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White America isn’t about ethnicity or race or economics. It’s about power. White America doesn’t gangs or guns or drugs. I believe, wholeheartedly, that White America fears people of repressed circumstances learning enough to become individually or collectively strong. Through… Continue Reading →
I got into an argument with someone yesterday about a woman who showed up at her workplace apparently drunk. Several people witnessed her fall down and also, she slurred as she spoke. These things, along with reports of a strong… Continue Reading →
I’ve been tracking down information about the BRENDA substance abuse treatment model over the last few weeks. The questions for which I’ve been seeking answers are: 1) What is the BRENDA treatment model; and, 2) Does it work as well… Continue Reading →
It can seem strange that I write about addiction and depression; as well as, writing and music and computers. The thing is that, to me, they’re all part of the same thing: My identity. This identity of mine is how… Continue Reading →
I read an article called The Medicated Americans, some Barber fellow and it bugged me. Barber (2008) is a descriptive study that asserts that the medical community tends to prescribe various antidepressants for common life problems and not for clinical depression. … Continue Reading →
I read an article called The Medicated Americans, some Barber fellow and it bugged me. Barber (2008) is a descriptive study that asserts that the medical community tends to prescribe various antidepressants for common life problems and not for clinical depression. … Continue Reading →
One of the questions I get asked, all the time, is, “Why is your culture so important to you?” Though I hear it all the time, I’m amazed that it’s even asked. In my experience, it seems like people tend… Continue Reading →
It’s tough to want health for someone we love when he or she isn’t well. We pray and wish and hope that somehow health will overtake sickness in a blink of an eye. And when that sickness is addiction, our… Continue Reading →
In the barrio where I grew up, we called ourselves, Chicanos. I always believed that was what I was: A Chicano kid. I had no idea growing up that there isn’t any real such thing as a Chicano. I came… Continue Reading →
It’s rare that I’m among the first boarding group on any flight. I’m unlucky that way: Usually, no matter how early I try to check in, I end up towards the back of an airplane. I’ve gotten used to it… Continue Reading →
If the spirit moves you, please donate to keep this blog going (think of it as a tip jar — like what you read? tip me…)
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