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The Reality of Reality Television

In the world of television, a season has just passed, and another approaches. That’s right, while one batch of reality shows has come to their inevitable conclusion, another group steps in to fill the void.

Reality tv comes in a cornucopia of malevolent flavors including searching for the perfect mate, hanging with the friends your mother hates, chronicling the cheating mate (husband, wife or significant other, it’s a varied menu) and hanging with the queens (drag queens, royal weddings, whatever). Nothing is off limits if it’s on cable.

The word ‘reality’ is defined by the Miriam Webster online dictionary as: the quality or state of being real: television programming that features videos of actual occurrences (as a police chase, stunt, or natural disaster) —often used attributively .

So, reality television. It’s swiftly become a part of the modern television lexicon. Be it network or cable, a large portion of what is being regularly programmed over the airwaves, or beamed down from the fringes of the atmosphere comes to us as reality tv. And like it or not, it is here to stay.

What’s the bottom line?
Is reality tv just a portrayal of life as it happens, such as those events mentioned in the Miriam Webster definition? Or a money-making stunt for both players and networks?

Does the video chronicling of a living macrocosm, in some instances populated by the insular lives of idiotic misfits and cretins; so lacking in modesty, common sense and decency; allow it to be formally accepted as life as we know it?

Or, is each episode a portrayal of a life so far removed from reality that to call it so is nothing more than a misnomer? To be viewed as some convoluted form of modern day comic opera? Which, to say the least, is an unfair comparison to the accepted parameters of what is known as comic opera.

In other words, does watching The Bachelor, and then discussing it around the office water cooler, give it an air of legitimacy usually reserved for natural disasters and the NFL draft?

NO. A thousand times, no.

That’s a lot of hyphens!
Just because a television show is “unscripted” and craftily edited, chronicling the day-to-day comings and goings of a group of fun-loving, ethno-centric, beer-guzzling, up-chucking, chain-smoking, name-calling, hair-pulling, foul-mouthed twenty-somethings, or housewives, (or whatever the “it” demographic happens to be at the time), doesn’t make it reality.

Or right.

So let’s stop referring to it as reality television and call it what it really is, entertainment. Nope. That’s not the right word either. It’s more than a word. I’ve got it! Call it a guilty pleasure. That’s a little closer to, well, reality. I guess.

My guilty pleasure? Last Cake Standing. So what does that say about me? Oh, hell. Forget I even brought it up!


                              

Life is Like

LIFE IS LIKE…DEM THAR CLOSED DOORS

This bloggage (as I like to call my postings) is mainly about Joe and I so, if your sick of reading about us, you probably wanna stop now. -Katy

The following 'bloggage' is the sole responsibility of my wife. I had no input, accept a comma or two. And those were unsolicited. What can I say? For some reason she loves me. And I her. -Joe

There is old song, sung by Charlie Rich, “Behind Closed Doors”.  A song about love, ok, maybe just sex, definitely sex, definitely.  But is a song of true life long lasting love?

You may be wondering where the hell I’m going to go with this but it’s a follow up on Joe’s mental health blog.

Unfortunately life is very different behind the closed doors at the house on Herman Hill.

In 2008 I was diagnosed with Bi-Polar II.  Believe me the last thing I wanted to add, to my already too long mental illnesses, was another one.

In my case, my Bi-Polar II has more lows than ‘highs’.  

Some people experience very high highs and at times I wish I did.  At least the house would be clean! My lows are added to my major depression which doesn’t make a great combination, believe me.

A lot of people may find it hard to believe I am depressed.  I put on a good front, until I get behind our closed door.

I don’t know what I ever did to deserve Joe (but I’m not complaining), a lesser man would have packed his bags a long time ago.  Perhaps the cost of filing for divorce costs too much but whatever the case, I know that what we have is special.  And Joe is a very special person (I don’t mean short-bus special either).

When all my meds are working as they should be life is great in the Schutte house.  Unfortunately I’m (actually we) are going through a time when the meds are not working to their fullest.  Not by a long shot.

Even before my lay-off (January 1^st) my depression wasn’t completely under control.  But since then it has gotten much worse, much worse.  Said lay-off is scheduled for 6 months, but with things the way they are these days who knows if my job will be available then.

That’s not what I’m worried about. I know that the Lord will take care of us and will bring something better.  I love my job in Alberta and would love to go back July 1^st.  But as I said, who knows if it will be available.

As it stands now

I’ve isolated myself from all family and friends.  My only scheduled outing is on Saturday to visit and clean at my Mom’s.  Joe does his best trying to get me into the great outdoors, even if it’s just for a ride.  So far this year he hasn’t had a good track record.

I’ve always been great at hiding how I really feel when in public.  In fact the first time I a spent a week long ‘vacation’ in the luxurious Marquette General Stress and Depression Unit more than just a few people thought I was actually a nurse (they obviously wear normal clothes)!  To say that I was a total mess in my head would be the understatement of the decade. 

But behind the closed door of my ‘suite’ (I’m sure you get the sarcasm by now) my depression had me in a very tight choke-hold.  Thankfully I received great care, especially from my Doctor who fixed me up with the right combination of medications to put me back on the right track.

If you see me in public (which, as I said earlier doesn’t happen much now) I still have a smile on my face and look like I don’t have a care in the world.

But behind those closed doors Joe sees how I’m really feeling and believe me it ain’t pretty!

Isolating myself is just one, in the long list, of severe depression symptoms. 

Joe gets the brunt of it. I wish he didn’t but it’s not like I can control it.  I could blame it on the medication not working, or it not being the proper combination. Either way, life at the moment is what it is, and it doesn’t really matter what I blame it on.

Joe is, and has always been, steadfast by my side 150% actually. No matter if I’m at my lowest or feeling great.  I am truly blessed.  And I’m not sucking up to him because I want something, either (but I should get a few extra brownie points).

When I say my prayers, the very first thing I do is thank the good Lord for bringing (and keeping) Joe in my life.  He is the biggest blessing I have. Even if I won the lotto.  Even if I won the biggest payout ever.  Ah, maybe that’s what he’s waiting for, after all he would get 50% of it. I like to think that isn’t the case we’ll have to wait and see, guess.

Told ya so!

See, I told you this was going to be more about us than you probably wanna read!

I guess in short (some 944 words later) the bottom line is: I know that he will always be the branch I’m holding onto.  Remember the cat hanging on just by it’s paws. You know, the ‘Hang In There’ poster.  He’s always been my branch when I need him to be.  Even if I’m just hanging on by a claw or two.  Between him, and Jesus carrying me when I can’t walk on my own, I’m not only blessed beyond words but an extremely lucky woman.  I hope you are too. (Feel free to change woman to man when reading this, if that is more appropriate).

Katy Manning Schutte

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Bipolar II - Outed by Catherine Zeta-Jones

First, let me say I am not ungrateful. Nor do I hold any animosity toward Oscar-winning actress Catherine Zeta-Jones. As a matter of fact, I applaud her for allowing her battle with Bipolar II to be made public.

Shortly after Ms. Zeta-Jones announced her battle, ex-Disney child star Demi Lovato (Sonny with a Chance) recalled her three month stay in a residential treatment center, where, during treatment, she discovered some of her past actions could be directly related to being bipolar. She has spoken openly about it in an upcoming People magazine interview.

So, what is that annoys me? Simple. That it takes Catherine Zeta-Jones and Demi Lovato to suffer from the disease, in order for it to be discussed openly. Hopefully bringing about education and understanding of the disease for those that don’t understand it. As well as for those who are living with it.

I have said this before and I will say it again, “Mental illness is the bastard child of healthcare”.

But she’s not famous.
My wife is one of those unsung sufferers of mental illness. The psychiatrist, who treated her after her first visit to the Marquette General Behavioral Health Adult Psychiatric Unit in 1998, discussed with us that Katy suffered from a condition being bandied about at the time as 'Bipolar II'.

She explained that the concept of the long-held standard of the bipolar diagnosis was sort of heavy-handed. That there was a growing school of psychiatrists, psychologists and therapists who believed there were certain degrees of bipolar disease.

For those in the business of treating mental illness, Bipolar II represented a tier of the disease which presented itself with the ups and downs of the manic/depressive pattern, but showing more regular and shorter highs and lows than the normally accepted Bipolar disease demonstrated. It is important to remember I am not a doctor (but I play one in the bedroom) and am relaying to you the explanation of the disease as I remember it.

In denial.
Sure, everyone knows it’s out there. Mental illness, oooooohhhh scary. But no one really wants to own up to it. The people needing the most help are the ones who can’t, don’t or won’t get it. Those patients needing the new medications (broadcast ad nauseum everywhere), therapy and hospitalization are those who can’t afford it, don’t know about it or their insurance covers just enough to make it an economic hardship.

And lets be truthful, the almighty dollar, or lack thereof, is a driving force when individuals and families are making decisions on getting care, finding therapists and filling much-needed  prescriptions. The decision made oft times is, simply put, going without.

Anecdotal, but true.
Why do I know this? A better question would be, “How do I know this”. Because I’ve been there. On the front line. Supporting my wife. Who, for 20-plus years, has been battling against a foe that knows no boundaries. It’s important to remember, mental illness crosses over all the lines. Class. Economic. Age. Race. Gender.

Most importantly, mental illness doesn’t care if you have good insurance or not.

With the flood of commercials hitting the airwaves and pages of newspapers and magazines touting new medications to combat mental illness, the lion’s share of the those needing such medications and treatment never get them. Without access to good insurance, especially with a low co-pay prescription rider, it’s hard to scrape together the 250 to 400 dollars necessary for the newest anti-depressants hitting the market.

Remember, these drugs, unlike antibiotics, may be necessary for months, even years to be effective in the treatment of mental illness. Even the generic drugs can be out of reach for many sufferers, particularly if many are prescribed at the same time.

No one should suffer from mental illness, diabetes, cancer or any number of diseases, without support. No one should be left behind when they can’t afford their care. But it happens. Every day. But I digress.

Mental health needs a check-up.

Where we stand today.
Sufferers today need access to more psychiatrists. Psychiatrists who aren’t seeing a client list of several hundred patients. Doctors whose limited quality time is spent prescribing medications without the benefit of a lengthy, honest discussion with their patients about the progression of their illness.

In Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where my wife and I live, there are but a handful of psychiatrists available to a population of approximately 300,000, spread across an area of 16,500 square miles. Most of these doctor’s are centrally located in Marquette, MI which is 72 miles east of where we live.

These mental illness practitioners must rely on the notes of therapists and psychologists who forward their observations in the hope the doctor will actually have time to pore over them before meeting the patient and prescribing said medications.

This needs to change. How? I don’t know. If we can’t fix health care as it stands today, it will be a moot point. But maybe now, with the openness of high profile personalities Catherine Zeta-Jones and Demi Lovato, a dialog of sorts will begin. But, it needs to be discussed honestly, fairly and compassionately.

As Whoopi Goldberg’s alter ego Fontaine would say, “I’ll buy your bull-shit. How much?”

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WE'RE BACK!

Okay, Katy's back today with a new "Life is Like" column. It's the kind of message that makes one look back upon the hurts in life and wonder, "If it's healing, why do I feel this way?" It's very thought provoking.

Myself, well, that's another story. And I am working on it, and many others. I have spent too much time being introspective and not enough looking forward. It's a work in progress...my life, and my writing. Oh, and don't forget the recipes! Mmmmmm,,,

  

LIFE IS LIKE A SCAB

Everyone has had some kind of scab at least once in their life.

Perhaps it was falling off their bike, getting scratched by their loving cat, you get the picture.

Maybe you put a bandage over it and possibly some antibacterial ointment to help it heal.  Or took your chances and let it heal by itself.

Sometimes scabs happen with an ingrown hair or splinter that is so small that you didn’t even realize it was there.  It festers and you just don’t understand why. 

In those, and other cases, it doesn’t go away.  Sometimes you do have to take the scab off to find out what is causing it.   What really lies beneath causing the ugliness? 

What is it in your life that you need to rip off the scab to get to the bottom so you can heal?  It’s different from person to person, although I’m sure that many have more scabs in common with others than they would have ever guessed.

Mine are many.  Here are just a few:  mental illness, drinking, addictions, selfishness, resentment, unforgiveness…I guess that was more than just a few.  Did you see any of those in yourself?  Please don’t tell me I’m the only one in the world holding onto at least one of those!

As I am writing this many of those still have the scab on them.  Still waiting to be uncovered so the root of the problem can be dealt with.  Waiting for me to rip it off, easier said than done.  Maybe I’m not ready to deal with what lies underneath.  Or maybe I just don’t want to.

God has spoken to me by a feeling I have deep inside, He tells me to trust in Him.  Release my fears, anger and whatever else is holding me back from totally trusting in Him.  Release my “control” and let Him be in the driver’s seat (and not be the backseat driver).  

My husband would be more than happy to tell you that even if I’m sitting beside him as he drives, I’m still a backseat driver.

I probably should have added control issues to the above list, but you have already figured that out by now.

I should take my own advice and take some time to really really look deep down and think and pray about why I don’t rip that scab off.  But then there is life.  We get so caught up in day to day that some things get put on the back burner of life.  Is this the case for you?

Here again, it’s easier said than done taking the time to do it, but they don’t have to be done all at one time.  Nor do they have to be done in a certain amount of time.  Maybe you have given up, you’ve tried before and there isn’t only a scab but also scars underneath.

Think of it as a process.  Work on one scar at a time.  Take your time, there are no time limits.  Listen to what God has put in your heart.  That still strong ‘voice’.  He’ll help you through it.

Once the scab is gone take the time to put that “antibiotic” and “bandage” on it.  You’ll be raw, mentally and perhaps physically as well.  Take the time to let it heal properly before trying to go onto the next one. 

Listen to your heart. Don’t forget, He’ll be there to hold your hand, and carry you when you can’t walk.

Katy Manning Schutte

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Tragedy in Arizona

It has taken me three-plus days to digest and understand what has happened in the state of Arizona. And if you don’t know what I am talking about, or haven’t paid close attention to the national news, I envy you.

The loss of life, of any life, to a hail of bullets delivered by a madman plain and simple is indescribable. The shooting of a lawmaker, a judge, a bystander, a child can in no way be justified.

And yet here we are. The death of the innocent painted in blood with the broad brush of intolerance and insanity.

For the past few days pundits and news anchors, bloggers and columnists, as well as everyone else have been struggling to come to terms with this newest bloodshed foisted upon the national landscape. A congresswoman is gunned down in broad daylight and those who work with her or attend the doomed gathering become victims and heroes.

Neither an enviable position to be in.

Can we blame someone’s mental state on someone else's political views? As much as I would like to, I can not. Because rational people don’t finish an argument in gun play. They just don’t. As a nation we should rise above such action. Retaliate with words, whether in patience or anger, but it end it there.

Unfortunately, not everyone is rational. But don’t make the mistake of lumping the mentally ill with those who are, in essence, deranged. It’s not fair to the mentally ill.

The political scene is quite toxic right now. A war of words is engaged between factors from the left, center and the right. There is quite a bit of posturing over the already passed health care bill and animosity toward the president from all sides. Discourse is becoming very heated.

Words have power. Add firearms to the mix and suddenly words become deadly. In a country of over 300 million people and a cherished Bill of Rights, statistically it’s going to happen.

But who is to blame? The right? The left? One deranged person with a gun who can’t tell the difference between (mostly) civil discourse and blatant intolerance? We may never know the whole truth. Nor can we pick and choose half-truths a la carte to satisfy a rush to judgement.

Still, in honor of those injured or killed, in thanks to the brave and heroic, maybe, just maybe, we could dial down the flaming rhetoric. If just for a short while. Even if it wasn’t the cause, there can be effect. Perhaps choosing better symbols to prove, or make, a point for example. At least pretend to listen, even consider, an opposing view before outright belittling it.

The political horizon is fraught with pitfalls. The environment is beyond toxic and it needs to be cleaned up. That toxicity in itself may not kill, but it certainly can poison an already sick mind. Maybe push him or her over the edge into violent insanity. Maybe not.

We can’t know what will trigger the next horrific incident. And there will be one. There always is. What will be the motivating factor? An idea, a thought, a word spit out in anger and hate? Prejudice? Just plain crazy in an all too crazy world?

What is annoying to most may be that which sets off an already deranged or deluded mind into doing the unthinkable. As a nation we can slow that process down, but we will probably never stop it.

But in the name of Abraham Lincoln, Harvey Milk, John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and now Gabrielle Giffords, Judge John Roll, Christina Taylor Green, Gabe Zimmerman, Phyllis Schneck, Dorwin Stoddard, and Dorothy Morris, we can, and should, try.


                                              

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Christmas 2010

Christmas. My favorite time of the year.

This year, however, is vastly different than in holiday’s past. Why? Two things stand out for my wife and myself this season. While Christmas is considered a time of giving, my wife and I this year can not. At least not in a material gift-giving sense.

It isn’t because we are unwilling, but because we are unable. The very reason we are unable to give gifts this season has, in fact for us, clarified the spiritual aspect of Christmas. Bringing it that much more into focus.

Give vs Receive
Giving vs receiving. The role each plays during the holiday season is magnified ten-fold when feeling the pinch financially. It doesn’t matter if it’s the loss of a job or an unanticipated decrease in family income by losing one of two or more breadwinners. If there is scarcely enough money for the bare essentials, where is the money coming from for a sleigh-load of presents?

Certainly we would like to be generous in our gift-giving. But not this year. I have no idea how a family of four or five would handle a hard candy Christmas. It makes me shudder just thinking about it.

Children shouldn’t have to wonder if there will be presents under the tree. Or if there will even be a tree.

“Why did Santa forget us this year?” A young child may lament. How does a heart-broken parent explain? It brings a tear to my eye just thinking about it. For some, grandma and grandpa may come through in a pinch. But that is not always the case. 

The last couple of years have been hard financially and emotionally on many people in the United States--and all over the world. Things may be picking up for Wall Street. But, Main Street is still feeling the pinch.

Frankly, I would rather find my Christmas stocking empty than heavy with lumps of coal. Santa knows...
  
But the holidays are not all about presents, parties and bows. Nestled in between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day is the humble, most solemn holy day of Christmas. The day celebrating the birth of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

Katy and I are anticipating a quite Christmas together after visiting with family. The tree is up and decorated. An Eskimo-theme Nativity adorns the breakfast nook. Colored lights are intertwined with faux pine garland draping the bookshelves. Stuffed Snoopy Santas stand side-by-side with Victorian-era Santa figurines on a writing desk. It’s holiday eclectic. I make no apologies.

Here’s the bottom line for us this year: Christmas is coming. Presents optional. And that’s okay. Sometimes it’s good to remember what Christmas is all about. And it’s not us. It’s not expensive presents. It’s not about turkey and all the trimmings. (Actually, that’s kind of a bonus. A small turkey has made its way to our freezer this year. Thanks to sister Liz!)

Merry Christmas vs Happy Holiday(s) Controversy
The holy day of Christmas can be easily separated from the far more commercial entity known as the “holiday” season. Yet, both can co-exist as long as it is understood that they are not co-equals.

Linus Van Pelt said it best when he quoted the Gospel of Luke, verses 8 through 14 from the King James Version:

"'And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and goodwill towards men (“Or all”, as my wife would say. This is the 21st century!)'"

 "......That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown." Cue commercial.

The holiday season starts with Thanksgiving. Advent begins. Moving on to Hanukkah, it migrates to Winter Solstice,  Kwanza and ends with the New Year. Sandwiched within is Christmas. A season of holidays. Plural.

Celebrate them all. Or none. It’s up to you and your spiritual compass. In our home we try to recognize them all in some small way, but the birth of Christ is most important to us.

And so I finish with wishing you all a Happy Holiday! Because there are many and I don’t feel like ticking them off individually every time I greet someone. It’s too much like work. As we get closer to the ‘day’ I will wish you a Merry Christmas, and finally Happy New Year. It’s a season of holidays. Enjoy them all!

Note: For those who scream to the mountain top about the hijacking of “Christ” in Christmas, he has hasn’t gone anywhere. The Christ in Christmas remains firmly in place. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. The only people who see a war on Christmas are those folks decrying that there is a war on Christmas. If someone wishes you a “Happy Holiday” be a good Christian, go ahead and wish them a “Merry Christmas”. They won’t be offended. Neither should you.



                   

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A beautiful thing: Kim and Henry tie the knot.

Great things can happen to regular people. Some might pick the winning numbers of the lottery. Another may have a long-forgotten Michelangelo painting hidden behind the couch. Most of us, while we do need money, and who doesn’t, would really just settle for a smidge of happiness.

The greatest path to such happiness is sometimes fairly simple. Often it’s as elementary as finding the perfect ‘Someone’ to enrich their life. The concept of finding Mr. or Ms. Right, of course, is elegantly simple. It’s execution can be somewhat more, shall we say, complicated.

Let’s face it. I’m a sucker for weddings. It’s always fun to see someone else take the plunge, painfully unaware that instead of an Olympic-sized pool waiting below, it’s more like a child’s sand bucket. Minus the water, of course. But plenty of sand.

It’s not that I abhor marriage. Or being married, for that matter. I’m a big fan. Marriage is not for the faint of heart. There is a such a big disconnect between the extolled vision of a future happiness, versus the sometime’s harsh reality of daily togetherness.  

What the hell. They can figure it out for themselves. We did.

Complicated for some, not all
That wasn’t the case a couple of weeks ago when Katy’s niece Kim and her “Mr. Someone” were caught exchanging vows in a beautiful wedding ceremony in Marquette. The bride was beautiful and blushing, the groom exuded pride and faithfulness. All very important qualities when searching for the perfect mate.

Kim found her Mr. Right. Quite honestly, I’m not sure Henry even had a chance. Henry, on the other hand, has in his new bride a wondrous quality. Faith. Faith in God. Faith in the sacrament of marriage and most importantly, faith in her chosen partner. I expect Henry will not disappoint. Right Henry?

Both sides of the aisle celebrated with the bride and groom after a beautiful, sometimes humorous, ceremony before God, their families and friends. The bride was gorgeous, no, stunning in her bridal gown.

He’s a fashion trailblazer!
Sources close to the family tell the story that Henry, given the opportunity to participate fully in the overall planning of the nuptials had but one request. Can you say ‘camo’?

That’s right, we’re talking the cutting edge of Yooper fashion here. Camouflage vests for himself and the groomsmen. Not something you’re likely gonna see on WE tv’s ‘My Fair Wedding’. I expect the look will be all the rage at shotgun weddings everywhere!

After the service, everyone broke away for either pictures, catching up with family or a quick run back into town for some quick shopping before upcoming cocktails, dinner and dancing at Marquette Mountain. (Last time I attended an event there it involved downhill racing, operating a cafeteria tray without a license, and the unfortunate death of tens-of-thousands of innocent brain cells. Not pretty.)

The dinner served was, as some people say, awesome. The spread was premier Yooper wedding fare: cheese and crackers, salad, meatballs, baked beans, ham, rolls, lasagna and some things I’ve probably forgotten. The open bar pulled two kinds of beer–heavy and lite. Who could ask for more? I did. Twice.

The bottom line
I expect this new partnership will fare better than some. Perhaps better than most. Why? This is a marriage, not of convenience or necessity, but of trust and fellowship. Of love. The real deal. It will never diminish. It can only grow.

To Kim and Henry Schwanke: Live long. Love longer. Don’t look back. Look forward, together. ’Nuf said.