catching up on laundry today, and noticed that i have about three loads of dark stuff to one load of light. metaphor for life, much? i think it’s time to whiten and brighten.
foul ball
have you guys seen this video of a kid at the baseball game, sobbing his little eyes out because the people next to him caught the baseball?
if you haven’t, go watch it here, because this write-up is a perfect example of what i think about it.
probably not in the way you think, though. i cannot believe the anger over this couple who caught the ball instead of the kid. i’m floored by it.
read the headline: not only are they mean, they are thieves. they robbed this kid. and then gloated. the author says they are “heartless” and showed “bad behavior.” they “should be ashamed.”
are you kidding me? the guy caught a baseball. when a baseball comes up into the stands, what do you do? do you sit there with your hands down? do you rely on the dubious catching skills of the toddler next to you? nope. you catch it.
would it have been cool if they decided to give the kid the ball? sure, if that’s what they wanted to do with it. are they obligated to? not even remotely.
the thing that kills me is how outraged people are that this guy would DARE keep the ball for himself and deny this poor child what he wanted. what a selfish prick, right??!?
we know nothing about this man who caught the ball. he may be the biggest baseball fan of all time, and he may have been waiting his whole life for a chance to snag a ball at a game. maybe he attended games with his dad since the time he was small, and he’s been trying for years to catch one and this was the first time it ever happened for him. maybe he has a young son at home who he can’t wait to give the ball to.
none of that really matters to me, because i don’t think this kind of justification is required for the dude who caught the ball to feel fine about keeping the ball. but for people to judge him so harshly without a shred of back-story is pretty lame. people label this couple as assholes and lob personal attacks, commenting on the apparent age difference between them, throwing barbs about how the guy’s gonna be in trouble when his wife at home sees him on tv with his young mistress. really??!? all he did was catch a baseball, people!!
and then the commentators say they’re gloating about it? taunting the kid as he cries? um, did they watch what happened? they’re clearly holding up the ball for a photo op. yeah, the woman happens to be facing the kid as she poses with the ball, but to infer that they’re somehow intentionally taunting this child who they’d just finished “robbing” is preposterous.
the story does have a happy ending of sorts, however, as another player takes pity on the sobbing child after seeing it broadcast around the stadium, and tosses him a ball.
except that now, what was previously a teachable moment from those parents to their child is totally shot. instead of the parents consoling their child and saying “it’s ok, we’re not going to catch it every time. let’s keep trying!” the kid has now learned that sobbing will not only get you what you want, it’ll get you a viral video and a spot on the today show the following morning.
cheers to his parents who describe in the today show interview how the couple had actually been quite friendly to the toddler, and even offered him the ball later on – which the parents declined because they’re trying to teach him that he doesn’t get everything he wants all the time.
just another fascinating example of how quickly something blows up and spreads around the world, without a shred of back-story, but how quickly everyone rushes to judgment about it.
their turn to speak
fight club is arguably one of the most brilliant movies of all time. i loved it so much, i wrote a narrative theory paper on it in college. the best part of the research process was getting to watch the movie over and over and memorizing pretty much the entire script.
today i was reflecting on this particular quote:
“when people think you’re dying, they really, really listen to you…instead of just–”
“–instead of just waiting for their turn to speak?”
thankfully, i can’t currently attest to the first part of the quote – i’m not dying. (though as jack would argue, in the tibetan-philosophy, sylvia-plath-sense-of-the-word i know we’re all–we’re all dying, right?). but i feel like i might have just a tiny handful of people in my world who really, really listen – instead of just waiting for their turn to speak.
maybe it’s because i talk too much. i’m not exactly shy, and i tend to say what’s on my mind. i’m sure it gets repetitive sometimes. that’s what happens when there are ongoing pieces of your world that aren’t changing, right? things stay the same – and if you’re a talker, you keep talking about it. i totally understand where that gets tiresome.
but it’s more than just that. you ever throw out something that happened in your day and before you even finish the thought, your listener interjects with “oh i know, that’s like this time that…”? so you kind of give up and swallow your thought-that’s-now-an-afterthought. when it happens once or twice, it’s no big deal – or even if it’s an ongoing-but-occasional trait in a friend. but when it becomes the norm, you start shutting down instead of sharing. the message you’re getting over and over is that your world isn’t important, that they don’t care about your contribution to the conversation. you’re simply a prompter. a platform for their thoughts, their feelings, their experiences.
i like to give the benefit of the doubt and think that maybe we’re just wired to want to relate and to share experiences. and sometimes we get so caught up in that notion that we unintentionally hijack the whole thought train.
but the older i get, the more irritated i get by conversation hijackers. so then i get hyper-conscious about my own behavior - i’ll kick my own ass whenever i catch myself hijacking. but i also find myself giving up much, much faster when the hijacking happens to me, and that makes me sad.
i care deeply about my friends. i want to know about their experiences. i want to ask them questions and explore how they feel, see what they think.
but sometimes, you hope they return the favor.
the light of the darkness
there are some things in this world that just make you inexplicably happy.
last night, my brother and i went to see one of my all-time favorite bands, the darkness, at the last show of their first US tour in 8 years. actually, this tour and this show should never have happened – the band split up 5 years ago and seemed unlikely to ever reunite. but they did, against all odds, and will be releasing their third album early this summer.
i remember the first time i ever heard of the darkness. it was 2003, and i saw their video for “i believe in a thing called love.” my first thought was “are they fucking kidding?” with justin hawkins’ over-the-top falsetto, the flamboyant costumes and serious 80s throwback sound, the only justification seemed to be that they must be a parody. it became clear very quickly that they were entirely serious, and that they seriously rocked.
“permission to land” was their first album, and i remember discovering each new track with an almost childlike delight.
here’s the thing about the darkness: they made me ridiculously happy. always have. i’d wake up in the morning, throw on the album as i was getting ready for work, and it never failed to put a smile on my face. i’d rock around the room to the amusement of my roomie, and i swear this album was singlehandedly responsible for making me much less of a morning crank and much more of a morning person.
there’s a lot to be said for something that makes a huge amount of joy well up inside you. for whatever reason, the darkness does that for me. they’re fun, they’re campy, they’re positive, their music is massive and personal all at the same time.
i had a hard time reining in my glee as i waited for them to come on stage at the neptune last night. i was hoping hoping hoping that justin would come out in one of his trademark catsuits, cut rakishly open to the navel. i couldn’t wait to hear these guys live.
they exceeded all my expectations. while he didn’t start out with a catsuit (instead, a three-piece denim ensemble, of which he periodically removed pieces), he did two costume changes, which i have never seen at a rock concert. britney spears or some lip-syncing pop act? i’d expect to see costume changes there, but this was just awesomeness as only the darkness could bring. the first change brought him back out in a lemur-striped catsuit job with a codpiece (lol!) and a plumy tail appendage (LOL!). good god. the second change was even better – a white/pink/silver business with cutouts and a feathery spinal stripe down the back. he strutted around the stage like a pink spandexasaurus, scissor kicking and stage leaping to my heart’s delight. pure, unapologetic, unadulterated joy.
and they fucking ROCKED. they sounded so amazing live, it was unreal. the notes that man can hit? the guitar licks? unbeatable. they played a near two-hour set, which included all of the tracks from their first album, many from the second, and some off the upcoming new album. can’t wait to hear that thing in its entirety.
as a bonus, the two openers were rad. crown jewel defense was fun, campy and awesome, and though it’s probably not anything i’d listen to on my ipod, they were fun to behold in live form. then came foxy shazaam, who were a huge surprise of awesomeness. andy and i both loved their set, their energy and their totally hilarious and irreverent frontman. we both plan on looking into their stuff and i’d definitely go see them again.
basically, i feel like i got to cross off a bucket list item – a real mylestone. i think most people will never understand my sheer and deep love of this band, and i’m not sure i fully understand it myself. all i know is that their music has been putting a smile on my face for 9 years, and i hope i never lose that. i hope they keep producing and touring and rocking as only they can. i will be along for the ride, and judging by the crowd’s reaction last night, i’m definitely not alone.
arrogant bastard
he wasn’t the first person to call me arrogant, and he wouldn’t be the last.
it popped into my head today, years later, causing me to delve into some serious self-analysis. how do we define arrogance? what makes somebody arrogant? and do i really do that thing?
i think i’m pretty self-aware. i can easily rattle off some of my worst qualities to you: i’m selfish; i procrastinate; i’m kind of sloppy; i’m a worry-wart; i have hypochondriacal tendencies; i’m commitment-phobic; i really struggle with change. plus, in my personal life (though for some reason, not at all professionally), i’m virtually incapable of making a decision; i have been known to spend 30 minutes in a shampoo aisle trying to choose a brand.
but surely, self-awareness isn’t only knowing the worst parts of yourself. isn’t there something to be said for knowing the good stuff, too? everyone has things they excel at. everyone has a particular bag of tricks that they bring to the table.
the first accusation of arrogance that i really remember came during a rocky relationship. he practically spit the word at me; there was definite intent to wound. and while it didn’t exactly hurt me, it did make me think. the accusation came after a particularly heated disagreement (of which there were many) which ended with me saying something about being smart, having a good head on my shoulders, and being able to make up my own mind. he accused me of being arrogant because i thought i was smart.
i guess that deserves a little bit of background: the truth is, i’m smart. i do have a good head on my shoulders, and i feel lucky for it. i feel lucky that i have parents who encouraged me and bought me books and read to me since i was small, who sent me to good schools and supported my goals. i embraced reading and school and extra work – i studied hard, took honors classes, went to a great college.
i tried to clarify with him. “so let me get this straight: it doesn’t matter that my whole life, people have labeled me as smart. i’ve been raised to believe that i have a good head on my shoulders, and for the most part i’ve proved it. but for me to simply acknowledge it makes me arrogant?”
yep. that’s exactly what he thought.
i hadn’t bragged about anything. i wasn’t prideful about it. i didn’t say i was smarter than anyone else, him included. there was no sense of measuring myself against someone. it was simply me, observing a quality about myself.
another time, after a discussion with a coworker about proofreading: he said it was arrogant of me to say that i’m good at spelling and never use spell check.
but i am good at spelling! it’s actually a measurable thing!! why is it arrogant to know that about myself after years of having demonstrated it?
it seems like simply acknowledging any positive quality about yourself makes you arrogant. and that’s so disappointing. if that’s really the world we live in, how fundamentally sad and small of us. it seems like the world and the workplace and everywhere in between would be so much more positive if people were allowed or (gasp!) encouraged to recognize some of their positive qualities.
there’s a huge difference between that recognition and being a braggart or taking credit for things you shouldn’t. there’s a huge difference between knowing some of your better qualities, and that knowledge making you think you’re better than others. i’m not perfect, and i’ve totally been guilty of that at times. do i think i have a better sense of humor because i love things like arrested development and the league, rather than two and a half men or everybody loves raymond? sooooooo guilty. and i’m sure there are other places where i toe over that fine line between self-awareness and arrogance.
but it’s disheartening to think that you can’t ever say anything positive about yourself. does that mean we’re all doomed to this half-life place of waiting/wishing/hoping someone will say something good about you, because you’re too afraid to ever acknowledge it yourself? does this mean we all live in this space where self-deprecation, false modesty and fishing for compliments is the norm?
even if no one else will ever understand it, i’m happy that i am in a place where i know that there are good things about myself. it took me a while to feel comfortable in that place, and ending that rocky relationship was the biggest step toward self-awareness and happiness that i’ve ever taken. not because he was such a bad guy, but because i realized that the things he didn’t like about me were things i really valued about myself.
if that makes me an arrogant bastard, so be it. there’s a beer for that.
morning glory
woke up about 15 minutes ago.
there was the most gorgeous peachy-pink golden light coming in the windows. it’s been forever since i woke up and had that beautiful morning light stream in and pull me out of my dreams.
then it dawned on me that this is the last morning of 2011. so fitting! i’d been dreaming deeply, and it took a few minutes to shake off the sleep. i remember swatches of the dream – several people from my past, a place i dearly love, my family and some current friends – they’d all been prominent pieces of the dream, but the threads that connect all of them were fuzzy and blurred.
this whole year has been crazy and it’s blurred by. i love the idea that this beautiful morning is a send off to this year, and i’m choosing to think it’s a foreshadowing (fore-sunning?) for 2012.
ghosts of christmas past
the other day at work, we were chatting about our favorite christmas songs. although i’m as secular and irreverent as it gets, i love me some christmas music. i have a whole christmas playlist that i add/delete from my ipod on a seasonal basis because it takes up a fair amount of space.
anyway, my favorite christmas song is “have yourself a merry little christmas.” whenever i mention that, the typical response is “oh. that’s kind of a sad song.” and i agree – it is a little melancholy, which is what i really love about it.
the holidays aren’t just fun and games and presents and glitter. i think there’s a lot of emotion wrapped up there too, and some of it is sad. i can’t be alone in this – otherwise, how would we have these wistful and wishful christmas songs?
i think a lot about what christmas was like growing up. my brother and i were very lucky kids. we always had wonderful christmases. our parents did things like the family-christmas-tree-getting excursion (very griswald, i know!). we’d head up to arlington for a day of hay rides, cider, and choosing our very own tree to chop down (we usually chose a douglas fir). we did an annual day at a food bank where we helped assemble christmas food baskets for people in need. my parents helped us put out the eggnog and cookies every christmas eve, and never laughed at my insisting we include carrots and apples for the reindeer. snug and freshly pajama’d, we’d read “’twas the night before christmas” before bed, and we’d wake to a bunch of presents under the tree. stockings first, then breakfast, then prezzies.
i think a lot about christmases spent with my first serious boyfriend and his family. they always welcomed me over to share in their christmas eve festivities. i remember little things like how they always opened all their presents on christmas eve (which i found equal parts horrifying and hilarious), and then on christmas day they’d open all their stocking presents which were always stuffed inside of paper grocery bags instead of actual stockings. then they’d go to a movie (horror of horrors!) and have turkey, having done a honeybaked ham on thanksgiving (so backward! so adorable!). despite our differences, i loved being a part of their festivities and being exposed to something so different from what i did with my family. i bought his parents beautiful ornaments every year. sometimes i wonder if they still use them.
for me, the holiday sadness comes with having most of that magic and sparkle and ritual left in the past. it’s nothing anybody does intentionally – it’s just growing up. i do my own tree now, very different from my mom’s – it’s more dr. seuss than classic christmas. i put up stockings for vindaloo and me, and because i am completely that crazy dog lady, i only fill her stocking after she’s already gone to bed. i’m delighted by how she heads immediately for it in the morning, sniffing out whatever new toys and goodies hide inside.
slowly but surely, i’m creating my own christmas rituals. they’ll never be what they were when i was a child, but they have meaning all the same.
the sadness is part of it for me. listening to “have yourself a merry little christmas” and reflecting on christmases past, looking at my tree or wrapping presents for my nephews and nieces…it’s one of those moments where happiness and sadness meet in the middle. if i hadn’t been such a lucky child, if we hadn’t had such loving parents and solid christmas traditions of our own, i might not feel the sadness at all. but really, without the sadness, how do you truly know how to measure your happiness?
tip-off
’tis the season for tipping, apparently. i was listening to talk radio the other morning on my drive to work, and they started discussing tipping practices during the holidays.
first off, i’m putting this concept in the category of “nobody tells you this.” i’m actually creating a new blog tag for that very concept, all the things you’re just supposed to know but that nobody ever tells you. you know, the proverbial nobody.
anyhoo.
so the idea that during the holidays, you are meant to increase your tip amount for all types of services. now, this i get. i get that you would want to be more generous to others during the holidays. if you normally tip 15% to your waiter, you might find yourself upping that to 20 or even 25% for great service. i do this, and it makes sense to me.
what i don’t understand is the idea that during the holidays, you are now supposed to give tips to people you never tip normally. seemingly random positions that really have nothing else in common other than they do something for you. your mailman. your doorman. your newspaper deliverer. your personal trainer.
can postal workers even accept tips? as public employees, i’m pretty sure they aren’t allowed to take money. newspaper carriers and doormen? they’re doing the same thing they do every day that you already pay for.
but wait, now that i’m thinking about it, this sort of calls into question the whole tipping system. why do some positions get tips and others don’t? why do we tip waiters and cab drivers, but not newspaper carriers or doormen?
dwight schrute would tell us to only tip people who perform jobs that we ourselves are incabable of performing. dwight can deliver food, so waiters don’t get tips. he can cut his own hair, so no tip for the stylists. he does, however, tip his urologist, as he is unable to pulverize his own kidney stones.
interesting.
i guess the part that irks me is the arbitrary nature of it, and how you’re supposed to know who to tip and who not to tip.
the other piece is that while some people get christmas bonuses, i don’t. as a public employee myself, my holiday pay looks exactly like any other time of year. we don’t even get cost of living adjustments these days. so the holidays find me spending lots of money on gifts for friends and family, but i’m not seeing any extra income during that time of year. the idea of adding on tips for everyone is overwhelming. i think i’ll stick to what i know and where i already tip. everyone else? that’s what christmas cookies are for.
spin cycle
d’you ever feel like you’re spinning your wheels? sometimes i assume that i’m moving along, speeding by, and then all of a sudden it dawns on me that i’m simply spinning out and not really going anywhere.
other people do things. they have jobs they love. they’re parents. they travel a lot. take classes. i don’t really do anything.
angsty is normal when you’re teenaged. still kind of charming as a twentysomething. 32? not so much.
what am i waiting for? 32. wish i knew.
dim bulb
on our way home from watching the badger game tonight, my brother informed me that i should replace my car’s headlights. i asked him why, and he asked me when was the last time i replaced them. i told him never, and he said “that’s why.” so then i argued that they’re not burned out, so obviously they still work, so why would i replace them?
am i the only person on earth who didn’t know that headlights dim over time, even if they haven’t burned out? i still think andy was pulling my leg.
i’m a little disappointed in my own self-sufficiency that this was such an ah-ha moment for me.
me
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