Splat!
This is for Brian who popped out of his cubicle like a whack-a-mole creature to ask about the blog.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Sticks and Stones
The other day a gentleman tried to get my attention as I walked down the street. He did not speak to me directly, but instead said something in my ear as he rushed past me. I barely knew he had spoken, but no matter. the fact that I didn't reply was proof enough that I was set on ignoring and disrespecting him.
He began to yell back over his shoulder at me. "I SAID Hello!!!"
Normally I ignore this sorts of thing--there is no need for me to get stabbed in the eye by some lunatic. But for some reason that day I was annoyed enough to yell back. I don't even know what I said. Something about talking to people and not whispering in their ears.
Then I went into Starbucks. The older man and his daughter who had witnessed all of this also went into Starbucks.
I got in line and perused the front page of a newspaper. Lo and behold the "gentleman caller" also decided to patronize Starbucks. "What did you say?"
"It was nice meeting you. Goodbye." Then I returned to my paper.
He paused and then made ready to hurl his insult. "Nerd," he said as if I were a truly despicable creature.
Obviously,during our brief encounter, he had managed to look inside my soul. But, is that any way to treat your true love?
I threw my head back and laughed, as the older man stared.
The other day a gentleman tried to get my attention as I walked down the street. He did not speak to me directly, but instead said something in my ear as he rushed past me. I barely knew he had spoken, but no matter. the fact that I didn't reply was proof enough that I was set on ignoring and disrespecting him.
He began to yell back over his shoulder at me. "I SAID Hello!!!"
Normally I ignore this sorts of thing--there is no need for me to get stabbed in the eye by some lunatic. But for some reason that day I was annoyed enough to yell back. I don't even know what I said. Something about talking to people and not whispering in their ears.
Then I went into Starbucks. The older man and his daughter who had witnessed all of this also went into Starbucks.
I got in line and perused the front page of a newspaper. Lo and behold the "gentleman caller" also decided to patronize Starbucks. "What did you say?"
"It was nice meeting you. Goodbye." Then I returned to my paper.
He paused and then made ready to hurl his insult. "Nerd," he said as if I were a truly despicable creature.
Obviously,during our brief encounter, he had managed to look inside my soul. But, is that any way to treat your true love?
I threw my head back and laughed, as the older man stared.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Kiss of Death
The Washington Post ran an article about a kiss-in in South Africa where youths protested what they saw as overly strict laws about physical interaction involving kids under 16.
The laws were put in place to prevent molestation, statutory rape and to see to it that no one took advantage of young people who are developmentally challenged.
The idea was not to prosecute consensual acts of affection, although technically, that could happen.
As with most laws, you start out trying to do good in one way, but do harm in another. Or create further havoc with some odd loophole that no one could have imagined
Teenagrs mobilized on FaceBook to rise up against this injustice of this law that could prevent them from kissing.
But here is the funniest part: the perceived unfairness of the law based on the fact that the teenage years are the best ones for kissing because once you get "old", all bets are off:
"We're young. We need to experiment," Natalie Winston, 12, said before the protest here. "When you're 21, you're old already, and ugly."
Read the whole article here.
The Washington Post ran an article about a kiss-in in South Africa where youths protested what they saw as overly strict laws about physical interaction involving kids under 16.
The laws were put in place to prevent molestation, statutory rape and to see to it that no one took advantage of young people who are developmentally challenged.
The idea was not to prosecute consensual acts of affection, although technically, that could happen.
As with most laws, you start out trying to do good in one way, but do harm in another. Or create further havoc with some odd loophole that no one could have imagined
Teenagrs mobilized on FaceBook to rise up against this injustice of this law that could prevent them from kissing.
But here is the funniest part: the perceived unfairness of the law based on the fact that the teenage years are the best ones for kissing because once you get "old", all bets are off:
"We're young. We need to experiment," Natalie Winston, 12, said before the protest here. "When you're 21, you're old already, and ugly."
Read the whole article here.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Sunday, December 09, 2007
The Early Bird Gets...
How often have you left the movie theater and felt like what you just saw lacked substance? Often enough, I'm sure.
About a month ago, I had that experience, not because the movie was badly written or had terrible acting, but because no one bothered to show up to show the movie.
After I and other hopeful moviegoers got up early to get to the Landmark-E Street Cinema one Saturday morning, no one in management bothered to appear. Two junior employees came, but they had no access to the systems that control the cash register or ticket dispenser and they could not show any movies. We waited, but there was nothing they could do.
A third employee who had phone numbers for the managers arrived and started to make calls. This employee could show movies, so they offered to let us see "No Country for Old Men" for free. But by then I was tired and annoyed, so I went home.
How often have you left the movie theater and felt like what you just saw lacked substance? Often enough, I'm sure.
About a month ago, I had that experience, not because the movie was badly written or had terrible acting, but because no one bothered to show up to show the movie.
After I and other hopeful moviegoers got up early to get to the Landmark-E Street Cinema one Saturday morning, no one in management bothered to appear. Two junior employees came, but they had no access to the systems that control the cash register or ticket dispenser and they could not show any movies. We waited, but there was nothing they could do.
A third employee who had phone numbers for the managers arrived and started to make calls. This employee could show movies, so they offered to let us see "No Country for Old Men" for free. But by then I was tired and annoyed, so I went home.
Friday, September 28, 2007
I'm Not in Kansas Anymore
So I've moved into a new 'hood and things are a little different.
Today I went to the store and looked for bagels in the bakery section.
All the bagel bins were labeled except one and for the life of me I couldn't figure out what kind of bagels were in that bin. There was a possibility that they could be onion, and nothing would ruin my breakfast like discovering I'd purchased an onion bagel.
I stopped an employee who was heading my way from the back and asked if she knew.
"No," she said. "There is only one way to find out."
And with that, she picked up a bagel and broke into halves. She gave me one half and told me to taste it. I tried it. It wasn't onion.
"It looks like it might be plain," she commented. Apparently I had been mislead by the flecks on the outside. The bin above these bagels said "New York" and those bagels looked smooth.
Then she tried her half. "Fresh," was her pronouncement. Then took her half and went on her way.
In my old 'hood, all of the bagels would have been labeled, leaving no room for doubt. And no employee would have ever split a bagel with me for any reason.
I was left with a bagel half that I hadn't paid for but wanted to eat. I felt a little guilty--what if someone saw me? Would I look like one of those people who just eats stuff in stores? I hid the bagel half as a security guard walked past me. Who'd believe that I'd been given a taste test?
Then I thought that a child saw the quarter of a bagel that remained and gave me an envious look.
By the time I got to the fruit section with a bagel eighth and saw a woman munching on grapes, and not employee in sight. I figured if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
So I've moved into a new 'hood and things are a little different.
Today I went to the store and looked for bagels in the bakery section.
All the bagel bins were labeled except one and for the life of me I couldn't figure out what kind of bagels were in that bin. There was a possibility that they could be onion, and nothing would ruin my breakfast like discovering I'd purchased an onion bagel.
I stopped an employee who was heading my way from the back and asked if she knew.
"No," she said. "There is only one way to find out."
And with that, she picked up a bagel and broke into halves. She gave me one half and told me to taste it. I tried it. It wasn't onion.
"It looks like it might be plain," she commented. Apparently I had been mislead by the flecks on the outside. The bin above these bagels said "New York" and those bagels looked smooth.
Then she tried her half. "Fresh," was her pronouncement. Then took her half and went on her way.
In my old 'hood, all of the bagels would have been labeled, leaving no room for doubt. And no employee would have ever split a bagel with me for any reason.
I was left with a bagel half that I hadn't paid for but wanted to eat. I felt a little guilty--what if someone saw me? Would I look like one of those people who just eats stuff in stores? I hid the bagel half as a security guard walked past me. Who'd believe that I'd been given a taste test?
Then I thought that a child saw the quarter of a bagel that remained and gave me an envious look.
By the time I got to the fruit section with a bagel eighth and saw a woman munching on grapes, and not employee in sight. I figured if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
Shortchanged
I am used to hearing about how waitstaff at restaurants work hard only to find that uncaring customers leave them no tip. In a book I read unruly teenagers even left coins as a tip in the bottom of a milkshake glass. They laughed at the thought of their waitress having to fish down into the glass to get the much-needed money.
So while my recent experience does not compare, I have to say that I didn't expect to find myself stiffed by a waitress.
After a quick lunch, I returned the check with a bill that was more than the amount. The waitress asked if I wanted change, and I said yes. The service has been all well and good, but not getting change meant giving her an tip that was over 30% of the bill. I tip, but I wasn't feeling that generous.
She returned the check to the table and I didn't open it right away because I was typing away on my laptop. When I did open it, I was surprised to find two dollar bills and no receipt.
Now I had an idea of what the amount was, but did not remember exactly. And without a receipt, how could I be sure? I just knew that I had not been given all of my change. So when I approached her to point out that a) I had no receipt and more importantly b)she hadn't given me all of my change, she muttered some feeble excuses about making a mistake in rounding.
Maybe it was an "honest" mistake, I really don't know. I do know that a bigger tip comes by giving better service, not by skimming off the top.
I am used to hearing about how waitstaff at restaurants work hard only to find that uncaring customers leave them no tip. In a book I read unruly teenagers even left coins as a tip in the bottom of a milkshake glass. They laughed at the thought of their waitress having to fish down into the glass to get the much-needed money.
So while my recent experience does not compare, I have to say that I didn't expect to find myself stiffed by a waitress.
After a quick lunch, I returned the check with a bill that was more than the amount. The waitress asked if I wanted change, and I said yes. The service has been all well and good, but not getting change meant giving her an tip that was over 30% of the bill. I tip, but I wasn't feeling that generous.
She returned the check to the table and I didn't open it right away because I was typing away on my laptop. When I did open it, I was surprised to find two dollar bills and no receipt.
Now I had an idea of what the amount was, but did not remember exactly. And without a receipt, how could I be sure? I just knew that I had not been given all of my change. So when I approached her to point out that a) I had no receipt and more importantly b)she hadn't given me all of my change, she muttered some feeble excuses about making a mistake in rounding.
Maybe it was an "honest" mistake, I really don't know. I do know that a bigger tip comes by giving better service, not by skimming off the top.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
When Ducks Attack
The other day I was walking out of my building and I saw a man carrying a Bible in one hand and a watermelon on his shoulder. As he walked, one of the rather corpulent ducks who have made the grounds of our high rise their home, approached and began to hiss at him.
I gave him and the duck a wide berth and we met up farther down the path.
"You scared?" he asked, smiling.
"Yes!" I said, and he laughed.
Perhaps carrying a Bible and a watermelon makes you invincible.
The other day I was walking out of my building and I saw a man carrying a Bible in one hand and a watermelon on his shoulder. As he walked, one of the rather corpulent ducks who have made the grounds of our high rise their home, approached and began to hiss at him.
I gave him and the duck a wide berth and we met up farther down the path.
"You scared?" he asked, smiling.
"Yes!" I said, and he laughed.
Perhaps carrying a Bible and a watermelon makes you invincible.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Missed Networking Opportunity?
I was in the parking lot of a shopping plaza, getting ready to get into my car, when I saw a woman I knew. I have done some contract work with her company.
In the few seconds between my seeing her and thinking I should go say hello, she began tongue wrestling with her husband. I was a little surprised, and glad that she did not see me. I decided to get into my car and let that networking moment pass me by.
Her divorce from a previous husband was finalized while I was working there, and I remember that she came in with a cake to celebrate.
I was in the parking lot of a shopping plaza, getting ready to get into my car, when I saw a woman I knew. I have done some contract work with her company.
In the few seconds between my seeing her and thinking I should go say hello, she began tongue wrestling with her husband. I was a little surprised, and glad that she did not see me. I decided to get into my car and let that networking moment pass me by.
Her divorce from a previous husband was finalized while I was working there, and I remember that she came in with a cake to celebrate.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
The eyes have it
Spouting pithy sayings is one of those adult pastimes that children adopt quite readily. I remember one saying in particular that we used to throw around as if we had learned it sitting at some great philosopher's feet.
When you assume, you make an ass out of "u" and me.
Now, it never really made any sense to me, but it was part of the prevailing wisdom so I didn't question it aloud. But I wondered, aside from the cleverness associated with picking the word apart, what value did this philosophical gem have? Why was I an ass because "u" made an assumption?
All of this came to mind because the other day someone mistook me for another person.
As I walked past her, a woman at the office where I am freelancing congratulated me on my new job and called me by someone else's name. I had no new job, and the name she used wasn't mine. But, still, I was curious.
Who was this person I asked, and why was she to be congratulated. The congratulating woman and her co-worker froze, realizing their mistake. They'd thought I was someone else. Not quite an assumption, but it was an error of a sort.
"Oh, but you look just like her." " She's taller than you, but she's very pretty," they assured me. As if it mattered. I am not her, no matter what she looks like. But we all assuage our guilt however we can.
People can only make an ass out of you if you let them. They assumed the person they saw was not me, but someone else, but why should I feel silly or insulted? I knew very well that this other woman was black and that to the unobservant Caucasian eye, I resembled her as I briskly walked past. I also know how many times I have confused on white person for another.
Still, it was amusing to see them get flustered.
Spouting pithy sayings is one of those adult pastimes that children adopt quite readily. I remember one saying in particular that we used to throw around as if we had learned it sitting at some great philosopher's feet.
When you assume, you make an ass out of "u" and me.
Now, it never really made any sense to me, but it was part of the prevailing wisdom so I didn't question it aloud. But I wondered, aside from the cleverness associated with picking the word apart, what value did this philosophical gem have? Why was I an ass because "u" made an assumption?
All of this came to mind because the other day someone mistook me for another person.
As I walked past her, a woman at the office where I am freelancing congratulated me on my new job and called me by someone else's name. I had no new job, and the name she used wasn't mine. But, still, I was curious.
Who was this person I asked, and why was she to be congratulated. The congratulating woman and her co-worker froze, realizing their mistake. They'd thought I was someone else. Not quite an assumption, but it was an error of a sort.
"Oh, but you look just like her." " She's taller than you, but she's very pretty," they assured me. As if it mattered. I am not her, no matter what she looks like. But we all assuage our guilt however we can.
People can only make an ass out of you if you let them. They assumed the person they saw was not me, but someone else, but why should I feel silly or insulted? I knew very well that this other woman was black and that to the unobservant Caucasian eye, I resembled her as I briskly walked past. I also know how many times I have confused on white person for another.
Still, it was amusing to see them get flustered.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
A chapter entitled mountain=molehole
or 'This too shall pass'
The other day I ran into someone I had not seen in about a year. That person reminded me of a "dilemma" I'd had when they'd seen me last. When asked, "What did you decide do about XYZ?", I thought "XYZ?"
Oh...that.
In less than a year's time I'd forgotten about that all important issue.
And really, I couldn't see why I had manufactured such a quandary.
or 'This too shall pass'
The other day I ran into someone I had not seen in about a year. That person reminded me of a "dilemma" I'd had when they'd seen me last. When asked, "What did you decide do about XYZ?", I thought "XYZ?"
Oh...that.
In less than a year's time I'd forgotten about that all important issue.
And really, I couldn't see why I had manufactured such a quandary.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
The Price of Parking
I do not live or go to church in DC, but I have visited enough churches in various cities to know that parking is a serious matter on Sunday morning. It has gotten so serious in DC that 1) the mayor wanted to fine church attendees for double parking and 2) churchgoers and church leaders staged a protest.
At first I thought, if we can stage a protest about parking, then maybe we could go on to protest other, more pressing issues.
Then I started listening more to what people were saying, and saw that the streets of DC on Sunday morning are yet another place where race, class, and religion intersect. Churchgoers feel they are being pushed out in favor of the newly-gentrified DC. When the 'hood was rundown, no one cared who parked where, but now that it is
up-and- coming, recent transplants resent the traditional Sunday morning parking arrangements. The city saw an opportunity to appease newcomers, who presumably have money, and make some ca$h at the same time.
Mayor Postpones Church Parking Crackdown:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/04/23/AR2006042300948.html
I do not live or go to church in DC, but I have visited enough churches in various cities to know that parking is a serious matter on Sunday morning. It has gotten so serious in DC that 1) the mayor wanted to fine church attendees for double parking and 2) churchgoers and church leaders staged a protest.
At first I thought, if we can stage a protest about parking, then maybe we could go on to protest other, more pressing issues.
Then I started listening more to what people were saying, and saw that the streets of DC on Sunday morning are yet another place where race, class, and religion intersect. Churchgoers feel they are being pushed out in favor of the newly-gentrified DC. When the 'hood was rundown, no one cared who parked where, but now that it is
up-and- coming, recent transplants resent the traditional Sunday morning parking arrangements. The city saw an opportunity to appease newcomers, who presumably have money, and make some ca$h at the same time.
Mayor Postpones Church Parking Crackdown:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/04/23/AR2006042300948.html
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Food and Fellowship Really Do Transcend Boundaries
Case in point: For the last 2 years my brother and his wife have had a Muslim, Jews, and Christians over for Easter brunch.
I do not have any naive hopes of replicating this on a large, global scale. I'm just saying that there are some basic things that we all enjoy.
Case in point: For the last 2 years my brother and his wife have had a Muslim, Jews, and Christians over for Easter brunch.
I do not have any naive hopes of replicating this on a large, global scale. I'm just saying that there are some basic things that we all enjoy.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Never Enough
Being ungrateful is part of the human condition, although at times, I get a jolt of recognition that takes me away from griping long enough for me to see just how much I really do have.
Reminders of this are often more potent when they come from other people because it is easier to point to someone else's ingratitude than to reflect on my own.
The other day I gave my niece some stickers--not anything that she needed, but something I knew that she enjoyed, and as I handed them to her she said,
"Is that all?"
Being ungrateful is part of the human condition, although at times, I get a jolt of recognition that takes me away from griping long enough for me to see just how much I really do have.
Reminders of this are often more potent when they come from other people because it is easier to point to someone else's ingratitude than to reflect on my own.
The other day I gave my niece some stickers--not anything that she needed, but something I knew that she enjoyed, and as I handed them to her she said,
"Is that all?"
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Falling for the Flu
At a literary reading, I paused to think when the speaker said something about outside events reflecting inside struggles, and as the evening progressed, I wondered if he knew just how meaningful those words were.
Diran Adebayo gave a reading at George Washington University and began by saying he was a little "flu-y", but it didn't really seem to be a problem. At least not at first. He talked about and around his writing and read a lengthy passage from his first novel.
At one point he stopped and asked for a chair and then added water to that request. Or maybe it was the other way around. After the second request, he bowed his head and his forehead glistened with sweat.
Slowly, but quickly, he crumpled, fell into the lectern, and then collasped onto the floor. He didn't hit the floor hard, but at the very end his head bounced like a gentle rubber ball. His hands twisted inward and they shook. Then they stopped. His eyes were closed.
He looked like a corpse.
The audience was stunned. It was terrifying. No one could have reached him in time to prevent the fall. A university professor who was in the front row had gone to get the requested chair. If he hadn't, he may have been able to catch the man before he fell.
Things really do change in an instant. The author reading from his work became a corpse-like being on the floor and then just as quickly, the corpse became a man who said he was fine. He insisted on continuing the reading, refusing to even sit in a chair. One woman in the audience said we'd all feel better if he did, but to no avail. (Later, as he continued the reading, he exhibited a manic energy that belied the collapse we had witnessed earlier.)
Someone called campus services, and to the author's annoyance they insisted that he get checked out. The audience murmured about the fact that a man whose head has just ping-ponged on the floor now had to climb stairs and go to where campus medical services could check him out. Why couldn't they come to him?
Just this week I have been listening to the audio version of Wickett's Remedy, a book that centers on Boston and the effects of the 1918 Spanish flu epidemic. This was back when the flu was referred to by its full name, influnenza. Influenza is serious business; a grown-up version of the flu. Watching in horror as someone who claimed to have a touch of the flu fainted, reminded me of this. I could go on and mention that dreaded flu that we hear so much about, but I won't.
The girl sitting next to me wore Ugg-like boots and had a styrofoam carton that I had presumed held something like french fries. When she opened it, I saw that it actually held edamame.
We were all a little shell-shocked. Unguarded, she said something about him being a "big, black man". (He was on the tallish side, rather thin, and not at all big.)
She was talking more to herself that to me and I think she uttered this phrase to indicate her disbelief that this type of thing could happen to such a a person.
I decided not to challenge this particular view, nor the years of stereotypes that lay underneath it.
She went on to talk about how he had visited her class earlier in the day, and she chirped about what a great writer he was.
A Brit with Nigerian heritage,he spoke of how black authors always have to deal with race and how he tries to get away from that. Later during the Q&A (fainting or not, the man was not leaving before he finished) someone asked about the seeming contradiction between his saying that it is not right that black authors always have to deal with race and the fact that his writing deals so much with that very topic.
Being no stranger to the SBW (Strong Black Woman) syndrome, I know what it is to insist that you are alright. Although his insistence may have had more to do with some macho pride than race. Whatever it was, those of us who stayed remained nervous throughout the rest of the program, still shaken by what we saw.
At a literary reading, I paused to think when the speaker said something about outside events reflecting inside struggles, and as the evening progressed, I wondered if he knew just how meaningful those words were.
Diran Adebayo gave a reading at George Washington University and began by saying he was a little "flu-y", but it didn't really seem to be a problem. At least not at first. He talked about and around his writing and read a lengthy passage from his first novel.
At one point he stopped and asked for a chair and then added water to that request. Or maybe it was the other way around. After the second request, he bowed his head and his forehead glistened with sweat.
Slowly, but quickly, he crumpled, fell into the lectern, and then collasped onto the floor. He didn't hit the floor hard, but at the very end his head bounced like a gentle rubber ball. His hands twisted inward and they shook. Then they stopped. His eyes were closed.
He looked like a corpse.
The audience was stunned. It was terrifying. No one could have reached him in time to prevent the fall. A university professor who was in the front row had gone to get the requested chair. If he hadn't, he may have been able to catch the man before he fell.
Things really do change in an instant. The author reading from his work became a corpse-like being on the floor and then just as quickly, the corpse became a man who said he was fine. He insisted on continuing the reading, refusing to even sit in a chair. One woman in the audience said we'd all feel better if he did, but to no avail. (Later, as he continued the reading, he exhibited a manic energy that belied the collapse we had witnessed earlier.)
Someone called campus services, and to the author's annoyance they insisted that he get checked out. The audience murmured about the fact that a man whose head has just ping-ponged on the floor now had to climb stairs and go to where campus medical services could check him out. Why couldn't they come to him?
Just this week I have been listening to the audio version of Wickett's Remedy, a book that centers on Boston and the effects of the 1918 Spanish flu epidemic. This was back when the flu was referred to by its full name, influnenza. Influenza is serious business; a grown-up version of the flu. Watching in horror as someone who claimed to have a touch of the flu fainted, reminded me of this. I could go on and mention that dreaded flu that we hear so much about, but I won't.
The girl sitting next to me wore Ugg-like boots and had a styrofoam carton that I had presumed held something like french fries. When she opened it, I saw that it actually held edamame.
We were all a little shell-shocked. Unguarded, she said something about him being a "big, black man". (He was on the tallish side, rather thin, and not at all big.)
She was talking more to herself that to me and I think she uttered this phrase to indicate her disbelief that this type of thing could happen to such a a person.
I decided not to challenge this particular view, nor the years of stereotypes that lay underneath it.
She went on to talk about how he had visited her class earlier in the day, and she chirped about what a great writer he was.
A Brit with Nigerian heritage,he spoke of how black authors always have to deal with race and how he tries to get away from that. Later during the Q&A (fainting or not, the man was not leaving before he finished) someone asked about the seeming contradiction between his saying that it is not right that black authors always have to deal with race and the fact that his writing deals so much with that very topic.
Being no stranger to the SBW (Strong Black Woman) syndrome, I know what it is to insist that you are alright. Although his insistence may have had more to do with some macho pride than race. Whatever it was, those of us who stayed remained nervous throughout the rest of the program, still shaken by what we saw.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Just Say No
Back in the 80s when Nancy Reagan came out with that "Just Say No" campaign, people laughed and lampooned the idea that all it takes is a "no".
But even now pop pscychology will tell you to simply say "No, I cannot.", "No thank you.", and "No, I am not available." in a clear, firm voice. Just say no and do not offer any explanations or excuses, they say. People will respect that, they say.
Just who are these people exactly? Sure, if you say no to a free newspaper as you are coming out of the subway, someone may respect that.
But if it is someone with whom you have a more than slight acquaintance, they are not having it. I am sure I have done my fair share of cajoling myself.
A "no" is usually followed by reasonings, accusations, and all-expense-paid guilt trips.
So if I have told you no recently, then yes this is for you.
Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
Back in the 80s when Nancy Reagan came out with that "Just Say No" campaign, people laughed and lampooned the idea that all it takes is a "no".
But even now pop pscychology will tell you to simply say "No, I cannot.", "No thank you.", and "No, I am not available." in a clear, firm voice. Just say no and do not offer any explanations or excuses, they say. People will respect that, they say.
Just who are these people exactly? Sure, if you say no to a free newspaper as you are coming out of the subway, someone may respect that.
But if it is someone with whom you have a more than slight acquaintance, they are not having it. I am sure I have done my fair share of cajoling myself.
A "no" is usually followed by reasonings, accusations, and all-expense-paid guilt trips.
So if I have told you no recently, then yes this is for you.
Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Countdown to Impact
A friend called me while driving into DC from Richmond, and asked what was up with our speed limits because the numbers on the signs keep changing.
She could have been talking about those signs where your speed is broadcasted as you drive past, but from her description and location, I knew that she was not talking about those.
I realized that she was referring to the countdown signs for pedestrians.
"You don't have those in Richmond?" I asked.
"No," she said. It sounded a little like an accusation.
"Welcome to life in the big city," I replied.
A friend called me while driving into DC from Richmond, and asked what was up with our speed limits because the numbers on the signs keep changing.
She could have been talking about those signs where your speed is broadcasted as you drive past, but from her description and location, I knew that she was not talking about those.
I realized that she was referring to the countdown signs for pedestrians.
"You don't have those in Richmond?" I asked.
"No," she said. It sounded a little like an accusation.
"Welcome to life in the big city," I replied.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
A Riddle
For once I was actually early in getting to a town council meeting that I had to cover for a local newspaper, and lo and behold, I was able to see a musical performance.
The mayor stood at the microphone to say how pleased he was to have 8th grade members of a school orchestra there to perform for Black History Month. As I sat in anticipation, I thought for certain that they would play a song by a black composer or a song that has somehow been recognized as being related to Black History. But they didn't. They did, however, play a lovely Ukranian folk song.
The kids were very excited to be performing and their teacher/conductor seemed like a very caring educator. But you know I had to sit there and puzzle over what it all had to do with Black History Month. (Skip to the end if you want the answer.)
There were black kids in the group, along with white, Asian, and Latino kids. Was that it? The kids were from a school that is in an area where a lot of black people live...that could have been it. I thought their teacher was African American, until he spoke, and then I knew he was Latino.
Do you give up yet?
Answer: In reality, as far as I could see there was no obvious link between the performance and Black History Month. The month was coming to a close, and the mayor had asked someone he knew to help put together some kind of program for Black History Month. At first that seems a little half-hearted, but in listening to his comments, I could see what lay beneath. He mentioned how the town had a new mayor and a new council and that this was the first time that they'd had something for Black History Month. So basically there was a new climate in the government of this tiny Maryland town that was open to acknowledging Black History Month in a tangible way. Even if it took a Ukranian folk song to do it.
For once I was actually early in getting to a town council meeting that I had to cover for a local newspaper, and lo and behold, I was able to see a musical performance.
The mayor stood at the microphone to say how pleased he was to have 8th grade members of a school orchestra there to perform for Black History Month. As I sat in anticipation, I thought for certain that they would play a song by a black composer or a song that has somehow been recognized as being related to Black History. But they didn't. They did, however, play a lovely Ukranian folk song.
The kids were very excited to be performing and their teacher/conductor seemed like a very caring educator. But you know I had to sit there and puzzle over what it all had to do with Black History Month. (Skip to the end if you want the answer.)
There were black kids in the group, along with white, Asian, and Latino kids. Was that it? The kids were from a school that is in an area where a lot of black people live...that could have been it. I thought their teacher was African American, until he spoke, and then I knew he was Latino.
Do you give up yet?
Answer: In reality, as far as I could see there was no obvious link between the performance and Black History Month. The month was coming to a close, and the mayor had asked someone he knew to help put together some kind of program for Black History Month. At first that seems a little half-hearted, but in listening to his comments, I could see what lay beneath. He mentioned how the town had a new mayor and a new council and that this was the first time that they'd had something for Black History Month. So basically there was a new climate in the government of this tiny Maryland town that was open to acknowledging Black History Month in a tangible way. Even if it took a Ukranian folk song to do it.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Proceed with Caution
Every language has those polite little oddities--
expressions that can mean nothing or signify danger ahead.
Phrases such as:
"If you don't mind I'll..."
"Do you/Would you mind if I..."
Let's say, for instance, you are working in an open office and someone says,
"Do you mind if I take off my shoes?"
As is often the case in these situations, the person will engage in the aforementioned act without waiting for a reply. Asking is merely a formality.
Then, let us suppose, there is a second person present, who seeing the action of the first, decides to follow suit. This second person need not bother with asking rhetorical questions, seeing as how their predecessor did not meet with any objection.
Now, if you were to add the consumption of foods such as sardines and pork rinds to the equation, the situation could become very dangerous indeed.
Every language has those polite little oddities--
expressions that can mean nothing or signify danger ahead.
Phrases such as:
"If you don't mind I'll..."
"Do you/Would you mind if I..."
Let's say, for instance, you are working in an open office and someone says,
"Do you mind if I take off my shoes?"
As is often the case in these situations, the person will engage in the aforementioned act without waiting for a reply. Asking is merely a formality.
Then, let us suppose, there is a second person present, who seeing the action of the first, decides to follow suit. This second person need not bother with asking rhetorical questions, seeing as how their predecessor did not meet with any objection.
Now, if you were to add the consumption of foods such as sardines and pork rinds to the equation, the situation could become very dangerous indeed.
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