new blog!

I have a new blog. It is more professional looking, and includes pretty cool things like pictures, words, and non-blue colors. This transition to the new blog is part of a bigger project to have a professional website.

I genuinely hope you continue to read my new blog, as it will be the one updated from now on.

http://blog.ryanfolmsbee.com/

-Ryan

life doesn't have an audience.

I recently found out a professor in my program is sleeping with a student. He's married with kids.

Shortly after, I learned an employee in my program was hit on by a married man during a business trip.

Pretty bad, right?

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"Who knows why people do what they do"

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I'm going to hope no one on my Lawrence Ultimate Summer League reads my blog, and say what I'm about to say.

We have someone on our team named Beau. He has a girlfriend, whom we met last week. She has a broken arm, and can't play with us this summer.

We also met her friend, a newcomer to the team that has never played ultimate before. He was Swedish, handsome, and clearly friends with Beau's girlfriend. They spoke Swedish together.

As the game went on, I began to feel Beau's antagonistic behavior towards this guy. By the end of the game it was clear Beau did not want him there.

In Beau's defense, they were speaking Swedish to each other, the second sexiest language known to man, before whatever language Chewbacca speaks.

So fast-forward to today, and I see Beau's girlfriend and this Swedish guy hanging out with another friend. They were in a fountain together.

I spent the rest of today imagining the movie that this is. A young, attractive couple playing ultimate frisbee together. Trying to make it to the championship game and win the gold. Their relationship torn apart by this new, attractive man bound to her through this mysterious romance. Their relationship crumbles before the championship game, and all hope for the team is lost. Just minutes before the game, the couple realizes the beauty of their faults, find a love unmatched, and the team reunites, bonded by a strength that takes them to victory.

There would need to be a comedian on the team, for comic relief. With zany one-liners that turns the "drama" into a "dramedy". It'll get a bigger audience.

There also needs to be a secondary storyline with another team member. The compelling, tragic story of a young black man struggling to make it in today's society. He hopes to use ultimate as a way to get into college, and free himself from the stranglehold of his crime-riddled neighborhood.  Forced to work under the shady drug dealer, this character eventually ending up in handcuffs and losing someone close to him. He finds future success in his sport, and rids this drug dealer's grip on his neighborhood in the process. This story line will mainly be Oscar bait, but it'll include a younger, up and coming actor.

The girlfriend's broken arm a face value metaphor for their struggling relationship. Held together through the couple's bandages, but the pain always persisting. Nothing but band-aids on bullet wounds. Her looking for relief, but only finding more heartbreak.

But how does that movie end? The Swedish guy confesses his love for her, and the girlfriend realizes Beau was the one all along? How does Beau come back from that? The damage is done.

Why does the Swedish guy not get a chance? Because he's not the main character? How do we know Beau belongs with her? Why would our biased opinion make Beau the better boyfriend?

But who am I to judge. Why is any of this my business?

It's not.

Because real life isn't like the movies. Things don't happen to maximize the emotional tug of the audience.

Real life doesn't have an audience. No one watches you. No one cares.

Above all else, we do things to find happiness. We all want to be happy, and we don't care how we look when we do it.

Because at the end of the day when you're alone in bed staring at your ceiling, no one is staring back.

So maybe we're all allowed to find happiness, without the threat of an audience's perception.

-Ryan

time is almost up.

So here's the thing about my funeral.

I really don't want it to be at a church. It has to be at the graveyard, and raining. JUST like in the movies. Everyone has a black umbrella.

With an American flag draped on the casket. I'm not overly patriotic, I just like how it gets folded at the end by the soldiers.

Oh, and a mysterious man needs to watch the funeral from afar. Maybe leaning against a tree? Watching.

The after-party has to have good food, too. Catered by a nice place. Where people widen their eyes, scrunch their lips, and nod when they hear it.

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"I didn't even KNOW Chipotle catered."

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Maybe something ethnic, like Indian. Not just sandwiches and pasta salad.

And no cans of soda, stabbed into a mountain of ice. What is this a family reunion?

Open bar.

When I was a kid I wanted to be cryogenically frozen. I liked the idea of not dying.

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"Why does no one like us?"

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I bet I'd be really good train conductor.

You turn it on and you move forward. You're only going one place, and only getting there one way.

That just sounds like how you find peace.

14 days until I'm officially a scrub. Pray for ya boy.

-Ryan

got two pages, or about 30-40 seconds.

It's surprisingly difficult to tell a compelling story in two pages.

A production company is accepting 2-page screenplays about the world ending in 2 hours. It can be about anything, it just has to be 2 pages.

What would you do if you had 2 hours left to live?

I don't think the movie wants to explore the answer to that question. I think that question asks you what's important in your life. Family. Loved ones. Being with them during your last moments. Saying goodbye to the people you feel deserve it the most. Hearing it from the people you wish didn't have to say it to you.

I don't think a good script will have these kinds of moments. It doesn't have the emotion I'm looking for.

For two hours you are allowed to be exactly who you are. No rules, no society, no pressure. Complete freedom from every invisible wall we have put up as a society. What would you do?

Trash a Dick's Sporting Goods?

Kiss that girl from work that sits in the cubicle down the hallway and to the right? The one that you're pretty sure has a boyfriend, but took you 20 minutes to build up the courage to ask what her plans were for the weekend?

Or maybe you'll just sit on your porch with your spouse and open that bottle of wine you were saving for your anniversary next month.

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"It goes to show, people will up and go mad when they believe their life is over."

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I read somewhere that the average person can hold their breath for around 30-40 seconds. That really doesn't seem like a long time at all.

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"I don't want no scrub. A scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me."

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I don't have a lot of time left. My unemployment has reached an expiration date, but the world hasn't seemed to notice. I saw myself having a job by this point. Working a 9 to 5 that turns my early afternoon leisure coffee into an early morning required coffee. Taking a long lunch and hoping my supervisor doesn't notice. Cracking jokes in the break room about that one coworker that totally looks like Jim Carry in that one movie.

Instead I'm in a coffee shop working on scripts. Thinking about the end of the world. Wondering when I officially reach "scrub" status.

But lately I've realized that new beginnings don't necessarily work out the way you want them to. You only have a certain amount of control over your life, and you can't spend it wishing you had full control.

No, I didn't steal that from a Zach Braff monologue in a Scrubs episode ending.

But random happenstance seems to play a bigger role than I thought. And lately that seems like a good thing. After all, the universe isn't out to get me. 

Seriously. 30 seconds doesn't seem long at all.

-Ryan

meditations in his own emergency.

I started reading "Meditations in an Emergency". It's a book of poetry written by Frank O'Hara in the late 1950s. I first learned of the book after seeing it in an episode of Mad Men.

The poems vary in length and meaning. Some are pretty short, and some require a comfortable chair. But you can't help but feel some similarities between them. Frank's voice becomes yours when you're reading them.

To me, they speak to the helplessness we feel from our environment. Our internalized disconnections we place on ourselves.

That feeling you get when you're at a party and you don't know anyone.

When you're laying in bed and you realize how quiet your world is.

I think that's what he meant by "meditations in an emergency". Those times when you are lost in translation with your own thoughts. Staring off in the distance trying to find an answer to a question you're not even asking yourself. We meditate for answers.

It's hard to tell what it was Frank felt disconnected from. But I wish I knew. An unfortunate car accident ended Frank's life in 1966, so we may never know what Frank felt when he wrote this book.

I jumped around, but the first poem in the book is definitely my favorite.

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To the Harbormaster

I wanted to be sure to reach you;
though my ship was on the way it got caught  
in some moorings. I am always tying up  
and then deciding to depart. In storms and  
at sunset, with the metallic coils of the tide  
around my fathomless arms, I am unable  
to understand the forms of my vanity  
or I am hard alee with my Polish rudder  
in my hand and the sun sinking. To  
you I offer my hull and the tattered cordage  
of my will. The terrible channels where  
the wind drives me against the brown lips  
of the reeds are not all behind me. Yet  
I trust the sanity of my vessel; and  
if it sinks, it may well be in answer  
to the reasoning of the eternal voices,
the waves which have kept me from reaching you.

          -Frank O'Hara

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-Ryan

lying through his teeth.

For the past few months, I've had a pair of men knock on my door wishing to speak with me about Jesus Christ. They're nice people.

The Mormon twins, I consider them.

They're young, maybe 19 or 20. Short blonde hair, cut by  a woman in a kitchen. They were wearing white dress t-shirts and ties that I'm convinced are clip-ons. I assume their backpacks are just filled with more books and pamphlets. Maybe sandwiches for lunch.

So today they knocked on my door again, Book of Mormon in hand. They caught me off guard. The last time they were standing at my door I convinced them I was on my way out, apologized, then un-paused my video game. But this time I was eating lunch watching TV, and had no excuse readily available. I was caught with my pants down. Not literally, but that would been a decent way out of that.

So they invited themselves in the only way they know how; by kindly forcing you to.

They spoke to me about Jesus Christ, and the impact he had on their lives. They brought up their church, and the Book of Mormon.

Then came the inevitable.

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"So are you very religious at all?"

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Now my momma taught me well. I have a rehearsed answer I've used my whole life when asked this question. I guarantee every atheist has an answer they use whenever this happens. A smoke bomb, readily stored in the corner of their brain to be used at a moment's notice.

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"....yes. I am."

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I've lied to a lot of people, for a lot of reasons. Everybody has. Lying to them was something I felt necessary if I didn't want to devote the rest of my afternoon to have a conversation that would go nowhere. Plus how awkward is that? My atheism, to them, is a challenge. If not, it better be, for the sake of their jobs. They want to convince you to follow their path of righteousness, right? Finding an atheist is the ultimate challenge for them. Stepping up to the plate for what they'd believe to be God's ultimate test of their ability to convert the "misdirected". Leaving me alone could be easily understood as "giving up", and you don't want to anger the man upstairs, right?

So I lied. Made up a whole story about going to church my whole life. Don't worry, I made it believable. Told them I went all the time as a kid, but sort of stopped going in college. Didn't have time. But hey it's still important. I guess my parents were the religious ones. I mean, it's supposed to be but... you know... homework and all... and hey you know I try my best.

They smiled and nodded. Gave me a Book of Mormon. Invited me to their church. Asked for some water. Reminded me how life-changing Mormonism is. Left.

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"Could I trouble you for a glass of water? It's a scorcher out here."

-Mad Men, Indian Summer

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I think we have a knee-jerk reaction to associate lying with "being bad".

I've never thought lying in and of itself is wrong. I believe lying is wrong when used for personal gain, or for the degradation of another. But lying is the means to an ethical choice, and not the ends. Lying to benefit the greater good is possible. Lying for the sake of a clearly better outcome is possible. I lied to avoid a situation I believed would have the possibility of negative consequences for one or both of the parties. I lied to enter a situation I believe would end with a more positive environment. The opportunity for us all to move on with our lives, worry-free. Am I allowed to make this choice?

Growing up my family was not religious. My brothers and I had a perspective of religion very few have: from the outside. Without the conditioning church executes so effectively on children, my brothers and I saw religion for what it was, and there was no changing that. They're stories. Stories that make us feel better. Tell us that whatever we're doing is okay.

So... was that fair?

Lets look at what's fair.

Is it fair that I feel the need to lie to the face of strangers in my apartment?

Is it fair to them that I'm dishonest?

Is it fair that I'm bothered in the middle of the afternoon and asked to have a philosophical conversation?

Lets I spent the rest of my life going door to door asking people if they enjoy eating carrot cake. Ask them if they eat it. Tell them how much my life has changed since eating carrot cake. Give them a recipe I believe yields the perfect carrot cake.

So what's the discrepancy between these two scenarios? That carrot cake is trivial? That someone's opinion on cake has no lasting consequence on their live? After all, at the end of the day, who cares about carrot cake?

This is something many religious people don't understand about the atheist perspective.

Religion is carrot cake.

-Ryan

Opinion: We Need To Do Better.

 I recently came across an article written by a medical student regarding her depression. In her article, Lindsey describes her own struggles, along with a growing relationship between medical students and depression. If you haven't, give it a read.

She detailed her depressive symptoms in the article: the usual suspects. After a conversation with her parents, her next step was to begin taking an SSRI. The medication seemed to help, and eventually allowed her to gain some structure and control back in her life. Her story ends on a high note, but sheds some light into depression's presence in medical students.

So lets talk about depression for a second.

Depression is the Justin Bieber of the mental illnesses. It gets the most attention, and subsequently the most turned cheeks. So many people think they know and understand it, so our society is quick to form biased, universal opinions about it.

Unfortunately, we oftentimes don't see depression in those suffering until we wish we had. Thus is the nature of the disease.

But this blog post isn't about society's view of depression. That's an easy target. Obviously, our society lacks insight into mental illness. Obviously, we need to fund agencies that promote awareness. Obviously, we need to encourage everyone suffering to speak up and find help. These are all important, and worthy of mentioning.

But I wanted to bring up a different point, and something few people are talking about.

In Lindsey's story, something interesting stuck out to me. She realized she was depressed, and did something about it. So she began medication.

What about therapy?

Turns out, it was a simple matter of time management. She's a medical student. Books to read. PowerPoint slides to stare at. Cadavers to pretend like they aren't freaking you out. People with barely enough time to fix themselves a PB&J certainly wont have time in their week to sit in a room and talk.

But this isn't a problem specific to medical students. As a children's case manager and therapist in training, I had countless clients leave due to time and money constraints.

"Sorry Ryan, I just can't afford the gas to drive my son to therapy every week."
"Sorry Ryan, I need to work more hours to keep my job, so I can't see you as much"
"Sorry Ryan, it's been a few months and nothing has happened. I think I'll just do the meds."

People just don't have time for therapy. If so many people in therapy are unable to find time for it, it's clear there are a vast number of people that are not in therapy that are unable to find time for it.

The only time this wasn't an issue with my clients? When I worked in a jail. My client had to be literally and lawfully detained for me to have a caseload of clients that were able to make it to every session.

Sure we can blame this on the bad job market. People have 9 to 5's. families to support. It makes sense that mental health would take a backseat when you're trying to get food on the table for your daughter that, oh my god, is totally going to need braces next year, and I need to make those cupcakes for her bake sale, and I can't forget that her soccer team needs that due paid by tomorrow and...

...hey. no wonder you're so stressed.

But for the sake of argument, lets pretend that excuse is just a rationalization made by those in the mental health field. and lets do something about it.

People needing therapy don't have time for it. Okay. How about instead of shrugging our shoulders we start asking ourselves what we can do.

How can we fix the inherent impracticality of therapy?

We should be looking into what keeps people in therapy and what doesn't. We should find ways to minimize the time it takes to see results, and maximize the effectiveness of therapeutic interventions. Fight insurance companies to allow clients more time in therapy. Explore new therapeutic methods that go beyond our offices. Create new techniques that can be utilized in a communal sense, rather than an individual one. Make what we do accessible.

It's not like we don't have enough mental health professionals. In fact it's the opposite. We have too many.

This field needs to spend more resources on finding ways to reach those in need. Finding the most effective form of therapy is important, but so is finding the best way to offer whatever therapy that is. It doesn't matter if you've invented a form of therapy that works 99% of the time if it's only going to be used on 1% of those that need it.

The demand is clearly there. It's our supply that's lacking. As therapists we are selling a product that is in desperate need of a Don Draper.

Lindsey's willingness to discuss her depression is a minority, when it shouldn't be. For our society to truly shift its perceptions of mental illness, we need to first establish an environment where those suffering from mental illness are willing to speak up. But at the same time, mental health professionals need to recognize that we are simply not helping enough people.

We can't expect society to trust us until we learn to do our jobs better.

Maybe then, I wouldn't have to spend my birthday at a funeral.

-Ryan