Thursday, June 12, 2003 Dear LeBaroness DEAR ABBY: I'm a 17-year-old guy with a big problem.
Almost a year ago I got together with a girl I'll call
Sara. I was told she had feelings for me. Little did I
know what I was getting myself into.
Sara and I have been together ever since. She has
always had problems with depression. I want to break
up with her because she tries to control my life, but
when I tell her we can't be together, she gets sad and
cuts herself later.
It has gotten so bad that I'm afraid if I DO break up
with her, she might do something drastic -- like
commit suicide. I'm scared. What should I do? -- NO
NAME, CITY OR STATE
Dear No-
She is manipulating you. I will not speculate as to her reasons, because they really don't matter. What does matter is that she does not get a free pass to control your life just because she has problems. Tell her parents or someone else that can help her about everything she has said/done that concerns you (even if it might result in one or both of you getting into trouble), tell your parents, and break up with her. Don't let her negotiate with you or threaten you, but tell her you have no desire for further interaction with her.
DEAR ABBY: I am 16 and very sad. I started my own
advice column at school and received tons of letters
asking for help. The reason I did it is because I plan
on becoming a psychologist when I'm an adult.
Every time I mention my column or my future plans, my
family and friends laugh and think it's funny. A
friend of my mother's told me that there's no way I
could know at this point in my life what profession I
want.
Abby, what should I do about people who have so little
faith in me? Should I listen to them or try to brush
off their remarks? Please help. -- SAD GIRL ON THE
EASTERN SEABOARD
Dear Sad-
Your friends have a sworn duty to criticize you a bit, but they are probably just jealous that you have independently done something with a purpose. Don't be too hard on them. As to your family and the family friend, they are hateful and inconsiderate. Tell them that while you might very well change your mind in the future, for now, this is what you think you want to do, and that you plan to pursue it. They are likely just criticizing you as a result of their own failure and regret. If telling them to back off nicely doesn't work, tell them that they are projecting their own feelings of inadequacy on to you and remind them that they are the ones with problems.
2:28 PM
Tuesday, June 10, 2003 American Gothic - by Jayson Blair (Contributor)
*ptoo*ptoo* I spit
at NASCAR and it's tobacco chewing minions. They are but cattle being led to
a trough filled with inane "entertainment" and shows of false grandeur.
American Gothic indeed.
The mere thought of sitting..NAY broiling in the hot sun as a piece of
chicken under a heat lamp at Roy's Cluck and Go makes me want to PUKE. The
thought of me... a strong, virile son of Aztec warriors... parading around
with an oversized foam #1 finger while the strains of "Sweet Home Alabama"
waft through the air is enough to make the great Aztec god of thunder
Cuoaxehuatocexlictieflicgetrheyjrusfgdeflstec frown with discontent .
American Gothic indeed.
Or shall I say an American nightmare! The women walking around in their
moo-moos or parading about with this month's fashions from the local Wal
Mart. Their distended bellies poking over the empty belt loops of their
freshly washed yet still wrinkled Wranglers, as they attempt to negotiate
the finest example of Texarkana cuisine..ergo..the Hotdog into their gaping
lustful gullets. Smatterings of chili and cheese dripping onto the red,
sunburnt skin of their meaty stretch marked cleavage. Their oversized
breasts shoehorned into the cheapest brassieres to be found at the bottom of
the clearance rack at the local J.C Pennies. The last great bastion of taste
and fashion for the local inhabitants.. American Gothic indeed.
But please don't think of me a misogynist. The men of the great Castrol
wasteland are far from pristine in mind and body. The cheap thrills of the
latest issue of Hustler staining their most recent refugee from the laundry
basket. These impotent oafs parade about the concrete and steel as if they
had wrestled victory from the Visigoths and were now entitled to the spoils
of war. They clamor for a sight of their mechanical gods. These men who long
ago were forsaken by their Christ now stand in amazement before their
Valvoline sponsored saviors. The path of enlightenment must SURELY be
through a MATCO or SNAP-ON tool catalog as well as the day of Sabbath was
SURELY made for NASCAR. These men have no archangels...no Ariels, or
Michaels, or Meta-trons. These men have instead entrusted their souls to the
Jeff Gordons, and the Dale Earnhardts of the world. They pray before their
Franklin Mint Collectible tabernacles. Their tithe isn't 10% to aid the
homeless, it is closer to 50% to aid Anheiser-Busch. American Gothic indeed.
