Travel

127 Hours (and then some)

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At some point, everyone takes a road trip. Sometimes, it’ll be something indulgent and last minute, like the time I got dragged to Vegas on two hours notice and had to sleep in the lobby once we got there, while my friend was in our hotel room with a hooker on Easter morning. Or it’ll be poorly planned, like last Valentine’s Day when a drive up the coast ended pulled over and huddled in a tent during a 40-degree rainstorm. But I think, to truly qualify as a “road trip story,” the story has to focus on what happens on the road rather than at the ultimate destination. In that case, there’s only one road trip story I know.

In the winter of 2009, I was preparing to move from New York to Los Angeles after landing my first job out of college. As with any entry-level job, the pay wasn’t very much, nor did it come with any relocation money. Seeing the predicament I was in, my dad came to me with an idea: road trip. He offered to rent an SUV and drive me across the country for some family bonding with him and my sister as I moved to LA for the then-foreseeable future.

The plan didn’t exactly thrill me. But, understanding my reaction requires a little background on where I come from: my parents have lived in different cities since I was five, making me very independent; I don’t like tight spaces, particularly with company; and I don’t talk to my family that much. Add in the fact that my dad scheduled enough stops to stretch the drive to nine days, and clearly this trip went against every survival instinct I have.

Going into the trip with a relatively fatalistic attitude, I figured my one chance at maintaining sanity would be to document the entire experience on video. What initially seemed like a fun way to kill time in the car and keep my friends abreast of my progress soon devolved into my dad nicknaming himself “YOM” (an acronym meaning “Your Old Man”) and my sister commandeering the camera to give shout-outs to my ex-girlfriends.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzCqWX0qUho

Things degraded further when we passed through Columbia, Missouri, home to my father’s alma mater, where he serenaded greater Missouri with his college fight song. A jaunt through Frat Row brought the introduction of the term “wench’s lost and found” turning the trip into Norman Rockwell’s worst nightmare set against the plot structure of Heart of Darkness.

Another unforeseen complication of sharing the car with my dad and a girl seven years my junior, was music choice.  My dad had settled into the typical middle-aged obsession with John Mellencamp, Fleetwood Mac and Billy Joel (because the minute you hit fifty, those artists somehow become palatable), while Rachel would routinely snap on a pair of headphones and belt out top 40 hits in the backseat.

Agreeing on what to listen to is one of those things that starts out as a minor quibble, but after five days of listening to the same CDs on repeat (our rental car didn’t have an iPod dock) I was not-so-secretly considering stabbing my own eardrums to avoid hearing “Jack and Diane” for the 753rd time.

While much of the road trip was obviously spent, well, on the road, we interspersed a few visits to family across the country.  An additional oddity of my family is how well everyone gets along. On the surface, that sounds like a banal statement, but when you consider that my parents have each been married three times, and literally everyone gets along, the strangeness comes to the fore. In Chicago, we stayed with the sister of my dad’s third wife; in St. Louis, with the parents of my mother (my dad’s first wife); in Kansas City, with my aunt; and closed the trip by having a guys’ weekend in Vegas with me, my dad, and my mom’s third husband. Throw in the fact that my dad gleefully recounted the story of my birth before an audience, and my seven years in therapy starts to make a lot more sense.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncZPrJo0IhY

Even though we had planned out some of our pit stops ahead of time, the first night of the trip proved just how little forethought had gone into the rest of the drive. We pulled into State College, PA, home of Penn State, during a blizzard, the day before winter graduation and on the same weekend as the statewide high school wrestling finals. In short, we couldn’t find a hotel room to save our lives. Little did I know this would become a recurring theme for the rest of the drive.

Later, at the halfway point of the trip, we ran out of gas because my dad ignored the low fuel warning. And we had the same problem again in a particularly desolate stretch of Utah where there isn’t a gas station or cell service for over 100 miles…  In both instances, we had to depend on our hitchhiking abilities to get us to and from the nearest town with a can of fuel.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZWgRUh8LmjA

After the Utah incident, the trip got a lot smoother, thanks to the milder winters out west. By January of 2010, I was settled into a new apartment in Los Angeles, downright blissful in the belief that I’d never have to take on such a daunting move again, not realizing realize that I’d bounce between coasts again in 2011, 2012 and 2013, taking on the drive by myself each time.

And while driving cross-country by myself didn’t produce as many stories, at least I got to pick the music.

Photo by Sara Slattery

Photo by Sara Slattery

Health

An Alternative to the Unacceptable

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Waiting on the bench in an 8’x10’ white-walled box was not exactly how I’d planned on spending my Friday afternoon—least of all in a gown that made me feel more naked than if I hadn’t been wearing anything at all.

I’d been having some back pain for the few months leading up to this appointment, and this was supposed to be the solution to my sleepless nights, spent tossing and turning—looking for sleep but nagged by a persistent tightness across my shoulders and my lower back. It was supposed to be an in-and-out, “here’s how you fix this,” with a laundry list of things that I should and shouldn’t do, followed by no more pain. Instead, I was told “we’re going to fuse your spine, and that should stop this from getting any worse.” What kind of a solution is that?! “Oh, no big deal, we’re just going to severely limit your mobility for the rest of your life by performing a surgery that will impact most of the rest of your senior year of high school with a flat-on-your-back recovery.” How about  no, thank you.

Of course, I was very polite to the doctor at the time, as was my shell-shocked mother. Scoliosis runs in my family so it wasn’t exactly a huge surprise, but the severity of my scoliosis and the solution described by the doctor (and the urgency with which he described our next step of the recovery journey) caught both of us flat-footed. We said that we would call back in the coming weeks to set up a surgical consultation, but my mind was racing to find any other viable solution. Up until this point, to say that I was a firm believer in Western medicine would be an understatement: I used to laugh at all of those people who would go to accupuncture, who would rely on massage, who would change their spiritual lives to impact their physical selves. Well, at that point I was just praying for the chance to eat my words and find some alternative treatment plan that wouldn’t involve inserting surgical steel into the central support of my nervous system.

I started out with Google. After reading 20-30 pages of life-changing stories, I was no more ready to take the plunge than I was in the office. So I called up my aunt, who had worn a back brace for years in order to deal with her own scoliosis, but the  outcome of that conversation led me no closer to believing in the all-powerful solution of major surgery. So when my sister woke up for work that evening, I talked to her, defeated, unsure of what to do.  She had recently gone through a series of chiropractic visits to deal with a lasting whiplash injury after doing a 360° kickflip in a Camaro at 75 MPH on the freeway. So, of course, shetold me to give chiropractic a try. Considering how horrified I was at the prospect of becoming a cyborg at the ripe old age of 17, I thought “why not?” and set up my first appointment for later that same week.

I had brought my x-rays from the doctor’s visit with me to the chiropractor, and he outlined a plan that would free me of pain and arrest the progression of my spinal deterioriation. He could tell that I was skeptical (and terrified), but what did I have to lose other than some time and some money? If it worked, then I would be able to avoid some life-changing surgery. And if it didn’t, then I was no worse off than I was before. So, here we go on a whirlwind chiropractic adventure! Pop-crack-snap!

Ow, was my thought the following day, and after the next appointment just a week later. The chiropractor had shown me what he was going to be doing: how the different decompression techniques he was using would limit the pressure on my slightly bulging discs and alleviate the strain on my lower back that had been plaguing me for quite some time.  He gave me some exercises (which I dutifully took to), some recommendations for maintaining better posture, and activities that I could do that would be beneficial for my spinal health, and my well-being overall. Once again, the skeptic in me couldn’t overpower how much sense he was making. I had horrible posture, thanks to my habits of gaming too much and studying too late. While I regularly ran and tried to lift weights, I had never targeted any areas that might actually help my back (like my core). So, I gave it all a try.

While the western medicine approach of throwing a few nuts and bolts at the problem would likely have been effective, it was lacking in some key areas. The doctor didn’t even talk to me about changing my habits to make things better—the first and only option was to make with the choppy-choppy. The chiropractor worked through my daily habits and routines to come up with a total life-routine makeover that would mitigate my pain, improve my well-being, and help me develop the habits that would keep my condition from getting any worse.

Within three months, my pain was receding and we could tell that the treatment was working. I continued some regular appointments, just to keep tabs on things, but within the year almost all of my pain was gone. I still have the curvature in my spine, but it hasn’t progressed in the last couple of years, and I’m hoping that it will keep me going until some other alternative medicines are available. (Nanites? Stem cell therapy? Who knows what the future holds!) Sure, trying to do a backwards somersault still hurts (and I was never good at those to begin with), but doing the things I love—like sleeping!—didn’t hurt any more, and I could run, jump, swim (until I got mono… but that’s an entirely different story), and play to my heart’s content.

Even though it took me weeks of going through the treatment before I truly began to accept that it could be worthwhile (and not merely a method of procrastinating the inevitable surgery), I eventually came to understand that non-conventional methods of treatment for chronic pain and illness can be effective. Growing up in the holy halls of western medicine, I never gave alternative treatments like accupuncture and chiropracture the time of day. What could any solution not founded in science offer me that studied, peer-reviewed, proven-to-work solutions couldn’t? Well, it turns out that this particular solution offered me more control in my life and an option to mitigate my pain while preventing further degeneration without the risks of major orthopedic surgery. Not too shabby!

Photo by Meggyn Watkins

Photo by Meggyn Watkins

Health

Fuck Moderation

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January is a divisive month in England—large portions of the population have decided to spend the month sober in an attempt exorcise the sins of 2013. Some make it through the month and receive their imaginary gold star and real-world sense of superiority, some don’t, but either way the rest of the population thinks they’re idiots. In pubs, bars, and restaurants across the country the disdain for sober Januariers is palpable.

Well, the last three years I was one of the sober January idiots and now I’ve taken it a step further: I’m about 7 and a half months into an alcohol-free year.  A year of no booze at all—not even wine, which at one point I viewed as so non-alcoholic it was basically like drinking a glass of quinoa and Gwyneth Paltrow’s sweat. None of it. The lovely comedian Luke Toulson has a line about how ridiculous it is that people always ask why you don’t drink anymore, because it’s not like the answer is ever going to be “Oh, well I was just TOO happy and successful!” This is spot on, so I don’t feel the need to go into why I decided to give it up for a year. But in addition to the ‘why’ there was another question I kept running into—nearly every person I told looked quizzical and asked why I didn’t simply… drink…. in moderation? If you’ve ever tried to give up anything you’ll be familiar with the fist-clenching and teeth-grinding this infuriatingly matter-of-fact tone provokes. I spent the first month after I gave up smiling manically and struggling not to shout “OH WOW! Wait, let me get this right: just DON’T drink do much! Oh now I’ve got it—what a helpful idea! I’m sorted!” It’s not just annoying, it’s also counter-intuitive. You would never ask a heroin addict why they don’t just try doing a little heroine. You would never say, “Oh come on, just have a one little hit—it’s my birthday!” It seems ludicrous, right? But alcohol is addictive too, and everyone knows that. We know alcoholics and that it’s horrible, dark place that no one wants to go to. So why does it seem weird for other people to want to stop the habit when they see it heading in the wrong direction?

I was never an alcoholic, or close, and this post isn’t about those people with serious drinking problems who hide behind being able to give up for a week or a month. But I think there are a lot of people like me who aren’t alcoholics yet definitely drink too much or just have a problematic relationship with drinking. Like, I don’t know, all of England. Seriously, go anywhere in England on Friday night. The pub. Work. Church. You will see people drinking too much. Not everyone, of course. There are some lucky people who never seem to get addicted to anything, who just aren’t wired that way—that annoying friend who smokes two cigarettes eight Saturdays a year while saying “I could really take or leave these, you know?” as you sit there gripping your 15th cigarette of the day and try not to put it out in their smug little eyeballs. Similarly, as crazy it sounds, there seems to be evidence that some people can do heroine without addiction forming; if you’re interested take a look at ‘Occasional and Controlled Heroine Use: Not a problem?‘ (HINT: The answer is for some people it is not). But on the other end of the spectrum, there are people who can become addicted to anything—I used to smoke 20 or 30 cigarettes a day, and when I quit I quickly got hooked on the endorphins from exercising. EXERCISING. Weirdly, smoking is now something I can do in moderation—I took a break where I didn’t smoke at all for about 6 months and for the last few years I’ve found I can smoke socially, but not without a lot of thought and effort and putting out cigarettes in people’s eyes. The addiction didn’t go away, I just got it far enough away to keep it in check. I’m hoping to do the same with alcohol—I’m giving it up for a year hoping to get far enough away that when I come back to it I can do that in moderation, too. But maybe I won’t: it might be something I simply can’t get myself to do in moderation, in which case it’ll have to be gone forever. And I don’t think there should be any shame in that.

It’s certainly not a perfect approach, but just telling myself that I would cut down didn’t work. Between doing standup and socializing, I’m in bars and pubs nearly every night of the week and for whatever reason the same willpower that gets me up for early morning runs and keeps my smoking to the social level seems to be on a coffee break whenever it comes time to turn down the next drink. So completely cutting it out is the best plan I could come up with and constantly facing the cultural obsession with moderation made it not only an uphill battle, but an embarrassing one. Telling friends I wasn’t drinking was a consistently humiliating affair, riddled with sharp intakes of breath, worrying looks and choruses of “not drinking at all? Isn’t that a bit… EXTREME!?”

Right—”extreme.” Extreme was everyone’s favorite buzz word in this situation, as though not having a glass of moderately priced sauv blanc (ECHO FALLS GENERIC WHITE WINE) with dinner is somehow akin to duct taping myself to a live cheetah and bungee-cording off Tower Bridge. I felt freakish. Why would I cut it out—everything in moderation, right? Everything. Everyone should do everything in moderation. I have no idea where I first heard that but it’s so familiar to me, to us, it now sounds true. This ubiquity of moderation rhetoric makes it seem that it is obvious solution, that it’s no trouble for everyone to just keep themselves in check. Surely it’s only gluttonous ogres swigging Lambrini by the bucket that can’t control themselves and, oh god, that means I’m one of those ogres because I can’t control myself (a preference for Lambrini is purely coincidental). It took me a long time to wade through this language and this attitude and realize that simply can’t be right. There are lots of people who aren’t full blown addicts but must struggle to do things in moderation—whether that’s booze, cigarettes, sex, drugs, Nutella—or in my case all of the above. I mean, substances that are addictive are inherently difficult to do in moderation. That’s what that word means. So we should probably get over the idea that moderation is the easiest thing in the world for everyone and, more importantly, that it is the answer for everyone. In fact, when you encourage someone who’s struggling with an addictive substance to do it in moderation what you’re also saying is “Hey, you know that stuff where as soon as you have a bit you want more and more and more until it makes you unhappy? Yeah, have a bit!” It’s not helpful to tell someone to have just a little alcohol if they’re struggling with it, just as it’s not helpful to tell someone who’s dependent on food to have just a little cake. Has any person ever eaten just a little cake? No. No people. Only witches.

So, instead when you run into a friend who is abstaining completely, whether temporarily for a good start to the New Year or for forever, don’t encourage them to drink a bit. Be supportive and treat it as a completely legitimate, if not necessary, alternative for those people when moderation is not an option. No one is trying to ruin anyone’s fun, and it’s not a commentary or judgment on your drinking. In fact, be grateful for your own healthy relationships with alcohol. Or sex. Or cigarettes. But not Nutella—never Nutella. That cruel mistress owns us all.

Originally written by Lea Rose Emery in January 2014.

Photo by Remi Coin

Photo by Remi Coin

Health

The Cost of Squeamishness

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Damn, waking up in the morning is hard. And with this weird, non-stop buzzing noise.

There’s like… static… and voices? …I’m not in bed.

I’m face down. On a very hard, very cold floor.

My face is wet? Oh… it’s blood. My blood.

—

My mother was born with a heart defect. Just a small flutter in her heart… it was something she had lived with her entire life. Then, last summer, “atrial fibrillation” became a noun in our world, “stroke” was a concern, things like “end of life” documentation arrived, and I was signing papers about being her “medical advocate.”

It was terrifying. But open-heart surgery could not only avoid worst-case scenarios for the future, but also give her a better quality of life in the here-and-now.

I tried not to cry. I tried to be brave. I encouraged her to be optimistic, to sit down and talk through the pros and cons of pig versus bovine versus mechanical valves, to consider whether she should go on the trip of a lifetime overseas before surgery and risk an atrial fibrillation attack away from hospitals or wait until after the surgery when she was possibly relearning how to live with a valve.

There was a lot of talk, a lot of anxiety, a lot of stress, and a lot of love.

…I wasn’t expecting a lot of debt from my own trip to the ER.

The day of my mom’s surgery, my sister and I woke up before dawn, picked my mom up, and brought her into the pre-surgery prep wing. The entire morning was ramping up to be pretty anticlimactic overall: my sister and I were treated to an hour and a half of sitting in the waiting room with mom, without mom, with paperwork, without anything to do except browse reddit and play mobile apps.

Finally, the monotony broke: a nurse at the hospital found us in the waiting room and invited us to come back to say goodbye before my mom went under!

She led us back to our Mom’s room and the other pre-op nurses ran to find us a couple chairs in the otherwise-empty room. The first nurse jovially chit-chatted with us, and then proceeded to shove the most massive catheter into my mother’s forearm. No warning.

As possibly the most squeamish person alive, it only took about 1.5 seconds for me to hit the floor.

I woke up on the floor next to my mother’s pre-op bed.  Through the forest of swarming nurses’ appendages, I could just barely see her over the edge of the bed but she kept looking away from me.  The nurses wheeled me away on a stretcher to the emergency room, as I deliriously screamed how sorry I was… over and over and over.  At the time, I was terrified that my accident had stressed her out and caused her to undergo life-threatening surgery in a poor physical and mental state.

My sister stayed behind with our mom until she was wheeled into surgery, and then Sara joined me in the ER: laughingly, she reassured me that our mom was on so much morphine that she probably didn’t realize I was gone.  I was glad to know I wasn’t going to be the cause of her hypothetical death, but seriously distraught that I didn’t have the opportunity to say goodbye.  My mother was unconscious for the next 26 hours: I alternated between pacing the waiting room with tears in my eyes and curling up in an exhausted heap on the floor, as her initial surgery dragged to an interminable seven hours.  The post-op offered no respite, as it devolved into eight hours of platelets platelets more platelets until I made the decision to sign the authorization papers for an emergency find-the-leaking-hole-in-her-heart surgery.

She made it through the night.  A week later, she made it home.  She was alive, and she was healthy.  Everything was finally okay.

—

It was at this point when I stopped focusing all my energy on my mom and started considering my bank account.  I entered this optimistic state of denial: the hospital wouldn’t possibly send me a bill for an ER visit they caused themselves! They know the nurse brought me to an off-limits area. I am definitely not liable for this.

Imagine my surprise and disappointment when the bill finally materialized in my mailbox: approximately $3000 for the hospital, $300 for the doctor, and $200 for various labs and tests. As a recent college grad sans-benefits, my measly $100-bucks-a-month health insurance wasn’t doing me any favors.  My friends and family encouraged me to pursue litigation. So, I scoured the firms in my area, called some malpractice numbers, and waited for someone to deliver me from this obviously unfair burden. I’m definitely not a litigiously minded individual, but I just couldn’t afford that bill. So I waited. And waited. No one was calling me back.

Finally, a lawyer took pity on me. Not that he swooped in and won my case: he took just enough pity on me to spend 20 minutes explaining why the legal system was not on my side, and explained my alternative options. After drowning in anxiety for two weeks, the dose of transparency was a very welcome breath of fresh air.

What he explained was that, thankfully, the half-inch lightning-bolt scar newly gracing my browline could not be considered “disfigurement.” That was the good news. The bad news was that, without disfigurement, there was no way that I would be awarded a settlement large enough for a lawyer’s cut to be worth his or her time (not including the thousands it would cost to hire an expert witness to testify about nurses’ standard of care). The numbers simply didn’t crunch.

He did encourage me to keep looking for lawyers. My friends even suggested finding a pro bono lawyer just to get the bill waived. Or maybe someone appointed to me through my local community. But by this point, I was so overwhelmed and disheartened, I just couldn’t bother. In the space of two weeks, I received three or four new copies of my bill. You know: just in case I had forgotten. Thanks, hospital!

With yet more encouragement from friends and family, I looked into the last-ditch attempt the lawyer had suggested on the phone—only to be used if I could not find any other legal representation. I called the hospital’s main line and asked for the Risk Management department.  This is how I met Tim.

Tim was so kind… so sympathetic… so absolutely impotent.  For three weeks, I was talking with Tim every few days or so, with him updating my files and forwarding my messages to the Billing office, awaiting the verdict that never seemed to come.  Finally, frustrated, but not wanting to sacrifice the “pity me” persona that I’d developed with Tim, I asked if perhaps I could call this mysterious Beatrix woman from Billing who never seemed to receive Tim’s messages on my behalf.

Magically, everything changed.

Later that afternoon, Beatrix called me.  Something, something, something, no indication of malpractice in my records, something, something, 20% discount.  “Hold up,” I said.  “I appreciate any discount possible… But, obviously there is no indication of malpractice in my records: my doctors in the ER were wonderful.  You know it was my mother’s nurse who did this to me, right?”

Nope, she had no idea.  Thanks for passing along the story, Tim.

My BFF from Billing called me back the very next morning: the hospital wasn’t admitting fault, but Beatrix verbally tiptoed her way through an explanation that the hospital bill would be waived ($0 owed), the physician bill would be discounted 50% ($150 owed), and the lab costs were the only things I had to pay in full ($200 owed).

In the end, the check I wrote was only 10% of the cost of my original bill (not including the price of the tears, sweat, and undiluted stress that emanated from me during those months).  But finally, there were no more Tims to fight, no more Beatrixes to convince.  And my faith in the goodness of human nature was not completely destroyed.

Photo by Sara Slattery

Photo by Sara Slattery

Geekery

We Don’t Know: Heroes (Superpowers Not Required)

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On January 14, 2014, The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced the 2014 Oscars telecast would celebrate “cinematic heroes.” My cynical self said, “This is just a ploy to sneak in Iron Man.” But the closer we got to the event, the more excited I was to see produced vignettes showcasing the telecast’s theme.

Note To Self: The Oscars fluff is not as good as Olympics fluff. Sorry guys.

There were a few major montages but the two that really stuck out in my mind were the “Ordinary Man” and “Superheroes” montages. Both celebrated heroes as portrayed in cinema. The first featured a measly six female heroines (think Jessica Chastain from Zero Dark Thirty and Oprah in The Butler). The second surprisingly was a bit better, featuring nine or ten heroines. (depending how you count Pepper Potts from the first Iron Man. More on that later).

When that second montage ended, I found myself screaming at the TV: Where’s Hermione? And no, the cut to Emma Watson applauding politely doesn’t count.

Harry was featured no less than three times in the montage but Hermione couldn’t even get a moment to sock Malfoy in the nose. This whole bit of outrage led to a discussion among friends: Why weren’t there more female characters featured in these montages? We had Neo, but why didn’t we have Trinity? We had Lincoln, but not Margaret Thatcher? At my Oscar viewing party, we debated whether or not we should count Pepper Potts in the superheroes montage as one for the lady team. Arguably, since it’s from the first movie, she’s kind of a victim. But I do think we have to give her credit for grounding Tony and being his “ordinary hero.”

The Oscars were months ago and I’m still plagued by this question: What makes someone a hero?

I think often we confuse heroes with icons, and I am not sure they are always the same. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, a hero is “A person, typically a man, who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities.”

It’s interesting because if I asked you to name some super heroes in movies, you might say The Hulk, Iron Man, Captain America, Batman, Jean Grey or Storm. But if you look at the definition above, only two of these heroes fit that definition. The X-men live largely in secret, so how can they be recognized or admired for their courage? The Hulk is still considered a danger to most of society (smashing things isn’t a good thing all the time). Batman is a vigilante no matter how you slice it.

Are these people still heroes? Can you be a hero without public recognition? What about the reluctant hero? Is someone who doesn’t want to play this role, still a hero? Katniss doesn’t become a “hero” until Catching Fire because for a long time she rejects the burden associated with being the defiant victor.

Outside the sci-fi/fantasy hero realm, we can look at Jessica Chastain’s character Maya from Zero Dark Thirty. No one really knows who this person was. For her safety, privacy, etc. the filmmakers assert she is a compilation of people. Since she is not publicly admired for her actions to stop Osama Bin Laden, is she less of a hero than those on Seal Team Six?

This brings me into the subject of sidekicks. I am a giant Harry Potter fan, although sometimes I don’t agree the with the Internet’s feelings on the fandom. But I was equally outraged as the whole Internet was when Hermione was left out of that Oscars montage. I personally felt there was a distinct lack of sidekicks in both these montages. And it’s not fair. In the “Ordinary Man montage,” where was Geoffery Rush’s character in The King’s Speech, alongside Colin Firth’s? Without the support of sidekicks, heroes often wouldn’t be able to achieve their ultimate goal. Where would Harry be without Ron, Hermione, Neville, or Mrs. Weasley, or… heck, I could go on all day. If you ask me, I think the sidekicks deserved their very own montage! Just because they aren’t the lead character doesn’t mean we shouldn’t celebrate sidekicks as heroes.

In the end, I’m upset about the cinematic heroes montage. Being a hero isn’t just about puffing out your chest or standing up in front of a crowd. Yes, you have to own your position. After all—great power, great responsibility… all of those things. But I think there is something powerful about the simplicity of doing the right thing without being asked. I wish there were more time to celebrate the heroes who just keep their heads down and do what needs to be done, regardless of the attention it may or may not bring them.

I recently watched the documentary Miss Representation, and at one point they are talking to this high school student (now Stanford senior), Devanshi Patel, about what leadership means to her as she runs for Youth Governor of California. She says to her mother in the documentary, “Leaders are just servants to the people.” I think this is how we ought to view our heroes: as people who serve others, regardless of whatever fame and admiration they may attract.

What do you think?

Photo by Gali Levi-McClure

Photo by Gali Levi-McClure

 

Geekery

Buffy Summers is my Spirit Animal

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Spoiler Alert! (But honestly this show ended over eleven years ago and I don’t know what you’ve been doing with your life since then.)

One time, a really long time ago—I must have been in high school—I was flipping through the channels when there she was, like she’d just stepped out of Bloomingdale’s, backflipping through a cemetery with a wooden stake. “Something quippy about heartburn,” she said, and jabbed the stake through a monstery-looking monster’s chest before he burst into a cloud of dust.

And I was like, (eyeroll) anyways… and changed the channel.

This memory was called to mind when years (oh my god, over ten of them) later a close friend suggested—nay—insisted that I watch the series. She said it would be life changing. Mind blowing. Wildly entertaining. But I could only think, “Something quippy about heartburn.” I promised I’d give it a chance anyway and agreed that if I made it past a certain point and wasn’t absolutely invested, we would move on and never mention this again.

So in I went, with a little bit of Daria on my face, not quite sure what I was in for. And though I wasn’t completely sold on season one’s monster-of-the-week arc, I was drawn in immediately by the glorious oozing 90’s nostalgia. What were those outfits. And those shoes. Yes, all the details harkened back to the days when slap bracelets and Clinton were both very in, when I was ten and life was swell. Am I saying that the butterfly clips, MC Hammer pants and the perfectly symmetrical face of David Boreanaz carried the first season? Maybe, yes, I am saying that. That, and the promise that it gets better.

And oh does it get better.

So there I was, week two, season two and Buffy Summers is all a-lust over Angel, her perfectly attractive, emotional vampire boyfriend made of equal parts brooding and brawn, who is also, in case this hasn’t come up, just very good looking with a nice face. Body, too. Anyways. Together, they were all the things that Ross and Rachel, Luke and Lorelai, Corey and Topanga would never be. She’s a complicated woman with a dirty job that no one wants and that bleeds into her personal life. He’s a reformed villain seeking redemption for his rotten ways. But, as The Slayer, she is his sworn enemy and, as a vampire, he is her next target. Romanciers, eat your hearts out ‘cause it gets worse. As passions of the heart became passions of the flesh, we learn that the spell that gave Angel his “soul”—the thing that keeps away his villainous ways—would break if he experienced one moment of  true happiness. What would cause said moment? Think about it… think about… yeah, worst one night stand ever. Angel reverts to his old evil ways, and Buffy discovers that, shocker, the love of her life might not be who she thought he was.

And just like that Joss Whedon had me. He had me at Hellmouth. The classic “my boyfriend said he loved me until I slept with him and he dropped me like a hot potato” metaphor was alive and well in season two of Buffy. What could I say: this show not only had heart, it was a lot of pun. See what I did there?

Whedon let our little slayer slay on for five more seasons. And I fell straight down the demonic portal rabbit hole. He took every challenge life has to offer and put the face of a monster on it—school bullies, mom’s weird boyfriend, addiction, depression, and death—and then he sent Buffy and her gang of Scoobies in to duke it out with whatever happened to be handy. Thus, the joy of Buffy, I think, comes from the power that so many works of fiction wield: they provide a world parallel to the viewers’ own where many of the same struggles exist and the same feelings are felt. It does not condescend or trivialize but validates the experience when all the while a tiny blonde woman beats the hell out of really, really big dudes for just the right touch of empowering escapism.

Which leads me into next portion of my ode to Buffy. Buffy and her best bestie, Willow, are wicked badass. They don’t even fall into the common strong-female-lead-trap of being wholly one-dimensional, emotionally unavailable warriors of the cause who martyr-on in the wake of everyone else’s incompetence. That’s how badass they are. Sure, Buffy has her martyr season, but if you jumped through a demonic portal to save the world, you might find yourself a tad resentful, as well—just a guess. They have feelings about what’s going on and sometimes those feelings are less than positive. Buffy often resented her responsibility, lamented her works’ impact on her love life, made poor decisions, felt overwhelmed, insecure, weak. And she still managed to save the world. A lot.

So much more can be said on this topic. Whole canons of text have been scribed on the subtext of feminism, sexuality, religious implications, and the social and cultural influences of Whedon’s series.

But I’m not here to break down the semiotic significance of “Hush”, the only Emmy-nominated episode (wherein a spell befalls Sunnydale that causes everyone to fall silent).

I’m not going dissect the power dichotomy in the scene where Spike tries to rape Buffy or examine the paternal role of Giles, the Watcher.

I will say this, though: Buffy The Vampire Slayer is a true coming-of-age story that makes no false pretenses or even offers any answers on what it’s like to grow up or on what being grown up looks like. There’s no neat package. No bows. There is, however, the promise that life is messy, unpredictable, complicated and full of as much beauty as there is ugliness.  That these experiences are universal and also survivable is probably Whedon’s most important message of all. Because with the right friends by your side and a well-timed zinger, there’s no challenge that can’t be overcome. Even the apocalypse.

Photo by Sara Slattery

Photo by Sara Slattery

Geekery

Why Everyone Should Be a Radio Nerd

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I am a self-professed and proud radio nerd. As I start this article, I am waiting for a podcast to finish because I don’t want to stop listening.

I’m one of those people who listens to the end of the credits for NPR shows so that I can say out loud “This is NPR” with the host. When I drove up to Portland to see Radiolab Live and missed the first 5 minutes because of a ticketing fiasco, I exclaimed “Do they know how big of a fan I am!?” because clearly they did not understand how much this meant to me. And maybe you also don’t understand why someone would be so obsessed with radio.

Well, let me tell you why and hopefully convince you to join me.

1) You will learn more than you ever thought possible

Over just the past few weeks, I have learned how big companies like Hulu or Netflix come up with their brand names from 99% Invisible, how to carry a Trapper Keeper so that I look cool from How to Do Everything, the story of a photographer who takes incredible pictures of people who die from loneliness in the supposedly happy state of Denmark from Benjamin Walker’s Theory of Everything, what a re-branding of marijuana would look like for the new age of legalization from Studio 360, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg! Every time I put on my headphones, I expect to hear something new and interesting, and probably something I never would have learned on my own.

I am not one of those people who spend hours scrolling though Wikipedia articles absorbing facts, but I do love to learn and I find that I do that best through stories. If I read a textbook about one of the scientific concepts presented by Radiolab or an economic theory described on Planet Money, chances are I would neither understand them nor remember them. But if I listen to Radiolab explain how water can have difficulty forming ice through a story about a fleet of horses flash freezing in a pond, I will never forget it. To me, listening to radio is like the best possible education: lectures full of vivid, engrossing stories that expand my knowledge without having to do any homework.

2) You will have so many stories to tell

One big perk of listening to radio is that you will always have something to talk about. I often start many of my conversations with “So I was listening to this radio show, and I heard this great story….”

While I understand the concern that this might come off as annoying, believe me when I say these stories spark intense conversations. Many radio shows specialize in the stories you don’t hear on mainstream media. Radio producers often spend years doing intensive investigative journalism to present stories that don’t get covered by broadcast news or made into movies. Take, for example, This American Life’s award winning two hour Harper High School series, which covers gang culture and violence in Chicago like you will never hear anywhere else.

If you walk away from listening to that story without wanting to talk to someone about it, I would be shocked.

3) You can listen wherever you go for FREE!

People often ask me “When would I listen to radio?” and I respond “When do you listen to music?” Anytime you want to listen to something while doing a mindless task is a perfect time for radio.

Obviously, driving is the best option and, believe me, nothing keeps you safe and awake while driving a 15-hour road trip by yourself than listening to podcasts. I also like to listen while walking to school, or cleaning, or exercising. I heard, probably from some radio show, that you actually shouldn’t listen to fast-paced music while exercising because it heightens the stress. I say: what could be a better solution than listening to conversational stories that distract you from (if you’re anything like me) how much you hate running?

And if you have a smartphone or MP3 player, it’s really easy to download podcasts for free. You can subscribe to shows using a mobile app, iTunes, or podcast feed program, and they will automatically download to your device, giving you tons of continual entertainment. Lots of podcasts even have their full archives available, so you could become obsessed with say Stuff You Miss in History Class and spend a whole year listening to it.

If you don’t have an iPhone or iTunes, there are many other ways to listen to free podcasts, so you have no excuses!

4) There is a radio show for everyone

I am not exaggerating when I say that there is a radio show for everyone! There are literally millions of podcasts just waiting for you to download them. I guarantee you will find one that is tailored to your interests, because Rule 43 is true: You can find anything on the Internet if you are willing to look for it long enough. Podcasts are so easy to make that anyone with a niche interest has already found a way to talk about it (though, admittedly, not all of them are fantastic quality).

Let me give you some suggestions to start you off:

There is so much great radio to explore. I challenge you to start listening and not become a radio nerd.

Photo by Gali Levi-McClure

Photo by Gali Levi-McClure

Money

I Bought Stock Some Stock and You Can Too

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Confession: I’m completely clueless when it comes to anything financial. While I understand the basic idea of living within a set budget, numbers just aren’t my favorite language. NASDAQ? 401(k)? I prefer romance languages and speaking in sample sale.

But while savings and investments won’t provide me with the instant gratification of scoring a really great pair of shoes at a good price, I do realize that they are important to understand and think about. The younger you are and the earlier you start, the more you stand to gain. Think about it–when you’re younger, you have a little bit more freedom to be both selfish and risky. Yes, it hurts to tuck away money when your paycheck can barely cover the essentials and your tax refund has the potential for so much fun, but starting to invest early allows you to be more adventurous and, potentially, reap more in rewards. With all this in mind, one of the goals I set for myself this year was to figure out the basics by investing a small amount in some fun stock.

It took some time and research, but I finally figured out how to begin and manage my tiny portfolio in a simple manner that I’m comfortable with. And, trust me, if I can do it, you can too! Fair warning though: the process I used it pretty much the furthest thing imaginable from anything seen in The Wolf of Wall Street. I doubt I’ll be rolling in Jonah Hill-esque money anytime soon, but I’m ok with that.

If living like Leo is your goal, you might want to stop reading now (and maybe check on your morals). But here’s a How To guide of process that I used and found comfortable for investing a small, budgeted amount (in this case, my tax refund) on my own:

Step 1. Google “How to invest in stock.”

The obvious disclaimer here is that you can’t trust everything you read online. But with some browsing and clicking, I was eventually able to find this article from CNN Money that was filled with tons of great, easy-to-understand information; it was the perfect compliment to Sara Hamling’s The Stock Market, published earlier this month. While I definitely recommend reading both articles, these are some of the highlights that I found to be particularly helpful:

  • A smart stock portfolio will include stocks from several different industries. This way the portfolio is somewhat protected if one area of the economy takes a downturn.
  • It’s smarter to think ahead and invest in purchasing stock that has the potential for long-term growth.
  • There’s no set standard or magic formula for stock evaluation – different brokers will evaluate stocks based on different formulas, but the most important thing is to feel comfortable with the company’s profile and potential. Generally speaking, large companies will offer stable, but small, returns, while smaller startups offer more risk and (potentially) higher returns.
  • Stock can be purchased from three different types of vendors: Full-service brokers will execute your stock orders while also offering their expert opinion, making them they most expensive option – you get what you pay for. The other two options are discount and online brokerages, which require you to do the background research on your own.

Step 2. Research online brokerages

Because I was only going to be making a petite initial investment and, partially, because I’ve always had the impression that trading stock in person involves a lot of pushing and yelling, I decided to look into using an online brokerage. I won’t lie, this was super scary. Some sites, like E*TRADE and TD Ameritrade, seem like they have great deals on the surface, but the fine print makes it clear that a substantial upfront investment (think +$10K) is required; others offer great terms and fees to their existing banking customers, but little incentive for outsiders.

Confusion regarding which site to use was definitely not something I had prepared for, so I did what I always do when feeling utterly and completely let down by the Internet/real world – I asked my friend Gina.

Gina is one of those magical people who always seems to be able to give the exact right advice (If you don’t have a Gina, I really recommend getting one ASAP. I found mine in college, but maybe try your favorite coffee place?). Fortunately for me, Gina has recently been doing some experimental investing on her own and pointed me to Sharebuilder.com. This site, which is geared toward small time investors like myself, proved to be exactly what I needed – there’s no minimum requirement to begin and each trade costs $6.95.

Step 3. Research your (potential) stocks

Once I had setup my Sharebuilder account, I need to figure out which stocks I actually wanted to purchase. Though my overall goal was to have fun throughout the process, I still wanted to try to protect my initial investment; this led me to decide on investing in a larger company, despite the fact that it would mean purchasing fewer shares.

Once this decision was made, I set about making a list of companies and brands that I happen to enjoy or find interesting. For me, this included Facebook, Twitter, Disney, Dreamworks, Time Warner, Yahoo, Netflix, and Apple. I then set about researching the stock prices and predictions, using Google and Sharebuilder’s provided tool. Ultimately, I decided to split the difference between protecting myself and taking bit of a risk, and narrowed my selection down to Disney and Yahoo.

Step 4. Place your order

Once I decided what to buy, I logged into my Sharebuilder account and placed my order; on my budget, this came to two shares of Disney, three shares of Yahoo, and, since I had a little extra, two shares of Dreamworks. Small potatoes, but it’s a start. The whole ordering process was just as easy as online shopping – which, it a sense, it is.

Step 5. Keep going

Moving forward, I plan to monitor the performance of my stocks and learn as much as I can from their performance. This includes reading up on Sharebuilder and seeking out additional articles. And, when a term is used that I don’t understand, I’ll just look it up. Ultimately, I hope that I can learn enough to expand on my earnings, reinvest profits earned, and even feel confident enough to get into some mutual funds.

Sounds pretty easy peasy, right? Here’s hoping.

Photo by Rob Adams

Photo by Rob Adams

Money

Let’s Ask: UE’s Finance Guru

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So far, Sara Hamling has done a wonderful job of effectively enlightening the financially frazzled. But some of us are just a bit more money-muddled than the others, so fellow UE contributor Michael Cox instigated a intense investigation into our investments.

Michael: Hi Sara, thanks for helping us out again! I like the way that you laid out some ideas for what is and what is not okay to spend money on from short-term and long-term spending accounts. Do you have similar advice for credit purchases when the ol’ short-term spending account isn’t up to snuff for (perhaps pet- or car-related) emergencies?

Sara: So your short-term savings account isn’t as full as you need it to be, and you’re facing a true emergency: you lose your job, your car needs new brakes so that you can get to work, you have a medical emergency. In those cases, it’s okay to use your credit card even if you can’t pay it off in full the next month. Pay at least the minimum every month (try to pay a little over) and most importantly, make a plan for how you are going to pay that money off as soon as possible.

That sounds like a good practice to follow. When the hits keep coming, what’s the risk?

Any time you are carrying a balance on your card from month to month you’re taking a risk—credit card companies can change almost any rate or term with little notice. Plus carrying a balance will not help your credit score. But, if you’re facing a true emergency, using your credit card can give you time to get back on your feet without ruining your credit (compared to, for instance, neglecting payments on a home or auto loan).

I’m trying to focus on not getting hurt by interest (too much) and not damaging my credit score. Thanks to some help from mint.com and Google Calendar, I’m pretty on top of paying everything on time, so as long as I’m not at risk of forgetting to make a payment it shouldn’t hurt, right?

Exactly!  What I did was setup auto-pay on my credit card accounts and, a week before it’s due, I can double-check that my auto-payment went through and my balance for that month is paid off.

My fiancée and I have a shared credit card that we use for our joint purchases (like the new bathroom towels, Saturday’s “Let’s have amazing food!” dinner, and any Sharks game we can make) so that we can easily divide our expenditures later (and not have to juggle credit cards at the counter in the moment). Assuming we pay it off every month (or very close) to avoid interest, is there a better way to do this? Is doing this actually hurting our credit?

Assuming you pay the card off every month, you should be fine. There’s nothing wrong with having and using a couple credit cards as long as you have the money to pay them off.

Like the seasoning in a recipe for financial success: “Use in moderation,” right? What else?

One other thing to look at is what percent of your credit limit are you using at any given time. Owing more than 30% of your available credit will actually affect your credit score negatively. So, if your card has a $3,000 credit limit and you regularly have more than $1,000 on the card—that will negatively affect your credit. You want to have low balances, pay bills on time, and pay more than the minimum if you’re going to be regularly using your credit cards.

That said, going over that $1,000 is absolutely okay in emergencies, especially if you can pay that balance off right away (and perhaps pay it back before it’s even due, if you can to get it back under 30% of available credit).

You had some great recommendations for online savings accounts in your previous article. Do you have similar recommendations for credit cards?

If you have carried a balance in the past or think you might carry a balance in the future, look into credit cards that have the lowest APRs. The APR is the annual percentage rate you will pay on the money you don’t pay off in full every month. Typically, this is between 10-25%.

It certainly makes sense to just pay off the remaining balance each month.

If you have consistently paid off your balance every month, focus more on rewards. Most cards give you 1 “point” for every dollar you spend. This is typically equal to 1% back on a purchase ($1 back on $100 purchase). So, look for a cards that will give you more than that amount for certain purchases.

I like the sound of that! But from that word, “certain,” it sounds like there’s a catch?

Let’s say you wanted to get a couple credit cards with different rewards. You could get a Bank America Cash Rewards Card which gives you 2% back on groceries and 3% back on gas purchases. If you eat out a lot, you could get the Chase Sapphire Card which gives you 2% back on dining. Or you could look into the Chase Freedom Card which gives you 5% back on different types of purchases every three months (i.e. movie theatres & gas stations, or Amazon & department stores). Just make sure you know which cards give you what rewards and use them accordingly. (Note: All the above credit cards will give you the standard 1% back on other non-category purchases.)

So, we could use a different card for every kind of purchase, or…

Or, if you don’t want to have to remember what cards give you what rewards, you could get a card that gives you 1.5% back on all your purchases like the Quicksilver Cash Rewards Card.

Regardless of what you’re looking for, use credit card comparison sites to figure out which offers you will use most.

That sounds great but… Should holding multiple credit cards be avoided? It seems like a delicate balance between “You have enough credit history to get a mortgage” and “Your credit isn’t quite good enough for a livable mortgage.”

There’s nothing wrong with holding multiple credit cards so long as you’re not abusing them. I wouldn’t get more than about four, but two or three is totally fine especially if they give you points for different types of purchases.

That sounds like a good rule of thumb. So what’s the recipe for success?

The ideal situation for your credit cards is that you have a few, you keep low balances on them, and you pay them off in full every month. Now—that’s not always possible. But that’s what’s going to get you the best credit score if that’s what you’re looking for.

As a gamer, I always want the best score. I’m curious though. You said “low balances,” not “no balances.” Is not using your credit cards bad, too?

It’s not great to never use your cards. But… it’s probably better to not use your card for a short amount of time than to close the account. It’s awful for your credit if you open and close credit cards any more than you absolutely need to. Say you’ve opened too many credit card accounts, and you realize you really don’t need them all: don’t close them (unless you have a tendency to abuse credit) and don’t stop using them entirely. Just charge one small thing a month to them and then pay that off in full every month.

I feel like this should be taught in school; do you have any homework for me?

Sure! Here’s a good article on how balances affect your credit score.

Now, for those 20-somethings who are lucky enough to be investing and not just borrowing: when the world looks messy (I’m looking at you, Russia) or the market looks testy (well, this isn’t the ’90s, so maybe this isn’t so terrible a threat), is it ever the right decision to pull your stock market funds?

I’m already following your advice on using passive investment strategies in Mutual Funds/Index Funds/ETFs because, seriously, who has time to micromanage this?

It depends on what kind of account your stocks are in.

If your money is in a retirement account where your money is in Mutual Funds/Index Funds/ETFs—don’t move your money. Do not move it. Maybe you think you can time the market and avoid a dip, but even the best brokers fail to do this regularly. Money for retirement has a long time to grow if you’re putting it in before age 30, and even before age 40. It’s much better to ride out the market’s highs and lows if you have the time and your money is invested diversely.

Don’t touch the retirement. Got it! What about all the other types of investments?

If you have a separate brokerage account though that is not for retirement but is, instead, say…. money for that wedding, money for a house, money for a big trip… money that you are planning on needing in a couple years—then, you may possibly want to pull your stock market funds. If you know you will need that money and you don’t have confidence in the market (or you just don’t want to take the chance because you know you will need it soon), it’s okay to take the money out and put it in something less risky (hello, high-yield savings accounts or CDs!). Or, take half your money out and keep half in—another way to be slightly more risk-averse.

Okay, so keep your ultimate money goals in mind when deciding where and when investments should be managed. I feel more fiscally fit already! Thanks, Sara!

Michael Cox is a contributing writer. He is also a really tall computer engineer, app developer, musician, computer gamer, and San Jose Sharks fan. Twitter: @TehMiikay.

Sara Hamling is a contributing writer. Graphic Designer, Foodie and Baseball Enthusiast living in San Francisco and exploring the rest of California. Follow me @shamlingdesign

Photo by Rob Adams

Photo by Rob Adams