Road Rules

What the hell is the deal with drivers in intersections looking right and merely glancing left?!

You know what, I'm going to (ironically) be the bigger person here and forget for a moment that a whopping four of you almost killed me during my ride about town this afternoon in order to provide you with two pieces of wisdom.

NUMBER 1

In this culture, we are taught from a VERY young age (think infancy) to read things from left to right.  Keep in mind here, I'm saying read things, not books.  As soon as we are born, we begin looking around.  We may not immediately track anything specific but we see the way our caregivers do and we pick up on that. Guess what we begin to notice? They're tracking left to right. Since babies begin to mimic what they see it's no surprise that you developed this behavioral trait.  In fact, by three months, when you were visually tracking faces, situations, stimuli, and other things, you did it from... (dat dat dada) left to right. Then, when you were introduced to picture books, signs, and eventually  words, this left to right looking  thing was repeatedly reinforced.  So, what you're doing at intersections is counterintuitive.  It makes no sense, and you're likely putting in more effort to combat your habitualized pattern of scanning surroundings to engage in a potentially dangerous behavior. Which leads me to my second point.

NUMBER 2

Unless you're  a brand new driver, this should be common sense, but just for the sake of your own edification I'm going to remind you of something rather crucial. Brace yourselves. Are you ready for it?

K.  Here it is:

The oncoming traffic closest to you is coming from your left side!

While you're peering past the empty passenger seat of your likely over-sized death wagon, you are completely missing that "jackass" who is about to come "out of nowhere" to t-bone you.  This is the thing that baffles me the most.  You'd think you're own inherent sense of self-preservation would protect you from missing this, but it appears it doesn't. 

Alright.  I'll quit ranting now, but before I go, do us all a favor, and start to think about what you're doing behind the wheel.  You might just save a life.

Unsolvable

Image found here

Originally, I had planned to publish a very different post today. In the face of recent violent acts in my community and elsewhere in the nation, I have felt a large pull to join the political debate of issues. However, I have kept my distance. This has been partly out of respect for the grief and sorrow many are feeling during such an awful time. I have wanted to be one of the few who actually allows space for feelings and emotional reactions.

That sounds really noble doesn't it?

Well, my motives have not been entirely selfless.  If I'm totally honest, my abstention from the political discussion has had a lot to do with my own confusion.  Like many, I believe something needs to be done, but, also like many, I have no idea what. The issues being raised are overwhelmingly complicated. These are heavy topics accompanied by a variety of passionate opinions. Understandably, the strong emotional attachments bring about loud and overly simplified statements, from both sides, about how things should be.

Each day I read a mixture of clearly supported and valid arguments from every perspective. Additionally, I am bombarded with rants and raves from people who haven't really thought it all the way through or given themselves enough emotional distance to sort facts from beliefs. Evocative information, plaintive pleas, and ignorant platitudes have been swirling both inside and outside my head at an increasing rate for a week now. Frankly, I have been too confused to make sense of it all.

So, I haven't gotten involved. I have avoided entrance into the political debate out of respect for those who are hurting and out of uncertainty about my own beliefs. However, today something changed.

I found myself sitting at my internship, a counseling office for survivors of violence, combing a research database for articles about handguns and the glorification of violence in the media. I pursued the articles for information relevant to my work, when suddenly I became overwhelmed once more. Recognizing my own need to separate and decompress, I took my lunch break. Slowly munching on a pathetic microwavable meal and browsing social media sites, I came across yet another article about weaponry, violence in the media, and mental health. The article, detailing a mass shooting victim's resistance to gun control regulations, offered some relevant perspective, but once again left me with the same reaction. Confusion.

I took another bite of an overly chewy pot-sticker, sighed to myself, and thought "it's just not that simple."

And that's how I found my political stance in this heated debate. It's just not that simple. I wish it were.

I know that right now things seem truly awful. In fact, these are tragic times, but I'm not convinced that this is unique to our generation. Furthermore, I'm not convinced that one almighty resolution will eradicate this plague of inter-person violence that has afflicted us since the beginning of time.

As a people, we have been fascinated by violence from the get go. Media has always reflected that. Our earliest tales are dark and gruesome portrayals of violent behavior. Weapons today are more intense then ever before, but grotesque person on person crime and mass murders predate long-range weaponry by far.

I'm not saying that we should ignore the issue. Clearly something needs to be done, but I'm not sure hyper-focusing on one or two political hat hooks is really going to change human nature. At least not over night. 

Big Girls Don't Cry

Image found here

This past weekend I went out to a karaoke bar with friends. I had some delicious beverages, and observed complete strangers make a mockery of themselves. After a couple brief hours, I called it a night in favor of my bed and a good night's rest before an early morning. While waiting in line to close out my tab, a rather inebriated young gentlemen wandered aimlessly in my direction. He stopped in front of me, and gaped.

"Are you even old enough to be here?" he inquired with genuine concern in his voice.

Though I assured him that I had been "old enough" to be there for the better part of a decade, the man remained suspicious.

"You look like you're 12!" he argued with me.
"I'm not," I responded abruptly, but he persisted. He went on and on about his misperception of my age. I simply stood there speechless, staring daggers at him, until a nearby friend came over.
"You are not making friends right now," she said. "You need to say something nice, and leave."
"It's just that you look..."
"Think about it," I urged him.
"...like you have a wonderful smile."
"Nice job turning it around," I affirmed. "You should probably go now."

With that he was gone, but his words still linger in my brain.

For the most part, I have pretty thick skin. However, those who know me well, know that being older than I look is one of my truly sensitive areas. And it gets picked on quite frequently. In the past year, I have been called pet names, offered children's menus, had solicitors ask if my mom is home, and had the validity of my ID questioned on numerous occasions. People hear me talk about school and want to know what grade I'm in or what college I'll be attending. In the past, my adolescent clients have asked if I was a teacher or a student, and my child clients have told me I look more like a kid than an adult. The general population seems to struggle with categorizing my appearance, and they all feel the need to share that difficulty with me.

I wish I were tougher. I wish these observations didn't get to me as much as they do. I want to be able to confidently stand up to the world and say, "so I'm short and I've got a mad case of the baby face. No need to make a formal report. It's not like this is news to me. I do own a mirror." Sometimes I even try this, but I lack the most key component: confidence.

I act all resilient and talk a big game about it not bothering me, but the truth is that this infuriates me. See, I believe that life is a long journey of self discovery and growth. I write about growing up so often, because I think that's what we're all trying to do. Myself included.

I'm trying so hard to grow up, to become the mature, poised, and competent woman I know I can be. I'm desperately seeking opportunities to prove professionally, socially, and personally that I am an adult. I constantly feel like I'm ready to start my life. I want a career. I want love. I want a family. I want to move on from adolescent angst and finally feel comfortable in my own skin.

Though well-intended, all of the jokes, comments, and assurances that "one day I'll like it," seem to be forming a barricade in my own development process. When others see me as juvenile, it stunts my personal growth. Even if only for a moment, I loose any progress I've made in life in a regression back to my early insecurities.

I mean, I get it. I look young. But, I can't do anything about my appearance. My hands are tied behind my back on that. All I can do is recite my birth date repeatedly, and hope that one day someone will believe me.

Asocial Networks

Image found here

Today, while riding the train home, I watched a teenage couple flirt with one another. Without touching, they sat next to each other red-faced and enthusiastic about their conversation. A distinct inch of space was visible at all times between their oddly stationary bodies as they giggled about the latest gossip. Their innocence was refreshing amidst a crowded car full of an exhausted workforce, and listening to their conversations made me smile with reminiscence.

However, when I turned to observe what they were discussing, I realized neither one was making eye contact with the other. Their bodies were hunched and kyphotic while their blank gazes stared at screens in their palms.

Upon further investigation, I realized that their conversation was entirely centered around a cyber world. The duo discussed dynamics between virtual friends and situations that had taken place online without any physical interface. As they began to narrow the conversation to their own lives, the discussion revolved around what kinds of things were "too stupid to post" and who each should "follow" or "retweet."

From my vantage point, any relating here was minimal. Neither could see the mutual attraction that was evident in their blushing cheek, and any awareness of the tension that pulsated in that one inch electric field between them went unacknowledged. They were missing the whole experience.

The whole thing reminded me of a similar duo I had observed just days before. I had gone to the theater with my mother and sister, and was fortunate enough to watch a powerfully evocative piece of musical theater. The first act moved me to tears, and the break left the three of us craving more. However, not everyone felt the need to share their thoughts and reactions during the intermission.

The older couple seated directly in front of us, spent the entirety of the intermission on their phones, both logged into the same social networking site. Any sharing they did do, went in the form of leaning over and pointing at their own device. Like the first duo, this couple exhibited a complete lack of eye-contact and minimal physical acknowledgment of the other.

I'm seeing this more and more. Morning and evening commuters blankly stare at their phones each day as they wait for the train to hit their stop. Café patrons pull up screens as they drink, dividing their tables into private cubicles for social networking. Even red lights induce text-writing and tweet checking. This technologically advancing world is quickly pulling us away from one another.

Frankly, I find it depressing. I miss the days when families sat around the dinner table discussing their days without plugging into a device. I miss those awkward moments that cause us such stress when we accidentally make eye-contact with a stranger on the train. Mostly, I miss being truly bored.

We're forgetting what it's like to just sit without feeling the need to check in with our entire social circle. We're losing the ability to gain information from another person without immediately searching for the source. We are missing the real world as it passes us by.

Rising Above It

This past week I experienced  the worst customer service and business transaction of my life. After a week of red flags, ambiguous responses, and unreturned phone calls, I repeatedly gave this small business the benefit of the doubt. 

Ultimately they failed to follow through with their commitments. They did not arrive to help me move. Then they suddenly stopped answering my calls. Understandably, I flew into problem-solving mode. I tried to contact them repeatedly to no avail. Finally, they responded to my attempts to call from an unrecognized number. I informed them that their business practice was unacceptable. At this point, the employee began to yell at me for not being an understanding person, and attempted to explain how things sometimes don't go as planned.

Although I was strongly compelled to match this person's volume and emotionality, I resisted the urge to explain my work history and the litany of evidence that directly contradicted the assumptions about my lack of patience and empathy. I calmly stuck to the facts at hand, and explained the recent events that led to my frustration. The individual, interrupted me, and escalated further. Feeling my own will to be rational begin to fade, I quietly stated "I am not going to argue with you about this. I've contacted the proper authorities, and I'm done now. Have a nice evening." I promptly hung up, and called a different company to assist me with my needs.

I spent the rest of the evening filing formal complaints with all of the involved agencies. I took special precautions not to let my emotional reaction infect my appeals. I composed, edited, and recomposed several letters that objectively listed the facts as they applied to the improper business conduct. I repeatedly read my letters aloud, and adjusted elements to insure that I came off as professional and competent.

Insuring that I remained mature and adult about this process aided in the alleviation of my distress only slightly. It did feel nice to know that I had not sunk to the irrational level of the individual I was speaking with. However, sitting amongst my uprooted possessions, I still had a highly unsettled feeling about what had occurred. Yes, I was happy that someone would be contacting this business about the impropriety of their service, but I was still somewhat uncool about the whole thing.

Then, while browsing the Better Business Bureau website to obtain information about the complaint process, I ran into a link for complimenting a company. That's when it hit me. Despite my resistance, all of this negativity had still infected me, my mood, and my actions. I had accidentally neglected to acknowledge the impeccable response I got from the gentlemen at an additional moving company. He registered no offense that I had not hired him first, and immediately offered to pick up the slack at very short notice. He provided me with assurance and understanding when I was distressed, and was even grateful that I called him at all. It was remarkable, and, once I acknowledged it, restored my faith in humanity. So, I clicked on that link, and spent just as much time composing one compliment for him as I did on all of my complaints for the other company. After hitting submit I noticed something incredible. I felt better. I felt lighter and reassured.

Now, I'm not publishing that whole story to remind everyone how great I am. I know there was a lot in there about how I stayed calm and collected. There was also a great deal of boasting about my mature response under pressure. All of that sounds like one giant disorienting pat on the back, but I assure you it's not. I provided those details to explain that, despite responding to the conflict in a sophisticated and composed manner, I still felt unease. While proud of my response, it still left me uncomfortable and feeling somehow responsible for my contributions. It was not until I stopped capitulating to the negativity that I finally gained the resolve to move past it.

Once again, this life lesson reminds me of something my parents told me often throughout my childhood. Whenever I became upset about some argument or unfair situation, they would tell me to "just rise above it." I had always translated that to not sinking to low levels, staying cool, and avoiding the pull to engage in anything akin to a fight. While I'm sure that has always been part of the advice, a bigger part of me thinks the lesson actually called for me to walk away from a bad situation and enter into a positive one.

My Controversial Musings

Found here

I think sometimes when people say that they are all about diversity they mean to say that they are all about minorities and oppressed populations. If that's true, that's great! Those groups absolutely need someone to stand up for them. They need people to be their champion, and to make sure that they are equally included in this world dominated by the privileged masses.

But, let's be real. If that's what you're doing, you are not actually promoting inclusion. The diversity movement, at least as I understand it, is about incorporating everybody. After all, the word literally means variety. So, regardless of your reason, if you shut out a person from any one particular group you are decreasing the variety and therefore the diversification of your own movement. When you favor one group over another, even if it's the disadvantaged, you are merely replicating the same discrimination you seek to eradicate.

For the record, I am aware this is a controversial view. I'm also aware that this might sound like I'm advocating to extend the privilege of the groups with social power (and therefore my own). This is not my intent. I am merely noticing a discrepancy between the ideology of many (not all) proponents of diversity groups, and the actual intent. Maybe I'm too literal, but I believe that a truly diverse group of people would be all inclusive.

Flawed Perception

I struggle with people who have disproportionately inaccurate mental representations of themselves. I find myself up against a barrier when attempting to relate to individuals who think themselves to be geniuses despite all evidence to the contrary. I can't connect with people who believe they have all the answers, but often supply superficial opinions in response to factual inquiries. I don't understand why wildly popular artists think that they have no skill. I am frustrated with smart people who routinely tell themselves they are dumb.

What's the deal? Why is it that some people are completely blind to their flaws, and others can't see their strengths?

There's the obvious exception for those who have had their beliefs repeatedly reinforced throughout their lives. I get that. It makes sense that self-esteem would be low when others have repeatedly devalued a person's worth. I get the inflated ego of a person raised by a self-esteem junkies.

What I can't figure out is those who fall outside of these categories. The people who had relatively typical upbringings. They had mixed successes and failures. However, the experiences that contradict their self-image were chocked up to luck or external influences. Their confirmation bias allows them to completely ignore that this is not a unique moment in their lives. Do they not see the common threads that point out errors in their judgment? Can they not understand praise/criticism?

Say What?

Just for fun, here's a list of things people say that irritate the bejezus out if me.

"EX-pecially"
     The word is spelled E-S-P-E-C-I-A-L-L-Y. Figure it out.

Preempting an inquiry with the phrase "I have a question."
     It's just unnecessary. Everyone knows you have a question because either a) its a didactic setting and you've indicated your intent through use of the culturally normative arm raise or b) YOU'RE ASKING A QUESTION! Stop wasting everyone's time being ridiculous and get to the friggin' point already.

Misuse of the word "literally"
     Oh really? You were so scared that you literally pissed your pants? How embarrassing for you.
     Did your brain actually fall out of your head and roll away? No? Then you didn't literally lose your mind.
     Here's a trick: Mentally picture a scenario in which what you just said actually happens. Does it seem implausible or absurd? Then you probably meant to say figuratively. If you can't figure it out, then just don't say that part of it. See, watch how I do it: "Dude, I was so scared." Notice how I didn't add the gross image at the end? Lock it up.

"And such as/what not/so forth...you know?"
     Um... no. I don't. Do you? Because you haven't really said a damn thing. So much of what you just said was comprised of filler that it was entirely devoid of substance and actual meaning. You lost me at your first incomplete sentence when you just assumed it was clear where you were going. Then you followed it up with about eight more of those beauties. Now, I'm not even sure what the original topic was. My head hurts, and I want you to shut up, but you're not going to until I indicate that I do in fact know. So now I'm nodding. Stop making me nod.

"I don't believe in that"
     Listen, I understand that you're a vegan, but what do you mean you don't believe in eating animal products?  It's a thing. People actually do this. Also, what are you getting at when you say you don't believe in Alcoholics Anonymous? You know it exists right? Like, it's really out there. How can you not believe in something that's real and accessible? You must be trying to say that you don't support it, or that you don't agree with it. Unless, of course you're completely out of touch with reality. If that's the case, there's more going on here than your views on social justice. You should probably see a doctor. Unless...maybe you don't believe in them either.  I guess you could consult something less mythological, perhaps a sorcerer?

"I was gonna say..."
     Yeah, no you weren't, because you didn't. Maybe you intend to say it now? I'm not even really sure.
     What exactly is the point in this phrase? It's past tense, indicating you have not said it. However, it also seems to imply that you have changed your mind and decided not to say whatever it was. And yet, it's nearly always followed by the thing you supposedly elected not to share. Here's an idea, quit putzing around with all that needless build up and JUST SAY IT ALREADY!

Waste of Space

Could someone please explain to me why a dog needs a facebook page? I mean sure, maybe it's nice to have one location to post all your Fido pictures. I get that, but the rest of it? No thank you. Whoever runs that garbage is wasting their time posting status updates on behalf of their tail-chasing best friend.

Why are people amused by this? It's not funny. Chester didn't actually say those things. Sure, he made a silly face when he looked at the cat, or the doorbell got him in a frenzied barking kind of mood, but those words on "his" facebook are a person's thoughts. Why couldn't they post that as their own status? Is it really necessary to make an entirely separate profile for the hypothetical ruminations of a canine? Is anyone buying this? I just don't get it, but obviously it's working for someone. If you understand, could you explain it to me?

Also, what is the deal with couples sharing a profile? Talk about codependency. Can you not trust your partner with a social network of their own? *Please imagine the following quote in either a breathy airhead voice or the deep tones of a droll moron.*

"But now we have full disclosure in everything we do!" 

Blah blah blah barf. Because facebook is your whole existence? Nothing could possibly go on behind your back in the real world, or on a dating site, or *gasp* on your dog's profile.

"On second thought, it did seem weird that Buster was friends with so many floozies and gym rats right?"

I can't figure out what is more sad, your oblivious outlook, or your inability to loosen that leash a little. I give it five years. — Just wait, you'll see what I mean.

And another thing, a baby doesn't need its own facebook page either. The same goes for twitter accounts and tumblr (I'm looking at you Blue Ivy Carter). It's a damn baby! She can't even hold her head up, and the only thing that makes her smile right now is a particularly good gas passing. The pictures are great, and I can understand wanting to get the kid all set up so, when she's ready, her timeline is lifespan comprehensive, but this just seems like the modern day version of the ear piercing debate.

Chill out. Give the kid a chance to develop some autonomy. Then let her decide for herself what embarrassing images to throw out there. In the meantime maybe you could, you know, actually interact with your child. Just a thought.

I guess I could probably go on and on about my issues with cyber social networking, and I probably will at some point. However, for now this seems like a good place to end my pointless rant.

I'm Really Funny, I Swear!

I was really excited about the post that I had scheduled for tomorrow. After deciding that my musings had recently taken a turn for the melancholy, I decided to go back to my more humorous self-deprecating roots. To do this, I prepared a funny little window into my psyche as I analyzed what I am like behind the wheel. I delved into my fondness for Car-eoke (it's exactly what it sounds like), and my neurotic over-compensation when driving past my home-town haunts.

If you don't understand what I'm getting at, that's alright. Just describing it now doesn't make any sense to me either, and I spent three days writing about it. All that's really important is that it was funny, I was proud of it, and I was excited to share it with the world (or the portion of it that actually reads my rants).

In fact, I almost decided to forgo my resolution to post a new entry every Monday, and let it slip early. But,I thought, what's the point in making resolutions if you aren't going to stick to them? That's when I decided to indulge my desire a little, by only reviewing it. I opened up the draft to edit it a final time, and in a series of three quick clicks accidentally deleted the entire thing.

My heart sank to the floor. Even still it hasn't entirely made it's way back up. A quick Google search has me believing that it may actually be trapped between my liver and spleen.

So, while I wait for my heart to unstick itself, I'm sitting on the couch kicking myself for being so impatient. Immediately after my epic blogging blooper I thought I'd try and rewrite it, but I'm clearly not in the mood. All I can think is how much I liked the other one, and how nothing will ever live up to it.

I'm sure that's an exaggeration, and I'll probably sit down and reattempt it some time soon. However, it's more than likely that this week's post is going to be another melancholy essay about the world because I've been sitting on a few of them. That being said, when it comes out tomorrow, please keep in mind that sometimes I'm light-hearted and funny. If you do that it will really help me out, because that's what I wanted this week's take-home message to be.

Dear Grad School,

Not to be overly dramatic or anything, but this semester may just kill me.

Hold on. Let me clarify by explaining that it feels like you are cutting away little pieces of me each time you outline another expectation or time commitment.

Well...can we be honest for a moment? Can we just do that? Be real with each other for one little sec? That's basically what you are doing.

You're asking me to apply myself in ways I never have. Which, of course, I will. And, since I am passionate about my purpose for doing this, and I am entirely committed to the end goal, I'm going to put everything I have into each of these tasks. But, do you really understand that? We're talking about all of me. Every last piece. It's all going to pour out of my body as I provide you with everything. But, you're not even going to stop are you? You will just keep on asking for more.

So, what else is left?! Not much. I hope you've sharpened your carving knife, because the only other thing I can think of is to provide you with bite sized chunks of myself. Would you like me to start with the vital organs, or would you prefer intact appendages? Better yet! Maybe you would just like to begin by dusting off that Hoover in your office and sucking out my soul. Whaddya think?

But first, at least give me this weekend. I'd like to take some personal time. I think I'll hunt for a nice burial plot, maybe prepare my own obituary. I mean, I think I owe that much to my loved ones. After all, they will be wondering where I went when I suddenly disappear into a monstrous stack of research papers and never ending To-Do lists. Because seriously that's how it looks like this whole thing is going to play out.

Anyway, since it looks like I won't have time for either in the coming months, I'm off to stock up on sleep and gorge myself on healthy food. If you decide to change your mind and go easy on me, you'll find me at the local coffee shop. Should the stress have rendered me unrecognizable, I'll be the haggard looking one huddled in the corner, rocking in the fetal position while murmuring incomprehensibly about gestalt theory, assessment inventories, and countertransference.

Resentfully Yours,

Mindy

Officially Unnoticed

Here I am, crossing the finish line, going entirely unnoticed.

As I have mentioned, I had a unique upbringing rife with dudes in lycra costumes atop various versions of an odd two-wheeled contraption.

My parents are ACTIVELY involved in the cycling community. They're famous even. As a result, we were always at bike races. They were so common place to me, that I thought all sports had a bell lap, and I didn't realize most men don't shave their legs until I was in middle school. I can barely remember a spring or summer that didn't include me going to a bike race.

I had a brief period in high school when I was "too cool" to hangout with my parents. When that stage hit, I opted to stay at home during several of the weekly races (at this time I think there was a race four days a week), but I still came out every now and then. When I went off to college I missed every race in the spring, and there was a couple of summers I had a job and couldn't go. However, I've been back, and regularly officiating or helping out for three years straight now.

At my greatest estimate, I've missed a cumulative 3 out of the last 26 years of bike races in Oregon. That being said, I seem to have gone unnoticed. I'm at these events all the time, and barely anyone knows who I am. This wouldn't be that surprising to me, if my siblings also seemed to be invisible to this particular community...but alas that's not how it is.

My older brother was absent from bike racing for a much longer time frame than I. He spent multiple summers at camps, and schools in other states. Now that he's local again, he's at easily half of the races that I am, but everyone knows who he is. When he and I walk the course together, people wave and call out to him while I walk alongside quietly making sarcastic comments. No one seems to notice. But, my brother is bigger and louder than I am. He has more of a presence than I do. So, I guess that makes sense.

Explain my sister then. Nine years older than me, my sister has been absent from this community for a long time. I have markedly less childhood memories that include her at the races. Then she went to college several states away, and worked in the Southwest over the summers. Afterwards, she lived in another state for years. She must have been gone from Oregon bike races for at least ten years. Now, she occasionally helps out, but she's by no means a regular. Despite all this, people still mistakenly call me by her name. I stand next to my parents, as people ask about her, and what she's up to. Don't mind me, I'll just take your registration fees while you chat.

How does nobody know who I am? My father's theory is that people do know who I am. He thinks that they don't acknowledge me because they find me intimidating.

That's really hard to type without laughing. I mean, I'm not exactly the pinnacle of intimidation. I'm rather small. Hell! Just last week, I bought clothes from the children's department, and they fit me perfectly. That's not very threatening. Well, my father thinks the reaction comes from an association with my parents. Okay, I'd agree...except for my siblings don't seem to command the same "intimidation," and they're not only equally associated with my parents, but they're normal sized humans!

None of it makes any sense. I'm around all the time. I'm often scoring your points races, or calling ties off the camera. I am usually the one with photographic proof that you've broken the rules. I'm a person you probably want to know (I like cookies), but sure! Go on thinking I don't exist. Keep wondering who that little girl at the finish line is. Step in front of me in the port-a-potty line, and bump me out of the way at registration like I don't know what's going on. Even more, continue to yell at me for trying to fix your number. You probably know more about it than I do anyway. It's not like I've seen 6 million numbers or anything.

It's actually kind of funny. I get to see and hear things that I wouldn't if people knew I was of the famed Murray family.



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And I Thought I was Studious

Image found here

It's the return of the exam experience.  Last Wednesday, I was given a take home exam for my research methods class.

"Yes!" I thought to myself. "I'll be able to work on this in my own comforting environment.  I'll sound like a genius!"

Think again.  I didn't get a chance to really look at it until two days ago.  I brought it to my parents house, with all my books, only to discover that I needed easy access to files on my computer.  Not there.  So, I scribbled down some notes, and wrote a half decent answer to one of the ten questions.

Yesterday I took the 1.5 hour MAX ride to school, and hungout there all afternoon in hopes that I would be able to get some stuff done.  I did, but none of the study rooms were open, so I was awkwardly balancing my stuff on a couch in the lounge, with no access to an outlet, and worried that my laptop would die.  Despite that, I answered one question, and jotted down some notes to a second question.

This morning I thought, "I'm gong to get this damned thing out of the way!"  I got up early, and rode my bike the the local library, only to discover that it's not open until noon.

GARH!

But, I was already out and about, so I figured I'll just ride over to the local coffee shop, buy something cheap (which I can't afford) and pound out some responses.

When I arrived, there were no open outlets.  Almost all the tables were full, and there was a damn toddler group happening in the corner.

Ordinarily, I would think this toddler group was the greatest thing ever. It's a man and a women dressed outrageously (one's a fire fighter, the other a pirate).  They're loudly reading books, and singing songs.  They're blowing up balloon animals (and subsequently popping them with their tiny little fingernails), and the cutest little tykes are running around squealing at everything.  It's fantastic...except when you're trying to write a take home essay, about research methods, with the hope of sounding at least partially educated.  Add to that the general coffee making sounds, and the fact that my battery is nearly dead.

I can't focus on this stuff.  I'm sure I sound like an imbecile, and I'm probably going to turn in something that my professor deems worthy of ejection from the program. At this point, I've fully answered one question, and written down some inattentive vague responses to two other questions.  I have 10 questions total, I only need to answer 8 of them, but at the rate I'm going, I'm probably better off answering them all.

Is it possible to avoid taking this exam all together? Or, you know maybe I could just catch a freaking break in the study department.

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Venting

It would seem that lately, I've been suppressing some feelings. Outwardly, I'm expressing frustration at my circumstances. However, for fear of  being dramatic, I've been containing the rest. This is not okay with me. Historically, holding back my emotions has resulted in worse turmoil then letting it out. 

Discussing it, releases me of the negativity.  I feel better once I've complained. I no longer carry it around, as it expands inside me. This is especially true for things that I know don't matter, and that's the point. Why let it fester inside of me? Why let a little thing grow?

This emotional load I've been bearing is one of these things. It doesn't matter. In the grand scheme of things, it's miniscule. In the end, I know where I'm going, and not much will change that. However, I'm here now, and I need to deal with it.

I'm a careful person. I plan and prepare in order to set up best case scenarios. That makes it especially aggravating, when it doesn't work. When I squeeze every ounce of myself out, to make sure my decision is supportive for all those it effects, only to learn it was pointless, it makes me want to scream. I feel jaded, unappreciated, and bitter.

Don't feel the need to console, commiserate, or empathize. I don't want any of that. Nor should you tell me to get over it. That's just what I'm trying to do. I know that this issue, like all others, shall pass. I'll get over it. In time, I'll forget I ever felt this way. But for right now, I'm getting this toxic time bomb out of my mind before it explodes.

Then the Nerves Set In.

Location: Apartment
Mood: Introspective

I'm feeling a bit anxious in the soul and also my chest area.
This happens whenever I make a decision, particularly a big one. It makes it really hard for me to judge if I'm making the right one.
Is my chest fluttering because I'm excited, or am I nervous? It's hard to tell when the decision is not easily made, and has both positive and negative aspects to either choice.

The Long-Wobbly Story

Location: My apartment
Mood: Irritated, Exhausted, & Confused

I wanted to take a minute out of my never neurotic (and hardly sarcastic) blog, to complain about a predicament I've found myself in. I'm annoyed right now.

The full story begins back in December, when I had two or three days of feeling dizzy.  I had several prolonged episodes of feeling as though I was moving, when I was clearly stationary. I attempted to ignore it, but started to get concerned when I experienced an apparent bending and contorting of the walls at work. Maybe it's just me, but I've always operated under the assumption that walls are supposed to remain where they are.

So, I did what I usually do when I'm curious, or don't want to deal with going to the doctor. I called Dr. Dad. I explained my symptoms to him, and he supposed that I had some sinus-related issue that was causing an inner ear problem.  He recommended allergy meds and decongestants.

Easy enough. Done.

Apparently this is the treatment for vertigo.

About two days later, things were not better. The dizziness was more frequent, and I was starting to get motion-sickness. It was akin to how I feel when I'm in the backseat of a car. Dr. Dad said I should probably call my Ear Nose & Throat (ENT) specialist. Turns out he didn't have openings until the end of January.  I didn't want to wait that long, so I saw his physicians assistant (PA) who determined that I had knocked some rocks around in my head (no seriously) and had benign positional vertigo. She basically moved my head & body around a bunch, put me on desk duty, and told me not to lay down for 48 hours.  It was irritating.

In the the following two days, I had an increase in dizziness. I basically always had that sensation you get when you're a passenger in a car that you've just realized was not stopped. Plus I was nauseous, and I would get added waves in which my own personal elevator lurched forward. According to friends and coworkers, I had lost all my coloring.  At the same time, I came down with something (no one is clear if it was related or not).  I had no appetite, no strength, and one of the worst sinus headaches of my life (this is saying something because I've had sinus surgery and subsequent post-operative headaches). I was so dizzy I worried about my ability to drive. The PA concluded that I had an infection (duh), which caused the vertigo. I apparently hadn't noticed the infection until this point because my history of chronic sinusitis had desensitized me to it.

YAY! Antibiotics and steroids!
Oh, right I'm trying not to be sarcastic.

Well, what we learned from all this is that I'm allergic to another antibiotic.  I broke out in the most uncomfortable rash. My skin was bright red, hot as hell, and stung all over. The PA hears this, and fears that despite my documented sensitivity to antibiotics I might also be allergic to steroids (a condition that's quite rare). She takes me off both medications. This would be fine, except that steroids are used to treat allergic rashes. It went out of control. I was itchy, stingy, and inflamed. Honestly, it was one of the worst feelings I've ever had.

Eventually, I was fortunate to catch a cancellation in my ENT's schedule. He agreed with the infection diagnosis. However, he felt that it was in my ears. It had caused inflammation and mucus in my sinuses and eustachian tubes. His two week treatment decreased, but did not eradicate the dizzy spells (which seemed to be made worse by certain sounds...weird right?). Also, I had begun to experience some fullness and ringing in my ears. Thinking it was an incredibly stubborn infection we did another round. My condition did not improve with the second round.

After a CT, and finding no abnormalities we both threw up our hands.  He told me he wanted to get a fresh look at it.  In his office, we talked about my experiences, I picked my right leg up, I picked my left leg up, he shook me all about, we did the hokey pokey, I turned myself around. That's pretty much what it was all about.

In the end, it was determined that I have an atypical presentation of Meniere's Disease. He put me on a diuretic, and told me to cut down on salt as much as possible. I was mad, but he's a good doctor so I complied.

You guys, I actually got better. If I were writing this last week, I would tell you that I'm down to one or two very (max of 5 seconds) brief episodes a day.

You'll notice I'm not writing this last week.

On Monday, I noticed I was light-headed and very sensitive to positional changes, especially going from kneeling/squatting to standing. This is problematic as I work with disturbed preschoolers. It's like an aerobic catholic mass (i.e. stand up, sit down, kneel, stand, jump, run, sit, squat, stand, turn). On Tuesday, I was really light-headed. More so on Wednesday, and was disturbed that standing on a stool triggered a head rush.  Dr. Dad said to call my ENT.

Early this morning, I had briefly squatted to get something out of a box, and then stood at a normal pace. It caused a head rush so intense I had to sit down, and feared I might vomit. I remained nauseous for 10 minutes following it.  I called my doctor.

Now, I have told you ALL of that to illustrate my journey towards complete frustration. My ENT wants me to get my blood drawn again, and to take some kind of supplement that I've never heard of

I want to cry. I'm tired of this shit. I'm confused.  My equilibrium is failing me, but otherwise I feel healthy. I've changed my diet. I can't afford to spend all this time, energy, and money on such a stupid little thing. I'm exhausted (figuratively and literally). I'm sick of medication side effects, and I want this to be done.

To top this all off, I'm starting to doubt my mind.  My parents mean well, but they keep posing that it's a result of, and exacerbated, my worrying.  I don't feel like I'm stressed about it. I just want to be better. However, I do talk about it with them quite a bit. Maybe that means I am overly worried about it?

I don't even know.  Should I just abandon all treatment and hope for the best? I want to, but then I remember how I felt before, and it caused me to seek treatment. I know that dizziness and head rushes happen normally.  I think the ones I'm experiencing right now are more intense than those experienced by the general population, but now I can't be sure.

Am I a hypochondriac? Have I created an illness out of nothing? Or is there really something there?

I just don't have the answers.

Reasons Not to Help People

Location: Hawthorne District
Mood: Affronted

The Walgreen's in my hometown called me right away when my medications were ready. So naturally, the lack of a call from my new local Walgreen's led me to believe that my prescriptions were not ready. It had been a while, so I called this morning, and they informed me that it was indeed ready and had been for some time.

So, tonight I'm on my way home from my weekly night at my parent's house, and I swing by Walgreen's to pick up my prescription that should have been ready on Monday. As the attendant hands me my prescription I casually ask if my number was correct in the system. It is.

"How come I didn't receive a call?" I ask. The woman responds that it can take up to 3 days for a call to go out, and if I absolutely "have to know immediately" I am required to sign up for text-messaging alerts. So, I explain to her that I pay for my text messages. The woman shrugs in response, and indicates that she does not care about my financial woes. I don't blame her. Why should she? Then, out of pure curiosity, I ask why I used to get called immediately when I frequented the Gresham location.

Wow! You would not believe the attitude! It was like I had grossly offended her with my curiosity. She steps back and says "well, you know we put out over a hundred of these a day!" What I wanted to do was inform her that:
1.) I had not taken offense with the company policy
2.) I had not asked her what the branch productivity was and
3.) She needs a customer service refresher.
Instead, I just smiled sympathetically, thanked her for her time, and walked away. 

As I ventured out and through the rain drenched parking lot, I heard a bang and some crunching sounds.  When I looked over my shoulder to investigate, I discovered a crazy elderly woman driving her Buick station wagon directly into a shopping cart. No, she didn't side swipe it, or grace it backing out of her spot.  She quite literally drove the front end right into it, and continued to drive for about 5 seconds. When she stopped, I figured I'd be a good Samaritan and assist her.

I approached, and moved the cart for her, as she very slowly attempted to get out of the vehicle. Once out, she walked around to the back of her car and surveyed it. I'm not entirely sure what for, as the impact was clearly on the front driver side corner. She then walked around to the passenger side of the car, looked at it, and looked around while I quietly pushed the cart over to the side walk. Not sure what she was doing, I stood on the curb and watched for a moment. Coming to no solution, I attempted to make my way to my own car, all the while going unacknowledged by this crazy old bat. When she returned to the rear driver side she looked up. I smiled responsively at her and waved. I mean, what else was I going to do? 

I know what you're expecting here. Obviously she gushed over how sweet and magnanimous I was. She clearly noted how amazing it was to have a world with people like me who are willing to help a little lady, and not ask for anything in return. She then explained to me that she is a quadjillionaire, and offered to pay for my upcoming grad school tuition, and buy me a house. Also, she has a handsome single doctor grandson who she wants to set me up with. Perfect!

Surprisingly, that's not how it went. I know, I know...calm down.

In reality, the woman glared at me as if I was some nefarious teenager causing havoc in my neighborhood just for shits and giggles. It was like she thought I had pushed something into her car. She watched me with her angry expression as I walked to my own car. It was so unsettling that I immediately locked the door, and clutched my phone in case I should need to call the authorities. Eventually, she got back in her car and drove off. (This is the part where I would make the lackluster sitcom flop noise "wah wah," but you can't hear it. So, it doesn't translate).

Seriously though...what is the world coming to? Why are people so needlessly cranky?

The Destruction of Society as We Know it.

I have come to the conclusion that text messaging is ruining the world.
 It feels like no one actually calls anyone anymore.
When you text a person, there is no voice. You have no inflection in your words. Because of this, it is hard to decipher your actual meaning. This is especially detrimental for someone like myself. My main means of communication is through sarcasm. When you can't overemphasize words, draw out sentences, or act out your silliness through vocal mannerisms, you come off like an insensitive bitch. No fun. This can sometimes lead to arguments. What was originally meant as a brief conversation can become a huge misunderstanding, or (in a worse case scenario) an all out electronic brawl.

This leads me to another point. What is the point of having a texting conversation? Sometimes it can take hours, or even days. It's ridiculous! Say you want to see if someone will go to the movies with you. If you call them up it will go like this:

A: "Hey want to see a movie?"
B: "Which one?"
A: "Attack of the 50 foot Cactus."
B: "Sure, what time?"
A: "How's 5:30"
B: "Cool, see you there."

That took me less than a minute to type. But in all reality it's going to take a minimum of 5 minutes when you factor in sending time, service strength, and the length of time it takes to wrestle your fingers over those tiny screens. Now, Imagine how quickly it would go if spoken aloud. Scratch that. Read it out loud. How long did it take you? Thank you for proving my point.

That conversation could possibly take forever in text land. You'd send out your original "hey want to see a movie" text around, we'll say noon. But, Jo-Bob (or whatever you're calling your friends these days) might not be near his phone. He might get it around 1:30pm. So, you get the inevitable: "Sry dude jst got ur txt! movie sounds gd still dwn?" But, alas, you were not by your phone at this point in time. You had gone downstairs to google your name, or hulu reruns of Scrubs. You don't get the message until around 3ish. Jo-Bob assumes your lack of response means "no," and he has gone out. He put his phone on silent. Therefore Jo-Bob doesn't notice your text until around 5:15pm. Luckily you were by your phone. You think, "perfect timing!" Think again. When Jo-Bob went out, he saw Attack of the 50 foot Cactus. Now you need to figure out a different movie to see, but Jo-Bob hasn't turned his phone off silent. He doesn't know you still want to hang out. He's busy playing video games, and doesn't check his phone at regular intervals. Instead of having a meaningful interaction with another human being you end up spending your day alone.

Another reason why texting is ruining civilization: Did you read that message that Jo-Bob typed? Where did his vowels go? What is up with that punctuation?! I kind of want to scream at him, but I can't because his phone is on silent. Text messaging has brought about all of these abbreviations and written shortcuts. Half the time I don't even know what I'm reading. Then I need to consult the internet in order to decipher whatever code language your communication has devolved into. It's exhausting.  Now it's seeping into oral communication. Think of the number of times you've heard someone say "OMG" or "BTW" a loud in the last year. Now slap yourself that number of times.

This is what society is turning into. I'm tired of getting "how are you?" or "what's up?" text messages too. If you honestly want to hear the answer to that question you should call me, because I'm most likely going to lie to you over text message. This is not because I don't care enough to tell you. It's because it takes forever to give a genuine answer to this question when you're attempting to type a message with character restraints.

Plus, half the time the predictive texting mechanism on the phone thinks you've said a non-word and changes it to something nonsensical. After you've spent 15 minutes crafting the perfect response, you hit send only to discover this in your outbox: "I'm grwat. Work ie too. I local my me place. You should come view something." It's just easier to respond "good" or "nothing." My phone knows those words.
Bottom line: call me. Let's chat. I want to know how you're doing also.

But, perhaps the most unsettling reason that texting is ruining our world. The fact that most people are more comfortable texting one another than speaking to each other. How are we supposed to meet people or get to know anyone when we can't even interact with each other? Eye contact with strangers makes us uncomfortable. We don't know what to say to one another in the elevator. Instead, we whip out our phones to text someone rather than actually speak to the person standing right next to us. We are too afraid of rejection to actually call someone we're interested in, so we send the ever profound "hey!" message. When people call us we respond by looking at the screen and saying "that's weird why is Mary Lou calling me?"

It's all so depressing. I really enjoy people watching, but lately there hasn't been much to watch. I look out the window of my local coffee shop, and all I see are people looking at screens. Men standing at bus stops, texting someone. Women walking in pairs down the street, but not talking to each other. No, that would be awkward. They're both looking at their phones.

From an evolutionary standpoint, things do not look good. Eventually we're going to loose the ability to be successful in social functions. We'll have to carry around screens and keyboards in order to communicate with other people. Avoiding eye contact will result in some crucial misreading of social cues. We'll never make any new friends. We're becoming a selectively mute autistic society, and I'm scared for our future. NE Ways. G2G. TTYL

Peope are Despicable

If you were alive and breathing at all these past few weeks you probably noticed that the largest pop icon in the world isn't.

I was a little shocked by my reaction to this news. It made me sad. I'm not saying that I'm heartless or anything. Not in the least. I just didn't think I cared that much. I thought that I would probably react as I do to the news of any celebrity dying. That reaction is one of mild upset but mostly vague indifference. It's a reaction that is best summed up with a shrug and a calm "huh, that's too bad." This is the reaction that I expected to the news of Michael Jackson's death.

Instead, I was momentarily stunned. After that, I began to remember every time he popped up in the media during my life. I was honestly saddened by the news, and then I was upset at what I knew was about to come. I knew that people were going to have mixed reactions. I knew that many people were going to look at this as fodder for idiots. I knew that people were going to be making jokes that were in extremely poor taste, and comments that were outrageously inappropriate.

I was not let down.

What I want to say to these people is this: You didn't know him. You don't know any celebrities.

We tend to think that because someone is on our tv, or singing through our radios that we know who they are. This is not the case. Yes, celebrities are the people we see in the media, but is that all they are? They have private lives that we will never know anything about.

I am not denying that some odd things happened in Michael Jackson's life. In the last decade or so, he was in the media for a number of strange things, but no one knows what actually happened. None of us knows what he did or didn't do. It bothers me that people feel like it's okay to pass judgment on this man. He did more with his life than most people will ever do.

I was watching his public memorial today, and there were moments when I was moved by the words of his loved ones. These are famous people, who I am sure many people feel like they know. Many of them we love and celebrate, but for some reason we don't take that into consideration? Notice how many people showed up to pay the respects to this man. Notice how large his family is. Notice how devoted his friends are. Say what you want about what you think his personal life may have been like, but you have to admit there's a possibility you're wrong. If this man was as deeply disturbed and perverse as you assume he was, how could he have amassed such a support system. Why would celebrities who make a living off of their reputations stand up to support him?

Most importantly: How would you feel if it was your life people had misunderstood? How would you feel if people passed judgment on your personality because of some quirky traits? How would you if a beloved member of your family passed away, and then random people began to joke about it?

Respect.

I Don't Know, I'm Not Proud of It, Please Stop Asking Me

Location: Alpenrose Velodrome.
Mood: tired


I went to an event that my parents put on each year. It isn’t really an event. Basically before the beginning of each track (velodrome) season, they have everyone come out and help them clean up and repaint the track. The weather was supposed to be nice, so I figured I’d go. Who knows, maybe I’d manage to wrangle myself a boyfriend.

As usual, everyone that knows me wants to know what I’m doing with my life these days. I’m still looking for a career, but I think even if I’d found one I would be sick and tired of being asked about it. It’s like when you hurt yourself. As soon as people see a cast it’s all they want to talk to you about, and you get irritated with telling and re-telling what happened to you. But, I haven’t found a career. I’ve got a job, and I’m still looking. I live at home with my Mommy and Daddy. Thank you very much.

I know that people mean well. I know that they are just trying to strike up conversation. I’m not too upset with them, but put yourself in my shoes. I feel like I should be wearing a sandwich board that reads:

“Hi, How are you? I’m alright Oh, I’m still looking (for a job). I’ve put in over 600 applications since June. I have a part time job making $9.50/hour. Putting that Bachelor’s to good use.  Yes the economy sucks right now. No I don’t really want to hear your personal take on the economy, but you’re going to tell me anyway so I’ll listen.  I live with my parents. I’m ready to move out. To save us some awkwardness, I’m going to look for a reasonable excuse to exit this conversation now. It was nice talking to you. Peace.”

Okay, it would have to be a rather large sandwich board, and I’m a small person. But I think it would save us all a lot of trouble.

1 comment

Nicole Pexton wrote
at 9:37pm April 19th, 2009

Yes! I have been known to run and hide from people who might have this conversation with me in public places.

What happened to talking about the weather?