

That’s crazy though, right? Hey Bill, I hate to change topics abruptly here, but the other day I was riding my bike and, I don’t know what happened, because I ride my bike every day, it’s one of those skills that I take for granted. So you can imagine how surprised I was when my right foot slipped off of the pedal. I was wearing shorts because it had just started to get nice out, and so the inside of my ankle made contact with the chain.

At first it didn’t look like it was going to be that bad, but then these thick globs of blood started bubbling at the skin, it was like it was condensing at the surface from the inside. By the time I pedaled home, the crimson stain on my sock was pretty noticeable. While the cut itself wasn’t that big, it was definitely deeper than just your average scrape, and so I don’t know, should I go and have it checked out?

It’s not bleeding anymore, I mean, it was a few days ago, but it’s really hard to clean out. I put on this invisible skin spray, but I feel like that just added an extra layer of gunk, and so I can’t tell if this thing is healing properly, or maybe there’s just too much liquid bandage accumulating around the edges of the cut. I don’t mind winding up with a scar, I mean, I know you’re supposed to get stitches within like three or four hours. But I just can’t shake the feeling like this thing is going to get infected, I’m not going to be paying attention, or I’m going to convince myself that it’s OK when it’s not OK, and the next thing I know, well … do you know that Calvin Coolidge’s son died from a blister? Yeah, he was just playing tennis, got a blister, didn’t tell anybody about how bad it was getting, and then he was dead. Sure, that was right before antibiotics, but if I don’t go to the doctor, it’ll be like I’m living in the early 1900s, like this thing is going to get worse and worse until it’s too late.

But on the other hand, I don’t want to turn into one of those wackos who goes to the emergency room every time he needs a Band-Aid. They’ll prescribe antibiotics, eventually they’ll stop working, then one day I’ll be sixty and I’ll get pneumonia and the doctors will be like, “It’s really strange, it’s almost as if your body isn’t responding to the medicine at all. Oh well, better get your affairs in order.”

I know I’m spending way too much time in my head, and whether or not my wound is life threatening or not, the anxiety I’m feeling is very real. And the only way I know to cope with it is to keep chewing gum, which, like I said before, may or may not be making my jaw problem worse. Bill, you’re a lot older than me, do you have any advice? Would you go to doctor? Is it worth the copay? I’ll send you a picture. Does this look infected?

Thanks Bill,

Rob G.

10 essential tips for dating Spider-Man

Don’t mess around with his web-shooters
Seriously, they’re not toys, OK, he needs them for fighting crime. Besides, that webbing could potentially be kind of dangerous. What if you press the button and it covers your nose and mouth? It takes like at least an hour for that stuff to dissolve. You’d suffocate. Spider-Man cares about you a lot, he doesn’t want to see you suffocate. All I’m saying is, you get really mad when Spider-Man goes through your purse to look for those mints you always carry around. Respect his personal boundaries accordingly.
You won’t know who he’s hanging out with at work
Spider-Man spends a lot of his time with other adults dressed up in various superhero costumes. While of course he would love to introduce you to his crime-fighting coworkers, there’s the whole secret identity thing that you have to keep in mind. That’s just the nature of his business. If people figured out who you were, they might be able to trace the link back to him. The next thing you know, Mysterio shows up at your house to kidnap you and draw Spider-Man into a trap. Do you want that kind of guilt hanging over your head? Besides, isn’t it kind of cool, the secret nature or your relationship? It’s like a hidden treasure, something only the two of you get to share.
It’s not that he didn’t like the surprise birthday party you threw for him
It’s just that, with his built in spider-sense, it’s really hard to pull a fast one on Spider-Man. Even if it’s the most well-intentioned secret, as soon you start getting past the idea stage into the actual execution, his alarm bells immediately start ringing. And yeah, he tried to act surprised, but everybody knows that Spider-Man is a terrible actor.
If he’s being a dick, maybe it’s the alien costume
All you’re trying to do is make plans to do something special on Saturday night, and he’s all not paying attention or putting in any effort to show that he even wants to spend time with you. Even regular boyfriends get in weird moods sometimes. But has Spider-Man been acting even more difficult and aggressive than usual? Maybe it’s the alien costume. It’s kind of a long story, but a while back, Spider-Man was sent to an alien world with a bunch of other superheroes to battle a collection of the earth’s nastiest bad guys. While snooping out some high-tech lab, he found an alien costume that shifted its appearance just based on his thoughts. But it turned out to be an evil alien parasite, slowly filling Spider-Man’s mind with hate and violence. The next time Spider-Man gets his spandex in a twist, maybe suggest changing into something more comfortable? If he gets really defensive, it’s probably the alien costume.
Or it could be the clones
This is kind of like the alien costume problem, but without as much overt Spider-Man being a dick. It’s like, you make plans with Spider-Man early in the day, and then when you see him later in the afternoon, he’s like, “Plans? What plans?” Don’t jump to conclusions. There’s a pretty good chance that there might be a bunch of Spider-clones running around, and the Spider-Man who you talked with in the morning might be a different Spider-Man from later in the day.
Try not to get upset if he doesn’t return your calls right away
Spider-Man disappears all the time. The X-Men need help in Antarctica and there’s no time to explain. The Green Goblin blasts him with a shrink-pumpkin and he has to figure out a way to return to normal size. Remember what I was talking about with alien costume? He was on that other planet for weeks. His girlfriend at the time simply couldn’t understand, and she dumped him. If you’re dating Spider-Man, you’ve got to get used to long stretches of time where he doesn’t return any of your calls or texts. But try not to get too worried. He usually makes it back home in good shape.
Stay away from the Brooklyn Bridge
He does his best to protect the ones he loves the most, but every once in a while, even Spider-Man falls short. Years ago he was dating this girl Gwen and, well, she fell off the Brooklyn Bridge. It was kind of the Green Goblin’s fault. Still. Just stay away from bridges.
Avoid keywords that might trigger a long boring speech
Power. Great. Responsibility. Uncle Ben. Nobody likes tiptoeing around their words, but unless you really like listening to that, “Great power, great responsibility” speech, do yourself a favor and don’t mention any of these triggers. In fact, if you feel like a conversation might be steering in this direction, try changing the subjects. Worst case, mention that you thought you heard someone screaming down the block. Because it’s a really boring speech, and he won’t shut up about it.
Don’t offer to do his laundry
You might think you’re being helpful, getting that gross smell out of his Spider-Man costume. But it’s impossible. Do you know where he goes in that thing? Sometimes in the sewer. Other times he’s fighting bad guys at the dump. It’s a nasty job, and if you mix any of your clothes in the same load as that costume, all you’re going to do is make your stuff smell like garbage too. And do you think Spider-Man wants to date somebody that smells like that? Come on, he gets enough of that at work. Just do your own laundry, and Spider-Man will do his.
Don’t expect a happy ending
Just try to enjoy the ride, because it’s not going to end well. Even if you somehow manage to not get thrown off the Brooklyn Bridge, even if things wind up going incredibly well, like you get married, maybe you’ll be expecting a child, it’s only a matter of time before it all blows up in your face. Doctor Octopus is going to steal the baby, and then it’s going to turn out that you weren’t really pregnant in the first place. At least you’ve got that marriage to fall back on, right? Wrong. Something might happen to Aunt May and Spider-Man might be forced to wish away your years of marital bliss in a deal with the devil in return for the safety of his elderly aunt. I’m just saying, the universe doesn’t want Spider-Man to be happy, and the closer you are to Spider-Man, the higher the chances that you’re going to be a part of that misery. Get out while you can. Why not try talking to the Hulk? Or Batman? Batman’s rich. Really rich. You should call up Batman.

Originally published on Thought Catalog

Don’t dismiss the power of the fortune cookie

Some of the best advice I’ve ever received has come from the wisdom found inside fortune cookies. Yes, those delicious sugar wafers have come to my rescue on innumerable occasions. It’s often something that I take for granted, finishing up a delicious Chinese takeout dinner, discovering those three or four individually wrapped cookies thrown in between the double-layered paper and plastic bag combination used to deliver my food.

“Why’d they give us five cookies when we only ordered two dinners?” I gave up on even asking, because some things I’m probably just not meant to understand. Like just how do they get those little slips of paper inside the cookies? Are they baked with the fortunes already pressed inside the layers of cookie dough? Or do the bakers have to try and slip the message inside once they’re out of the oven?

And why am I so skeptical? Why, after having had so much secret knowledge revealed to me through the power of the fortune cookie, do I still look upon these treats as mere trinkets? It’s like I can’t get past my reservations, I’m always telling myself, it’s just a little trick, an ancient Chinese gimmick used to boost Chinese food sales.

But it’s not a gimmick. Like one time I opened up a fortune cookie, and it read: “If you are afraid to shake the dice, you will never roll a six.” Ha, I thought as I munched on those lightly sweetened wafers, that’s cute.

Only, later that night, I was playing Settlers of Catan with my brother and a couple of his friends. For the majority of the game, I sat mostly on the sidelines. I don’t know if it was poor settlement placement or just bad luck, but I wound up limping through the session barely even accumulating enough resources to buy a development card.

But late in the game I experienced something of a comeback. “Six,” the player to my left announced after rolling the dice. That was big for me. That was like two sheep. “Six,” again, the next roll was the same, two more sheep. Pretty soon I was knee deep in sheep cards. I had enough to trade for wheat, for ore, I was building cities. Before long, I was back in the game, I had a realistic chance of overcoming my opponents and capturing ten victory points to secure the win.

The dice were in my hands. All I needed was another six and that would be it, game over. But I was so nervous, my hands were sweating, I was worried about rolling the dice. And that’s when the fortune from the fortune cookie popped into my head. It was like I could read it, the visualization was so real: “If you are afraid to shake the dice, you will never roll a six.”

I closed my eyes and told myself, you are not afraid to roll these dice. I said it out loud. Everybody was like, “Rob, what are you talking about?” but I put them out of my head also. With a loose fist on the dice, I tossed them once, twice, and there was the release. Boom, boom, the dice hit the table.

Six. It worked. And then another six. It actually worked too well. Because when you’re playing Settlers, you’re rolling two dice, or die, I always forget which one is plural and singular. But it doesn’t matter. Twelve. No good.

I wound up losing. But not before learning a very valuable lesson: never underestimate the power of the fortune cookie. Maybe I should have examined my fortune a little closer, because what I really needed with those dice wasn’t a six, but a three and a three. Or a two and a four. You know, six total, not six and six.

I thought, you know what? That would be a great fortune cookie fortune: “Never underestimate the power of the fortune cookie.” I went to the Chinese food place and asked them where they bought their fortune cookies from. My search led me to a wholesale distributor in Paramus, NJ. They in turn gave me an address to somewhere in, you guessed it, China.

Let’s just say that negotiations are still ongoing. The people in charge of the factory are reluctant to put me on as a specialist. Even though I feel like I could really breathe some new life into the fortune cookie business. Like, why don’t you ever see fortune cookies outside of Chinese restaurants? Maybe you just need the right marketing and fortune cookies could be something you’d find in the snack aisle, a treat to be enjoyed independently of chow mein or beef and broccoli.

Anyway, heed my advice. The next time you get a fortune cookie, pay attention. There’s a lot to be learned. Plus, these winning numbers have to work eventually. Also, I learned how to say pants in Chinese: ku zeh. Pretty cool, right?

Don’t give up on therapy; it works

I was getting so upset because the therapy wasn’t working. So after a couple of months, my talk therapist suggested I try some alternative therapies. She referred me to a dance therapist. The whole idea was to explore what was blocking me, through music, through the movement that my body craved to discover. It worked for like ten minutes, but then I remembered that I never liked dancing. Or maybe I just felt too stupid dancing. The dance therapist was like, “Rob, don’t give up, you felt something, right? Tell me you felt something.”

And I was like, did I feel something? I couldn’t be sure. I definitely felt more awkward as the minutes dragged on, and finally she was like, “OK, that’s it for today. I’ll see you again next week?” and I said yeah, sure, but she could tell that I wasn’t planning on coming back, and so rather than pretend like everything would be OK, she referred me to an art therapist. I thought, OK, I like art, I like to draw and stuff. Maybe this one will work out a little better.

The art therapist was all about telling me to unlock stuff. I didn’t really understand, she’d be like, “Unlock the feelings within!” but we hadn’t even done any art yet, we were still just sitting around. And there were supplies everywhere. Was this just a really long introductory session? Finally I made a motion for some colored pencils and the art therapist scolded me. She told me that I “wasn’t ready for the what the pencils wanted to show me,” and that I had to start with finger paints.

And it was, you know, it’s finger painting. I don’t even know if I ever really finger painted, or if I just associate finger painting as an activity that all preschoolers take part in during some point in their lives. Either way, the consistency of the finger paints made it impossible to really draw anything. And the colors just blended together. This stuff wasn’t drying at all. It was a huge mess. I got out in a hurry and cancelled the next week’s session.

I tried just putting it all behind me but I couldn’t get a grip on daily life. Little chores piled up. I wasn’t functioning. I went back to the talk therapist, and that definitely wasn’t getting any easier. The first ten minutes were her and I just staring at each other, me not knowing what to say, her just not saying anything either. I wanted to be like, “Why aren’t you saying anything?” but I could just tell that she’d turn it around on me, make it like I was the one shouldering a hundred percent of the problem, and she’d be like, “What would you like me to say?” and I’d be back at square one.

Finally I started moving my mouth, motioning as if I were about to say something, before stopping. The first time I did it, she did it too, because she really did think I was going to say something, but that only worked the first time. After that, it was just me half opening my mouth, occasionally gesturing my arm out, like I’m going to do it, I’m really going to say something this time.

The therapist said toward the end of the session, “Rob, I’d really like you to explore some more alternative therapies,” and I really wanted to resist, to protest, but I hadn’t said anything the whole forty-five minutes, and so, I don’t know, in an effort to preserve continuity, I kept my mouth shut as she told me about horse therapy, a pretty niche area of practice, something about me connecting with myself through horseback riding. It sounded nuts.

But she handed me the information, told me she’d make an appointment for me and I took it and left. The session was scheduled for two days from then, probably to discourage me from canceling, not giving me enough time to think it through, to forget about it, remember it, and then cancel. Sure enough, the whole next day I didn’t think about horses once. And then the day after that, I thought about it in the morning, and by lunch time I remembered that I had to call the whole thing off.

I found the card she gave me and called during my lunch break. “Billiards therapy,” the guy on the other end said. Billiards therapy? I’d never heard of billiards therapy. I confirmed my appointment and left work an hour early to head to the billiards therapist. There wasn’t too much instruction. It was just your classic game of eight ball. The guy kicked my ass like five times, but I got a few balls in. There wasn’t too much in terms of advice, aside from one point where the billiards therapist had all but the eight ball to clear. He lined up his shot, paused, looked up at me and said, “Rob, it’s almost like your problems, they have you,” and then he sunk the ball in the corner pocket before continuing, “by the balls.” After forty-five minutes he was like, “All right, that’s it for today. See you next week.” I asked, “Really? That’s it? And this is all covered by my insurance?” and he was like, “yeah.” I asked him for a note to get out of work early every week. I asked him if he could make it two hours early instead of one hour. He totally did it. And it’s working. Billiards therapy, man, it’s totally working.

My words of wisdom

I periodically give myself these pep talks. I do it in writing. I’ll get on the computer, open up a new Word document, and I’ll start typing, like, “You can do it Rob, you’ve got what it takes,” type of nonsense. Most of the time it doesn’t do anything. Usually it’s more of a physical exercise, a warm up for my fingers. Once I really get going, well then I’m going. I just use the whole motivational approach to at least try and get myself to say something positive, even if I’m totally faking it.

But once in a while, amidst all of the cliché phrases and platitudes that I’ll be mechanically typing out to myself like a crazy person, something will click, like maybe I’ll look at one of those cliché phrases from a slightly different perspective, and while I didn’t really expect anything to come out of it, I’ll feel slightly motivated. I’ll also be really impressed, by my apparent ability to just come up with amateur philosophy out of nowhere.

But then there’s the opposite also. The other day I was trying to pump myself up, I was telling myself, “Rob, listen, the hardest part is just getting started. Once you get going, you’re good.” And I was going with it. It made me feel good. It made me think that, maybe I’m a lot better than I give myself credit for. Maybe it’s just a matter of getting off the Internet, getting away from any distractions, stop reading the newspaper, stop trying to play and sing The Darkness songs on my guitar. It’s not happening.

And so there was some motivational magic in there somewhere. Every time I found myself with four hours to write, four hours might turn into three hours without a word written, without having pried myself successfully away from the Internet. And I’d say to myself, “Rob, remember, just get started, just go for it.” And it would work. Instead of wasting another two hours before maniacally trying to get everything done during those last sixty seconds, I’d start typing.

But after a while the magic wears off. You say the same thing over and over again, you stop thinking about what the words actually mean, you stop finding those new perspectives that provided that change in attitude, and then you’re just wasting huge amounts of time on the Internet again.

Then the other day I was back at the motivational exercises again, I was trying unsuccessfully to get myself going, to inspire myself, something. But, and this is often the case too, if I’m not in the greatest mood, I might start out saying like, “You can do it!” but my bad attitude laced consciousness will hijack control of my fingers, and I’ll start writing everything negative, how this isn’t working out and how that isn’t coming together.

Luckily this only lasted for like a couple of paragraphs or so. I caught myself. I thought, what, I’m just going to sit here and complain about myself, to myself? And so I pushed the positive thinking again, I pushed some bullshit positive phrases out. And somehow my fingers started typing up something along the lines of, “Look Rob, it’s easy to start something. It’s really simple to just begin a project. The hard part is finishing them up. The difficult part is the successful execution of an entire plan before moving on to the next.”

And for some reason this really resonated with me. I thought, yeah, that’s it, I’ve just got to go back and tie up all the loose ends, finish up the last paragraphs on all of these blog posts that I always just start writing up without ever ending. And then from here on out, I’ll make sure that I go all the way with my ideas, try not to let myself get distracted with a new idea before an old idea is complete.

And it was the same way. This provided me with a couple weeks worth of inspiration, motivation, whatever you want to call it, positive energy. I was moving. And it was all thanks to me kind of dwelling on these words of the pseudo wisdom that I cooked up.

But as those words are starting to wear off, and I’m finding myself just back to the abscesses of my mind, thinking about where I’m going to turn next, I realized the inherent contradiction in all of this, about how I got so excited thinking that all I needed to do was to get started and then getting equally pumped up thinking about how all I needed to do was to finish everything up. So now I just feel kind of like, huh, all I need to remember is that the hard part is starting, and also, that the hard part is finishing. I have to start and I also have to finish. That doesn’t sound like advice at all. Definitely nothing close to philosophy. What kind of games am I playing with myself here? Should I really be writing to myself in the third person every day? Isn’t this all a little crazy?