Moment of clarity

I discovered one of the secrets of happiness today:

Try not to have mutually exclusive interests.
For instance, playing guitar and glass cutting are probably not the best combination of hobbies.
I'm just sayin'...

Not so great, actually.

All we are is Dust in the... thank you, thank you very much

I don't think I've mentioned this before, but awhile ago I talked to the owners of our local cafe/art store (Yes, we do have an art shop) and asked them if they would be opposed to having some live music. They said that would be great, and they asked me if I knew any musicians with real talent that would be interested. I said I did, but that I intended to play anyway.

So for the past month, on Saturdays I've been "doing my guitar thing" for about an hour at The Brick Cafe. I've been kind of keeping it on the down low because I didn't want to get all excited about it and then have it not work out. But things are going well and it's been a lot of fun.

I haven't sung at a coffee house for at least 10 years, so building up a coffee house set has been kind of an interesting challenge. Back in the day when I only had to fill 20 minutes, I used to play novelty music almost exclusively. Which is great for surprising people, and giving them something they haven't heard, but isn't always appropriate dining music. I mean, although *I* think the song "Dead Puppies" is absolute genius, I'd be hard pressed work it into my lunch set with a clean conscience. That's clearly dinner music.

The approach I'm taking this time assumes that people come to a coffeehouse to relax for a little while. So I've been trying to add 'comfortable' music into my repertoire. Fortunately, the bulk of the Saturday crowd is older and appreciates folk music, so the likes of John Denver, Simon and Garfunkle, John Prine, Johnny Cash, and Bob Dylan, go over really well. I have now even successfully taken requests (for songs!) which is a big milestone for me. Really, Whoda thunk? The whole thing has been very cool and has been really rewarding.

I've also experienced first hand one of the best pieces of advice I was given about playing at coffeehouses... people tip better if you play what they want to hear. I know, I know, if you aren't a musician it sounds extremely obvious, but there's a part of most performers that really wants to play either our own stuff, or stuff we think we play technically well. That's what Open Mike nights are for. Truth of the matter is, people are much more engaged when they know the song, and not so interested in hearing what you feel like playing at any given moment. I'm not saying I would play Brown Eyed Girl (which in my little circle of musicians is so cliche it's taboo) I'm just saying that an audience with a penchant for folk music would probably enjoy it if I did.

I've really enjoyed defining my coffeehouse style and voice, not that I've got it perfected yet. It's definitely not my Karaoke voice, which is a lot of fun but has... shall we say, "limited appeal" outside of Friday night (I wouldn't inflict my Alice Cooper on anyone sober...) And yet it's rougher and looser than my Sunday morning voice.

It's a great little gig. Low pressure. Low commitment. Play stuff folks like. Play stuff I'm not bored with. When I'm done I get a HotDog. It's pretty much an ideal situation. So next time you're in the neighborhood on a Saturday, come on out, have some coffee and a sandwich, and see me. I might even play something you actually want to hear... :-)

There are no clean getaways

I was out of town for all afternoon and didn't get home until about 9:30pm yesterday. Since the feral cats didn't take the bait (I'll get you yet, Lil Rica!) this means I missed the "close the trap and before dusk" window. I didn't think much about it because I caught the raccoon yesterday. I know there's a possum that's been sniffing around, but what are the chances of that wandering in less than 24 hours later, right?

Around 1am I heard the cage thrashing, which is a bad sign because I don't usually hear trapped cats from inside the house. Not able to leave an animal in peril, I get up to check out what's going on. It was just beginning to rain so I just poked my head out the back door and could only hear something in the dark hissing and clawing. Yeah, probably not a cat. Especially since there were 3 sets of cat eyes coming over the fence to do their own investigation (I guess you could say they were going to perform a CAT scan... thank you, thank you, you guys have been great. Next show at 11!) Anyway, I ducked back in to grab a flashlight. When I got back out, one of the cats was about 18 inches from the cage. Sigh... That's what this neighborhood needs is for one of these cats to get rabies, so I shoo them away and take a closer look myself.

Yeah... not a possum either.

Don't let those big brown eyes fool you. This bad boy was mean and Cra-Hanky. I knew this guy was going to be 'special needs' because he had already soiled the length of the cage and then continued to panic in it. No wonder the cats were interested. And since I've been a raccoon specialist for oh, the last 24 hours, I knew with certainty that there was absolutely no point in feeding this bugger a towel. But out of pity, I moved the cage over a couple feet, getting him out of the rain (and his other stuff) and went back to bed.

Chris checked him out the next morning and noted (as you can kind of see in the picture) that he really didn't have raccoon stripes. I told her that in my raccoon-expert opinion, the coloration difference was most likely due to genetic variances and the fact that it had spent the night digging a 2 inch deep trench through the mud under the cage. Somehow, it had also managed to pull some rocks into the cage. I'm still baffled by that one. Was he planning to pound his way out? Did the cage need decorating? Only the raccoon knows for sure...

Anyway suffice it to say that this is NOT how I planned on spending my spring break. Oh, and kids, don't worry, he's "in a better place" now too.

PS)This blog title is the tag line from the movie "No Country for Old Men" which fits nicely with this topic and my previous blog. I was going to photoshop the movie poster and put raccoons in it, but I'm running out of steam here...

No Country for Old Racoons

As a quick summary of recent events, the last time I walked into the veterinarian's office, the vet tech behind the counter looked up and said, "Hello Mr. Gardner, finish spaying the neighborhood yet?" The answer is no. I've got one more very shy, elusive girl that needs a fixin'. The feral cats have a very specific pecking order for eating, so catching them has been pretty easy and methodical. I put one bowl of food out until it's the target cat's turn to eat. Then, I put the food in the cage. Wait about 10 minutes and then 4 out of 5 times, I've caught the cat I'm expecting. But this little one (Codename: Rica) has either figured out the cage or is so far down the pecking order that she eats hours after the other cats. For about 3 days I've been feeding the other cats, then taking the food away hoping that at some point she'd figure out the food schedule. Well, again, she's either too smart or too stupid. So started leaving food in the trap throughout the day figuring that since the other cats were fed they wouldn't sniff around the cage, but she still might.

It hasn't worked yet, and worse yet, it threw off my system.

So, the other day I had a passing thought that if I left food in the live-trap overnight there would be a pretty good chance I'd catch something other than a cat. We know other critters have come dining on the cat food, I just really didn't want to have to mess with anything else. Then, the other night after forgetting to bring the food in, I found this on my deck:As you can see, this sucker was about 10 feet long and not at all pleased with his dining arrangements. Note that the gaping wound on his back no doubt added to his pleasant demeanor. I had toyed with the question, "What am I going to do if I catch a wild animal?" before, but now I had to have an answer. I mean seriously, what the hell was I going to do with this thing? So, I think I followed a pretty logical course of actions.
1) First, I grabbed the camera and took a couple pictures. What you don't see in the above shot is Famine sitting on the railing over the cage enjoying the show.
2) I tried my one cat trick. When you throw a towel over a trapped cat, it chills out. When you throw a towel over a trapped raccoon it pulls the towel through the cage and eats it.
3) I call for backup. I grab my cellphone and call the first person I could think of who owns a gun. He tells me he can come out the next morning and take care of it. I tell him I may be able to handle this on my own, I just wanted to know his availability.

Legally, I'm not exactly sure what the 'proper' course of action is in my town. My best guess is that it involves hiring a professional trapper to transport my already caged critter. So, without incriminating myself, what I can tell you is that the raccoon is "in a better place now" and we'll just leave it at that.

Just some Good Old Bo...AAAAAAH!!!

Gah, what happened to the last week and a half? I don't know if I really got that busy or if I just hit the, "I should blog about that sometime" point and decided that thinking that was close enough. I've got about 400 things I've been meaning to jot down and I think that has also become a mental barrier.

Anyway, the journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step, right? So for starters, Remember this guy? Well I got the scoop the other day. Apparently, if you want "custom bodywork" like this, the formula is quite simple:

1) let the roads to ice up
2) wait until 3am
3) get reeeally drunk
4) drive full tilt into a snowbank at the end of a T intersection
5) enjoy 2 seconds of Dukes of Hazard goodness
6) walk home so you can call in your "accident" later and dodge a DUI
7) congratulate yourself on being a super-genius YEEEE-HAW!

The General does not approve.

I'm too sexy for my... umm... er... never mind.

Here is the most important fact of this post:

-I won a push-up contest.

You read that right. I was challenged. I conquered. I acted like it was easy.
Granted, two days later I'm still feeling pain in places where I didn't even know my arms went, But the important part is that I actually won some form of physical competition. Me. The original cubesitter. My "slow but steady workout plan for nerds" finally paid off.

So here's my exercise plan:
-A lousy workout is better than no workout. Step one is to just walk through the door at the gym. I tell myself that I don't have to run the whole time I'm on the treadmill, I just need to get on it. I don't set any free weight expectations, I just lift what's comfortable. Minimum goal is to "move around for at least a half an hour." I can talk myself into leaving my couch and doing that. Then I usually end up staying longer, but it feels more like extra credit than obligation.
-If something starts to hurt, stop and do something else. If my knees start hurting on the treadmill I move to the elliptical machine. If my arms hurt I either do less weight or I move onto my legs. I've come to the conclusion that there's some equipment in the gym that I am just not meant to use. It's ok. It ain't worth a permanent injury. If I'm moving, it still counts as exercise.
-Keep it interesting. Monotony = boredom = quitting. I need both an iPod and a TV to last any amount of time on a treadmill. But it works. I plug in, tune out, and before I know it, a half hour goes by. If my routine gets boring, I'll either ramp it up or move on to something else. And that leads into my next point...
-Do ONE thing you haven't done before. Whether it's 5 extra pounds, minutes or push-ups, it counts as an accomplishment. Even if it's the lamest workout ever, you can honestly tell yourself you've made some form of progress. And the effect is cumulative.
-Don't expect radical change. This isn't a "15 pounds in 15 days" deal. This is about a routine that you can perpetuate (I'm sure there's a better word for that...) There will be progress, but it's measured in months, not weeks. And if you do decide to bulk up or train for something, the good habits and time commitment are already in place.
-If you don't feel better when you leave, you're doing it wrong. I guess this is my way of saying quit while you're ahead. Stop before you're absolutely exhausted. It puts positive reinforcement on exercising. Yes, it's like willingly tricking yourself, but it works.
-If you don't want to workout, go back to rule one.

This is my routine. I'm not the bulkiest beefcake or the sleekest runner at the gym, but I feel good and it works for me. And if you follow it, after two years, you too may be able to do more pushups than an 8th grader.

Home Owner Aptitude Test 3: FAIL

Home Ownership Rule #143: You can lie to yourself, but you won't fool the house.

Earlier this week, I found water in my basement. As previously stated, our house is about 100 years old and water in the basement is, at this point, a fairly common occurrence. What makes this particular leak unique is that there's been subzero temperatures for about 7 days in a row. You would think this would have raised a red flag. But it didn't because my super genius brain rationalized it to me in such a way that although I didn't understand, it made sense. It told me that there simply couldn't be water down there in this weather, and that if there was, it must be from some unusual, one-time circumstance. So as I got out the mop, and muttered to myself, "It's freezing outside, there can't be water down here, it's freezing..." my brain wove these marvelous stories that hypothesized about massive furnace condensation, or strange winds blowing snow down the chimney, or about global warming causing the earth to superheat from the inside out. It could be anything. My brain also told me that there would never ever be water in my basement again in January, because it was freezing. And it made me repeat this over and over. They were charming tales and I believed them as I mopped. I believed them the second and the third day as well.
Eventually though, I casually mentioned to Chris that I had been cleaning up water that couldn't possibly exist in our basement.
But she spouted some gibberish phrases like, "Did that spigot on the side of the house freeze and break because you left the hose attached?" and, "You know, like you did at the last house" which in my heightened state of awareness barely sounded like English at all. "No, I took the hose off in the fall. And besides, that wouldn't cause water in the basement anyway. It's freezing outside." I responded logically.
Chris bowed to my supreme intellect.
So today after mopping more water that wasn't in my basement, I played a hunch and found conclusive evidence that my brain was right all along.

I went outside and found a 2 foot ice fountain had formed between the ground and the spigot.

See, clearly a case of furnace condensation.

(Follow up: Yes, the plumber is coming tomorrow morning...)

Home Owner Aptitude, I has it.

Chris and I haven't paid rent for almost 10 years now. Along the way I've learned a few things about home repair, and was reminded of these simple principles as I installed a light fixture this weekend.
1) The right equipment is the difference between a 10 minute fix and a 3 day job. For this particular repair I needed a screwdriver, wire strippers/cutters, electrical tape, 10 foot ladder, electric drill, 2 machine screws, extra electrical wire, mounting plate, Janis, and wire caps. All of which would need to be used simultaneously at the top of the ladder. Piece of cake. "2 Ball cap nuts" are also in the equipment list but I doubt they're really needed. I think somebody just threw them in to make grown men giggle.
2) Safety first. I can't stress this enough, especially when you're doing electrical work in the dark on a ladder on a staircase. At least wait until you've got some daylight.
3) Follow the instructions, but be ready to improvise. No matter how thorough the directions are, there's no way some dude in China could account for (and describe in English) every situation you might run into. For instance, I don't have a 10 foot ladder, but I do have one of those sectional ladders that's 12 feet. Fully extended, the ladder wouldn't fit, so I folded one of the sections to make a nine foot ladder. Then it was still a little low, so I put it on a stair instead of the landing. Then it was a little too far from the wall so I extended the one folded section out until it touched. Remember kids, Safety first! Other than that, you can see from the following picture that I was able to follow the rest of the instructions to the letter.

Couple things to note about the picture on the left. You'll notice that I did not use Duct Tape to harness the lamp to the ceiling. This is an electrical project, therefore I used electrical tape. Also, Yes, the fixture is temporarily lashed to the ladder using spare wire. Yes, the ladder is aluminum. Boy Scouts and Navy Seals have been using this technique for centuries, take it up with them. Lastly, I did not photoshop this picture. The heavenly glow is confirmation that God approves.

15 hours, 3 blown fuses, and 9 lightbulbs later you'll get something that looks like this on the right:

Ta-da! It's just that easy.

Vote for Rico

How much you wanna make a bet I can throw a football over them mountains?

War is out. Rico is in, and it only took us a month to work that one out. We may do something silly with the spelling, but for now it's Rico as in Puerto Rico, as opposed to Ricoh like the copier, or Reiko like an anime character. It meets our basic cat name requirements. It doesn't have anything to do directly with his coloration, and it makes us smile whenever we call out for him (not that he cares yet.) I was hoping for more of a Japanese sounding name and ended up with a thoroughly Mexican one. Chris calls him Uncle Rico, I think Rico is humorous on it's own because he has really short legs and definitely rides lower than our other cats. (If you think I'm poking at a Mexican stereotype, you're missing the WAR reference... Get it?!?!1?)

So why is it so hard to just name a flippin' cat? Well, the way I see it, there were three things working against us, and bear with me, I've been meaning to bring this up for a while...

First, we can't use the same name as anyone else's pet we've ever known. This is my way of saying, you people with clever pet names have made things extremely inconvenient for us. Jeeves, Noko, Red, yeah, I'm talking to you. And that leads me to my next point...

I read somewhere (maybe Freakonomics?) about how my generation defines itself by it's individuality, not necessarily by traditional rights of passage. So for example, if you take a modern day wedding, there's generally more emphasis on how you're going to make it unique and memorable than how you're going to accommodate a rich history of marriage traditions. I believe the same is true for even fairly mundane things, like naming a pet. Giving an animal a traditional name implies that we weren't up to the challenge, even though Felix would have been a perfectly acceptable name for a black and white cat.

Lastly, names based on what an animal looks like are completely unacceptable. I call this the Obvious Rule. I know I'm going to offend somebody here, but really, Boots, Socks, Shadow, Marshmallow, etc, etc, blah blah blah are just insulting. What if you went to the zoo and all the zookeeper said, "Please don't feed Stripes the Tiger..." That really inspires the imagination, doesn't it? Don't you want to know more about this Tiger? The only time it's ok to give a pet a name a four year old could have thought of, is well, if you let your four year old name it. I met a cat named 'Moo' once, who was named by the resident two year old, and I'm fine with that. Ok, ok, there's ONE exception to the rule, and that's irony. If you want to call your fat dog 'slimjim,' or your black cat 'cue ball' you go right ahead. That's comedy gold. But otherwise, please have at least one degree of separation between an animals looks and it's name. If you want to name your golden retriever 'Brittany' because they're both blonds, that's minimally acceptable. 'Golden Grams,' however, is not. There is an Irish Setter clause though... you can name them pretty much any name from Guiness to Bono and it's cool. Thus sayeth the Lee.


As an addendum though, nicknames for pets are exempt from the Obvious Rule. We've occasionally called Rico ShortRound, which is technically is an 80's reference, but it's also extremely obvious. Murray is often referred to as Chucky or Ralph when he throws up. MooseCat or Sheds is always Sibbie. Oh, like you've never done it...

Exit - Stage Fright

Public Service Announcement: Glossophobia and You

Recently the topic of good old fashioned stage fright has been brought up by a couple friends of mine, neither of which I would classify as introverted, so I thought I'd give y'all my angle on it and how I've dealt with it... or still dealing with it as the case may be.

First of all, it never goes away to the point where it can't come back. It doesn't get 'cured' it just goes into remission. I've been caught off guard or pulled too far out of my comfort zone on stage and suddenly I feel the same way I did at my fourth grade piano recitals. So what do you do about it? How do you psych yourself up but not out?

Everyone wants you to succeed.
Well, 'in the Band' (I refer back to my Captive Free experience a lot here...) I was told that, "No one expects or wants to see you fail." Granted, the performing I do now isn't judged or competitive anymore, but it's generally good advice. The audience is for you, not against you. Chances are pretty good you aren't going to get heckled or boo'ed no matter how badly you think you screwed something up.

You are the only one who knows what you are going to do.
Again, this doesn't apply to the recital-scene, but really, the audience isn't sitting there with your sheetmusic. They don't know that you were supposed to be playing mezzopiano but it came out mezzoforte. On only ONE occassion I was with a friend who noticed that the local talent skipped the third verse and sang the first one over again. Once. Otherwise, people that are listening tend to discuss either how they like or dislike your rendition or how they agree or disagree with your interpretation.

You are your own worst critic, so be kind to yourself.
Let's face it, if you hose something, you know it. There's no denying it and it feels like every pupil in the audience is dialating trying to comprehend how such a flagrant error didn't drive you immediately off stage. Ok, so flip it around, think of a performance you saw where the actor/musician/whatnot flubbed up. Do you remember how many times they messed up, or just the fact that they did? So this leads my to a couple things... if you can't think of the last time you saw anyone else screw up on stage, then that proves point one. You haven't seen any mistakes because as a member of the audience you weren't looking for them, you were there to enjoy the program, not to tally errors. If you do remember a specifically poor performance, I guarantee that if you knew that person well enough to ask them where they thought things fell apart, their list would be 5 to 10 times longer than yours. Again, as the audience, you don't know what the artist's intended result is. Sure, they probably don't want to hit the wrong note or sing out of key, but there's a whole realm of errors that are really only pointed out when the performer lets everyone know that they messed up... which brings me to my next point.

Kill your Tell.
The previous points are psychological, this one however has a very physical manifestation. More often than not, you'll be the one to let the audience in on your mistakes. You may not be able to stop your face from turning red or your knees from shaking, but you can stop yourself from giving the audience too many clues to your current feelings about your performance. Don't roll your eyes at yourself. Don't deflate no matter how defeated you feel. And don't flinch. One of my good friends plays excellent piano, but back in the day, you wouldn't know it by watching. If you closed your eyes, the music that flowed out was amazing, as if you were being taken on a journey. However if you opened your eyes, every 'step off the path' was indicated by the pianists shoulders. Either they were clentched up after a quick mistake or drooping with defeat when the music didn't end up where it was 'supposed' to. As an audience, you're along for the ride. As the artist, you dictate the path. And some of the most critical musical moments happen when you allow yourself to be swept up by a performance... even when it's your own.

Learn to smile through anything.
Channel that wince, eye-roll, and flinch into your smile. It takes some work, but it can be done. If you have to indicate that something just went horribly wrong, smiling is socially acceptable. Especially since you should probably be smiling anyway. It conveys confidence and can camouflage all kinds of things. More importantly though, psychologically, it keeps the feedback loop positive. If you look out into the audience with the 'I just hit the windshield' look on your face, you're going to see a bunch of people bracing for a trainwreck. If however, you do the opposite and muster up the, 'My, my, wasn't that awkward, anyone for tea?' smile you'll notice people nodding and smiling back. This is especially true if you're performing with others. Glaring or scowling at another musician on stage, regardless of fault, is totally unacceptable. You all know already know something went bad, and if you're really ticked about the bobble, talk to them afterwards and work it out. Any finger pointing done on stage basically punishes the audience and makes every one look bad. I think every musician has a, 'I can't believe that just happened' or a 'Dude, that totally sucked' smile. Sometimes it's even outright laughter, but the important thing is that the show goes on and heck... now you're all smiling.

Then there's practice...
Yeah, you knew it was coming... the more comfortable you are with the content of what you're performing, the less likely you are to be thrown off in the first place, and the more likely you will be able to stay focused after a flub. It's easier to get back into rhythm when your fingers and mind know the groove. One of the best bits of advice I got when learning guitar was to always keep the right hand strumming, regardless of how well (or poorly) your left hand is keeping up. Your left hand will learn the fingerings for various chords with repetition, but if you stop the rhythm every time your left hand misses something then it will never be trained to make quicker chord changes. The other trick with practicing is to make a mental distinction between technical practicing and performance practicing. By technical practice I mean that you are working on the nuts and bolts of whatever you intend to perform. Whether that means memorizing lyrics or repeating a tricky passage over and over, the point is that when you hit a bump, you stop there and smooth it out. You don't have to start from the begining and similarly you don't have to play all the way through a piece before going back to a trouble spot. Now's the time to work through the problems. Once you're fairly comfortable with the mechanics of what you are going to be presenting, then it's important to do work on the performance angle. For me that means standing, singing, and playing guitar as I would when I'm performing. Standing helps me breathe right, and I try to sing and play at the volume and tempo that I plan to perform at. It took some getting used to... hearing my own voice at full volume... in my basement... singing to myself. But it makes a huge difference when it's time to hit the stage, because my ears know what it's supposed to sound like and my body knows what it's supposed to feel like. I know which notes I can grind out and which ones are going to crack if I don't support them.

Just do it.
The bottom line is that the more you are in front of a crowd, the less it's going to phase you. The thing that sculpted my stage presents the most was touring for a year and performing upwards of 8 times a week. After that year I had learned how to perform exhausted, forgive myself for saying stupid stuff into a mic, and recover from all manner of musical goof. Now, pretty much any performing I do is easy and enjoyable by comparision. So once you break the ice, keep doing it.


As you get more comfortable performing, allow yourself to branch out. If you are really uncomfortable talking into a microphone start out easy. Compliment someone. Thank the audience for coming out. Tell people why you picked a certain piece to perform or why it's worth hearing. If you get really ambitious, tell a joke. Learn a new instrument. Find a new venue. Keep pushing yourself until your regular gigs don't shake you any more.

I've been trying to catch as many aspects of stage fright as I can, but I know there's more to be said about tryouts, competitions, and inter-band dynamics. Those will have to be covered in another blog or something.

Thanks for reading this far. *SMILE* You've been a great audience and thanks for spending some time with me. Drive safe, and I'll see you next time!

Sensitive Blackholes

Here's an excerpt from an email I recently wrote to a college friend regarding how to deal with that part of you that wants to care, but the other part that doesn't want to get walked all over. I've genericized it and taken names out, but I'm sticking to the spirit of the message. It's where I'm at... Your mileage may vary.

******************

From one post-sensitive person to another in the thick of it, sensitivity isn't the problem, it can keep you in tune to needs that other people aren't going to notice... and personally, I think that's really important for anyone going into your profession... The problem is prioritizing the resources. Prioritizing YOUR resources so that you can deal effectively with what's truly important to you. That's when your sensitivity is going to make you stronger. When it keeps you focused on your passion and not distracted by all the other things you think you should be caring about. If you assume your physical and emotional resources are limited, then you've got to make the best of what you've got when you've got it.
"Important things" get clearer as you get older and... well... DO more stuff. The more things you do to get out and relate to other people, the more you can keep the other fires that pop up in perspective. There's alot of unimportant stuff going on at college. Mostly narcisistic... but that's the stage of life a lot of people are at. Fortunately you're already narrowing down the scope on how you are going to make a difference.

Ok, last thing... Emotional blackholes. You know the people I'm talking about. The people you can't fix. The people that 'just need to talk to someone' but never get anywhere. As soon as you spot one, avoid it! There's nothing you can say or do that can help that person out of their situation. Usually because deep down they aren't ready to accept the consequences of 'moving on' and from experience, I can tell you that you won't be able to convince them otherwise. Anyway, the problem is, these people PREY ON sensitive people. They aggressively hunt us down trying to fill some void with our emotion. It doesn't work even if both parties want it to... Anyway, going back to the part about limited resources, you can see how feeding blackholes is actually detrimental, and not charitable. They hurt and distract you from investing in the important things.
There's a saying about knowing when to 'fish or cut bait' and I didn't learn how to do that emotionally until my 20's. But recognizing the need is half the battle.