Book Review - The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen

The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen follows the Lambert family dynamic as Christmas time fast approaches. This novel is an ideal read if you dread connecting with your family during the holidays...or really any other time. Alfred and Enid are an older Midwestern couple with three adult children: Chip, Denise and Gary. The story is that of a culture clash; 3 individuals trying to escape from their parents and the suffocating Midwest culture they grew up in. Each character has their own way of not just self medicating, but self correcting - working to become less like their parents, as an almost last ditch effort to be happy with themselves.

Enid and Alfred begin this wild symphony of characters. Franzen's portrayal of an older Midwest couple is guaranteed to eerily remind you of a real life couple you know yourself. Enid is incessant in a way that only a Midwestern mother can be; her constant disapproval stemming from the stubborn belief that things should be a certain way and any deviation from this way is wrong. This obsession with being right all the time is the heart of this book, it broaches the idea that we spend so much time correcting ourselves and others, that we don't even bother to enjoy life any longer. Alfred, who formally used his job on the railroad to work himself into a state of constant distraction, is now quite retired and quite sick. Franzen employs these two parents as a rallying point that their children proceed to flee from.

Chip, a New York College professor, largely regards himself as a failure. He fled to New York as an intellectual where he continues to constantly indite the American Culture. As Chip's life seems to crash down around him, he loses track of his sharp critiques in favor of a eat or be eaten survival mode that ends up taking him from New York, to Lithuania and back to good ole' St. Jude in the Midwest. Gary, the most responsible of the three siblings, battles with depression and his creeping subconscious that seems to be forcing him to be more like his father. Despite all his efforts Gary is alarmingly similar to his father, but with every refusal, he dives further into a guilty depressive state. Gary sees things in the most literal sense, a trait reminiscent of his Midwestern parents, which puts him at odds with his own wife and children - something he must continue to fight at all costs. Denise is the youngest of the Lambert's and is by far the most bruised character. In a constant struggle with her sexuality and an almost crippling self consciousness we watch Denise crash through life too afraid to settle for fear of her life being a perpetual wrong move. Her battle is one faced all too many times by young people that her section of the novel alone makes it a must read by all.

The novel culminates at Christmas in St. Jude, where Enid has insisted that she host and that all her children be in attendance. Every character seems to have their own internal language and the settings are so incredibly interesting. As painful as it is to get to know every Lambert, you watch them interact with individuals that are dealing in the face of infinitely worse family lives than them and you begin to wonder if their constant escapism isn't their own worst enemy. I'll let you read it and determine if the character's make any lasting change by the end of the novel, but one thing is for sure; The Corrections forces us to take a hard look at why we believe ourselves to be such fantastic failures at every turn in our lives.

Sick Culture Part I

Both Matthew McConaughey and Jared Leto respectively won an Oscar for their performances in Dallas Buyers club. I have yet to see Dallas Buyers club, but I really want to. Lately I've been reading and seeing a lot of flack for the movie, for Leto's performance and for Matthew McConaughey's acceptance speech. There was this article, this one, and then there was this one. All these articles point to something important; that a trans role should have went to a trans actor, that the movie should have involved trans people in some way, and that the movie's stars should have been more cognizant of what they were representing. And I don't disagree...necessarily....what I disagree with is our need to boycott or otherwise denounce this film because of the problems (no matter how justified) our education has allowed us to see.

I love video games, I always have loved video games, but video games often perpetuate stereotypes. I'm fully aware that video games feature violence towards women, propagates the damsel in distress trope and there isn't a video game (to my knowledge) that doesn't focus on a brilliant and capable female protagonist that isn't overly sexual. The point is that video games can be sexist, for more information, see this video. Now I'm aware some of you may not agree, but stay with me. I am fully aware of these things, but I do not stop playing video games and I certainly do not encourage others to stop playing video games. This is because I believe in thinking critically about mediums of information I thoroughly enjoy (yes video games are mediums of information).

In the case of Dallas buyers club, it is necessary to point out that trans people are underrepresented in film. In fact, whether it is in character or in person trans people, black people, Latino people, gay people, and women are all underrepresented in film. This year in 2013; Dallas Buyers Club, 12 Years a Slave, Blue Jasmine and even Gravity (Latino director) all represented these underrepresented groups, the focus was brought on them. This is one of the many positives of this movie, a fact we can look at and at least acknowledge is, at the very least, a nod in the right direction. It is still important to think critically about this movie though, about the lack of trans people in movies, and why they weren't at least brought on as consultants. But it is not necessary to hate this movie, like it isn't necessary to stop playing Grand Theft Auto because you can kill prostitutes, but it is important to think critically about whether or not that is an appropriate thing to put in a video game. Because with discussion comes education, with education comes change.

This is a fundamental way of thinking for me, it is how I decide to bring about societal change. I understand it may not be what others think of as effective, to others it may not even work. But I believe that if you cut, and poke holes, and deny, and denounce, and boycott, and cherry pick, and cut (again) any medium to the point where it is nothing, then you will be left with nothing. And society does not want nothing, the America we live in does not want nothing. We do not want to be left with no video games or movies that we enjoy, but we may be willing to listen about how they could be different. If you can do this, then over the course of time our mediums will start to change into a more progressive and inclusive standard. This is not new, this is how it works, we have the most progressive mediums that we have ever had in America, we have a long way to go, but when you try to force change in a way people do not listen to...then we don't move. No movement is bad movement.

Thanks for Listening,

Kyle

Flipping S***

When I don't know what I'm doing in the car, like if I don't know where I am going, I flip a shit. Combine this with traffic, poor drivers, a full working day, as well as my timid under practiced driving and a lot of shit is flipped in my 2010 Chevy Malibu. Yesterday I met some coworkers for drinks and couldn't find where the bar was right away, plus people suck at driving on Big Beaver because they all apparently need to get home and defuse a bomb or something. It was then that I realized, when I am stressed while driving, I turn into the worst person I could possibly be. I say racist things, sexist things, homophobic things and if I'm not saying them I'm thinking them as I scream other things. There is a general peace that is about me, and when I am stressed out it seems to rupture - and nothing I stand for is safe anymore. This is extremely worrisome to me because it makes me wonder about the genuine nature of these beliefs, but not in the sense that I don't genuinely believe them, rather where they come from, where they go, and why they aren't always with me.

I generally advocate forward thinking, I want nothing more that the acknowledgment of inequality and a collective move towards a solution to a bigger problem - a sickness - that plagues the American Culture I love (not sarcastically either, I love America). Why then, do I scream "OF. FUCKING. COURSE" when a polite looking Indian family almost, completely unbeknownst to them, kills me on the expressway? I can't simply just get mad at bad driving, I have to assign their bad driving to the most obvious quality about them. Like I'm trying to really hurt them. I'll point out here that people might give some shoddy explanation about the "truth" of stereotypes, that's fine they can think that, but my point goes deeper; if I never adhere to this implicit racism in my day to day, why do I seem to devolve into it in moments where I am incredibly stressed out? Also, there is no longer a censor, words you couldn't pay me to say are all of a sudden free flowing. I don't condone stereotyping or saying words arbitrarily because we don't think they are bad, I understand that words have meaning and can be a harmful act. This of course does not stop them from blurting out.

This is a hard thing to admit. I get so easily flustered when I'm lost or someone does something infuriatingly ignorant when I'm already stressed out. It boils down to my deep seeded fear of tardiness and my even more seeded fear of disappointing other people or letting them down in some way. I can't seem to overcome this feeling, as much as I try to force myself to think positively, to come back to myself in a sense,depending on the stress level; I can't. I'd really like to work on this, I'd like to exhibit self control whenever I feel this stress boil up in me. I'd like to level with myself, look at myself in the mirror and tell myself to settle down. The problem is; I never get a chance, it just happens. Fast. I wish I had the solution, but I don't and it is throwing me into a panic. I don't like who I become in the car, afterwards I have to break things down and convince myself that I didn't mean what I said or what I thought.

One time I saw a woman walking out of a yoga class, she was the picture of zen; her face held a relaxed smile, her walk was casual, and she seemed as though she had just finished sighing a gigantic sigh of relief....when a car speeding by almost clipped her. At this time, she proceeded to fill the air with expletives and her middle finger and a whole lot of "negative vibes". I bring this up because I think people in my generational category will try to forward me information about yogic culture, or eastern religions, or breathing techniques and meditation. It's not as though I'm completely unwilling to try these things, but the random and primal nature of these...attacks...makes it difficult to simply breathe through them, seeing as they are over almost as soon as they start. It seems like yoga is a great way to selfishly unwind after a long work week, but that its abilities are futile against any everyday instances that might insta-boil your blood. In that sense, these eastern culture remedies are more like detox diets and less like adrenaline shots.

No. The judgement comes from a deeper part of me, one that wants to hurt people. This is how I've managed to reconcile with it thus far; by convincing myself that I don't really belief the terrible things I think and say, but that my brain births them from a desire to harm my "aggressor". My question then, is what I need to do to relax this desire to do harm to others mentally, to go for blood. If anyone has any ideas, please let me know. And as always,

Thanks for Listening

The Big Fish Eat the Little Ones

Here is an anecdote that has been on my mind for some time. If you know anything about Oakland University, you will probably know that it is the home of the only Chick - Fil- A in Michigan. This is one of those facts that is deemed "fun" in nature. In its quirkiness, it has become almost a novelty selling point by university officials, as though you come for the Chick - Fil - A, but stay for the academics. The sandwiches are apparently delicious, how unique they can be as compared to the rest of the chicken based restaurants is difficult for me to fathom, but I'm told they are good. And by good, I mean that their food is good, because I have been told many times, by many others, that they, Chick - Fil - A, are bad. They are bad because every year their organization gives money to other, "non-profit" organizations that actively discriminate and persecute members of the LGBT community.

This is where the story starts: the information gets out and members of the LGBT community begin to take action. They petition, they protest, they ask for a boycott, they ask the administration to discontinue the company's presence on the campus as it is personally and deeply threatening to them. They make a good deal of noise, that apparently fell on deaf ears. The administration asked questions, but in their own haplessly annoyed way, the way that seems to wink at the perpetrator, letting them know they're really on their side. The campus dinning services on the other hand, claims to have taken action. And to their credit they did, they issued a survey, an attempt to poll the students on whether or not Chick - Fil - A should be on campus. It seems to me that such an important decision being made on the premises of a progressive institution should not be merely left up to a vote, especially since votes do not solve ethical dilemmas, but just prove they are in fact, dilemmas (I.E. we could have all held a vote on slavery and regardless of conclusion, would have still had a civil war). Beside this, the survey was downright tactical, I remember one question in particular: "are you aware that Chick - Fil - A is staffed by students of Oakland University?". Whether the answer is yes or no it does not yield whether or not you like Chick - Fil - A or not, it is just a shameless way of telling you sympathetic facts that might dissuade you of any bad it is doing because it is also doing good. This puts the University Dinning Services clearly on the side of the restaurant. To be honest, I think the members of the LGBT community would have just rather have been told to "fuck off".

To my knowledge, the restaurant still stands at the university, as a pillar for their inability to make any move that might be deemed, in the most remote way, as controversial.

This is not a rant, there is a point here. The point is, that the Google empire knows more about me than most of my family members do, but we are incredulous when we hear the government is collecting our data. My point, is that I think we need to start reassessing who Big Brother really is. I'm not trying to be cliche here, I'm not just going to aimlessly talk about the flawed system I am fortunate enough to be apart of. No. I only want to rail against what I truly feel helpless against.

For example; take the way we vote. We vote both politically and with our dollar, but in both sense of the word, I feel as though I carry no value. Despite my refusing to shop at Wal-Mart or BP or Chick - Fil - A, there are still floods of people who rush to these institutions and cast their vote every single day. On the flip side, the incentive of receiving my insignificant vote does not seem like it pushes the politician to do what I elected him to do. Meaning this, Chick - Fil - A is always going to win because people are always going to go there and the powers that are supposed to stop it have no incentive to stop it. So what do I do?

In order to live in modern society, we have to buy into a system. This system is incredibly indifferent to us, it doesn't matter how careful you buy and it doesn't matter how often you buy, at the end of the day you will always buy. In order to use the internet and talk on the phone and send letters and emails and texts, we have to share our data, our identity, with the rest of the world. We are like children playing with sharp toys, but we're worse because we recognize the toys are sharp and we're still outraged when they are taken away from us. I don't think anyone would know what to do with pure privacy, because no one would be listening.

Again, not a rant. A request. I want the NSA to take all of my data; my phone calls, my emails, my bank statements, my texts, my diaries, my receipts, my random book annotations, my grocery lists, my love notes, my birthday cards, my bathroom stall carvings, I want them to assemble it all in a bin and label it "to do". Then I want them to go through and read it, have to read it, the president and congress and the CEO of Chick - Fil - A should be forced to read every single one of these "to do" files.

Then they will have to pay attention to us, not necessarily to what we're saying, but to the fact that what we say, says a lot more about us than they are even willing to pay attention to.

Thanks for Listening,
Kyle

Writing Through Life

It's been awhile since I've written anything in this space. I started this whole endeavor so I could have a place to be brutally honest with myself as well as work on my writing ability. This past week in a half, I started a new job and I haven't had much time or energy to write anything. That being said, I couldn't stop thinking about writing, not in a pretentious way, like a "I can't stop thinking about writing because I do it and it's something cool and different that I do, look at me" kind of way, but rather in a "I need to fucking do this" kind of way. At work I keep wishing I had more to write, I think I'm going to start teaching myself how to write copy, at home I offer to help my girlfriend's siblings out with their papers. When it first hit me, that I need to write, and this past week in a half it really hit me, the first solitary moment in time when it hit me was when my little brother messaged me on Facebook with this, the blog he created. I was speechless, mostly because it is so apparently inspired from what I did here, but also because it's good, it's insightful and it has opened a window into my little brother Mike's life that I wish I could of had when I was younger. But this inspiration is not without context, this is coming from an area of great conflict for me.

When I was younger I played a lot of video games, entire summers would go by and I would hardly see the light of day. My games of choice were role playing games, mostly fantasy ones, because I loved any game with a good upgrade and because I loved being a different person in a different world. I'm sure any novice student of Psychology reading this is pining to tell me it was to escape, a means of getting away from the real world with locker room bullies and maybe I liked upgrades because I was crippling self conscious of my own abilities. This is probably true on some "sub level" somewhere in my inner psyche, but all I can say is that I thought they were fun. My cousin or my best friend and I would sit there for hours on end playing this massive game that wasn't about beating, but just about playing, about being in a world unlike your own. 

My brother has a very different gaming experience, one that is enveloped in the world of online gaming. When he plugs in, he is entering a world not unlike his own, but one full of his friends, his family (my uncle and my cousin are avid gamers) and a level of comfort that probably only exists in places he deems safe (ie not school). I think he said it best when he said: "it gives me and a lot of other people a place where they can fit in, where you don't have to be judged upon what you look like (unless you're camping in halo, no one likes a camper)". I never thought of them in this way, I only saw my brother sitting in front of a TV screen looking really concerning. It would make me nervous, it still does. It's not that I misunderstand and it's not even really about the video games, it is about his slipping grades and the fact that he doesn't seem to be able to pull away from it in order to take care of his day to day mundane tasks.

Then he shows me this blog. It is genius in a way that I was never capable of seeing in my brother before. The posts are very relevant, he is able to deal truth to himself and others fairly; he knows he needs to play less, but he wishes people could see it more of a balance issue than one of abstinence. He posted a piece on pushing your limits, but never getting lost in the conundrum of trying to be better than others. He posted an incredibly brave piece about the use of the word gay as an insult, something too few high school kids ever actually talk about. Even the title of the blog itself, the double meaning makes my English major blood rush with pride: Gaming through Lives, lives meaning lives in a game or life itself as we live it. What an accurate and fun way to portray what he's actually doing with what people perceive him to be doing. 

I guess what hits me after seeing this, is that my brother looks up to me. He sees me doing something that I love and it speaks to him in such a way that he is inspired to start a blog himself. I realized that I have to write because every day I am inspired by people I look up to doing what they love. I want my brother to get his homework done, to turn his grades around and still game, to be the exception to people's expectation of gamers everywhere. I want my brother to keep writing too, but mostly, I want my brother to game as hard as he can and school noobs and buy upgrades and fight demons and play In the Arms of the Angels over his headset whenever he kills another player's dog in COD. I want my brother to game through life in the most deliberate way he can because I know my brother wants me to write in the most deliberate way I can, which is why I need to write. I hope I can continue to do that for him.

Thanks for Listening,

Make sure you check out his blog too!

Kyle

With an Audience in Mind

This polar vortex has taken quite the toll on my finances, from what I understand, it has taken a toll on yours too. The roads this winter have cost estimates of over a million dollars in car repairs including flat tires, there have been numerous cases of expensive and in some cases irreversible damages to homes, not to mention record freezing temperatures that have taken more than enough stray animal and human lives to deem it a tragedy. If you combine the very tangible and frustrating effects of the winter on your finances with the far more intangible effects the lack of sun, stressful driving conditions and general cold weather has on your psyche you have a recipe for regional hatred. Though this polar vortex is not the first time I've come into contact with people hating on the mitten, but the rise in off hand comments and facebook outbursts have driven me to be far mar reflective on the matter. Why do so many people I know consider this state to be a trap? One that so many are willing to escape by all means short of  gnawing their leg off and even some who might be willing to do even that.

My first experience where I truly became cognizant of this phenomenon is when my very first girlfriend moved to New York to go to college. This might seem kind of late in the game to be aware that others might not possess the same sentiments towards their location as me, but having lived such a happy and relatively easy life I didn't find much cause to think of these things. Anyway, she would constantly go off on how she needed to get away from the Midwest, away from Michigan, away from this mundane culture. I would be nothing, but obediently supportive. Many of our mutual friends seemed frustrated because to them it seemed like she was touting that she was better than us simply because she moved to a cooler state (NYC). Even today I know that is not true, that she did feel a calling to exist in a fast paced setting and she in no way was condemning those who did not feel such a calling. Although she usually wrote them off as jealous, which I also do not think is correct because this was different, as I said before these people did not have the calling to move. No, it was her attack on the very culture of Michigan that hurt them. This idea that because our state and where we grew up is so much a part of us, we are also our state, we comprise it and therefore we are all Michigan as Michigan is all of us.

Today, I meet numerous people with this "get out" mentality. I can see how Michigan might feel like a trap. The hand shape that seems to be held up in response to your hopes and dreams, the fortress of massive lakes surrounding it leaving you only one congested exit and once out you find yourself in the Midwest region's flat and elusively short, but actually fairly substantial territory. Most people I know want to flock to the coasts like migratory birds fleeing the harsh cold of a culture-less land. They want beaches, interesting and attractive people, art, life. In my mind I see them wanting adventure or a journey. This of course makes me sound like I'm much older than they and know all of their hopes and aspirations as though I've been right where they were at and gotten through it all. Not true, but I have been on journeys and adventures. This again sounds like I know better them, which seems like I'm rushing to the point, let me back up:

My problem has always been pornography, it's an addiction I've struggled with for some time. I have no qualms in saying this because it is the secret of it all that makes it so difficult to rid myself of it. Anyway, I've made great strides in grappling with this addiction over the past few years. I've had a very tumultuous as well as triumphant journey and have found a deeper sense of self awareness and love than I could have thought possible. When I first began my journey I was spending most of my day wasting away in font of a computer screen and though I still struggle at times, through the action of myself and my friends I have it under control. This is the true problem, my inability to talk about it prevented me from even acknowledging it, and the true problem is not acknowledging the true problem.

Connecting the dots: if you feel a calling to move to another state with culture and fun and better weather, you feel that your problem is that you sit wasting away in a state that you feel truly displaced in. Then move. But first acknowledge your problem: talk about it with a friend or write it down. Acknowledge that maybe a change of setting is only going to give you the temporary alleviation of pain the way a vacation does, that maybe your location has nothing to do with your unhappiness at all, but your inability to recognize deep down why you are unhappy and that the tools you have to fix it do not vary from state to state, but come from within and can be accessed regardless of where you are. Again, I'm not trying to make a claim like I know better because I certainly don't. All I know, yes know because I have been there, is that acknowledging and truly seeing what is holding you back in life is the only way to take the necessary steps to getting over it.

This is ordinarily the point in which I would be done. But while I wrote this I can't help, but think of a conversation I had with a friend of mine who asked me if I had a particular audience in mind when I wrote these types of things. I do, I have in mind that I'm writing to a lot of people who are a lot like me circumstantially and so I assume they take similar things away from what I have to say. But just in case, I think a disclaimer is necessary here, if nowhere else. Disclaimer: I am a suburban, white, male individual with a slight, but very basic grasp on my own reality. I am in no way responsible if you find yourself in very different living circumstances than me and your application of what might appear to be advice does not drastically change the circumstances in which you live. Similarly if you are an individual who finds himself in the same circumstantially alike life as me and do not feel the acknowledgment of your problems has made any lasting difference in your life and you really think you should have just moved to California when you had the chance, this is also not my fault, [insert generic dad advice regarding trusting and listening to others here]. 

Thanks for Listening,

Kyle

All Love Stories Are Actually Ghost Stories

I don't believe in ghosts, at least not what others might think of as ghosts. The only time I ever believed in ghosts was when I was little, I would have this dream where a little girl would be standing in our living room pounding on our front door. She would be dressed in these old, little house on the prairie-esque pajamas and would be screaming and pounding on our front door. My whole family would walk out and see her, my step dad, being the brave one, would step over to the girl and gently open the door. We wouldn't see her run out, but we would hear her little feet crunch quickly in the snow through the darkness that in dreams seems incredibly more opaque than real darkness. Keep in mind this is a dream and it happened often. No one else in my family had the same dream and eventually I just stopped having the dream altogether, though I never forgot it. When I grew older I realized that I don't believe in ghosts, but the power of unconscious imagination. We are so unaware at our own subconsciousness' ability to pierce our view of reality that we believe that it can only be ghosts, or some other inexpiable thing. I understand many people might disagree because they believe in ghosts and nothing can shake them of that, I can respect that and I do respect that. I just don't believe in those kinds of ghosts, what I do believe in though, is not too far off the mark of what a ghost is to some people. Let me explain:

I believe in the past manifesting itself into a physical presence that haunts you. This could be via dreams, or dejavu, or what we interpret as ghosts, or the last few unfiltered thoughts we have before we fall asleep. These are the most frequent for me. These instances, when you're faced with fairly large periods of time with no access to distraction. This could be when you're in the shower, before you fall asleep, just zoning out, et al. In the response to potential boredom the inner most parts of your mind will often project these memories in a mad dash effort to distract you. Often these memories have to be traumatic enough to catch your attention, but not so traumatic that it's uncovering things that have been buried in your mind forever. For example, moments before I fall asleep or into prolonged awake unconsciousness, instead of getting memories of the few and far between near death experiences I've had in life, I get ex girlfriends. Floods of memories of ex girlfriends. Generally, if I'm not sleeping or about to sleep I snap myself out of it, but it's usually too late; the damage, the haunting, has already been done.

Each of the three of my former relationships ended in something terrible I did, as well as several terrible things that I did in the course of them. When I'm bored and rely totally on my subconscious to kick in the way I trained it to, it usually gives me cut scenes of me cheating on them, saying something terrible and callous, lying through my teeth, all in an effort to leave one and get with another. All the times I said I love you dashed against the ground as I crash and burn the relationship in a maddening attempt to get out of it without being honest with myself. This is coupled with the total reality of these people in my day to day life. I may see them across the room at parties, catch glimpses of them on social media or via mutual friends. In the sense that I completely avoid contact with them (and they with me) it is like these three women are ghosts; they haunt my subconscious and appear in subtle uncommunicative ways in my day to day life. They are constant reminders of  my deepest human failures and they are completely unavoidable. I know this because two of them don't even live in the same state as me and yet they seem so much closer, if not in tangible proximity, then in a realm that would put any seance to shame.

In many traditional ghost stories, the reason for the lingering spirit is that it has some unfinished business that is keeping it from transcending to wherever the hell ghosts go. This could mean they need to pass on some warning, or expose who really stole the family jewels, or restore honor to themselves or others, or be a better parent or whatever. Yet it seems my experience with ghosts are the ones that Scrooge encounters in a Christmas Carol. These ghosts do not have any duty to themselves, but rather a duty to expose other's flaws in some existential way and these ghosts don't go away, but are instead sentinels, keeping tabs on whether you're living the life you promised that you would as you got on your knees and sobbed and begged a second chance for. In this way, those that are haunting me are saving me from this selfish condition I've been living in, showing me that I was not born doomed to this miserable and insatiable selfishness, but that I have a means of choosing to live a different and responsible way. In other words every time I accidentally see or think about one of my ex girlfriends, it is their way, my own mind's way, of showing me my grave; cold, dark and alone, then pointing me down the right path.

And of course they don't know this or do this willingly, I'm fairly certain they all hate me and would not like to think of themselves helping me in anyway. I have nothing, but immense respect for my ex girlfriends, they are all amazing people and not one of them deserved to be treated the way I treated them. On that note, Scrooge's life was made all the better on the backs of the people he screwed over. This is something I can choose to dwell on or, as I prefer, cower in fear of.
Whew.

Thanks for Listening,
Kyle