Friday, December 31, 2010

A Decade full of Deers

It's been ten years now...ten years since we thought we were entering the future.  The future seemed like anything beyond the year 2000.  Well here we are, at the end of a decade.  Now what?  Is it just me or do you not feel that futuristic?  Didn't you kind of think we'd have flying cars and be taking vacations on Mars by now?

The past and the future never go the way we want.  That's why they say there's only one moment, the Now.  The Present.  And I think the only way you can make the Present go your way is by being in it.  You know when your 'in it.'

These last ten years have not gone exactly the way I intended.  I've definately had some brilliant times, peppered in with times full of despair.  It really was full of the good, the bad and the ugly.

Was it smooth sailing for you?  My particular experiences led me on a roller coaster ride.  I don't regret going to the amusement park, but I will take my Dramamine next time.

So what do I want for this decade?  You know what I really want, more than kids, more than a man, more than money and fame...I want to be able to breathe.  I want to be able to take deep breaths on a regular basis and be able to feel safe or something.  I don't know what peace is, but I know I'm getting tired of my personal wars.  My war with myself, my mother, my mania, my mistakes...mmm...

If you are about my age, which will remain a mystery, you are tumbling towards middle age.  I'm not really a young adult anymore...even though I look at my senior citizen parents and think about how far away I am from them when they were middle aged.  Right?

I worry like they used to and still do.  I worry about my family, my future, my past, my health, my career, money...etc. etc.  But am I just gonna spend the next ten years worrying?


I could you know, follow the path of my ancestors.  My grandfather, at ninety-eight, I kid you not, kept writing the Indian government about his pension.  (He was also known for taking two shots of vodka every morning).  And he was worried about us....hmm...(He lived to be ninety-eight, you gonna argue with that?)

I mean, these are all normal worries you's just that normal people are not exactly what I would call fulfilled.  But, come on, who am I to judge a regular bloke (I love that British word)?  I have a brother in law who is British.  When he came to the States to visit (albeit he visited Kalamazoo, Michigan) he said that everyone's face was so hard.  Like they had lived something hard.

It's hard to keep up with this race.  In Europe they take vacations for like six weeks a year without guilt.  That's the important part, they feel entitled to recreation.  It does not mean that they have less of a work ethic, but we are little crazy robots here in the U.S.

So what should America want for this decade?  Maybe we should start small, like teaching kids in school how to relax and still do their work.  Maybe in America we should all try to make an effort to understand that it is quality not quantity that counts.  It's not the number of dollars, but the richness of our lives that matters.

Maybe we should take a holiday, "Take some time to celebrate," as Madonna sang over two decades ago.  Maybe we should slow down with the gadgets...they are nice...I want a Kindle myself because I love to read and it promotes reading, but come on....let's have a conversation that isn't interrupted by a cell phone call, a text message, an email on an iPad...Let's talk face to face.  Let's look in each other's eyes.

Let's stop for a moment and breathe.  Really breathe.  We are not going anywhere, I'll still be here after you are done taking that breath.  In some Eastern religions they believe that your life is not a number of years long, but a number of breaths.  If you slow down the breaths allegedly you will have a longer life, but of course that's not the only reason to do it.  It may sound too simple, but breathing deeply and consciously could save your life.  Try it.

I intend on stopping a little more in this new decade.  If you don't like flowers, or you are allergic, you don't have to stop and smell the flowers.  But I'm gonna try and just stop and see if I notice my own fragrance...Like the deer who smells a beautiful musk and doesn't realize it's coming from his own body, instead he goes chasing nothing through the jungle, looking for the source of the smell.

I don't want to be a deer.  I'm a woman.

I'm talkin' 'bout the Woman in the Mirror.


Thursday, December 30, 2010


"So this is Christmas, and what have you done?  Another year over and another just begun..."  John Lennon or the Beatles or whoever sang that.

So the year is over and we all inevitably ask ourselves: What have we done?

I can safely say I did nothing.

I mean it.  I didn't further my career in any way, I didn't lose weight, I didn't find a guy, get married, have kids, and build a good damn picket fence for the dog.

Instead I woke up this morning and the dog shit on the carpet again.  I tried not to see it as a sign.  I am the one cleaning HER shit.  What does that say about the balance of power in even that relationship?

So basically I've even failed to properly domesticate a dog.

So I must have accomplished SOMETHING, this year.  Well, I learned that discipline is my friend, if I get up early, meditate, work out, eat well, write everyday even when I have no thoughts; if I do some or all these particular things I in particular have a chance at being happy.  I learned that I'm a victim of inertia, I'm either going and going or not going.  I'm trying not to be so extreme.

What did you learn?  Maybe you lost your job this year and learned that it's hard to be happy without money.  Or maybe you lost someone in your life and you realized you would rather have them back than all the money in the world.  Maybe you won the lottery. (Isn't it funny how someone won the lottery this year?  Isn't it not funny that it wasn't you?)

What else did I learn?  Let's see, I learned that even if I like the president the country is not going to have a revolution.  Same shit, different dog.  Although I like this particular breed, there is a fine line between being a democrat or a republican, I have no idea what that line is or where I'm going with this.  But I do know that I can have my own revolution even if the country remains the same.

I learned that I have good people in my life.  I have somehow, through some magical fate, created and maintained some beautiful relationships with people who genuinely care about me.  Some of these relationships I have neglected but these people have remained solid none-the-less.  If you are one of these people, thank you.

OK, enough learning, let's talk about what I still don't know after a year:  I still don't know what I don't know.  On the extremely negative self-talk side I don't know if I'll still be fertile when I find my soul mate, I have these sudden maternal instincts and wonder if someone as crazy as me should even have kids.  I don't know when I will cash in on my talents, i.e. my novel etc., hopefully it's before I die.

Like you I still don't know when I'm dying, so I'm gonna try and live like I'm dying.  Isn't that a song?

I do know what it's like to have a glimpse of happiness.  Every now and then, I was happy this year.  I am oddly happy right now...maybe it's the holidays or maybe I've turned a new leaf.  (Leaf?  What does that phrase really mean?)  I know that I don't want to be a miserable old goat and being positive takes work.

This year I will make no resolutions.  I will make no promises.  I do have goals, but I said I would make a phone call to volunteer and I still haven't done that, I don't think I'm good at  keeping promises to myself.  What does that mean?  I'm I gonna give up?

No I'm gonna try a different approach this time.  This time, this year, I'm gonna think positively even in my darkest hours, if I get depressed I'm going to remember that I have gotten out of it before.  I'm gonna try and meet people who have had similar weird experiences as I have had.  I'm not gonna try and change myself, just like you would not want to change your best friend.  I want to be my best friend and accept who I am, and maybe what I don't like about myself, I will examine and not "change" but sort of redirect.

I realize I'm just playing with words, but words are important to me, and the word "change" is not working for me at the moment.  "Hope" will hopefully work for me though.  This time, I'm not just gonna hope for better days, I'm gonna try to architect those days by the Serenity prayer that addicts use, after all I am addicted to the status quo:

God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The Courage to change those I can,
And the Wisdom to know the difference.

 That should be a song.

This time I'm gonna sing...hopefully if no one else is out there listening, I will at least hear myself.


Wednesday, December 29, 2010

What Face will you Make?

In a poem by T.S. Eliot, he says something like, "Prepare a face for all the faces that you meet."

Well I just joined Facebook, I wanted to be the only human being I know who wasn't on there, but I have to admit it's loads of fun.  So much so that it's decreasing my productivity.  In fact you may be reading this right now because I shamelessly promote my blog on Facebook.

Did you see "The Social Network?"  It's a great film about the guy who created Facebook.  But you know, things are not always like the movies, or like Facebook, they are not always as they appear.  The film my have distorted the truth...I have no way of knowing...just like I have no way of knowing what all my "friends" on Facebook are really like, what they are really feeling or doing.  By the way, I'm shocked at how many "friends" I have, I thought I knew like twenty people.  But apparently though there are less than six degrees of separation between me and, maybe you.

It's like an Internet party, these social websites, everyone's wearing their best smiles, their best faces.  We exchange smiles and witty comments much like we would at a real party and make fun of each other.  It's nice...I even had a discussion with a total stranger about philosophy, we even went as far as the meaning of life in some sense.

But much like a real party, you are considered a freak, if you want to have a conversation that is not somehow promoting happiness and fun.  I haven't read the paper or watched the news since I joined facebook, it's only been a few days, but seriously.  I like this happy news from my friends better than that depressing shit on T.V.

I know people are dying, and I know I'm doing nothing on this Earth, not lifting a single finger to help a single human being who is suffering.  I promised myself I would call a women's shelter to volunteer and I still haven't done that yet because I've been busy socializing during the holidays.

If I keep at this and read facebook comments instead of the New York Times will I become a smiley person, who is totally unaware of what's going on in the real world?  At least if you live in India you can see inane poverty right outside your window, but in America, if you live in the suburbs, you can't see anything but a reflection of your own face.

When my uncle came to America from India his biggest complaint was that people ask you how you are all the time in America but they actually don't care.  Every morning they will ask you how you are doing and they want to guarantee that you say you are great.

If you try to start a real conversation about how maybe your day sucks, you might be considered a Debby Downer.  The thing is sometimes it totally sucks to be alive and you want to vent...god forbid you write about your horrific experience on Facebook and make someone cry.

I mean but when it comes down to it, given a choice I would rather laugh than cry.  So I'm gonna stay on Facebook because it makes me laugh, it makes me smile.  I mean after all the real thing I want in this life is to be happy.  But I'm gonna try to keep another eye on what's going in the world beyond my doors.  Because even though I don't really act on it, I do care.

I may not know you, but I care about you.  I don't want you to suffer.  If you are my friend on Facebook or not, you deserve to have some fun no matter how miserable your life may be.  It's a good thing to try and be cheerful, I just need to remember to take all good things with a grain of salt.


Being Nina Kaur

In my last blog entry I wrote about being Bipolar.   Have you ever seen "Being John Malcovich?"  The reason I bring it up is that the films is very much like Manic Depression, it makes no sense, but it's beautiful and in some ways mind bogglingly profound.

It was kind of hard for me to "come out" so to speak about having this disease, even though many people already knew.  I've slowly been telling people over the years.  The closet that I came out of was filled with a lot of nasty thoughts about not feeling like a worthy person, or normal or love-able.

Apparently though, almost everyone has these dirty thoughts of self loathing at times.  And normal is the new boring in our culture.

I guess I'm not like "Crazy and Proud" or something.  I'm OK with it though.  

There's this song by Seal that goes something like, "No we're never gonna survive, unless, we get a little crazy..."  I guess I live by that motto.

You wanna know what it's like to be crazy?  I bet you do.  I bet you might even know, even if you won't admit it.

Well let me try and put it into words.  They call it a "trip" or "tripping"  because truly you do go somewhere else, your mind visits another dimension.  In such a small space, and such a short life, I cannot explain or do justice to this dimension or place or feeling.

I have experienced both Mania and Depression.  Mania is a lot more fun and more dangerous.  The fun part is that you have this feeling of joy at times and feeling of ecstasy that is really out of this world.  You feel like you are a goddess, more than alive  The most dangerous part is that you can hurt yourself and other people.  I don't mean just physically.  I never did anything physically dangerous to myself or anyone else, but I sure as hell hated myself in a very hurtful way and was terrible to the people I loved the most.

The best part about being crazy is that I feel like there are other dimensions that you can reach, where love and joy exist beyond our imagination. You can reach them through like drugs like Crack, but I choose not to do Crack, and instead I think you can reach these places through meditation or music or like art, love, or maybe even sex.

The worst part about being crazy is that you will most likely hurt the people you care about the most.  You might even lose some of those people, I did.  The damage is often irreversible.  You want to say it was the Crack, but in the end you were the one doing the Crack and even if it wasn't really you and it wasn't really your fault, where do you end the illness begins ?  Was I me when I was crazy?  If I wasn't than who the hell was I?  My evil twin?  None of it makes any sense so don't try and think about it too much, I'd rather you do Crack than think too much about insanity since it is in fact a thought process that I think you can slip into.

Of course I like to think if you think too much or are some sort of genius you are prone to insanity.  Of course I would like to think that.  I like to think there is a fine line between insanity and enlightenment.  Again, in my fantasy world I romanticize my experience so that I can make it into a song.  Trust me you don't want to sing this song.  If you want to be a genius or a Zen master, I would highly recommend you avoid the route of reckless mental activity.  Instead, you know, just do the work.  

You may not be familiar with mania, but I bet you know a little about depression.  It's soul sucking...I told myself I would not use the word fuck in this blog, to make it child friendly (since everyone but me is having kids), but I'm sorry, depression fucking sucks.  That's all I have to say about that.

No actually, you know I have more to say.  It's mind're dead while alive.  You become a zombie.  At it's worse, people become violent towards themselves or others.  Thank god, that never happened to me, yet.  Thank god for medication and meditation, equally they saved me.

You remember that song, "Say a prayer for you mother, say a prayer for your father, but most of all please say a prayer for me..."  Finally, if you are like me, it's not a question of believing in god or not, it's a matter of soul survival, my soul needed a god to pray to.

I thought I met God when I went crazy.  I still don't know if I did or not.

So I implore you, if you think you could go crazy, if you want to go crazy, know that there are other ways to get to those dimensions other than not taking your medication.  It took me ten years of being on and off of medicine to realize that.  Now I'm on it. I missed one day in four years and nearly went crazy that day.

And if you now and then say a prayer, say one for me, pray that I don't go back, because this time I may not come back.


Monday, December 27, 2010

Who are You?

When I'm writing I often wonder who I'm writing to.  Who are you, precisely?  I assume things about you.  I like to think you are smart with a quick wit.  But for all I know you could be a true idiot, devoid of any humor.  I like to think you are special, that you chose to read my stuff vs. all the available crap in the new media because I'm special.  But you may have accidentally stumbled upon these words and be a person who is controlled by inertia and can't stop doing something they started.  So you will at least finish reading this sentence due to a force in the universe completely out of your control.

What's interesting too, is that you are all different.  I have to come up with something that can appeal to almost totally different species of people.  Maybe you are a an upwardly-mobile-upper-middle-class individual, because I know too many of you. (I need to branch out in my associations with people).  But maybe you are the guy I talked to at the cafe who works nights, and works hard, and drinks just enough every night to get tipsy but not become a drunk.  Maybe you are the guy who puts the letters up on the movie theater so I can see Angelina Jolie's name in bright lights.

Maybe you throw up after every meal because you dream of looking like Angelina Jolie.  Maybe you are sad.

Let me tell you a secret: I'm mad.

I am serious when I say this.  I have experienced actual madness, or what we upper-middle-class-individuals call mental illness.  I have Bipolar Disorder.  I literally have been in group therapy sessions with people who have eaten out of dumpsters.  I broke bread with people who are the lowest caste in our invisible caste system.

I went to an Ivy League School.  I thought I was better than them.  I thought I was better than you.  Because you could be anyone, and I was taught to be the best and better and to think that I might never go where I went.

Well I went there and I came back and it turns out that I ain't better than nobody.

It turns out that People are People.  

So if you are you, which you most likely are...then know that you and I have a lot in common even if we come from different planets.

I come from a planet where most people are semi-liberal, extremely intelligent, well educated and not eating out of dumpsters.  But when I sat down at a cafe and talked to this guy who had spent a year being homeless he told me something I will never forget:  Everyone needs to have no one for a year.

I don't know if I agree with him, I certainly don't want no one.  And late at night, sometimes I get up, and I am  sadly alone these days, but I think of you.  My strangers, my readers, my friends.  Thank you for reading these words and making me at least have the delusion that I have someone.

And if it's any consolation, you've got me babe.


Are we too Cool to Care about Being Cool?

I can't sleep.  I went to bed at three and it's six.  I'll have to drag myself to a cafe, because truthfully it gets lonely early in the morning...sometimes I just like to look at other people's faces.  I'm a little cranky but feel oddly peaceful with such little sleep.

Sometimes it's hard to be interesting at six a.m.  I want to say things to that matter and think thoughts that profoundly affect the way you live your life.  But the truth is I just want someone to make me some coffee, because I don't know how to use my sister's high-tech coffee maker.  Did I tell you I moved in my sister?  It's great.

I'm starting school again because with three degrees I hope to at least be able to pay the rent.   I'm going back to to learn how to teach.  Of course I'm arrogant enough to think that I can reach out to young adolescents today.  I will be an English teacher, a "cool" English teacher that has them do things like write raps.  Right.  I listen to Light F.M.  I don't know a rap from a rant from rock 'n roll.

They will be able to tell I'm an Impostor.  I'm not a real cool person.  Some days I don't know if I'm a real person.  I wasn't cool in high school, I was geeky and weird.  I interviewed a Witch in our school for the school paper. I think there were people who thought I was a witch.  Sometimes I want to be a witch, but I'll settle for bitch.

Truthfully, I feel bitchy right now, this early in the morning after having such a late night.  I worry that sometimes the bitchiness won't wear off even after the coffees.  The last thing on this earth I want to become is bitter.  Bitter old women are sad and mean and very uncool.

I wonder when the last time I wondered whether I was cool enough to be alive.  Was it when I listened to an Elton John song while working out?  Was it when I had a birthday party and all I wanted was for everyone to sit around getting drunk and talking instead of going to a club?  I know I feel totally uncool when I go on the weighing scale.

So I guess, at this time, before the sun has risen, I wonder if I am cool enough to like myself.  I use the word like instead of love, because on a base level I do love myself.  But do I like myself?  It's only me and me in the room right now.

I guess I'm not jumping up and down from the excitement of being me.  But I guess I like myself OK, OK enough to put my inner thoughts out there in writing for everyone to examine.  I  must like those inner thoughts.

But you wanna know what the coolest thing about me is?  I don't care if you like me.

OK, I retract that statement, that's only partially true.  I want to write best-sellers and have the masses love me.  But the truth is, if you don't, life goes on.  The coolest people in the world were hated by many.  It would be coolest if you could find a reason to hate me.  

It would be totally uncool for me to find a reason to hate myself.  Let's hope that never happens.


The Mall is the Real Women's Shelter

OK so I'm such a good person that instead of calling that women's shelter, I woke up at six this morning and got to a shopping center by seven.  I shopped (for myself)  non-stop until three-thirty ( i went with other people, it's not as scary as it sounds).  I know...I'm sick...I'm devoid of any Christmas or other spirit.  So how do I justify being this person...this person who just the other day claimed that Christmas was to materialistic for her precious ass?

I guess I don't justify it.   I think I'm done justifying shit to anyone, especially myself.  Yeah, so I like to shop.  More than I like to do a lot of things.  Maybe even more than I will love listening to a woman tell me about how she has been raped....maybe I will love being that person who listens with integrity and then I will go shopping afterwards to make myself feel better.

I'm sure you've heard that song by Amy Winehouse, "I treated myself, like I knew I would, I told you I was trouble, you know that I'm no good."  I don't actually think I'm no good, I just think we are complicated people. People are more complex than good or bad could ever encapsulate.

I said I would call a woman's shelter and maybe volunteer or something, and I didn't.  Sometimes I don't do what I say I will.  They say the commitments you make to yourself are the most important ones.  A good friend of mine told me that I need to stop thinking about things and just start doing them.

It's really not that complicated when you think about it.  I want to be good.  But wanting is nothing in the real world, it's like wanting to be rich...who cares unless you are.  You have to do something to get rich, you have to do something to be good.  So since I really want to make this phone call and maybe inquire about volunteer positions....I think since I somehow managed to get a college degree or two, I can manage this.

I can manage to be good.  Why, I have to ask myself, am I so concerned about doing the right thing?  I mean I believe in Karma, but that's not the reason I do things.  The truth is:  I don't wanna be no good.  I don't think you do either.

Maybe you can also pick up the phone and do something...even if it's like calling your mom.  You know that other song by No Doubt, "Don't speak, I know what your thinking...I know your good, I know your good, I know your real good."

If there is anyone on this earth who knows you're at least worth something even if you don't do shit for anyone, it's your Mama.


Saturday, December 25, 2010

No New Commitments

I decided to continue with this blog, even though I promised I would continue over a year ago.  I suppose this means I have no discipline or whatever.  I'm not exactly OK with that, but somehow it doesn't bother me that much.  Should it bother me?

I will make resolutions this time like I want to be a better person, or lose weight or blah, blah, blah.  By the way I do want all those things, I just don't think they are gonna happen by promising on a blog.  I think the only thing that is accomplished with keeping a blog is catharsis.

So it's Christmas morning!  Wow, I'm not excited.  To someone who really is not that Christian Christmas morning means that everything is closed.  I did celebrate, sort of, with my family.  We didn't trade merchandise though.  We ate Thai food.  Now I have heart burn.

I always wonder how I should feel on Christmas when my family hardly celebrates it.  Should we celebrate another religion's holiday?  Why not?  It could mean gifts.

It could also mean that I would have had to spend all of my extra money, of which I have very little at the moment, on gifts for other people.  This could be a good practice giving or whatever, but come on, what are the chances that people are gonna get you things that you want?  I know it sounds selfish and crude but I like the fact that I can spend money on myself during Christmas.

I don't know if this makes me more or less materialistic than the rest of the world.  I don't know if it's really a contest.  

So this Christmas I got myself those knee high boots I always wanted and I will, shortly after Christmas, get myself some kind of Kindle thingy 'cause I like books.  Baby Jesus was not involved in any of these purchases.

Yet there is something cold and unfeeling and unspirited about the way I am handling Christmas.  I mean I should do something good....I have friends who get toys for underprivledged children.  It never occurs to me to do things like that.

I want to be that person, that person who cares about people that I don't even know.  I was gonna go see a movie this Christmas Day.  I always wanted to volunteer at a women's shelter.  Maybe I'll call them today.  Maybe you have to create meaning in your own life, because no one else will do it for you.

I'm still gonna see a movie, maybe the one with Johnny Depp. But if I just make that one phone call, not committing myself, for god's sake, then maybe well maybe I'll remember this day.

Christmas was the day I realized that I need to care more.  That's cheesy as hell.  But sometimes the truth is.



Wednesday, July 28, 2010

A New Ninaland

I guess I just awoke from a somewhat moderate form of depression. I say moderate because I didn't have fantasies of jumping off buildings, in essence I was not obsessed with my death as many depressed people are. I was just in a fog. My head was foggy. I didn't want to write, or move on with my life.

I write stories for a living, but it seems now that the story is writing me. Something has changed in my forecast, I have decided to try out moving to India for a while. This is drastic, this woke me up.

What the hell am I going to do in India? I'm not doing that Eat, Pray, Love thing. Although I did love that book, I'm going to India not to find myself, I want India to find me. I want India to find me as a great teacher, someone who works in some form of charity.

I have no idea why, but I have no interest in working in charitable organizations in America. But I do want to in India. Maybe it seems exotic, the way people are oppressed there. Maybe I won't care for them as I seem not to care here. Well it's not that I don't care, it just seems that I haven't found my 'place' here in America.

This will not be good unless I deeply understand that it could be the worse thing I'm doing to my life. But they say without risk there is no reward. They say a lot of things though.

I'm an Indian, but really I'm an American. But really I don't know I feel like something is missing in my world. Maybe something spiritual. Maybe something real, like seeing people who have nothing, seeing them smile.

Or maybe they need to see me smile.

I need to see myself smile. I need something greater than myself to live for. I need to know that it's OK that I'm different, different than Americans, different than Indians. That I am even different than myself.

I think the worse that could happen is that I experience beauty of some alien sort and find that it isn't for me. But if by chance I happen to find some real beauty inside me instead, it will be worth it.

This is not a commercial. I am worth it.


Sunday, January 17, 2010


I decided something today, while feeling bad that I had neglected my poor little blog. I decided that I can do this thing on my whim. I can do anything really. I thought maybe I was letting someone down by not posting my blog every day. Then I realized I wasn't letting anyone down, not even myself. I made a vow to record my life or live it, or something. My life. If I have to apologize to my very blog, for leaving it empty, where does that leave me in terms of being the master of my own universe?

I think when you write you want to create your own Universe, you want to own it, express it, create it. Without sounding like an idiot.

I took a hiatus from my small blog universe. I wanted to be remembered, you see, for this blog, for writing something profound. But I realized I've got time, an entire lifetime actually, to make my mark.

So what do I want to talk about today? There's like so much shit, so much that has happened, so much that is happening. I'm watching the Golden Globes and thinking about the recent earthquake in Haiti. There are moments I wish on was on that Golden Globe stage accepting an award for best screenplay. The next minute I wish I was underneath some rubble, all the way across the world, digging out bodies.

But I suppose sitting here writing about movie legends and dead bodies will have to do. It is interesting to me that Hollywood makes movie after movie about catastrophic events, yet if everyone who bought a ticket to see Avatar spent that ten dollars for relief efforts in Haiti, maybe I don't know.

Don't get me wrong, I spent the money to see Avatar and it was worth every penny. And I don't have any money so I didn't give any for the Haiti Earthquake. I guess I could have given that ten dollars. Maybe I could have saved one life or something.

So how do you decide then? Decide the right thing to do? Decide if you are a good person or just some lame idiot who would rather watch blue people in a jungle then help real people in a real jungle.

But again, who am I gonna apologize to? And do we need to apologize sometimes for just going to the movies? Maybe but I'm not going to.