Long Time No Taco

Welcome back, class. If you're just joining me, this is part 4 of " Why Did No One Tell Me?!? " or, " What High School Should Have Taught Me. " ( Part 1 is here. ) To be honest, I wasn't sure if there would be a part 4, because gauging and organizing what I know and think you should have learned already can be tricky! That gets to the heart of why I write these at all, though: None of these lessons are new. Many people never learn them, but those that do think it is all just "wisdom" that comes with age, and often don't realize how much transferable knowledge they are keeping to themselves, when it could benefit you to learn too! Anyway: Today's lesson is: Don't Pay for That! Got a parking ticket. Fought it. Won. Got a $360 demand for car re-registration from the DMV. Made a phone call, went in, filled out a form, and waited an hour to be seen, but saved more than $120 by getting the "delinquent" fees waived. ...

AKA: What H igh School Should Have Taught Me There is one theme for class: "WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME?!?" Our first lesson: Investing Without Money I took an abbreviated Economics class during winter-break, my senior year at Amphitheater High School. Even less than three weeks long, this was one of the few classes attempting to teach something beneficial to any student.  Understanding the basics of "supply and demand", "no such thing as a free lunch" - these are universally helpful to anyone about to become fully independent - but I could have learned more. If I spent a semester on it - or if my school offered more, I might have avoided wasting the two most precious resources we all have in limited quantities: time and money. Which is not to say I made "bad" choices, but I spent my time and money in ways that were less effective, and left me with less to show for it. I didn't even completely grasp "debt" until recently. What's ...

Sitting on the sofa, halfway through Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson documentary, I feel the sudden impulse to write. I wasn't watching in search of inspiration, although I consider the man himself a sort of incidentally inspirational figure. I know that I will never be anything like him. While I would love the notoriety and impact on society he achieved, I absolutely do not want the inner-demons responsible for creating the man. I envy what he attained. More than just an iconic career following his passion and flipping a middle finger to establishment and convention, he also had the confidence to marry and have a child, well before knowing exactly how he would provide for them. I have no idea of his age at this point in the film, but I imagine him younger than I, and my base instinct to compare myself wells up, asking "Why aren't you married? Where is your family? Why don't you act more boldly?" Why can't I be like him? At his core,...

As the trite phrase "People ask me all the time..." goes, people do ask me all the time, even twice just this week, "Does Acupuncture Work?" Yes, I say. Then, transforming into a majestic phoenix, I soar into the setting sun. Fade to black. The end. I suppose,  if you yearn to be persuaded, I will provide more detail. when I sat down to write about my latest round however, I thought it would be more helpful to review my first experience: Acupuncture started thousands of years ago, and yet for the uninitiated the question remains: How do skinny needles stabbing you produce any medical benefits? Admittedly, I was one of these skeptics, five years ago. Stretching, massage, Japanese, Icy-Hot-like, sticky patches called "Salonpas" (perhaps more similar to Tiger Balm), and ibuprofen, all failed to relieve a pain in my knees and legs I sustained, rushing down the side of Mt. Fuji. That story could be a post of its own, but the resulting injury continued ...