Fish for Brains

A new study in Austria has shown that adolescents and young adults who are in danger of mental illness develop far fewer psychoses, and are less inclined towards psychotic breaks, when they take fish oil supplements. It makes sense. Omega-3 fatty acids are the building blocks of the brain and neural systems. We need lots of them in our diets for our nervous systems to function properly, and most peoples' modern diets don't include nearly enough of them. Most snack foods in general contain Omega-6 fatty acids, which are also important, but not used nearly as much in the brain. It's ironic, but in our fat-filled diets, we're not getting the fats we need.

Thr irony of the modern US is that we have so much food available, but so much of it is nutritionally unsound. It is entirely possible, in our world, to be both obese and malnourished. Who would have thought? And while we struggle with our waistlines, we're also screwing up our brains. I've discovered, over the past several years of pescatarian traveling, that food has a profound effect on mood and behavior. It's not just that hungry people are grumpy. That goes without saying. In Morocco, where my diet consisted mostly of overcooked-in-oil carrots and potatoes plus bread, I gained weight and felt listless much of the time. I generally got my energy and enthusiasm back in Essaouira, where I could at least, hamdulilah, get fish. While the presenece of variety in my diet was certainly exciting, I think that the effect of protein plus Omega-3's on my system was what really made a difference. In other countries I felt similar diet-based changes. Much as I loved the Czech Republic, the constant diet of fried cheese and potatoes nearly killed me.

Now, back in the US, I'm faced with the dilemma of being broke and needing to husband my resources as much as possible until I've acquired a steady income. Though there have been days when I've subsisted on cereal bars and bananas, I've discovered that it's much better to eat as well as I can afford to, because the health payoff is exponential. It's actually not that hard to do. Canned seafood has improved significantly from what I remember in childhood, and can be added to soups and sauces to provide those important proteins and Omega-3's. Lentils are ridiculously cheap, contain protein, and can be used to make soup. Kale and collard greens both hover around 99 cents a pound, and it takes a hell of a lot of them to make a pound, so you can have fresh vegetables regularly even on a budget (and they taste better than you think). The more I learn about diet and health, particilarly mental health, I realize that I can't afford not to eat well. As long as fresh veggies and some variety of seafood are available in some combination, I will eat them. It's important to feed your brain.

For lack of Original Content...

I've been more than slightly caught up in the fundamentals of existence lately, so haven't had much time or energy to do my usual queer feminist blogging. That will hopefully change soon (not the insane business of life, just the amount of time I spend worrying about it) so regularly scheduled updates should be back...eventually. In the meantime, a friend of mine linked to this, and as I found it interesting I thought I would share. It may actually expalain a bit about why I seldom watch movies, though I would never have articulated it in these terms.

Here you go: The Bechdel Test

Teaching Computer Skills to an Ageing DC Debutante

I had an experience today so bizarre that it has to be shared. At dance class today I was approached by another dancer, a stick-thin, platinum blonde senior citizen who asked me, via a long and rambling monologue, to teach her how to use the internet. I guess she figured that I looked young, intelligent, and broke enough to be up for it, and she was right. After briefly checking my credentials ("how old are you--where did you go to college--What was your major--Ok I guess you must be smart--") she packed me into her sky blue convertible and drove me to her place, all the while telling me that she didn't invite people to her house very often, it was a really nice place, one of the nicest in the city, very impressive, and she hoped I wouldn't be intimidated.

I wasn't intimidated. But still.

Her home is a big brick mansion, looking out over a park. It has a sweeping marble staircase with wrought-iron rails at its center, and the floors are all marble or wood parquet. The coat closet is nearly as big as my current rented room. The dining room walls have hand-painted frescoes. Bits of neoclassical statuary are scattered throughout. It looks like a colonial baronage crossed with an Italian villa, with a few dashes of upscale design magazines thrown in for good measure. It's the kind of house I assumed only diplomats had, a setting where elegant cocktail parties featuring $500 bottles of champagne would not seem out of place. I, in my sweaty dance clothes and jeans, most certainly did not look like I belonged.

After telling the maid imperiously to bring up some refreshments, my hostess led me to the computer room, as meticulously decorated as the rest of the house. For the next hour and a half, I guided her through the basics. This is how you turn the computer on. You want an email account? Let's set one up. Here's how you send an email. Ok, let's try it again. After several iterations, we moved on to google. Her first search? Designer clothes, of course.

I found it all fascinating, not so much the lessons I was giving, but the context. What happens when a 1950s debutante has to confront the modern world? Underneath her makeup and wealthy manners, I detected a very real fear. The knowledge that, were it not for her gilded surroundings and the husband who provides them, she would not be able to survive. She told me that when she was in high school her teachers said that because she was pretty she should take home ec. She hated it, she told me. She said no one ever encouraged her to do anything academic. But what she did not say was also eloquent. She didn't actually try. At seventy, she's still attractive enough that I can see the beauty queen she must have been in her youth. She may have wanted something more than a good marriage, but she didn't have the will to pursue a path outside of her prescribed societal role. Now she's trying to learn a new skill, and she's afraid of it. There's a big, scary world out there, and she knows she's not prepared. I'll do the best I can to teach her. It will be very interesting to see how well she can learn.

Then again, Cambodia is looking good

Apparently the king of Cambodia supports same-sex marriage. I don't have any real desire to go to Cambodia right now. But it's nice to know that the government figurehead likes us there.

Cambodia's king on the BBC

Welcome back to America, Land of the Free

Ah, America. I've been back for almost two months now, writing a lot and looking for a job and housing. I seem to have finally found a place to live, pending paperwork, but so far the only employment I've found has been a one-time gig as a photograpy school model and a one-time gig as a tutor for a thirteen-year-old. Today, the father of the thirteen-year-old called me and asked if I would be interested in teaching English as a second language to latinos. I said sure. At this point I'm interested in almost anything that would result in a semiregular paycheck. So we talked a bit about my teaching experience and things, and then, when the conversation seemed like it was wrapping up, he said, "I don't know why I'm getting this vibration, but I feel I should ask you, do you have a boyfriend?" Before I could answer he continued. "I know its a personal question, but I need to know you're not a child molester...do you like girls or boys?" My first instinct was to tell him that it was illegal to ask me questions about my personal life in a professional context. Instead I laughed and said, " Don't worry, I'm not a child molester. I don't have a boyfriend, but I'm not interested in dating." But he continued, "It's a simple question, just answer, you know I'm asking as a parent, etc. etc." and I just said again that I wasn't interested in anyone, full stop, and that as a teacher or tutor I'm always very professional. He finally accepted that and left it alone.

What I really want to know is, what prompted him to even ask that question? I'm not obviously gay. At least not when I'm by myself. Being in the vicinity of my girlfriend ups my obviousness exponentially, but he's never seen me anywhere near her. And I certainly didn't display any interest whatsoever in his daughter beyond wanting her to rewrite her essay. I didn't like thirteen-year-olds even when I was one. I understand not wanting to hire a pedophile. That would be dangerous. But not wanting to hire a lesbian is just absurd. It's not like it's contagious to be gay. And I have no doubt that if I'd admitted to being sapphic in my orientation the offer of potential employment would have been rescinded faster than you can say "ACLU." It's nice to see that discrimination is alive and well.

Drag (Queen) Racing!

Last night was the annual Halloween Drag Queen Race near Dupont Circle. It was fabulous, as only an event featuring that much gratuitous glitter can be. Drag queens, drag queens everywhere, with ballgowns and lipstick and high heels, oh my. Several were arrayed in getup from musicals, complete with sequined marquees proclaiming which ones they were from. There were Elphaba and Glinda from "Wicked," a heavily made-up feline from "Cats," and a very large middle-aged "Annie," complete with bright orange wig. There was a very elegant Cruella DeVille, a classic devil in a red dress, and an acompanying cupid wearing a loincloth and wings and nothing else. Continuing in the theme of semi-nudity were a toga made from a rainbow flag and a feather boa bikini.

The queens all paraded around, blowing kisses to the audience before the race began. At the word "go" all parties began the three-block race in high heels, some with alacrity, some not. The front runners in the race were moving faster than I can run even without heels. The middle section was a scene of ballgowned mayhem, and the theatre crowd, hampered by their giant marquees, brought up the rear. They were followed only by the queens who had decided that real running wasn't worth it and they would just prance along in exaggerated mincing steps only marginally faster than walking.

The whole race only took about ten minutes, and then the crowd converged for photo opportunities. I was swept along by the human wave until I managed to break free and hit the metro. Sadly, I'd left my camera at home so had no way to preserve the fabulosity for posterity.

National Equality March

Today was the National Equality March in DC, to put pressure on Obama to repeal Don't Ask, Don't Tell and the Defense of Marriage Act. I did already blog about this on my more "official" blog, so all I'll say here is that it was awesome, both in the turnout (official counts are now over 200,000) and in how positive it all was. Almost celebratory. We haven't got our rights yet, but we made a damn good showing, and it's the largest gathering of gay people and supporters I've ever seen. Having just spent the better part of two years in countries where homosexuality Does Not Exist and/or Is Not Discussed, it was great to be in an environment where everyone was pro-gay. There weren't even that many counterprotestors. One truckful that jeered as we were waiting to get started, and a small knot of rather disgruntled churchgoers with a megaphone on one corner. I was marching with the UU church, which was marching behind a Jewish group, which I think was marching behind another religious group. So as we passed the bigots who were telling us that god hates fags, we all started chanting "god doesn't hate." They looked peeved. It might have burst their bubble to see church banners and rainbow banners marching side by side.
The other amazing thing was that at the beginning of the parade, when we were all gathered and waiting to move, we looked up and spotted a rainbow. Faint, but nevertheless there. We took it as a good sign. Apparently even god/deity/skyborne light particles were joining in the gay pride.