Tagged: Blogging
Confusion
“Here it is,” he thought. Finally the call he’d been waiting for. “What the hell took so long?” It had been over two weeks. The guy’s tone wasn’t cheery. Does anyone actually enjoy the small talk in these situations? “Enough about how everyone is doing, just get to it. ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.”
“Fuck.”
“No,” he says. “…and I have no feedback to offer,” he volunteers.
“Chicken shit.” “No balls.”
“Look on the bright side.” “One closed door opens another.”
At least respect him as a person. “What kind of company would waste so much of someone’s time and energy?”
“But there is that other similar position…maybe there’s still hope?”
“No fucking feedback?” How is he supposed to learn from this? What lesson is there? He gives it his best, they say “no” and…(crickets)?
The day a person gets a new job is a pretty freakin’ great day in their life. What does that say about the day they don’t get a new job? Pretty freakin’ bad day in their life?
No reason given. “Thanks for nothing, fucktard.”
Easily the most epic failure of his life. What does it mean? Is he so out of touch that he couldn’t tell how the interviews went?
Asking for help regarding meaningful employment seems so weak to him.
“There’s a flip side to every coin.”
“Who knows…” For so long he had seen the future. No longer. What did that mean?
But all the literature demands staying positive. “Tomorrow will be a wonderful day.” Probably. For someone.
As for him, there was just shameful embarrassment for an immature reaction.
And confusion.
Same Sh!t, Different(?) Day
Unless you live under a rock, you heard that President Obama recently had three dictionary’s (Google, Merriam-Webster and Cambridge) add the following entry to the definition of literally: “Used to acknowledge that something is not literally true but is used for emphasis or to express strong feeling.”
In typical fashion, that isn’t the only, or most impactful, word/definition that the president had modified. While everyone was abuzz over the fact that a definition clearly in opposition to the word’s actual definition was added, nobody noticed the other word the president had changed: different. (Of all the words for this to happen to, that he chose ‘literally’ to accomplish his ultimate goal is genius as it is so fundamental to a dictionary that it necessarily would draw attention.)
If you go to dictionary.com and look up different you’ll find, “not alike in character or quality” as the number one definition. However, the same three dictionaries the president has in his pocket have caved to the pressure yet again. Instead of just adding a definition to the number two spot, though, they actually erased all the previous definitions and instead put, “being the same.”
Now, we could discuss how, yet again, the president’s actions–always hiding bigger changes behind smaller changes–are disreputable, but let’s not. We could discuss how, yet again, the president’s actions–endlessly overstepping the limited nature of his power–are illegal, but let’s not. We could discuss how, yet again, the president’s actions–his surprisingly unsurprising changing definitions of words–are narcissistic and disrespectful to all mankind, but let’s not. Instead, we will focus on how his most recent action, changing the definition of different, clearly illustrates how he has a fundamental misunderstanding of his main campaign promise: change.
President Barack Obama promised to change this country, presumably for the better. We turn again to dictionary.com and find that change is defined as, “to become different.” Do you understand what has happened? The nature of all the president’s flaws are revealed perfectly in this one seemingly minor action. He wants to have it all. He wants to “have his cake and eat it too”. He wants to “have it both ways.” However, as long as there is one other human–functional backbone included–in existence, he’s going to have a problem reconciling his ‘wants’ with reality.
His changing the definition of different doesn’t even make sense if he doesn’t have these ‘wants.’ How can a man who promises change fulfill his promise if everything is the same?
Some of us might be inclined to let this minor change be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Let’s turn to a dissenting opinion: His entertainment value alone has been worth it.
For those of us who first learned how inept presidents were with Clinton, we were even more disappointed in Bush II. And out of these three presidents that have done nothing but drop the ball, has President Obama not been easily the most enjoyable to watch. Will you join me in admitting that rather than getting upset, you actually hope President Obama never leaves office? Long Live King Obama!
Public Speaking Is Not Our Biggest Fear
For the last year and a half he had attended a most unique gathering of personalities on Thursday mornings. What began simply as a self-interested attempt to network for employment led him down an entirely different path than expected. More than a job, he found life.
Most groups and organizations he had joined were disappointments. But try as he might, it seemed he couldn’t avoid joining groups altogether. Hypocrisy acting as the evicting agent, he left nearly every organization he ever joined. But this one? This was different. This group offered nothing more than literal time and space to improve a particular life-skill. Each member joined in order to improve their ability to speak publicly. He found that hidden within an improved ability to speak publicly was the ability to communicate. Unexpectedly, he learned that lurking within communication was being.
He didn’t doubt that in the organization someone somewhere hungered selfishly for more and more members–humans-in-group will never satisfy their need to evangelize. Yet, for this group, any recruiting efforts more than admitting existence proved silly. Ultimately, convincing someone that they should face their largest fear and, over time, dis-cover who they actually are–all while in the presence of others–was not possible. Like the horse that can’t be forced to drink, people had to want to join.
While Descartes’ famous “I think, therefore I am” was a chapter essential to telling the story, the time had come to turn the page. Experience illuminated that he ‘was not’ without other people. Therefore, the next chapter began, “I communicate, therefore I am.”
Are you?
Lock ‘Em Up – The Other Option Is Too Frightening
Windowless, the classroom was in a little known corner of the university library. But that classroom was the place he first heard of the movement to abolish prisons. Yep, that’s a movement among some circles in this world. Just in passing, think how you felt as you read those words: abolish prison.
As if a starter’s gun, this concept set his mind racing. He began to develop perfect reasoning explaining why it would be a big mistake. First, it didn’t make sense logistically. Where would all the prisoners go? What would we do with the bad people? Then, the abstract problems began to attract his attention. He wondered what the point of prison actually was? Why were there prisons? To protect the un-imprisoned? To punish? To rehabilitate? All three? Were there other reasons? Were prisons an illusion of safety, or did they actually facilitate a more safe and civilized world?
Passing the start-finish line which signaled the end of lap one, his mind continued on. What was he to do with all that data that says American prisons are filled mostly with drug offenders? This mention of “drugs” acted like a shot of adrenaline. He couldn’t help but think about all the people he knew who had broken drug laws, yet never been caught.
As his mind rounded the turn marking the race’s midpoint, he lost focus and was unable to tell if it faltered or sped up. You see, he wouldn’t ever turn in a family member for a drug offense. He also wouldn’t enable a family member, that is to say he would cut off all contact with, and support of, any family member who he determined actually had a drug abuse problem. Acknowledging this act of cutting off led him to ask myself why? Why did he think that was the best solution? Was it simply out-of-sight-out-of-mind? And if so, is that what prison was? Was prison simply the macro-level version of what he would do on a personal level? Were all the relatives of the prison population happy they didn’t have to deal with their family member’s bullshit drama any more while simultaneously hoping they’ll get a clue and mature before they were released? In his mind, he would use ‘tough love’ on a relative, because he believed the individual must recognize he has a problem before any progress could be made. Integral to his theory working, of course, is that he’d help the minute he was asked. Having never been tested, he had his doubts as to his ability to actually follow through, though.
Finding his mind alone on the home stretch, he was unsure whether this was because it was in last place or first place. Himself selfish and vain beyond belief, he’d be the first to confess that he rarely admitted that he made mistakes. He wondered what it would take for him to admit he needed help. Certainly, he didn’t want any strangers to think he had flaws.
The race drawing to a close, he found his mind standing where the starting blocks were. The big question of the day was still unanswered. What would the world look like if we didn’t push our problems out of sight? Or as he was first asked in that industrial windowless classroom, what do you think the world would look like if we abolished prison?
Shhh!
He did it. He was so proud of himself. Well, that’s not saying much, but the point is the first day of school had come and gone. What’s that? You’d like to know what high school is like these days? …if he has time? Let me ask him. He said he’s on his way out the door, but for you “anything.”
Oh okay, I get it. He wants me to let you know he’s mumbling inaudibly. Forgive him, he was just attempting to demonstrate what he experienced all day today. He’s telling me that no kids speak loud enough to hear. Yeah, it’s a joke that just doesn’t work so well in writing, but trust me, it was effective in person.
He apologizes for the lame joke, and thinks you’d be interested to know that today’s 9th graders were born in 1999. Shocking. Actually, that year is super familiar to me. Oh, I know. That’s the year The Matrix came out! Now he wants me to let you know that he’s not joking about the mumbling. He says “literally, only 2 out of 99” 9th graders spoke loud enough for him to hear. And with this new touchy-feely way of teaching and thinking about them, he says he actually felt like it was inappropriate for him to ask them to speak up–like it was too harsh and might hurt their feelings. Crazy.
Besides the fact that they need a class on confidence before they proceed, he doesn’t think that you’d be surprised by much else. For example, the school has a dress code. One rule is no blue jeans or dark blue jeans. He’s telling me that he mentioned to a student that her jeans today seemed to be dark blue. But then he confessed that they might be okay because they were so dark they might be black. He says his wavering prompted a young man to tell the class his dark blue jeans were black. Sheesh, give ’em an inch….
Okay, he’s telling me that he has to get going now. He really would like to share more, but he literally couldn’t hear anything. You should see this, he cares so much for you that as he’s getting further away he’s raising his voice so I can still hear him. He’s yelling from a distance now. Okay, I think he just said it was just seven 50-minute periods of low-talking. At least he doesn’t look stressed.
An August Horror
A shudder rippled through his body. It felt visible, but no one seemed to notice.
He did his best to maintain his composure. He had only just turned away from it when “SNAP!” Without warning he had actually broken the pen he was holding. Exhausted, he realized he was tense beyond belief. His vision wasn’t focused as he sat contemplating everything, but the noise caused him to see that he was staring at it again. Why?
Symmetrical, he knew the round objects could be beautiful in other settings, if they weren’t paired together. Hanging on the wall just a few inches below the ceiling, they were menacing. The one on the right measured time. He wondered how many times it had tormented him before, only to transform as soon as the halfway point was reached. After that, he was always relieved. After that, it became a source of hope.
It wasn’t the clock, but what was left of the it that really gave him nightmares. When he was younger, all the time; these days only while he slept did it cause these nightmares. He felt a paralyzing fear. Who would invent such a dreadful device? Torturous, its design irritated him to this very day. An impenetrable grid of metal covering who knew what–for who knew what reason. He was curious if there had ever been an attack, or if the designers knew precisely the evil they were creating and preemptively bolstered its defensive systems.
He realized everyone was staring at him, just as he stared at the object. He would never know for how long he had been shouting profanities. Luckily, this time around, he was the teacher. This time around the speaker, that formless voice dictating orders as if by divine right, had no hold over him. This time he had no concern for, nor did he need to know, anything it issued forth. This time, he told himself, he wouldn’t be disturbed by it.
He feigned a calm, collected exterior as he and his students waited together. Everyone heard the familiar peremptory crackle of the P.A. They were only moments away now. He thought he could do it. He thought he was bigger. He thought he was more mature. He thought he was grown.
“Good morning school,” the speaker spewed. “This is your principal speaking. Welcome to the first day of the 2013-14 school year.”
Running as fast as he could, he arrived at his car out of breath. Keys in the ignition, the DJ’s giving away concert tickets, he was determined to leave. But he couldn’t. He started this journey, and he could never forgive himself for quitting.
The Fruit Paul Didn’t Like (And Why Not)
“But the fruit of the spirit is,” the pastor started, taking a breath, “Love (me), joy (me), peace (me), forbearance, kindness, goodness (me, me, me), faithfulness (me), gentleness (we are talking about a man here, right?), and self-control (me).”
As if straight out of Bill Murray’s classic Groundhog Day, he initially believed he possessed most of the fruits of the spirit Paul highlighted. “Initially believed” might not be entirely true. He didn’t ever actually believe that he possessed the fruits of the spirit, noble as they were, but he wanted to believe he did. Truth be told, he just wanted others to believe he embodied them. However, time, forever stationed at the front of the classroom, taught him that when he wanted to believe he possessed some good quality, the ‘wanting’ indicated that he didn’t possess the quality. This case was no different.
Distressed, he longed for his morning slice of humble pie to be as effective as his late night bowl of ice cream. At his age, the used-to-be-surprising feel that came with knowing that he wouldn’t get it right in this lifetime had worn off. Now, he simply felt the distinct feeling of resignation. If he constantly put such effort into life, and perpetually failed, what was the point of all that trying? Just then, a story he’d heard as a child thrust its hand out in aid.
Once a mentor tasked his student to push an enormous stone up a hill. Struggling daily, the man persisted to no avail. Not wanting to let down his mentor, he woke daily with more resolve than before. Still he failed. Finally he gave in to anger. “Why?!” he shouted. The mentor spoke, “Do you not see the muscles that have formed in your arms? In your legs? On your back and chest?”
The desired moment of clarity came just within reach. He wondered if maybe certainty was left off the list above because you just never know. What was arrogance after all, but a more certain form of certainty? He knew both were clearly opposite humility on their continuum. Humility–the genus under which the species labeled above as fruits of the spirit fall–being the eternal victor. Humility–that special ingredient required in order to love; required in order to say, “I don’t know, but I know that knowing is not what’s important. What’s important is that I’m here with you now.”
The only way to get there is together.
A Letter to Racism
Dear Racism,
I’m writing this letter to you to give you notice that I’m coming after you. You’re toxic. Every time I think you’re finally gone, you pop right back up again. Over the years, I’ve learned to cope with your appearances in private capacities, but apparently some inner reservoir of boldness has caused you to gain an increasing amount of state sponsorship.
Do you even know what I’m referring to? No? Two weeks ago, we were required to read Paul Kivel’s The Culture of Power at work. How in the hell did you convince a public school district in 2013 that you deserve an audience?
Hiding between the lines of that article, you entered the room to remind us of some challenges that lay ahead. As it turned out, no amount of wishful thinking on my part would hide the fact that you were just getting started. Once you focused our attention on our differences, you became the predominant theme of the day.
Let me me clear: I have always despised you. In the past, however, I thought if I ignored you that you would go away. That day, you showed me the error of my ways. I now know that my choice to not give you the attention you so desperately desired caused you to misunderstand me. You misunderstood my thoughts about being in the “culture of power.” Allow me to state them plainly: I know that I should be in the “culture of power.” Two of your further attempts to infect me that day illustrate your weakness and will help demonstrate how I know that I’m better than you.
First, you said, “You’re going to be dealing with kids whose parents taught them to never trust white people.” My father never–not ever–taught me such a thing. On the “Things to Teach Children” continuum “Never Trust (fill in the culture) People” is close-minded and weak. Ever read Thucydides? Heard of the US Civil War? Cultures who think like you die out.
Second, you said, “To motivate them, I say to my students, ‘Are you telling me you always want a white president?'” Never have I, nor anyone else I know in the “culture of power,” ever considered skin tone when voting. A worthy candidate is difficult enough to find as it is. What possible good could come from adding clearly irrelevant, meaningless criteria?
I guess the mistake is probably mine. For some reason I projected that because I wanted you to die, you also wanted you to die. Now that I’ve had the time to think about it for a second, I realize that that would be suicide. And not many things willingly commit suicide. But die you must. So no more will I idly ignore you. Beginning now, I’m going on the offensive. I’m coming to kill you. My weapon is constant, consistent correction.
If you want to survive, grow eyes in the back of your head. Avoid public places. If you care for your friends, avoid them. Don’t stay in any one place too long. Get comfortable wearing a different size shoe. I really hope you think I’m joking. I’m begging you to test my resolve. Do it.
Your sworn enemy,
Love
Old People Emailing
After finishing her morning coffee and chores, the old woman sat down at her computer. “What’s this?” she wondered, surprised. “Oh yes, someone sent me an email. Let me see…how do I…? Ah yes, here we go.” Counting “one-two” in her head, she clicked the mouse and opened the email.
She read,
“Dear Grandma,
It’s Pete. I don’t know if you’ll ever read this, but I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Happy Birthday!
Pete”
“Oh how nice! Of course, I’ll read it Pete. After all, I’ve been emailing since 2005,” she thought to herself.
“Now how do I reply? Let’s see… What was it Pete told me? Ah yes, ‘to reply, find and click the left arrow.’ He always was a sharp boy. There’s the arrow, one-two and I’m off,” she said with a certain feeling of accomplishment.
“Now where’s that darn SHIFT button?” she asked looking down at the keyboard. As she held the SHIFT key down with her left index finger, she pressed the key marked “D” with her right. Thus it began.
Slowly and painstakingly, taking great joy in the fact that no matter how much she wrote the cost was the same, she responded to her grandson.
“Dear Pete,
Thank you.
Grandma”
Losing confidence for a moment, she closed in on the screen and searched for the SEND button. Relieved, she whispered, “And…send. (One-two).”
She couldn’t put a finger on why, but emailing always gave her a thrill. “I wonder,” she thought, “when he’ll receive it?”
Filler Words’ Horrible Secret…Revealed!
“The thing is, is no matter our differences we should be able to get along.”
“…and that’s the end of that story…ummmm…oh, yeah, and then there was another time when…”
“…to get to the other side!..soooo…like I was saying…”
They were all guilty. All of them. Even him. He took comfort anytime he knew that to be the case. There was something appealing about universal condemnations. In this particular case, the crime was filler word use. Why? Because filler words were one more thing that he knew he should avoid, but couldn’t. And this inability to stop using something frustrated him to no end.
Of late, something intriguing occurred to him. He began to really listen for filler words, and see if he could determine a pattern. He wanted to learn if there was anything he could do, any tip he could develop, to help himself and others stop using them. And listen he did. He listened to his own usage, he listened to other people’s usage. After enough listening, the evidence pointed toward one specific conclusion. For the most part, people use filler words to maintain control of the conversation. At their core, then, filler words are a symptom of selfishness and laziness.
Yes, he was sure of it. He thought of it this way. Before children begin using filler words, they are taught to not interrupt. And to interrupt is to speak while someone else is speaking. It appears now, that an unintended consequence of this well-intended “don’t interrupt” principle is that speakers learn that if they are emitting interruptible sounds, even if not words, they will not have to give up the floor. Enter filler words.
He knew he was on to something when he pushed the idea further. Who uses the most filler words? People who talk the most, naturally. His ego wanted to believe this was coincidental–therefore a lesser crime–not causal, but he could feel the truth. He played out a little experiment in his head. He imagined a world where the use of a filler word ended that person’s turn to speak. In this fiction, he imposed the harshest limitations. If someone used a filler word, and no one else had anything to say–the conversation ended. As he played the scenario out in his head, it became clear that the use of filler words is, in fact, causal in determining which people end up talking the most. Just the same, if certain people can speak at length without filler words, it is a demonstration of skill and they should be able to speak. Who was he to limit a person with demonstrable ability?
Equally condemned, he could not judge too harshly though. It is likely that all people begin using filler words harmlessly enough. But that was the past. He wanted to be an agent of change. “Strive” – his adopted motto. Leading by example, he determined that he would stop speaking the next time he used a filler word. He wondered if anyone would follow suit.
Captain’s Log 