New Love Sears the Brain

This is not my revelation but it sure explains a lot. I condensed a few thought-provoking paragraphs from today's NY Times Science Section called "Watching New Love as it Sears the Brain".
New love can look for all the world like mental illness, a blend of mania, dementia and obsession that cuts people off from friends and family and prompts out-of-character behavior - compulsive phone calling, serenades, yelling from rooftops - that could almost be mistaken for psychosis. Now for the first time, neuroscientists have produced brain scan images of this fevered activity, before it settles into romance or a long-term commitment...The research helps explain why love produces such disparate emotions, from euphoria to anger to anxiety, and why it seems to become even more intense when it is withdrawn. Researchers are also analyzing brain images from people who've been rejected by their lovers. "When you're in the throes of a romantic love it's overwhelming, you're out of control, you're irrational, why? Because she's there," said Dr. Helen Fisher, an anthropologist at Rutgers University and the co-author of the analysis. "And when rejected, some people contemplate stalking, homicide, suicide. This drive for romantic love can be stronger than the will to live." In the study, a computer-generated map showed hot spots deep in the brain, below conscious awareness, in areas called the caudate nucleus and the ventral tegmental area. These areas are dense with cells that produce or receive a brain chemical called dopamine, which circulates actively when people desire or anticipate a reward. In studies of gamblers, cocaine users and even people playing computer games for small amounts of money, these dopamine sites become extremely active as people score or win, neuroscientists say. Yet falling in love is among the most irrational of human behaviors, not merely a matter of satisfying a simple pleasure, or winning a reward. And the researchers found that one particular spot in the caudate nucleus was especially active in people who scored highly on a questionnaire measuring passionate love...One reason new love is so heart-stopping is the possibility, the ever-present fear, that the feeling may not be entirely requited, that the dream could suddenly end. Researchers have found that new love involves psychologically internalizing a lover, absorbing elements of the other person's opinions, hobbies, expressions, character, as well as sharing one's own. "The expansion of the self happens very rapidly, it's one of the most exhilarating experiences there is, and short of threatening our survival it is one thing that most motivates us," said Dr. Aron, of SUNY, a co-author of the study. To lose all that, all at once, while still in love, plays havoc with the emotional, cognitive and deeper reward-driven areas of the brain.

Nature Needs Nature

With 30 pounds hoisted over his shoulder, Nathan Farb, the Adirondack Park's Greatest Photographer, darts around Lake George looking for a shot. He usually focuses on the deep woods, back bogs, alpine tundras and remote ponds but not today. Today, he's all mine for a short news feature but I can barely keep up with his 70 yr. old energy. Finally, he rests his 8x10 Deardorff camera on a grassy hill overlooking Lake George. His camera is ancient, build in 1910, but it captures 50% more detail than a 35mm and his 7 best-selling picture books prove it. The "nature of nature" is how Farb describes what he takes. His work is truly stunning and beautiful and his philosophy on interdependency is even more revealing than his photos. He sums it up perfectly in the following passage: "There's a persistent conception of nature as a test for the self. Surviving on one's own in the wilderness for a few days proves one's mettle or so the thinking goes. Like many young people, I approached nature this way as a teenager; it was a means of affirming my manhood. But today, I no longer look at nature in this light. Due to a car accident that left my daughter disabled and depending on people I changed my attachment to the idea of nature as a test. I began seeing nature as a means by which a person could measure one's interdependence, the connectivity of things, especially in nature. Just as my daughter depends on others for her survival; so too, do species in the wild depend on each other for their own survival. There is an immeasurable and implicit beauty in this interdependence."
I couldn't agree more Mr. Farb and for those out there who think differently - your not living, your merely surviving.

What's all the hype about?

An interview with 60 Minutes, a birthday celebration at Union College, a soldout concert at Wahconah Park, a best-selling memoir and a Nobel Peace Prize for song writing - Bob Dylan is saturating media headlines lately and being that I'm just a casual fan of his enigmatic music I wanted to understand what all the hype's about. So I decided to Netflix the cinema vérité "Don’t Look Back" last night. It's a 1965 documentary that follows his 4-week tour through England. Half way through I realized I was wasting precious time. Why the media dubs him the "American Bard" and fans flock to him like he's a Messiah is beyond rationalizing. Almost immediately he portrays himself as an aloof, antagonistic, ego-inflated, selfish, and insecure lightweight in this film. Albeit clever at times his words are incomprehensible, caustic, and cruel. The star has little self-awareness or perception of reality and is completely indifferent during the Q&A with reporters . Did Pennebaker (Director and Crude Camera Op) intend to capture and exploit this terribly ugly side of a folk genius or is Dylan himself just playing up his insecurities because he's not comfortable with all the attention? Who do I blame - the man, the media or myself for passing judgement because of a film shot 4o years ago? It might not seem fair that I have contempt for a man who, many argue, should be judged on his art rather than his personality but I don't care. The wholesome grittiness of his voice, the beauty in his lyrics, and even the accolates of his success DO NOT transcend the jerk that he so obviously is. Grow up already.

Biking Bravely

To finish up my weekend in the Big Apple, my SCUBA buddy offers an bike trip through Riverside Park and down the West Side Highway. What was suppose to be a relaxing jaunt down the West Side corridor turned into a 4 hour excursion through Battery Park, Southside Seaport, over the Brooklyn Bridge, back up the West Side, through Central Park and home again. Not that I'm complaining - even on 2 wheels I thrive behind anything in motion. Our journeys begin on a 6-mile footpath along the Hudson. It offers rollerbladers, walkers and runners a place to escape the busy city streets along with enough room for bikers. We break for H2o and befriend an old Italian fisherman on a beautifully restored pier using sharp-toothed bloodworms as bait. My SCUBA buddy is totally grossed out but I can't stop taking pictures of his mammoth-size night crawlers. He carefully hooks his line and cast into the deep. He admits that he trusts the fish from the dirty Hudson but more often throws them back. We continue our journeys past the Intrepid Aircraft Carrier, Jacobs Javits Center, Chelsea Piers, and the World Trade Center holocaust grounds. Battery Park is jammed with sightseers waiting to board a ferry to the Statue of Liberty. At Robert F. Wagner Park is a pavilion and one of the cleanest public restrooms, by NY standards, I've ever seen. Onward we press, through Wallstreet's tight narrow cobblestone streets, past fishy-smelling Southside Seaport, until we reach Brooklyn Bridge. This magnificent and grand edifice is the crowning jewel of this ride - bridges usually are for me. It spans the East river and has one of Rachael's favorite icecream shops waiting on the other side. After 4 scoups, ominous sky's overhead have us sprinting up to 57th to Angela's favorite burger hangout. After chaining our bikes to scaffolding we discover our eatery is closed for a private party. Had we looked a little better we would have crashed it but instead we opt for white pizza across the street. Despite the saddle soars, the smell of exhaust, the close-calls with cabbies, and angela's backtire spitting water up at my face, I'm loving every minute of this exhausting adventure. Next time it's a 3-hour high-wire trapeze act and kayake adventure! Anybody like to join us?

Spring Rites in the Lower East Side

After a wonderful rooftop brunch with my bohemian artist friend Jennifer, we make a pilgrimage to Manhatten's Lower East Side for the 15th annual Earth Celebrations Spring Procession (a not-for-profit organization). This tribute to Mother Earth in an urban world is also a way of preserving 35 East Side gardens from becoming parking lots and highrises. It's a day long fiesta of art, ritual, performance, music, dance and poetry for over 10,000 spectators. We arrive just in time for the visually-decadent parade of costume-wearing garden characters. People dressed as Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, etc. weave in and out of city blocks spreading ecological understanding of the importance and fragility of gardens. In a city with over 1.5 million (not counting the boroughs) this small collection of artists and gardeners is also spreading a sense of pride and activism in their community. I revel in this stuff! My favorite is the cacophony of sounds marching in step - Brazilian, African, and Dominican music drown out a lonely butterfly singing a charming tune on her accordian by the sidewalk. It's really a sight to behold. Finally, a mythical drama is enacted in the Green Oasis Garden, ending with a beautifully adorned paper-mache butterfly angel flying from the 6th Street Apartment Building by wire to the middle of the Avenue B Garden. Supposedly the butterfly symbolizes a message of hope and renewal being brought to the city, but, unfortunately, half-way down, a tree branch stops it dead in it's tracks. With a roar of applause and laughter from below we all stare at the sight of this man-made pinata-looking insect stuck in a tree. It's just so typical of the craziness and silliness that keeps me coming back to NYC again and again and again.

S&M in the Big Apple

Between saddle soars, foot blisters and threading eyebrows, my weekend in the Big Apple has S&M written all over it. First up, the 3rd Annual Burlesque Show at the Hiro Ballroom, Maritime Hotel on the lower West Side. This crazy event draws acts from all around the world, including my adorable little curly-haired juggler from Dallas, Texas. His balancing strip tease act is a scream - while dressed in drag, he balances a glass of wine on his forehead and peels away. It's absolutely wonderful! My SCUBA buddy, the gorgeous Miss Angela Jensen, fixes me up ala Goth Motif - chunky black boots, blood red lips and a whimsical girlie braid for that twenty-something look. Angela revels in her "back-off-bitch" look, donning fish-neck stockings, an army-camo skirt, and a jean jacket. The winds start to howl and suddenly there's a torrent of rain outside. Not to despair the subway is only a block away and we don't look any different than what's riding on it. The line to the Hiro Ballroom stretches down the street, a sold-out event. Even Sarah Ferguson Windsor, or as she's more popularly known, party girl Fergie -- Duchess of York is spotted entering. There's 50 acts total and my juggler doesn't go on until after 1am. During a distraction, Angie and I snake past the VIP guards into Fergi territory. We don't see her and neither do we find any seats. The show begins; extreme titillation, transvestites, cross dressers, transexuals, smutty humor, French music - no, I'm definitely not in Kansas, err, I mean Albany, anymore. After watching my 15th strip tease (where the hell are the straight men at?) my feet are throbbing and burning. It's as if I'm walking over hot coals sans meditation to ease the pain. "I want my Fila's back!" I scream from inside. We shamefully bail early, hey, feet before flesh and... To be continued.....

Survival of the Fittest

"It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission" says my favorite coworker, Videographer Jim Felitte. He couldn't be more right. I think about all the ways we push the envelope to get CBS stories covered, from breaking the rules of the road to having nerves of steel confronting hostile situations. Repeatedly, I'm befriending security, police, politicians, and PR people to get what I need for the story. It sounds unethical, even immoral, definitely cunning or crafty, though I conclude it's more survival of the fittest than anything disengenious. We all say and do things that has us walking a fine line of honesty and dishonesty. It's usually just a matter of semantics, personality, and patience that keep me from shooting nothing to shooting an exclusive. It's terribly conflicting compromising your beliefs (ie. all those little white lies) to get the job done but you do what you need to. In an increasingly "big-brother-is-watching" kind of world you really need to keep close perspective on your own principles, scruples, and standards. Big Brother (ie. media management in my case) breathes without a conscious and can and will, at any time, dismiss your experience and talent for cheaper labor. It's all about money. It's not a conspiracy, just read the papers, it's happening everywhere - in the cut-throat working world of employees and management, the artist and liberal intelligentsia world and the tertiary world of higher education. No place is safe. Unlike love (oh sweet love!) nothing is forever, everything is changing and not always for the better.

Relax It's Just Food!

Celebrating food in all its glorious forms is like music to my tastebuds. I enjoy it all! There are few rules that govern what I eat or how I eat, so if it tastes good, it is good, and I savor it all. Simple as that. I have no time for contemplating, analyzing or scrutinizing what's inside - it's a necessity in life so why stress over it? After all isn't there enough stress in the world as it is? Shouldn't food be a salvation from stress instead of complicating the matter? Don't get me wrong - I truly admire people who can be Vegetarians because I know the benefits are enormous - particularly to the environment. I wonder if vegetarians realize that they're also saving the planet when they bite into a soy burger? Between 1960 and 1985, nearly 40 percent of all Central American rain forests were destroyed to create pastures for beef cattle. And in the US, over four million acres of cropland has been lost due to erosion - 85 percent directly associated with livestock raising, i.e., over-grazing. And even the excrement from "food" animals (which amounts to 20 times as much fecal matter as human waste) flows unfiltered into our lakes and streams. Yuck, I think I just lost my appetite. Yes, "going green" is a honorable and worthwhile endeavor but like the chain smoker who won't quit until the Doc tells him so, I'm afraid I can't either. After all, nothing fares better after hibernating with Campbells soup cans all winter, than roasted garlic, asiago cheese, athentic proscuitto and other cured meats layered on a bed of greens between two hearty Tuscans, sipping a Calamansi with ginger, on a sunlit patio, in downtown Albany. No stress here.

Andy Rooney Knows

This was written by Andy  Rooney from CBS 60 Minutes. Andy Rooney says:

As I grow in age, I value women who are over 30 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:

A woman over 30 will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask, "What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think. If a woman over 30 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it.  She does something she wants to do. And, it's usually something more interesting. A woman over 30 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she is, what she wants and from whom. Few women past the age of 30 give a damn what you might think about her or what she's doing. Women  over 30 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera  or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve  it, they won't hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.
Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated. A woman over 30 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn't trust the guy with other women. Women over 30 couldn't care less if you're attracted to her  friends because she knows her friends won't betray her. Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 30. They always know. A woman over 30 looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women. Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 30 is far sexier than her younger counterpart. Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk if you are acting like one! You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.
Yes, we praise women over 30 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed hot woman, 30+, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year-old waitress.

Ladies, I apologize. For all those men who say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free". Here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage, why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire Pig, just to get a little sausage.

Love Hate Relationships

I have many many of these but city dwelling vs the 'burbs is the worst. I live 6 miles from downtown and savor the space, sunsets, safety, and solitude. I work in downtown and feed off the energy, convenience, architecture, and history. Both have their vantage points, both are desirable until.... "Hey buddy, what the f*** are doing walking in front of my car!" For the third time today, another hostile punk with an attitude deliberately and carelessly jaywalks in front of me. For a driver, nothing could be more annoying. To the extent that this idiot's life may be completely "out of control", he's found a way of controlling mine! For all the miles I put on in a day, hundreds and hundreds, this obnoxious act of defiance happens only in the inner city. I try to use psychiology to explain away the actions of these disenfranchised headstrong youth so I can just let it lie. I also feign a look of compassion and understanding as if - "oh, sure, it's ok, no big deal, I nearly broadsided your butt but that's alright, you go right ahead and take the road, after all, pedestrians have the right away". The apathetic jerk shuffles his feet, one-by-one, slowly and nonchalantly, not giving a damn that I'm pulling from my arsenal of psychiology tricks to keep me from slamming on the accelerator. Here's the hook, I can't do it anymore! Trying to justify incivility and the inconsistent behavoirs of others is giving me an ulcer and maybe this is why I'm better off in a confines of a wooded sanctuary. Also, I can't look away when I see a desperate homeless guy scraping for a dime or a single teen mom yanking the sleeve of her 4-year old while pushing a baby carriage with 2. Try as I might to poetically paint these scenes as "snapshots of cosmopolitian living", poverty and unplanned pregnancy is not pretty and it is preventable. The passionate liberal side of me wants to help but my conservative teutonic nature, the one I grew up with (danke frau mutti), wants to literally scream sense into these unfortunates. In the end, it's a love-hate relationship and there's nothing I can do about it but keep driving.

Music Mysteries No More

I'm no musician but if Alternative Radio's Noam Chomsky can endorse it, then it has to have potential. It's called WAV, a hip new music rag with an accompaning website that features free samples of the listening stuff. How can I resist? I have this terrible weakness for first issue glossy music magazines. Somehow I'll justify this expense by letting all my musicians friends borrow it, as if they have time to read! Too busy themselves recording. Believe or not, NPR (National Public Radio) has become a library of progressive college-indie segue music. I heard clips from Modest Mouse, Roxy Music and Thievery Corporation the other day. Nearly drove off the road. Ever since buying into XM a few months ago, rarely do I listen to talk radio, but when I do, I'm always amazed at the breadth of underground finds; again, all accessible from their website. The days of calling a radio station and requesting the name of a tune that just aired, are over. Anybody can find rare and foreign beats heard anywhere from a :30 commercial to a lengthy film series. I was even able to hunt down an exclusive track from a NOVA program about Madagascar, Crocs, and Lemurs last night! How about that.

WhiteWater Adventures

"Left side, Mike, back paddle, back paddle!" yells our WhiteWater Rafting Guide. In rough waters, like these though, hapless Mike, Vietnam Vet, who's positioned in the front of the craft, is completely deaf to Bob's instructions. The waves crash over and over and the raft goes circling into a tailspin lost in an eddie at the bottom of a hydraulic hole. That's rafting vernacular and today's adventure has taken me into the heart of the Adirondacks with a few fearless friends from the YMCA. There's only 3 of us plus our guide, in a boat built for 8, so we have our work cut out for us. This stretch of the Indian River has steep banks with tall cedar trees growing on each side and huge iron ore and granite cliffs. "Great for rock climbing" I think to myself as I my confidence grows tackling another huge "lateral" and "pool-drop". This river has a huge dam that lets loose tons of thousand pounds of water increasing the CFS, cubic feet per second, on steep gradients and upping the river rating to "4". Based on a scale of 1-6, 4 can be a true challenge for novices like us. I made the mistake of hurling a shovel over my head for 3 hours the day before (lawn work) so my upper body strength is a disgrace. It's still a cold time of the year to be battling 40 degree rapids so we're all dressed in matching neoprene wetsuits and polypro. Our ugly pink helmuts ruin the effect of an otherwise attractive looking bunch, but, no matter, we're there to tame the Indian, all 17 miles of her, do-able for some in less than 5 hours, it takes us 4. The best part about whitewater rafting, other than being outside, is experiencing the thrills and chills of a sport that your in complete control of. Exhausted, cold and dripping wet from head to toe, my team of 3 plus guide exit the river with a new license on life and a few more smile lines to add to our parched and weathered faces.

Reporting From "Somewhere"

A trail of dust and tracks was all that was left behind as we raced through God's country on our way to find the Microwave Truck. We'd been stationed somewhere in the lower Adirondacks with a "wife-shot-husband-dead" late breaking news story. For hours we waited at the bottom of the victim's driveway, like vultures circling their prey, watching State Police, Investigators, and Sheriff Patrols come and go from the small clapboard crime scene. Neighbors knew little about the recluse couple, other than the 58 year old former Schenectady Cop and Marine, may have had a history of domestic abuse. With no more than 2 to 3 hundred people in Wells, ask enough towns folk though and your bound to discover the victim was not a good man and probably had what was coming to him. A few years ago, when he was a cop, he somehow got away with not working for 15 years and still collected a paycheck. Some would call that crafty and cunning, the law calls it a crime. "This is a dead-end road!" my reporter screams. I throw the Subura into reverse and burn rubber on unpaved gravel. Is that possible? We have 5 minutes left to find a Microwave Truck that's parked at high altitude to reach distant microwave towers for a signal back to headquarters. Cell phones are of no use secluded backwoods like these. I hail down a rusted-out pickup with yellow soldier stickers and 2 grissly looking passengers. "Can you quickly tell me where King Road is fellas? "Right over yonder...see, what you want to do is..." I don't let them explain -- "right over yonder" is all I need. My navigational prowess kicks in as I instinctively know where higher ground lies. Thank God there are no deer crossings or children around the bend because I'm driving at speeds where a crash is inevietable. Josh, the truck op and Chris, my back-up camera guy, jump into position as I race to cut scraps of video tied in with DA soundbite. With seconds to spare my reporter is live at 5:02, calm, cool, and collected...but she stumbles at the very end...."Reporting live from...from...from somewhere, this is Judy Sanders". Yah, where are the hell are we?

The More Things Change...

The More They Stay The Same! This week's news stories are proving that theory truer than ever! I didn't pay much attention because I was too young, but when John Lennon, music lyricist, poet and activist, was assissinated on December 8, 1980, I remember it being a big deal. I remember too that the arms race between the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. was another big deal because of Sting's Russian's lyrics. Then, when I was 16, unsure of my political persuasions and too nieve to know better (still guilty of that) I sided with the sweet, innocent-looking, boyish-charm of Oliver North. This week, North Korea test fired a missile into the Sea of Japan, political protests gathered in NYC at the UN, and Sting released a wonderful collection of music used in movie soundtracks - many being political. Ironic? I would say not. It's all cyclical, not cynical, but cyclical. The mantra - "what comes around, goes around" is true and as much as I want to beleive in the political process, economic growth for all, and society to be ever-evolving, it's not and it won't ever. Last Sunday, several busloads of locals from the Bethelehem area gathered in NYC for the March and Rally to Demand Global Disarmament at UN headquarters. 40,000 protesters, including some neighborhoods of mine from the Bethlehem Neighbors for Peace (BNP) formed part of the peace symbol in Central Park. It really was incredible if you saw the aerial shot in the paper. The BNP is an organization of concerned members working for peace through diplomatic solutions, believing war is NOT the answer and voicing dissent with the Iraq war and other agendas. Of course, I beleive all that to be good, wholesome and ethical constructive but productive? Hhmmmm... I read Mother Jones, recycle, and avoid shopping at Walmart as best as I can, but does it help? Does anything ever really help? May marks the beginning of Mental Health Awareness Month and the National Alliance of Mentally Ill will again be pushing for the passing of the Mental Health Insurance Parity Bill. With almost 25% of our population suffering from some form of M.I., Parity is so important in preventing deaths and yet NY is not among the 19 states that have passed it. Even with major advocacy, it's not likely they ever will. Ok, Ok, I AM A CYNIC, --- I strayed away from that in 2004 but the cyclical tide is sweeping me back into the deep, after all, the more things change, the more they stay the same!

Spread the GoNomad Gospel

The Big D trip I made a few weeks ago is finally up for review at GoNomad.com! This extensive site attracts adventurous writers and travelers from all walks of life: retired ex-patriots, lonesome hitchhikers, suits looking to let loose, and families opting for more than the artificial world of Walt Disney. Writers blanket the planet, discovering people and places that few travel agencies have ever heard or cared about, journaling their vivid tales and exploits for no more than a contributor's sign-off. Sharing this vast collection of first-person anthologies is the vision of GoNomad owner Max Hartshorne, a regular contributor to CNN and travel magazines and somebody I hope to work closely with on a 13-episode show idea. To think of all the many past sojourns I took throughout Europe, Mexico, and this country and I could have been, should have been, blogging about it! Well, no matter, I've begun the milestone with the Big D and there's no turning back now..wonder where I'm off to next?