"A Fool's Paradise" ... On Being the Focus of Another's Self-Deception

Life, in all its wonder, has the capacity to amaze us humans on a daily basis. Sometimes we find ourselves in the midst of wondrous joy and excitement as we successfully work our way toward the finer things in life. Sometimes we experience crushing defeat that leaves us, bewildered, back at the beginning of the race. And sometimes we find ourselves thrown under the proverbial bus, into a shit-filled gutter, by those we love.

Yes, if you haven't guessed, the point of this post is to explain how I found myself in said shit-filled gutter.

I will not send mass emails to everyone I know defending myself against nonsense. I will not post my issues all over social media to get my "side" out there. I will not pull anyone into this gutter who doesn't want to go there. In fact, I have not and will not post anything on Facebook or elsewhere discussing this matter. What I will do, however, here and here alone, is shed some light on this shit storm that I did not ask for, but found myself dragged into nonetheless. For those who want to know ... here it is.

I don't know any other way to recount this than a simple play-by-play. So I'll start with the fact that my sister and brother-in-law moved here to Las Vegas back in February. I was happy that this happened, as I had been close with them ... they had supported me through my divorce years ago, and I, also, supported them in various things. I taught her book in my college-level classes. I read her work and offered feedback. I drove them places and offered myself when I could. And ... you know. On and on. We, I thought, had a good relationship.

I became aware of the fact that my sister was not happy with me the day before my son's birthday. I invited the entire family over to watch movies, play video games, and eat birthday cake in celebration of my child. She chose not to attend this event because, as I learned later on, she was convinced that I had a crush on her husband, and that he was falling in love with me, too. So she stayed home because ... she was too upset, I guess, or else wanted to punish me or my son. Or maybe make the evening about her. I'm still not sure.

During the party, she called my other sister over to talk with her about her woes, so my brother-in-law filled me in on what was happening -- that she had been feeling bad about herself and drinking heavily, and that she had become convinced that mutual flirtation had been happening between the two of us. I'm still not sure what she considered to be flirting from my end. My brother-in-law, however, revealed to me at that point that he had actually told her that he was falling for me. I'm sure this didn't help her state of mind.

I'll throw in at this point that I am currently, and have been for the past few years, actively dating men (there is one in particular that I am presently fond of, but my dating pool is certainly not lacking). At risk of sounding pompous, these men, without exception, are attractive men who enjoy traveling the world, and have plenty going for them. They are not only educated and intelligent, but hard-working in their careers. I honestly don't mean to sound pretentious here, but my point is that I definitely have a "type" ... and, while he had been a good friend, my brother-in-law is not, and never has been, that "type."

That aside, I have a lot going for me, and I really enjoy my life. When I already have a vast dating pool of men that fit my desires, I really don't see how risking much of it to sabotage my sister's relationship in order to be with my brother-in-law makes any sense ... but I digress. I'll return to what happened.

I drove my other sister home from the party that night (she lives in Summerlin and I in Henderson, so this was a round-trip excursion of an hour), and my brother-in-law stayed behind with my son while this happened. The sister that I drove home has three children (her husband was at work), so the four of them plus myself filled my car. My brother-in-law offered to stay with my son until I got back. When I did get back he told me that my sister (the one who stayed home) had become convinced that we were having sex. I didn't think too much about it at that point -- I honestly thought he'd put her fears to rest and we'd move on. Well, I'm not sure exactly what he told her when I wasn't around (my own ex-husband used to use other women's "attraction" to him to make me feel uncertain in myself and lucky to be with him, so maybe it was some form of that), but no such thing happened.

The next day was my son't actual birthday, so I took him to the Adventuredome. On our way there, my sister called me and left a voicemail message to apologize for missing my son's party. I thought things were going to be okay. A few hours later, however, she sent me the following text message: "Btw, thanks for destroying my marriage." I didn't respond. After all, it was my son's birthday and there was fun to be had, and I was not going to let any drama spoil it. I was, however, a bit taken aback that she was still blaming me for whatever marital woes she was experiencing.

On our way out of the Adventuredome, my brother-in-law called to let me know that my sister had attempted suicide and was now hospitalized. The story, as he told it, is as follows:

Apparently, my sister had attempted to overdose the previous night (when she thought her husband was having sex with me at my son's freaking birthday party), but he had missed the suicide note and didn't realize it (he later found it and, according to him, it featured such eloquence as to hope that I was a "better fuck" than she was). When he came home, he said, she was asleep and he didn't know anything was amiss. Despite an apparent overdose, however, she woke up the next day and proceeded to walk around threatening a new combination of pills and tequila. My brother-in-law told me that he basically forced her to call and "apologize" to me over missing my son's birthday (as taking her issues out on my son was not warranted), which she did. Things, however, escalated and her second attempt at overdosing led to him taking her to the hospital. At first, she'd hidden the phones, according to him, but when he threatened to call from the apartment office and reveal everything that was happening to the managers (and whoever else happened to be around), she agreed to go with him.

He told me about some things she was saying about me behind closed doors. That I'd also slept with another brother-in-law (not true). That I plagued men with STDs (not true). You know ... anything to paint me as nasty homewrecker. I really had nothing to say to her, and so when he told me that she'd written me an apology note from the hospital, I told him I wasn't ready to read it. Especially, you know, after her last "apology" turned out to be coerced and insincere.

My sister was in the hospital for a week, during which time I hung out with my brother-in-law so that we could help each other through the accusations that were being thrown our way. I thought we were on the same page. But during the course of that week, a few things happened which revealed we were not.

First, he began a long tirade against my sister. There was plenty of shit said about her that weekend -- yes, I had frustrations as well that I voiced, and I won't deny that -- but the serious "shit talking" came from my brother-in-law himself. He told me that he had been miserable for about eight years (they've been married for nine). He said things started going downhill when she became obsessed with the notion that she had Lyme disease (which he claims now she never had). He told me that she was a hypochondriac who searched for doctors who would diagnose her with whatever she wanted to have.

He told me she was an out-of-control alcoholic.

He told me she treated him like shit.

He told me that he believed my sister needed him, but did not love him.

He told me he was tired of living in a bubble -- of never going anywhere, of not having friends, of having to call her every five minutes when he was out.

He told me he was going to leave her. That one came up continuously -- "You know I'm not going to stay with your sister, right?"

He also told me other things, such as how, when I was in the midst of moving from the Bay Area to Las Vegas, he wanted to come help me with my move. I had been looking for someone to help me drive my moving truck so that I wouldn't have to resort to hiring expensive movers, and he told me that he'd wanted to help. But you know, my sister was so afraid we were going to have sex that she wouldn't let him (so, apparently, her issues regarding me and her fears about the two of us extend much farther back than when she arrived here and supposedly saw us "flirting").

There was so much said from his end. And he started talking about how much he really did like me, and how he was falling in love with me. He started to ask if I'd ever liked him, and if he had met me first, if I'd have gone out with him. He started asking my other sister and brother-in-law similar questions -- what would the family think, he'd ask, if he left one sister for another? Did they think I had feelings for him? The more the days pressed on, the more he refused to change the subject on this matter despite the fact that I was clear about not returning these feelings. I am a nice person (much to my detriment sometimes), but I in no way led him to believe that he had a chance with me at all. Still, he persisted. It became uncomfortable.

I finally reminded him that I am seeing someone whom I really like. He proclaimed to be jealous of this person and, when I was out that Saturday evening spending time with this guy, my brother-in-law sent me the following text:

"If I possessed the eloquence of those greatest masters whose words move the mightiest of souls, I would yet utter no word that might capture your singular beauty."

On Sunday, he went to visit my sister in the hospital. When he returned (my other sister and brother-in-law were over for beers, so the brother-in-law in question joined us), he claimed that he had done his best to push my sister's buttons to cause a fight. He said it had worked, and that she'd blown up at him and had to be removed from the hospital's cafeteria, and that this was a good thing because it meant she wouldn't be released the following day, as planned.

He said that he didn't know how he was going to leave her. We told her that if he was going to leave her, he should do it while she was in the hospital, where she'd be safe.

He proclaimed that night that he was aware I didn't return his feelings ... for, he said, if I did, he wouldn't be struggling with how to leave my sister. He would have done it already.

I became somewhat uncomfortable (a common theme during this time), and, against my better judgment, started discussing details about the great sex I'd had recently with the man I'm particularly fond of. My brother-in-law left after that, angry. He opened the door and walked out, not even turning around to close the door behind him.

The following day was Monday, so I went to work (as a teacher, I have a pretty nice M-F work schedule). Throughout that day, I was informed that my brother-in-law had deactivated his social network accounts, and that his phones were off. My other sisters tried to get in touch with my sister at the hospital she was supposedly at, but could not find her. They, along with my father, were concerned for mine and my sister's well-being, and asked me to call the cops. I did, and they showed up at my sister and brother-in-law's apartment to check on her, and to tell him to cease and desist advances on me (I had nothing at all to do with the police at this point, mind you, so I don't even know what was said to them; I'd been at work all day). It turned out my sister had gotten out of the hospital that day after all, and things seemed okay.

At this point, I wanted nothing more than to mind my own business. But things continued to escalate, as family dramas do. My sister contacted my other sister and brother-in-law (the ones who had witnessed the advances on me) for details about what had happened. They told her everything they knew, and then my sister contacted me for "proof." I sent her the text message that my brother-in-law had sent me, and left it at that.

I'm not sure what he was telling her from his side, but, whatever it was, she chose to believe it all. And I realize that she had to, in order to keep her world from crashing in on itself. However, she didn't leave it at that ... the shit storm truly began when she insisted on spreading lies about me and the situation to everyone she could, rather than try to work things out (or at least keep our problems between us).

So the accusations flew. Apparently I was trying to destroy her marriage for no good reason (because I'm an evil comic book-like villain or something). Apparently, I'd done this before with another brother-in-law (because I'm an awful, sex-crazed homewrecker or something). And apparently I spread disease wherever I go, and so my brother-in-law would never even think about wanting to be intimate with me. It was all me, and he the innocent victim of my dastardly ways. Apparently.

She became so obsessed with the notion that I'd done this before that, according to my other sister, she contacted this ex-brother-in-law (whom I'd supposedly seduced and slept with). She wanted to know how I seduced him. She wanted to know what we did together. She wanted to know how I convinced him to be unfaithful.

I don't know exactly what was said during this exchange. But, according to this ex-brother-in-law, he told her that such a thing never happened (surprise, surprise ... what I've been saying all along). But I'm sure that she'd only take him at his word if his story aligned with what she wanted to hear and believe, anyway.

Again, I don't know what my brother-in-law has been saying to her. At this point, it doesn't even matter because I know she's going to believe whatever she wants to believe, regardless of anything else. I know that my brother-in-law and I could take side-by-side polygraph tests, and he would fail and I would pass, and she'd still find some way to work around it in her mind. I know this. I get it. She needs his story to be true.

But I don't think that her needing to believe warrants the meanness that has come out of this situation. I have not contacted her, have not said anything horrible about her. I have not bombarded people's inboxes or phones, demanding to be heard. I have not spewed my two cents all over Facebook. I have not been shown the same consideration, despite her only "needing to believe."

For those on the outside, there really is no "side" to take in this matter. The bottom line is that I've been accused of things that are not true, and my name and reputation have been dragged through that shit-filled gutter over it. I know that the people who truly matter to me don't buy into it at all, but my point here is that there reaches a point where enough is enough.

It takes more than one person to fight, and I refuse to fight or engage in any of this -- I really don't have room in my life for this level of bullshit. I love my family and always will, but I will not welcome people into my life who treat me this way. Family is family, yes, and I, too, wish we could reach a point where this kind of bullshit isn't happening anymore. But I have been turned into a villain after doing nothing but support this sister for years. I have had enough. My self-respect is too high to deal with these kinds of accusations from anybody, be they family or not.

I don't expect anything from anyone. But if you're honestly asking yourself whether this absurd story is true, please consider the following: If you know me, think about the person I am. For all of my faults and mistakes as a teenager and young adult, I am a good person. I am a responsible person. I am a successful, reasonable person. Does it really make sense that, for no reason, I would try to destroy my sister's marriage? Does it make sense that out of all of my options in terms of men, I would choose this brother-in-law? Does it really make sense that my scruples are so low that I would do such a thing even if I did like him?

Or does it make more sense that he desired me, tested the waters, and is now back-peddling as quickly as he can because it didn't work out? And that back-peddling includes lying to the point of isolating her from the people who have the guts to tell her the truth? And that, to avoid having to recognize, own, and deal with the truth of the situation -- that there are issues to be dealt with in her own marriage -- she's turned me into the proverbial scapegoat so that she can carry on without having to admit that there were ever any issues between her and her husband?

I suppose it doesn't matter. People are going to believe what they want. And my life will continue to move forward in all of the wonderful ways that it has been, regardless. I won't engage further on this issue. But it really is important that the truth of the matter is out there. Do with it what you will.

On Atheism and Death

Throughout the last year of my life, I have experienced a few heartbreaking losses: my mother passed away last June, and I lost a beloved cat last Sunday evening. Both of them died rather young, my mother being 57 and Nero, my kitty, being only 2. Both deaths were sudden and shocking sacks of bricks that knocked me unexpectedly into the icy cold pool that is the reality of the biological life cycle.

So, naturally, both deaths created in me a pensive contemplation about the very idea of death.

As an atheist, you see, death is a permanent experience, which invites some not-so-subtle indications. Namely, being an atheist makes it impossible to ignore the "big" question: how do you cope with death?

After my mom died, my aunt asked me where I thought my mom was now. My answer, of course, is that I don't think my mom "is" anywhere. I think that she died, and, like other biological organisms who die, no longer exists. This thought is incomprehensible to many people -- how could I believe that my mom is really gone forever? How do I cope without the belief that I'll see her again someday in a glorified version of her former self? I understand that dealing with death is difficult no matter what you happen to believe in ... but I also realize that one coping mechanism among the religious is the notion that a person is not really gone forever.

It's not that I don't understand these sentiments. I get it, on some level. After my son found out that Nero wasn't going to make it last Sunday, he curled into a ball on the floor and called out our cat's name again and again. And after we'd said goodbye to our kitty and stepped out of the room, he collapsed again and cried out, "Why, why?" Again and again. There was a part of me that wanted to tell him that Nero was going to a better place. That he'd be free of pain and happy again, playing with other spirit kitties for the rest of eternity. A part of me wanted to tell him that he'd see Nero again. Someday.

But the simple fact of the matter is that I don't believe any of that. I don't believe that Nero's spirit is happy and free and waiting for us in heaven. I believe that Nero's body stopped working and that he died, and that he therefore no longer exists outside of our wonderful memories of him. And the same thing goes for my mom.

Let me explain something about my atheism. There are some interesting hypotheses that the religious have developed about us atheists as to why we embrace the worldviews that we do. But let me set the record straight by saying that I am not an atheist because it's hip. I'm not an atheist because I hate god. I'm not an atheist because I want to "sin" all the time and not be held accountable. I'm not an atheist because I'm closed-minded.

I am an atheist because I have explored and studied the idea of deities and religion, and all claims that I've come across do not stand up to scrutiny and evidence any more than other fantastical claims, such as Bigfoot or garden fairies, do. I happen to care very much about whether what I believe is true (and I care very much that my son grows up to be a critical thinker, whatever he winds up believing in a religious sense), and I therefore hold extraordinary claims up to an extraordinary burden of proof. I don't believe in gods for the same reason that I don't believe in garden fairies. There simply isn't enough evidence to justify it. (If you disagree, then good for you -- I'm not trying to demean you, but am simply explaining my feelings through my own experience.)

So, when I was sitting in that veterinary clinic with Brendan, I pondered what was truly important: the truths I hold about the world, or the easiest way to comfort my son. And I held, as I always do, that the former is more important. I did not tell Brendan that Nero was in a better place, or that we'd play with him again someday. Instead, I hugged him very tightly and told him to cry as much as he needed to. I told him that I knew how much it hurt, and that he needed to feel and acknowledge that hurt until, eventually, the flow of time would dull it.

I did very much the same thing when my mom, his "Nana," died last summer. But the question remains for many people, both theists and atheists alike -- how do you get over a death?

I've spent a great deal of time thinking about this very question. I've come to the conclusion that we don't ever "get over it." We move on, but there are parts of us that are forever marked by the deaths of loved ones. We are changed, both positively and negatively, by those who touch our lives and then leave us forever. All of us mourn the passing of others from our lives ... but atheists do not have the luxury of dulling that pain by telling ourselves that we'll see those people again. For us, death is a very permanent part of life. With this, we are also faced with the unsettling reality of our own nonexistence sometime in the not-so-distant future. I know. These thoughts, at first, seem unbearable. I know.

And for a while, it is unbearable. I'm not going to deny that. The reality of never seeing someone again is hard. At first, memories sting with pain because all they do is remind you that those good times, along with that unique person you loved so much for all their uniqueness, are gone forever. If you happened to be on bad terms with a loved one when they died, you are faced with the paralyzing reality that you will never, ever, have a chance to make it right again. You begin to notice TV shows that you'll never watch with that person again, songs you'll never listen to with that person again, and inside jokes that will never be shared between you again. Not now, not in heaven. Not ever. Believe me, at first this can be absolutely devastating.

But here's what it comes down to: although accepting the finality of death can be excruciatingly painful, it also makes the recognition of life exceedingly beautiful. No, we atheists do not comfort ourselves with thoughts of seeing our loved ones after we die, but through this we realize the importance of being with our loved ones before any of us dies. We recognize that we don't get a second chance with anybody. And when you don't have eternity to "get it right," the urgency for love, fulfillment, and connection in this life becomes very real. The importance of not letting minutes, hours, days, or even years slip by because of petty differences, because we cannot make anything right after death, is very real. And when we do lose those we love, we are forced to put this worldview that much more into perspective.

So, no, I do not believe that my mom is looking down on me from heaven. I don't think that Nero is happy up in kitty heaven. And I'm okay with that. Because I know that they both had such a profound impact on me and how I will forever view my future relationships, I can let go of them while still holding onto their memories.

It isn't easy. But life isn't easy. It is, however, profound and amazing ... particularly for me once I realized that the sometimes numbing sentiments of permanent loss eventually serve to illuminate the joys of life while we do have them.

This post is, of course, dedicated to Mom and Nero, and all of the ways in which they both touched my life.

Urban Exploring

I don't think I've ever actually considered doing something illegal simply for the sake of travel, art, and the wonder of the human experience. However, I have recently added an illegal activity to my proverbial bucket list for precisely those reasons: urban exploring, particularly in the area of abandoned theme parks.

I didn't know these actually existed until quite recently. But there are apparently quite a few theme parks in the world that still stand, but have been abandoned to the elements. They haven't been torn down or relocated ... they simply exist in a haunting shadow of former glory, slowly being reclaimed by nature. Nara Dreamland in Japan is one such theme park; a Disneyland ripoff, it closed in 2006 but has not been demolished. Six Flags New Orleans is another one; after Hurricane Katrina, this Six Flags was damaged beyond repair, but its skeletal remains still grace Louisiana. These places seriously exist all over the world. And I have decided that I must visit them because they are haunting and beautiful and the sheer epitome of the human realization that, as time moves forward, all things are left behind -- even us and our wonderful creations.

I am honestly excited about this. I want to wander and take photographs and sit and think and write and experience. But here's the problem: stepping foot into one of these places is considered trespassing, and is highly illegal. People have gotten arrested for participating in urban exploring, and so I'm not quite sure how I'm going to pull this off. Much research and preparation will be necessary, I'm sure. But before I leap too far into that aspect of my proposed journey, let me share more details about these places I want so badly to visit, courtesy of images from explorers who have already ventured out.

The first place I want to go is Six Flags New Orleans. I mean, honestly, do we really need much of a reason to visit New Orleans? It's jazz and the bayou; it's amazing food and drink; it's vampire culture and voodoo folklore; it's the historical South at its absolute best and worst. And it has an abandoned theme park.

Like I said before, Hurricane Katrina destroyed this place years ago. It was covered in water, and when said water retreated everything was left in rusty disrepair. The photographs already taken of this place are truly some of the most haunting images I've seen of an abandoned theme park. The cost of fixing everything up would have been too much for Six Flags ... but, the thing is, it was also going to cost them too much to take everything down (due to the lease they had on the land). So their cheapest, most viable option was to leave it alone. This is my first choice of abandoned places to visit, by far. It has so much potential.

I also previously mentioned Nara Dreamland. Again, it was a Disneyland ripoff built in Japan in 1961 as a response to Walt Disney's success in California. It has all of the token visual representations of Disneyland, including the pink fairy tale castle and the Matterhorn mountain. But, unlike Disneyland, it did not experience immense success, and ultimately closed its doors in 2006. Much like what happened with Six Flags in New Orleans, those who owned the park didn't think that the time and money it would take to remove the park was worth investing in, and so it was simply abandoned.

Photos reveal that you can still climb the hills of the roller coaster, and the queue areas are completely overgrown with moss and plant life. The once-beautiful fountains are now exposed and decrepit, and its "Main Street" looks like a scene right out of the next zombie film to hit theaters.

I'm not opposed to traveling to Japan to see it, though, obviously, that will be farther in the future than New Orleans.

Honestly, I'd like to try my hand at urban exploring at various places around the world ... Who knows, I may even be crazy enough to venture into Chernobyl one day. Not that I necessarily want to make a habit out of illegally entering premises, but I do think that abandoned places, like ghost towns, carry so much potential for human reflection and discovery. It could be fun. So ... who's game? :)

Everything Happens at Midnight: A Review of Bates Motel

I have been a fan of Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho for a great majority of my life. As such, I was intrigued when I learned that A&E was releasing a television series that would supposedly prequel Norman Bates' descent into madness. I just finished watching the season finale of Bates Motel, and the show, as a whole, did not disappoint. Though the very premise of this show could have easily taken a nosedive early on, my experience is that every major aspect -- the characters, the plots, the actors, the writing, the pacing, etc. -- has been spot on, leaving me wanting more after each episode, and certainly after the series' completion.

I want to take a moment to review the final episode and offer a few thoughts about it, and the series in general. I honestly don't want to spend a lot of time here summarizing the show or this episode, so it suffices to say that if you haven't been watching the show, then you won't have a clue as to what I'm talking about. And if you have been watching the show but haven't seen the final episode(s), remember that spoilers are a thing. ;) If you want a quick summary and expose from the writers, directors, and actors, watch this short video clip from A&E about the final episode.

There is an aspect about this episode that I both loved and hated. I guess it's virtually present in all cliffhanger television shows -- the capacity to answer questions and tie up loose ends while, at the same time, opening up so many more. It leaves us, the audience, somewhat satisfied and wanting more all at once, which is the foundation for keeping a television audience entertained. The game, however, is arguably different with a story as iconic as Psycho. There needed to be, I think, a delicate balance between keeping fans satisfied with the direction of the series and still keeping them guessing. So when it came to the looming question about this series, how did the writers choose to play it out?

The question I'm speaking of was whether Norman was going to go full-on Psycho by the end of the season. We were all wondering. And most of us were left feeling pretty sure that he did (and I emphasize most ... more on that in a moment). We as an audience have seen this coming, and not just because we've seen Psycho; to the contrary, this series has created a psychological descent that stands on its own. We've seen it coming because we know Norman has a tendency to black out and see strange visions of his mother. We know that, during one of these blackouts, Norman killed his father. We know that Norman witnessed his mother being abused by his father, and that he walked in while Keith Summers was raping his mother. We know that Norma, while simultaneously controlling Norman the child, places her own heavy emotional burdens on Norman the person. We know that Norman uncovered the diary of a sex slave, and found the sex slave herself chained up in his mother's lover's basement. And we know that Norman's heart was shattered when he lost his virginity to an evening of comfort sex with someone who wasn't actually interested in him, something he was not emotionally prepared to take on. We know Norman's not mentally stable, and we know that he had a dream about killing Bradley, the girl who instigated the casual sex. All of these things present a recipe for disaster, and so we know, even beyond the Psycho that's in Norman's future, that something dire is due to happen with him.

What is interesting is how Bates Motel has begun to characterize the development of "Mother". Each time Norman blacks out and attacks someone (and keep in mind that we've only seen this happen with his father, with Dylan, and, presumably, with Miss Watson), it's been either in protection of his mother, or due to uncomfortable sexual tension that he doesn't know what to do with. Even though the sexual aspect of Norman's psychosis is only beginning to rear its ugly head, I don't think its significance should be underestimated. We have to remember what this kid's experience with sex actually is -- seeing his mother raped, hearing about his mother raped, coming across visual evidence of sex slaves, and being invited into the kind of casual sex that he was not emotionally ready for. And then his English teacher invited him over to her house and proceeded to undress within full view of her underage student (directly, I might add, before her grisly death). When Norman could see Miss Watson begin to remove her clothing, you could see the tension building within him. You could just feel it (kudos to Freddie Highmore for such an excellent acting job here and throughout the series). His arousal was, by this time, a negative experience for him. And that is when "Mother" appeared for the second time in the series -- telling Norman, ultimately, what he "ha[d] to do" to the woman causing his arousal. And Norman's expression of discomfort began to morph into an eerie, sadistic smile.

So Norman's disturbing, intertwined vine of feelings involving his mother and sex are beginning to take root. And the final episode of the season has led us to believe that this has already resulted in a murder. After learning that he blacked out and can't remember anything, and after seeing the final screen shot of her dead in her home, what other conclusion could we come to?

Weeeellll ... if there is one thing this show does well, it's teach us to expect the unexpected. In other words, this almost seems too easy, and almost too early for Norman to be committing the crimes we know that Norman Bates the adult is capable of. The series has, thus far, portrayed him as an ultimately good kid in a really bad situation, and with just the right amount of mental instability to eventually become a killer. And we kind of expected this to be dragged over a few seasons before actually seeing a Psycho-esque murder. Also, those of us who are writers understand that you simply do not write something that doesn't actually play a part in the overall story -- and yet, what other role could "Eric," the man Miss Watson was arguing on the phone with, play other than her murderer (when we were expecting it was Norman)? Sure, he could turn out to be nothing more than a useful scapegoat to keep Norman out of trouble, but I honestly suspect him playing more of a role in Miss Watson's death than that.

Further, Miss Watson's corpse shot revealed that she wore a necklace of the letter "B." If you haven't been watching the series, you don't know why this is significant, but if you have been watching, you'll remember the letter that Bradley found in her father's office. "B". This will certainly come into play in season two.

So what does all of this mean? In my opinion, it means that Miss Watson was murdered, but not by Norman. I would love to see the show take him there, as it was a very chilling way to end the season, but I honestly don't think that's how this is going to play out. Personally, I think that Norman may have witnessed the murder, and is storing that awful scene in his subconscious mind alongside the other traumas he's witnessed throughout his life. Remember, Norman has killed only once before (by hitting his father over the head), and attempted to kill one other time (by trying to hit his brother over the head). Even though we can easily see how mentally disturbed he is, it seems a bit much to expect that he's going to automatically, suddenly launch himself into a bloody, throat-slashing serial killer. But time will tell on this one.

Another new question that this final episode raised concerned Dylan. He's always been different than his mother and brother (more down-to-earth, certainly), though his own capacity to take a life makes you wonder just how "different" he really is. Dylan, though, is a bit inconsistent, and difficult to keep up with. In only ten episodes, he's gone from jobless moocher to solemn hard worker; from apathetic about his strange brother to concerned about said brother (he even wanted at one point to move Norman out of Norma's house), and then back to apathy when he begins moving in on the young woman he knows his brother is still obsessed with (though I do think Dylan is becoming very aware that Norman is mentally disturbed, hence the shift in the type of concern he's showing). He has moved from complete and utter distaste for his mother into very mild respect and trust for her. Learning what Norma has gone through recently probably affected his views on her, but his acquiescence in acquiring her a gun, teaching her how to shoot, and his slip up in calling her "Mom" instead of "Norma" all point to a possible closer bonding experience between them.

However. We learned in this episode that Norma's brother raped her growing up, leading us to wonder whether Dylan might be a product of incest. After all, we knew that Dylan and Norman were not fathered by the same man, but we were never given any information whatsoever about Dylan's father. I think there's a possibility it could have been Norma's brother, which would partly explain the dynamic between them, and also raises questions about the future of their relationship.

In terms of Norma herself, I also found her small, solo scene with the gun to be interesting. She seemed to be pondering the idea of suicide -- not necessarily considering it, but considering the idea of it. I wondered if that was foreshadowing how she'll wind up dying later in the series. I have assumed, up until this point, that she'll wind up murdered by Norman, but it would be an interesting turn of events if she decides to end things herself once it becomes impossible to continue living in denial about Norman. Although Norma comes off on the surface as overly dramatic and mentally unstable, the writers (and actor Vera Farmiga) have done a wonderful job showing that there is more depth to her character. She has become at least somewhat relatable, albeit unreliable. I wonder how much of what she says is true (which includes the story about Norman killing his father, which only came from her), and how many of her untruths she actually believes (such as the discrepancy between the all-loving, smelling-like-cookies description of her parents she gave to her therapist, and the abusive, neglectful one she gave to Norman). In many ways, Norma isn't a likeable person, but it's precisely because of her frailty and inner demons that we care for her as a character, and continue to root for her despite watching her live in a denial that will likely cost many people their lives.

A few other things I'm left wondering:

1) What's up with Sheriff Romero? It's looking like he's going to play the hero role for now, but there are still a few things I don't understand about him. Or trust. For example, if he wasn't involved in the sex ring, why did he so readily believe Norma (in all her drama) about the Abernathy situation, with enough time to take care of things himself? And why did he know just where to find Shelby's money? And why, for the love of everything holy, would he throw that money into the sea after killing Abernathy (if, indeed, there was money in the suitcase, and he wasn't just putting on a show for Norma)? There is something off about Romero.

2) What is actually happening now with the sex slave ring? What happened to the girl that Norman rescued?

3) What's going to happen between Bradley and Dylan? Something tells me they're going to get closer and that Norman isn't going to be happy about it. I'm wondering, too, how this is going to affect Norman's friendship with Emma (assuming they still have a friendship after his display of assholery at the dance and her subsequent departure). I have been assuming that Bradley would be Norman's first kill, but now I'm not so sure ... like everything else, we'll see how this plays out.

All in all, this was a fantastic season that allowed us to explore who Norman Bates might have been as a young person, and just what circumstances drove him into his dual-personality, serial-killing destiny. Some have speculated that this series probably won't last long, due to the fact that we know how this whole thing ends. I, however, disagree. I think that the very fact that we know how this ends is what keeps us engaged. This show is an exploration of the human mind, the human experience, and the types of human interactions that carve out paths in our day to day lives. We as viewers are often fascinated by stories such as Norman Bates', but what makes it ultimately chilling is the realization that, as we delve further behind the scenes of Psycho, he is still a human being with very human experiences. And we relate.

As I Am: Putting Perspective on "Summer" Bodies

It's that time of the year again -- that time when the pressure to get ourselves "ready" for summer through dieting, tanning, highlighting, and a variety of other activities becomes pretty intense. It's the time of year when advertisements, the media, friends, and family remind us on a daily basis that if we're planning on wearing bathing suits, we'd better be thin enough to do so; that if we're going to be showing any skin, our body had better be tan enough to do so; that if we plan on having any fun whatsoever during the summer months, we'd better make sure that our bodies are ready to take on the physical role of "summer."

So here's the thing. This year, for the first time in my life, I've made a conscious decision not to buy into it. It's not easy -- not by a long shot. But this year, I am not dieting. I am not tanning. I am not bleaching my hair. I am ready to experiment with the idea of proudly displaying myself in whatever bathing suit or clothing I want to, in all of my imperfection. This is me:

While I am not overweight, per say, I am curvy (especially according to society's standards). My skin is very fair (often referred to as "pasty" by the loving members of the society to which I belong). My hair is very dark and pretty long -- not often styled well (mostly because I choose to sleep longer or whatever instead of spending an hour on it). I've got lots of freckles all over my body, which stand out starkly against my white skin. My breasts are a B-cup. But, see, I've decided not to care anymore that I don't meet society's standards for summer beautiful.

This isn't because I think that my natural self at all embodies the epitome of what we have culturally been led to believe is "beautiful," but because I've decided it's a good idea to embrace the deep philosophical practice of not giving a shit.

Golda Poretsky covers this at her blog. This is not about apathy, per say, but about making a conscious decision to not allow others' opinions of you (particularly about your physical appearance) control any aspect of your life.

This is difficult because we are taught from a very young age that we should care very much about what other people think. As a woman, I know that the pressure to shape one's self into the generic notion of "beautiful" can be intense. Crushingly intense.

Those who know me deeply know that I used to shape my life around making myself "beautiful." I thought that happiness could be found in being physically perfect. I used to put off things I wanted to do because I wasn't thin enough yet, and once I was thin enough or whatever enough, life could finally begin. I spiraled through eleven years of eating disorders (which almost killed me when I decided it was acceptable to withhold my necessary insulin injections because, hey, I'd be thin). I laid in tanning beds and covered my body with staining lotions so that my naturally fair skin would become darker. I bleached my hair, subsequently damaging it beyond repair. I used under-eye concealer on my freckles to make them less noticeable. In short, I went to great lengths in the name of physical perfection ... and I know that many other girls and women do, too.

But the burning question, always, is why. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we buy into the notion that our physical appearance is more important than our health, or our very lives? Why do we allow ourselves to accept the notion that we're not "good enough" unless we're thin enough, tan enough, blond enough, etc.? I am a huge advocate of health and taking care of one's self, but the fact of the matter is that not all of us (not even close to all of us) are born with the capacity to be ultra-skinny, large-breasted "bombshells". And the message that our society sends to us is that we are, therefore, lesser people than those who were born with said capacity. That we should feel ashamed about the ways in which our bodies deviate from society's beauty standard.

That we should do everything in our power to change ourselves, mold ourselves, until we meet the expectation.

But beyond the fact that this leaves millions of women (and men -- yes, I know you suffer from this, too) feeling inadequate for simply being themselves, it also sends the message that the main point of wearing a bikini (or short shorts, or a tank top) is to turn ourselves into ornaments that are attractive to other people. That the main point of vacationing is to be physically appealing. That the main point of visiting public pools or parks or cookouts or camping trips is to be physically appealing. As if we don't do these things simply because we enjoy doing them.

As if we don't deserve to enjoy our summers if we're not thin, tanned, and blond.

I've come to a few realizations in recent years, including that I've got quite a few things going on that require a lot from me -- my child, writing, teaching, and everything involved in getting the most out of the human experience that I can, while I'm here. And I'm tired of sacrificing so much time and money, and devoting so much emotional effort, into an impossible ideal that does not represent who I really am. So I'm not going to do it anymore.

Don't get me wrong here. Societal pressure, and the not-so-subtle messages that it sends to us about the way we look, still gets to me. It's not easy to dismiss it. I'm not going to lie and say that I love my body, or that I'm proud of it. I'm not there yet.

But what I can say is that I'm proud of myself. I'm proud of the fact that, despite society and all of the anxiety I feel about how I currently look, I'm just not going to waste any time on it anymore. I will do what I can to be healthy (like, you know, take my insulin). And beyond that, I will spend my extra money on making memories with my son and with my friends, rather than on tanning lotions and expensive highlights. I will spend my time making memories rather than on excessively exercising and obsessively dieting.

I'm not trying to denounce anyone who does feel the need to spend time and money shaping themselves. Do what you feel you need to.

But as for me, I am proud of myself this year -- proud beyond anything that my body and physical appearance represents. I'm simply proud of the woman I am. And when I show up at the beach, or the theme park, or the barbecue, or wherever this summer, I will not be there to prove that I can meet anyone else's expectations of "beauty." I will be there to have fun.

As I am.

Single Rider Lines

I spoke a bit about single rider lines in a comment thread over at Coaster Guy's blog. This wasn't an issue I've brought up very often in the past, but I think it needs to be discussed.

Why, you ask? Well, here's my reasoning: with the exception of Disney (who does not own any of my particularly favorite theme parks), single rider lines are not often utilized. In high-traffic parks with large coasters that draw people like myself, you can find a single rider line only once in a blue moon. Sometimes you'll see one at an older coaster, or maybe at a random newer coaster once in a while. But the parks don't seem to make them a priority.

And I'm having an issue with that.

First, let me identify what single rider lines actually are, and what they actually do. When people are visiting a park by themselves (because they're hopeless roller coaster addicts, haha), or if a group of people choose to ride individually, these people can enter a ride through the exit and experience a much shorter wait than they would in the general queue. They wait for a single space to be available (you know, during those times when you've got a row of four seats and only three people in a group, so there's one extra seat available), and are able to get on the ride by filling in the extra seat. This system is actually useful to all people involved, but because some people feel that shorter wait times for others are "unfair," many parks have cut back on the single rider lines.

I recently visited Six Flags Discovery Kingdom for a quick run on some of my favorite coasters there. Earlier this summer, they utilized single rider lines (especially for Superman: Ultimate Flight, where park owners feared capacity issues). I loved it -- as a person visiting my myself, these lines offered me a chance to hop from ride to ride, have a good time, get my adrenaline fill, and leave the park within a few hours. That one experience made me a loyal Six Flags fan, and I couldn't wait to return.

On my recent visit, however, the park owners had decided to do away with single rider lines. Because school is now back in session, the park is only open on weekends, and it seems as though every single weekend is jam-packed full of people (and I can imagine it will only get worse when Fright Fest starts). So this meant that I either had to leave the park, or consign myself to hours of waiting for only a few rides. And I had an issue with that.

Some of you are probably thinking that my thought process is rather entitled, and that I should take a few steps back. Why, you may ask, should I have the privilege of not waiting in line when everyone else has to? Why shouldn't I have to get in line, like everybody else?

Good questions -- and while I don't think there are simple, black and white answers to that, I'll share with you my thoughts. To me, single rider lines are very important, for a few reasons.

First, single rider lines help everybody. Believe it or not, having a single rider line keeps the wait shorter for everyone, even those in the stand-by line. When every seat in a car is full, customers are shuffled through the queue area and the ride itself much faster than if every car has empty seats. Think about it this way -- if only one person got to ride per car, how long do you think it would take to get a whole queue of people on the ride? When I go through the single rider entrance, and can be placed in a seat that would have otherwise been empty, I will not be taking up an entire row later on (again, with an empty seat beside me) when someone else might have been able to use it. Single rider lines save time for everyone.

But beyond this, I have personal feelings about single rider lines. I know that some people question whether or not single rider lines are fair, and believe that we should all wait in the same line, regardless of how many are in our party. That's fine -- I respect that opinion. However, I will venture to say that when I choose to attend a theme park by myself, my experience (and my expectations) is vastly different than people who arrive in large groups. When I go by myself, my expectation is that I'll ride as many thrill rides as I can in a given time, and then leave. With groups, however, the expectation is a bit different.

When families or groups of friends attend a theme park together, they expect to move a bit more slowly. They'll be riding the rides, of course, but they'll also probably be seeing the shows. They'll be sitting down to dine together. They might take pictures with characters, or stop for a photo in a scenic area. And while they're waiting in those long lines, they'll be talking, laughing, and visiting together.

Now don't get me wrong -- being a single rider has given me the opportunity to meet lots of great people (on my last visit to Six Flags Magic Mountain, my two very long waits for Tatsu both resulted in some extremely wonderful conversations with people I didn't even know). But that is not why I am there. That is not why I have purchased a season pass to the park. I bought a season pass, and am there by myself, solely so that I can experience roller coasters -- quickly, and in large amounts.

When I visit theme parks with groups of people, I don't usually mind waiting in the long lines. It's part of the experience. But when you're there on your own, with a very specific agenda in mind, it becomes tedious.

And it's even more tedious when you take into account the fact that, in my experience, Six Flags Discovery Kingdom had single rider lines! They just chose to eliminate the entire system. And when I asked why, I was told that it was because other people couldn't behave themselves.

Yes, you read that correctly -- the single rider lines were eliminated because too many people were "abusing" the system. They'd get in the single rider line as groups, I was told. Or, one person would ride as a single rider and then rush to get in line with his or her group, who was now halfway through the queue. For the sake of fairness, I was told, the entire system had to be eliminated.

Not even taking into account the fact that the system was eliminated at the expense of people like me (who were, of course, not abusing the system), there are multiple issues that I have with this. First of all, I don't see a problem with groups of people using the single rider line. Part of the deal is that you will be split up, and will likely take multiple cars. If you don't mind your group being split up so that you can get on faster, then so what? Have at it. (Disney already allows this kind of behavior, and haven't had any issues with it.) Secondly, the latter scenario wouldn't be an issue if only the parks would enforce the "no line cutting" policy, which includes saving a place for someone else in line. This is supposedly grounds for being ejected from the park, but I've never seen it enforced (though I see people saving spots for others multiple times each time I visit a park).

But even if people have an issue with large groups using the single rider line, isn't there a way to deal with that without having to toss the system altogether?

I am one who believes that single rider lines should be available at all rides as well, not only a select few. As I said, it helps everyone out, and it also makes those of us who make a habit of visiting the parks by ourselves feel like we and our situations are valued.

National Roller Coaster Day

I just found out (courtesy of The Coaster Guy) that August 16 is National Coaster Day. This is a big deal for me, for not only am I a coaster enthusiast, but I happen to celebrate my birthday on August 16. This means, of course, that future birthday celebrations just might have to include at least one roller coaster, if for no other reason than to be as spirited a coaster junkie as I can.

August 16, which I have always only associated with my birthday, Madonna's birthday, and the day that Elvis died, has apparently also been National Roller Coaster day since the early 1980's (which is the exact time I happened to have been born). How did I not know about this until now?

The main thing to keep in mind about this day is that it's not just some unknown holiday for adrenaline junkies to come together and celebrate amongst ourselves. There are certain places that actually give free roller coasters rides (or celebrated the day in some other way) around the world. Although I'm still looking into it, what I know for certain is that Buffalo Bill's Resort and Casino is one venue that offers free rides on this day.

If you've ever driven the lonely expanse of highway in between Las Vegas and Los Angeles (and I have -- many, many times), then you're probably familiar with Buffalo Bill's. It's also commonly referred to in the vernacular as "State Line," and is that last pit stop before the final 40-or-so minutes into Vegas (or final 3 1/2 hours into LA). It's home to a roller coaster called Desperado, which I haven't had the pleasure of riding since 2003, despite the fact that I've been through the area many times since then.

While we're on the subject, Desperado is actually a pretty good roller coaster to experience, if you haven't before. Back in 1996, it was the tallest roller coaster in the world, with an initial drop of 225 feet. Since then, of course, it's been dethroned by such legends as Goliath (255 foot drop, at Six Flags Magic Mountain), Millennium Force (300 foot drop, at Cedar Point), and Kingda Ka (currently the reigning champion with a 418 foot drop, at Six Flags Great Adventure). But still -- how could you justify turning down a free ride on this classic (especially when it's your birthday)?

The thing is, though, I'd like to get more theme parks on board with National Roller Coaster Day. I think the biggest parks should be aware of it (including all of the Six Flags parks), so that they can help celebrate in some way. After all, we coaster enthusiasts are their primary customer, and we dig holidays like National Roller Coaster Day.

We'll see what happens when August 16, 2013 rolls around. Hopefully many of us can be in contact with the parks before then.