"Kapow!" and Duct Tape

What strikes me as odd is that even after long relationships and friendships with people, I find that despite hours of conversation, certain of their phrases continue to occupy a consistent, comfortable background in my mind and resurface from time to time.

As a good child of this generation, I've done my time in the therapist's office, rehashing what happened when and why and how. I remember many therapist's comments to me over the years, but one, who I just call "Kapow!" deserves a story here, not only for the humor, but for the link to anthropology (yes, I'll make a connection!)

I picked "Kapow!" from a list of "mental health providers" in my PPO network because her name sounded German and I like some of the German sensibility; this is based primarily on a friendship with a German Gestalt therapist.

"Kapow!" had no waiting room, so I stood in the hallway of her building for 20 minutes. When her previous client left, I opened the door and saw a woman sitting behind one of those tall receptionist-like desks. The door had a hinge so that it would close slowly, so I let it go only to hear it crash behind me.

She still did not look up or say hello. All she said as the door slammed shut and made me spill my coffee was "Kapow!" in a thick German accent. Still, she didn't look up.

For whatever reason, her response delighted me. It was eclectic and odd and I thought I might like this woman.

Once in her office, her cultural difference continued. Most therapists I've ever seen tell you to sit wherever you want, which can be unsettling - what does it mean if I pick that chair, or the couch or the other one? Not so with "Kapow!". She told me where to sit and we began from there.

A few sessions later, I was talking about something - perhaps the relationship I was in, who knows - and she looked me directly in the eye and said,

"Do you know what you need?"

She had a smile on her face, and I thrilled that a therapist might actually tell me what to do.

She pulled her hand across her mouth and said, "Duct tape." This was accompanied by the noise of tape being pulled off of the roll.

I was stunned. She was right, but I was stunned. She continued, "Blah, blah, blah, I've heard it all before," she continued.

I told me boss at the time (also a psychologist) about this and my boss was stunned.

The stories of my time with "Kapow!" are hysterical in hindsight and were somewhat illuminating and a bit disheartening at the time. She would alternately doze off in sessions, tell me that the "only" side effects of some medications were that they would make me "skinny and stupid"; and, my personal favorite, that my (now ex) "needs you (me) like they need a hole in the head." Again, this was accompanied by a gesture. Very German, I'm told.

While "Kapow!" did help me reach some insights into my own life and inner-workings, more than anything, she taught me about being an anthropologist in the field. She did not teach me to be skinny and stupid, but she did remind me of two crucial parts of being a good anthropologist (I think):

1.) Put duct tape over your mouth and listen.
2.) Don't fall asleep while people are telling you meaningful things about their lives.
3.) Never forget that however "objective" you might want to be, we , each of us, is ALWAYS a product of our own culture.

From Bed Bugs to Carpenter Ants and Coffee Shops

In the last few weeks, I've moved out of an apartment in Detroit, overrun with bedbugs, out of an apartment in Chicago overrun with tchotkes and books, slept on friends' couches, in motels, and finally moved into my apartment - a summer sublet.

Although my new apartment is quaint and just right for feeling like a geeky grad student (complete with shelves for books already installed), it came along with carpenter ants, a clogged sink and tub and toilet that moved precariously from side to side. Helps a girl feel fat, you know?

Now, I'm a bit more settled and have a lot I want to write, but for now, I'll leave this post with three pieces of moving wisdom (I have moved approximately 10 times in the past 3 1/2 years):

1. If someone else can/could make better use of it, let them do so.
2. If you've been lugging it around for a number of moves and keep thinking you'll post it on craigslist, put in the alley (esp. in Chicago and let the dumpster divers have at it)
3. When in doubt, live with less.

If Might is Right in this World

I've just finished (almost) a mammoth 4 part move and although I have a few more meaningful things to write about, my energy is sapped. Grad school must be at least 70% hazing and finding out who can handle the most sleep deprivation. I'll write about that later!

As I reflect back on my first year of graduate school in anthropology, I think back to a move I saw years ago, The Mission, with Jeremy Irons and Robert DeNiro. A quick and dirty explanation is that the movie is about two Jesuit priests who work "above the falls" in Brazil. One of the priests ends up deciding that he wants to join the local people in a physical battle and asks Jeremony Irons for a blessing before entering battle.

At this point, Jeremony Irons says something that has stayed with me for years.

"If might is right in this world
. . . and it just may be . . .
then I have no place in it"