I have this thing about being friends with people. In the current popular perspective on more friends, extroversion, and get-along-with-everyone-because-they're-special! mentality being best, I totally suck at being friendly. I'd rather stick a fork in my eye than have to deal with smalltalk, big parties with lots of unknown people, and generally overdone, theatrical (and false) female friendliness.
I like having friends, but only when I actually get along with them. I like to make the distinction between "friend" and "acquaintance." There's people I've met, perhaps multiple times, but they are impossibly boring, shallow, or generally incompatible with me, and though I know who they are, I do not pursue any kind of friendship, as I tend to not like to waste my time. Those are "acquaintances," and I tend to try to avoid them as much as possible. My boyfriend tends to have no idea what I am talking about when I say this, asking "Doesn't every human interaction give you something in return and therefore not waste your time?" Perhaps given the fact that social situations scare the life out of me and require hours of pep-talking myself to be ready, I really need to evaluate the cost-benefit ratio before spending my time with someone. Only people who show a promising "return on investment" get upgraded to "friend" status. This happens very infrequently, as I have very demanding standards.
When it comes to making new friends, I do tend to have a 6th sense that will automatically direct me to be friendly with people that I do in fact get along well with, though logically it makes no sense for me to socialize with those people. Times when I have "forced" myself to be friendly with people because it made "sense" and not because I "felt" it have usually crashed and burned. The friendships that made no "sense" yet were guided by my intuitive friend-sensing equipment have usually gone well.
The thing that I find most fascinating about this is that I don't talk with 50 people at a party and then go "Hey, So-And-So was nice, let's look into getting to know them more," I zero in on So-and-So fairly quickly within moments of entering a room, and though I will talk to the other people, So-And-So is 99% of the time the person I do match best with. It seems that I can "tell" a person's compatibility with me, as a friend, from across the room, nearly instantaneously.
I often think this tracking ability developed as a reaction to my anxiety due to social situations, to save my time and give me the best effort-to-reward result. But the method by which I can scan a room of people and know who is most like me is a mystery to me.
Is this just me, or is everyone like this?
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
It's All About Me
With the advent of sites like MySpace, Facebook, Blogger, and the general "openness" of the Internet as evidenced by Web 2.0, there seems to be an increase in the midset of "it's all about me, and I'm worth telling you about."
A few minutes of mindless poking through Facebook pages for friends of friends of friends, will undoubtably yield links to personalized wedding websites, band sites, all-about-my-dog-Fluffy sites, and enough combinations and permutations to make the mind reel. And really, all these sites only ever prompt one question in my mind: Who cares?
(Do note: I see the irony of posting a question like this on a personal blog. But I hope that one can excuse my apparent hypocrisy in light of the fact that I find the benefit of this blog of mine to be in its writing, of airing out my thoughts and letting off some steam, rather than actually hoping people will read this and give a damn. But I digress.)
Every one of these sites with its brightly colored pixels beams like a search light into the night, pulsing out its morse code message of "READ ME. CARE ABOUT ME. THIS IS IMPORTANT."
This picture of you, sloppy drunk, smiling like a baboon with your arm around some "friend" you've never seen before and will never see again. This terrible poem you wrote, every word pouring out of you as if you were channelling some Great Unknown Force. Year old posts you and your boyfriend wrote back and forth to each other full of sappy and passionate love that would eventually fizzle out when you found your boyfriend making out with your best friend. Or was it you who was making out with the boyfriend's best friend? Undoubtably, there's picture proof of that somewhere too. Or, on the off-chance that the relationship didn't die out, there's this website telling your engagement story in excruciating detail, as if this was a memoir of a movie star who had been proposed to on the beaches of Waikiki by the heir-to-billions investment banker. Which it's not, you, the heir-to-two-gerbils-and-a-tomcat proposed to your future wife in an IHOP by burying the ring between layers of her Strawberry-Shortcake French Toast.
I guess people write these stories, post these pictures, and use up gigabytes because they think they are fascinating. That they matter. That by virtually posting a story about their life, they make it that much more important. The power of published association. "Hey! Paris Hilton published a book and talks about her troubled teenage years! I wrote about that on my Facebook page too! I'm just like Paris Hilton!"
With Web 2.0 bring the allure and promise (no matter how small) of famousness and purpose to Average Joe, people seem to have lost sight of the fact that 99% of people's lives are painfully, dreadfully boring. No, I don't think the fact that your daughter just learned to use the potty is worth "Liking." I don't want to comment on this picture of you standing on top of Smokey Hill Crest. If you were standing on top of Mount Everest, now that would be something worth talking about. But as it is, the hike took you half and hour and didn't even warrant bringing a water bottle, so why on earth did you feel compelled to bring your camera? Take a picture of yourself tossing up a peace sign? And then put it up on the great World Wide Web?
Reading people's mundane lives colored in the neon shades that used to be reserved for really important stuff makes me sad. It makes me sad that the highlight of your wedding, which you compare to "The gold-threaded linen of royalty," is going to be the BeDazzled napkins. That you aren't going to make it to the top of Mount Everest, won't even make it to the right continent to do that, that you might never leave the state. That seeing a touring show of "Disney on Ice" is the closest you will ever get to a real vacation within a 50 mile radius of DisneyWorld.
Life can kind of suck. And I guess I wouldn't mind so much if people didn't make it seem like their mundane existence was somehow more than it is. Not that I want people to wander around in a depressed funk, but making the absolutely boring seem exciting makes the truly exciting less so. If I get famous, I want it to be legitimate. I want to do something awesome. I don't want to fool myself into thinking that that's true when it's not by making my trip to the grocery store seem like some impossible trek. Are people no longer happy living their lives as what they are? Lots of people dream of being a movie star, but realize it's not going to happen. Has Web 2.0 simply allowed us to hold on to this dream without letting go and coming to terms with our comparatively small existence? Can we no longer grow up? Do we honestly believe that we truly can be famous? That everyone has some talent worth global celebration?
Welcome to the future, where everyone is a star, and not for any good reason.
A few minutes of mindless poking through Facebook pages for friends of friends of friends, will undoubtably yield links to personalized wedding websites, band sites, all-about-my-dog-Fluffy sites, and enough combinations and permutations to make the mind reel. And really, all these sites only ever prompt one question in my mind: Who cares?
(Do note: I see the irony of posting a question like this on a personal blog. But I hope that one can excuse my apparent hypocrisy in light of the fact that I find the benefit of this blog of mine to be in its writing, of airing out my thoughts and letting off some steam, rather than actually hoping people will read this and give a damn. But I digress.)
Every one of these sites with its brightly colored pixels beams like a search light into the night, pulsing out its morse code message of "READ ME. CARE ABOUT ME. THIS IS IMPORTANT."
This picture of you, sloppy drunk, smiling like a baboon with your arm around some "friend" you've never seen before and will never see again. This terrible poem you wrote, every word pouring out of you as if you were channelling some Great Unknown Force. Year old posts you and your boyfriend wrote back and forth to each other full of sappy and passionate love that would eventually fizzle out when you found your boyfriend making out with your best friend. Or was it you who was making out with the boyfriend's best friend? Undoubtably, there's picture proof of that somewhere too. Or, on the off-chance that the relationship didn't die out, there's this website telling your engagement story in excruciating detail, as if this was a memoir of a movie star who had been proposed to on the beaches of Waikiki by the heir-to-billions investment banker. Which it's not, you, the heir-to-two-gerbils-and-a-tomcat proposed to your future wife in an IHOP by burying the ring between layers of her Strawberry-Shortcake French Toast.
I guess people write these stories, post these pictures, and use up gigabytes because they think they are fascinating. That they matter. That by virtually posting a story about their life, they make it that much more important. The power of published association. "Hey! Paris Hilton published a book and talks about her troubled teenage years! I wrote about that on my Facebook page too! I'm just like Paris Hilton!"
With Web 2.0 bring the allure and promise (no matter how small) of famousness and purpose to Average Joe, people seem to have lost sight of the fact that 99% of people's lives are painfully, dreadfully boring. No, I don't think the fact that your daughter just learned to use the potty is worth "Liking." I don't want to comment on this picture of you standing on top of Smokey Hill Crest. If you were standing on top of Mount Everest, now that would be something worth talking about. But as it is, the hike took you half and hour and didn't even warrant bringing a water bottle, so why on earth did you feel compelled to bring your camera? Take a picture of yourself tossing up a peace sign? And then put it up on the great World Wide Web?
Reading people's mundane lives colored in the neon shades that used to be reserved for really important stuff makes me sad. It makes me sad that the highlight of your wedding, which you compare to "The gold-threaded linen of royalty," is going to be the BeDazzled napkins. That you aren't going to make it to the top of Mount Everest, won't even make it to the right continent to do that, that you might never leave the state. That seeing a touring show of "Disney on Ice" is the closest you will ever get to a real vacation within a 50 mile radius of DisneyWorld.
Life can kind of suck. And I guess I wouldn't mind so much if people didn't make it seem like their mundane existence was somehow more than it is. Not that I want people to wander around in a depressed funk, but making the absolutely boring seem exciting makes the truly exciting less so. If I get famous, I want it to be legitimate. I want to do something awesome. I don't want to fool myself into thinking that that's true when it's not by making my trip to the grocery store seem like some impossible trek. Are people no longer happy living their lives as what they are? Lots of people dream of being a movie star, but realize it's not going to happen. Has Web 2.0 simply allowed us to hold on to this dream without letting go and coming to terms with our comparatively small existence? Can we no longer grow up? Do we honestly believe that we truly can be famous? That everyone has some talent worth global celebration?
Welcome to the future, where everyone is a star, and not for any good reason.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Nagging Mother?
Today I was thinking about the over-involved, naggy, unable-to-keep-her-hands-out-of-things stereotype often applied to mothers. I wondered how true it really was, and if it is true, where it comes from.
In general, in my experience with women and men at work, in relationships, and all across the spectrum of life, it does seem that women, are more "involved" in things than men. They seem far more likely to ask "why?" and really dig down deep to the center of something, whether or not that digging is necessary.
At the library, when I tell patrons that they have a fine, perhaps about 30% of the time I will be asked what the fine is for, why it's so much, where did it come from, etc. But of those 30% who ask about their fines, I'd be willing to gamble that about 80% are women. Men seem far more likely to just pay up (or know why they have a fine in the first place) than women, who sometimes are just wondering where the amount came from, and in other cases, are gearing up for an out-and-out battle over fines as low as 15 cents.
Petty sums of cash aside, I wonder why it is that women seem far more inquisitive than men. Female professors I have are often much more detailed in grading, and seem to have more attention to detail than male professors. Perhaps this attention to detail is somewhat related to the female ability to multitask better than men. Perhaps the female brain is just better at breaking something down into little bits than can be analysed piece by piece, or worked on a little bit at a time while processing other little bits simultaneously.
I also wonder about the stereotype of wives and mothers being overly picky in relationships. While you often hear of the overly-involved mother-in-law, I can't remember the last time I heard anything about an overly-involved father-in-law. Perhaps women just work harder at forming close network bonds with others, so naturally they seem to dig deeper and harder than others. But then how to explain the stereotype of women as just digging deep on things completely unrelated to relationships, and monitor and help in random ways? If a woman is interested in forming good relationship, it's understandable that she might call more often than a man, but how does nagging someone to wear a coat when it's cold fit into this picture? (I chose wearing a coat as an example for a pesky question, as it seems everyone I have met has had their mother, at some point in time, bother them to bundle up) Perhaps it's that women are used to "mothering" and want to be helpful whenever possible, even past the point where the mothered want to be left alone.
The more I thought about this, the more I considered possible motivations why it seems some mothers can never stop being helpful, beyond just the possible predisposition to being more detail-oriented. Most people who are being "overly motherly" are not trying to smother their partners or children, but has there ever been a child who has not, at some point said, "I just wish my mother would stop trying to help me! I'm fine on my own!"? Some of this continuing mothering could be attributed to the fact that children find it difficult to come face-to-face with their parents and say "I don't need you any more," but there's plenty that do. Moving out and having an independent job for 30 years is a pretty clear clue that your child is fine on his or her own. Maybe some mothers, even after their children have been flying solo for decades, can't let go just because they have nothing else to do. In the typical "nuclear family" with Pop out at the office all day and Ma playing Better Crocker, all a mother had to do was mother and be a wife, and once her kids are gone, she doesn't know how to stop, and furthermore, has nothing else to do with her time. There's no new shoes to fill, no new chapter to write, it's just the same old routine, day in and day out, even when there's no need for it. I wonder how many women who feel lost when their children no longer need them, and how many children who feel like their mothers can't let go, would be so much better off if the woman had some other form of fulfillment than just taking care of her kids. She would not feel so useless when her kids are on their own, and the kids would not have the feeling of being smothered. Women will likely always be more "involved" in other's lives than men, if my assumption about women being detail- and relationship-oriented is true. But perhaps with other outlets for fulfillment and focus of energy, the stereotype of the "smothering mother" would become a thing of the past.
Perhaps this is an exaggeration. Perhaps mothers and wives, for reasons other than being stuck in a "nuclear family," will "over mother." Maybe working has nothing to do with it. Maybe they're not "over mothering" and it's just an urban legend.
But I still wonder.
In general, in my experience with women and men at work, in relationships, and all across the spectrum of life, it does seem that women, are more "involved" in things than men. They seem far more likely to ask "why?" and really dig down deep to the center of something, whether or not that digging is necessary.
At the library, when I tell patrons that they have a fine, perhaps about 30% of the time I will be asked what the fine is for, why it's so much, where did it come from, etc. But of those 30% who ask about their fines, I'd be willing to gamble that about 80% are women. Men seem far more likely to just pay up (or know why they have a fine in the first place) than women, who sometimes are just wondering where the amount came from, and in other cases, are gearing up for an out-and-out battle over fines as low as 15 cents.
Petty sums of cash aside, I wonder why it is that women seem far more inquisitive than men. Female professors I have are often much more detailed in grading, and seem to have more attention to detail than male professors. Perhaps this attention to detail is somewhat related to the female ability to multitask better than men. Perhaps the female brain is just better at breaking something down into little bits than can be analysed piece by piece, or worked on a little bit at a time while processing other little bits simultaneously.
I also wonder about the stereotype of wives and mothers being overly picky in relationships. While you often hear of the overly-involved mother-in-law, I can't remember the last time I heard anything about an overly-involved father-in-law. Perhaps women just work harder at forming close network bonds with others, so naturally they seem to dig deeper and harder than others. But then how to explain the stereotype of women as just digging deep on things completely unrelated to relationships, and monitor and help in random ways? If a woman is interested in forming good relationship, it's understandable that she might call more often than a man, but how does nagging someone to wear a coat when it's cold fit into this picture? (I chose wearing a coat as an example for a pesky question, as it seems everyone I have met has had their mother, at some point in time, bother them to bundle up) Perhaps it's that women are used to "mothering" and want to be helpful whenever possible, even past the point where the mothered want to be left alone.
The more I thought about this, the more I considered possible motivations why it seems some mothers can never stop being helpful, beyond just the possible predisposition to being more detail-oriented. Most people who are being "overly motherly" are not trying to smother their partners or children, but has there ever been a child who has not, at some point said, "I just wish my mother would stop trying to help me! I'm fine on my own!"? Some of this continuing mothering could be attributed to the fact that children find it difficult to come face-to-face with their parents and say "I don't need you any more," but there's plenty that do. Moving out and having an independent job for 30 years is a pretty clear clue that your child is fine on his or her own. Maybe some mothers, even after their children have been flying solo for decades, can't let go just because they have nothing else to do. In the typical "nuclear family" with Pop out at the office all day and Ma playing Better Crocker, all a mother had to do was mother and be a wife, and once her kids are gone, she doesn't know how to stop, and furthermore, has nothing else to do with her time. There's no new shoes to fill, no new chapter to write, it's just the same old routine, day in and day out, even when there's no need for it. I wonder how many women who feel lost when their children no longer need them, and how many children who feel like their mothers can't let go, would be so much better off if the woman had some other form of fulfillment than just taking care of her kids. She would not feel so useless when her kids are on their own, and the kids would not have the feeling of being smothered. Women will likely always be more "involved" in other's lives than men, if my assumption about women being detail- and relationship-oriented is true. But perhaps with other outlets for fulfillment and focus of energy, the stereotype of the "smothering mother" would become a thing of the past.
Perhaps this is an exaggeration. Perhaps mothers and wives, for reasons other than being stuck in a "nuclear family," will "over mother." Maybe working has nothing to do with it. Maybe they're not "over mothering" and it's just an urban legend.
But I still wonder.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
For Love or For Anger
Sometimes I wonder which is stronger, love or hate. I know this sounds very deep and philosophical and everything, and while I could look at it this way, for the time being, let's just examine it in a very superficial light.
I heard a wonderful quote on the news the other day, saying that people voting in the currently political environment are less likely to vote FOR one candidate and their position, as AGAINST someone else's position, and by default, go for the "lesser of two evils" option. This perhaps explains the prevalence of "attack ads" and campaigns that are based on the premise of "Look how much of an idiot my opponent is! Vote for me, I'm not nearly as bad as the other guy!"
This makes me wonder if people are really more likely to be drawn together by a common love of something, be it pizza or jazz or a certain type of clothing, or more likely to find something to pick apart and bond over that. It seems like picking something apart requires far less harmony between members than loving something does. Who cares WHY you hate black/white/Jewish/Irish/Catholic/gay/whatever people, as long as you don't like them as much as someone else, you'll be able to agree that it's a good idea to go beat the crap out of them. Hate brings everyone down to the lowest common level, a level that agrees something is wrong.
Loving something or someone requires harmony. If you love pizza, maybe it's because you like cheese or tomatoes or dough. Maybe it's because it reminds you of home or your friends or picnics. If you love pizza for its melted cheese, and someone else loves it because it reminds them of football games, then perhaps you will begin an argument over whose love is more pure, is more correct, is better. If hate brings everyone down to the common basement of anger, love is something that everyone fights over to reach the top rung of purest devotion.
I went to a lecture this weekend by the wonderful author David Sedaris. In reading one of his works, he mentioned that people in a line in an airport were arguing about politics, and saying how they hated the current administration. They thought that the president could do nothing right, they hated him, and he was destroying the country. While everyone is entitled to their own opinion, Sedaris and these particular people were obviously on opposite sides of the political fence, and Sedaris mentioned that he wanted to yell back at them that he could hate just as much as they could, sure they had different opinions, but everyone can hate! But he followed by saying that being able to out-hate someone is something that should never be encouraged. Just because we can hate, just because we can have common anger over something doesn't mean it is the path that we should strive to follow.
While this all sounds very kumbaya and progressive and up-in-the-clouds, when Sedaris said it, it didn't sound like that. It sounded like, honestly, can't we find a better common ground than "Let's all go hate the same things!" And it makes me wonder, which is really the more binding of the two, common hate or common love?
I heard a wonderful quote on the news the other day, saying that people voting in the currently political environment are less likely to vote FOR one candidate and their position, as AGAINST someone else's position, and by default, go for the "lesser of two evils" option. This perhaps explains the prevalence of "attack ads" and campaigns that are based on the premise of "Look how much of an idiot my opponent is! Vote for me, I'm not nearly as bad as the other guy!"
This makes me wonder if people are really more likely to be drawn together by a common love of something, be it pizza or jazz or a certain type of clothing, or more likely to find something to pick apart and bond over that. It seems like picking something apart requires far less harmony between members than loving something does. Who cares WHY you hate black/white/Jewish/Irish/Catholic/gay/whatever people, as long as you don't like them as much as someone else, you'll be able to agree that it's a good idea to go beat the crap out of them. Hate brings everyone down to the lowest common level, a level that agrees something is wrong.
Loving something or someone requires harmony. If you love pizza, maybe it's because you like cheese or tomatoes or dough. Maybe it's because it reminds you of home or your friends or picnics. If you love pizza for its melted cheese, and someone else loves it because it reminds them of football games, then perhaps you will begin an argument over whose love is more pure, is more correct, is better. If hate brings everyone down to the common basement of anger, love is something that everyone fights over to reach the top rung of purest devotion.
I went to a lecture this weekend by the wonderful author David Sedaris. In reading one of his works, he mentioned that people in a line in an airport were arguing about politics, and saying how they hated the current administration. They thought that the president could do nothing right, they hated him, and he was destroying the country. While everyone is entitled to their own opinion, Sedaris and these particular people were obviously on opposite sides of the political fence, and Sedaris mentioned that he wanted to yell back at them that he could hate just as much as they could, sure they had different opinions, but everyone can hate! But he followed by saying that being able to out-hate someone is something that should never be encouraged. Just because we can hate, just because we can have common anger over something doesn't mean it is the path that we should strive to follow.
While this all sounds very kumbaya and progressive and up-in-the-clouds, when Sedaris said it, it didn't sound like that. It sounded like, honestly, can't we find a better common ground than "Let's all go hate the same things!" And it makes me wonder, which is really the more binding of the two, common hate or common love?
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
One is the Loneliest Number . . .
Lately, I have been suffering from a rather plaguing case of the blues. All of this summer, I had kept myself busy with work and the thoughts of soon living in my version of heaven on earth, Chicago. I would be going to school, I would be able to meet new people in my dorm, I could go to museums, shows, concerts, I would have friends, I would be and have all that I thought I needed.
But then I ended up back home.
While I have somewhat learned to compensate for being in a comparatively boring place (Allentown PA as compared to Chicago IL), I have found out ways to scour websites to find out what is going on in the area and discover concerts and events.
But what I haven't yet found are friends. I have been out of school for a year and a half now, and while I have been working, the average age of my coworkers is around 55, making for a demographic that is not likely to want to go to the movies with me when I'm looking for a posse (this is what I get for working at a library). With my workplace out as an option, and going back to school in the works, but not until January, I am, you could say, between a rock and a hard place, when it comes to finding people to do things with.
Not being religious, I cannot simply attend a church or synagogue or mosque and meet people who think the same as I do. The closest I could come with that is to attend a meeting for secular humanists and see what I can find. Unfortunately, secular humanists, seeing as they are not looking to save their souls, are not nearly so anxious and prolific in their meetings, so even if I do find a place to meet "like-minded" individuals, it will be far less frequently than if we were actually trying to commune with God.
There are some lectures and speeches that I am planning on attending, but how exactly does one meet people there? Other than just walking up to someone afterwards and going "Well, since you've lasted until the end, I'm guessing you enjoyed that, I did too!" how does one make a connection? And especially without looking like a moron?
Perhaps another more pressing issue is that I have a minor case of what one might call "social anxiety disorder." When presented with the option of attending a party hosted by a friend, rather than jumping at the opportunity to meet with some people and chat, my mind freezes at the thought and rams itself into a wall. While I would very much to like to have some friends, the idea of social events and the horrifying "small talk" that usually occurs there is enough to make appealing the option of inflicting some kind of minor injury upon myself so that I might have the ease of excusing myself out of any such occasions under the cover of a doctor's note. Parties usually result in me standing in a corner wondering what on EARTH all of the other people out there are talking about, and why on earth I can't bring myself to talk about it with them?
It's not that I find other people boring. I am very much a believer that everyone has something worth talking about, a story to tell, that their life is not a complete waste of atoms. Yet . . . whenever I talk to other people, I find it excruciatingly boring. I don't know what to say.
"Oh, so you've been spelunking 5 times now? It was dark, I presume. That's great. I like the dark."
That's about as far as I can get in any conversation before I get a look that says "Did you grow up under a rock?" and I decide to quit while I'm ahead. Or at least, less behind than I would be if I kept going.
I lack some kind of essential mechanism that allows people to enter into situations with completely new people without fear. My boyfriend is the kind of person who has such a mechanism in abundance, that he can start up an amicable conversation with a random person in line at a supermarket, while I'm more likely to get the person in line to think it necessary to call management on me to "handle the situation." He relishes every chance he gets to socialize, while I can think of nothing more horrifying. He is handy though, when there are social situations I am primarily invited to, as I can drag him along and use him as my social shield, as he will deflect any notices of my complete ineptitude.
But in situations where I am on my own, I still have yet to figure out what to do. It is quite a conundrum.
But then I ended up back home.
While I have somewhat learned to compensate for being in a comparatively boring place (Allentown PA as compared to Chicago IL), I have found out ways to scour websites to find out what is going on in the area and discover concerts and events.
But what I haven't yet found are friends. I have been out of school for a year and a half now, and while I have been working, the average age of my coworkers is around 55, making for a demographic that is not likely to want to go to the movies with me when I'm looking for a posse (this is what I get for working at a library). With my workplace out as an option, and going back to school in the works, but not until January, I am, you could say, between a rock and a hard place, when it comes to finding people to do things with.
Not being religious, I cannot simply attend a church or synagogue or mosque and meet people who think the same as I do. The closest I could come with that is to attend a meeting for secular humanists and see what I can find. Unfortunately, secular humanists, seeing as they are not looking to save their souls, are not nearly so anxious and prolific in their meetings, so even if I do find a place to meet "like-minded" individuals, it will be far less frequently than if we were actually trying to commune with God.
There are some lectures and speeches that I am planning on attending, but how exactly does one meet people there? Other than just walking up to someone afterwards and going "Well, since you've lasted until the end, I'm guessing you enjoyed that, I did too!" how does one make a connection? And especially without looking like a moron?
Perhaps another more pressing issue is that I have a minor case of what one might call "social anxiety disorder." When presented with the option of attending a party hosted by a friend, rather than jumping at the opportunity to meet with some people and chat, my mind freezes at the thought and rams itself into a wall. While I would very much to like to have some friends, the idea of social events and the horrifying "small talk" that usually occurs there is enough to make appealing the option of inflicting some kind of minor injury upon myself so that I might have the ease of excusing myself out of any such occasions under the cover of a doctor's note. Parties usually result in me standing in a corner wondering what on EARTH all of the other people out there are talking about, and why on earth I can't bring myself to talk about it with them?
It's not that I find other people boring. I am very much a believer that everyone has something worth talking about, a story to tell, that their life is not a complete waste of atoms. Yet . . . whenever I talk to other people, I find it excruciatingly boring. I don't know what to say.
"Oh, so you've been spelunking 5 times now? It was dark, I presume. That's great. I like the dark."
That's about as far as I can get in any conversation before I get a look that says "Did you grow up under a rock?" and I decide to quit while I'm ahead. Or at least, less behind than I would be if I kept going.
I lack some kind of essential mechanism that allows people to enter into situations with completely new people without fear. My boyfriend is the kind of person who has such a mechanism in abundance, that he can start up an amicable conversation with a random person in line at a supermarket, while I'm more likely to get the person in line to think it necessary to call management on me to "handle the situation." He relishes every chance he gets to socialize, while I can think of nothing more horrifying. He is handy though, when there are social situations I am primarily invited to, as I can drag him along and use him as my social shield, as he will deflect any notices of my complete ineptitude.
But in situations where I am on my own, I still have yet to figure out what to do. It is quite a conundrum.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Pick a Major, Any Major
I am starting college in January. At the moment, I don't know where, but I have a few options lined up and am currently culling through my options to figure out what might be my best choice. While some might look at my blasé statement of "Oh, I don't know where, I'm sure I'll find SOME place that will take me," I do wish to assure you, dear reader, that I have in fact applied to, and received notice from a few institutions of my acceptance, I am simply not one of those people who had a "top choice" school in mind and was just waiting to hear back from them.
Truthfully speaking, this is not the first of my wave of attempts to go to college. Last winter, I applied to a bevy of universities, based on the plan that I would go to school in Chicago, as I consider that midwest city to be the most amazing place in the country (at least, the most amazing place in this country that I have so far seen). I applied, I was accepted, I enrolled, I moved out there.
And one week later, I moved back home to Pennsylvania. The school was no where NEAR what I had hoped for when it comes to the kind of rigorous training I was hoping for in my Baccalaureate training. I had entered the school's Sociology program, and after attending the first of my classes, I felt that I could have learned more by simply breezing through the "Life and People" section of Barnes and Noble and occasionally opening a book here and there to skim the pages.
That, and I think I may have been rooming with the anti-Christ, in teenage female form.
But regardless of that, and any emotional scars that I might have subsequently picked up from my experience, there is an even more pressing matter that must be resolved at the moment, and that is related to my future field of study. I have some schools lined up (the issue of possible demonic roommates having been solved by the decision to live at home, at least for this upcoming semester), and I must now turn a more serious eye to WHAT it is I will be learning about in my next few years of study.
Sociology is something that I am still interested in, due to my continuing, persistent, nearly frantic desire to understand how people think, what makes them tick, and why on earth society acts the way it does. But, what would be the point of going into such a program? I have no desire to work in the social work arena, and I don't want to go into practice as a counselor, so there's no clear path as to what I could DO with a sociology degree.
Lately, I have been considering the possibility of a Political Science degree. While I have previously never thought much of going into law, as it always seemed scary and confusing, kind of like trying to understand how a contractual cell phone plan actually worked, lately I have been thinking more of the possibility of going to law school (but not a contract cell phone. They still terrify me.) I am by nature very logical, and I very much enjoyed the one Political Science class I took at my community college. Seeing the practical implications of laws and policy made me feel like I actually understood a side of people's actions that I never considered: people act the way they do because they HAVE to, or sometimes because they're not SUPPOSED to. Maybe everyone would go out and get high way more often than they already do if it wasn't illegal. Or who knows, maybe everyone would stop once it wasn't so radical and exciting and rebellious.
Perhaps Political Science wouldn't be such a bad idea. I feel that studying law in conjunction with Sociology would also give me a certain edge, by both somewhat understanding how people work, and then being able to actually DO something to make them act better.
Truthfully speaking, this is not the first of my wave of attempts to go to college. Last winter, I applied to a bevy of universities, based on the plan that I would go to school in Chicago, as I consider that midwest city to be the most amazing place in the country (at least, the most amazing place in this country that I have so far seen). I applied, I was accepted, I enrolled, I moved out there.
And one week later, I moved back home to Pennsylvania. The school was no where NEAR what I had hoped for when it comes to the kind of rigorous training I was hoping for in my Baccalaureate training. I had entered the school's Sociology program, and after attending the first of my classes, I felt that I could have learned more by simply breezing through the "Life and People" section of Barnes and Noble and occasionally opening a book here and there to skim the pages.
That, and I think I may have been rooming with the anti-Christ, in teenage female form.
But regardless of that, and any emotional scars that I might have subsequently picked up from my experience, there is an even more pressing matter that must be resolved at the moment, and that is related to my future field of study. I have some schools lined up (the issue of possible demonic roommates having been solved by the decision to live at home, at least for this upcoming semester), and I must now turn a more serious eye to WHAT it is I will be learning about in my next few years of study.
Sociology is something that I am still interested in, due to my continuing, persistent, nearly frantic desire to understand how people think, what makes them tick, and why on earth society acts the way it does. But, what would be the point of going into such a program? I have no desire to work in the social work arena, and I don't want to go into practice as a counselor, so there's no clear path as to what I could DO with a sociology degree.
Lately, I have been considering the possibility of a Political Science degree. While I have previously never thought much of going into law, as it always seemed scary and confusing, kind of like trying to understand how a contractual cell phone plan actually worked, lately I have been thinking more of the possibility of going to law school (but not a contract cell phone. They still terrify me.) I am by nature very logical, and I very much enjoyed the one Political Science class I took at my community college. Seeing the practical implications of laws and policy made me feel like I actually understood a side of people's actions that I never considered: people act the way they do because they HAVE to, or sometimes because they're not SUPPOSED to. Maybe everyone would go out and get high way more often than they already do if it wasn't illegal. Or who knows, maybe everyone would stop once it wasn't so radical and exciting and rebellious.
Perhaps Political Science wouldn't be such a bad idea. I feel that studying law in conjunction with Sociology would also give me a certain edge, by both somewhat understanding how people work, and then being able to actually DO something to make them act better.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
I Don't
Because I am a girl who has a boyfriend, a girl who is over the age of 18, and I have been dating said boyfriend for a period of time greater than 6 months, it is often asked of me "So . . . are you two thinking of, you know, getting married anytime soon?"
And when I say asked, I don't necessarily mean just by people. While there are plenty of relatives, friends, random people, who seem to think that because I meet the above qualifications, I should start flipping through the catalogs for David's Bridal, it is also society at large, ads, and books that demand this information of me. While shelving books at the local library where I am employed, I am far more likely to stumble upon a book titled Get Serious about Getting a Man than one titled, say, How to be a Responsible Member of Society. Apparently, having a man is far more important than developing one's own self and not being a moron.
First of all, let me tell you how annoyed I am by those questions. While my boyfriend has reported that, on occasion, he has been asked similar marriage-related questions, I imagine that, as a female, I am asked far more frequently, because, apparently, getting married would be far more interesting to me than it would be to him. I don't know why people presume that they have some kind of right to know how my personal relationships are doing. I can't see them asking me in a few years, if I did in fact get married "So . . . are you thinking of getting a divorce anytime soon?" or "Have you started looking at houses yet?" "How's that suspicious rash doing?" I don't really think it's anyone's business to know the inner workings of my life, and furthermore, to assume that marriage is something I should be striving for at this point in my life. If I were a boy, people would be telling me to go to school, to get a job, to get out of my parents' house, yet I am far more likely to hear how I should start thinking about how to get him to "pop the question" and wonder if my internal clock has been properly wound and set. Leaving kids out of this discussion, as I am likely to simply have a heart attack on the spot if I have to delve into that issue, I wonder why it is that a man is assumed to be my number-one priority at this point. What exactly would getting married have to offer me? Other than getting to spend a lot more time with my boyfriend, and I suppose file taxes jointly and share health insurance benefits, there's no clear-cut explanation of why marriage should be such an attractive package to me.
Also, there's the idea that, if I were to get married, the man would be the one to broach the subject, at which point, I presume, I am supposed to jump up and down for joy and go "I was wondering what TOOK you so long!" Actually, in my case, I can see two different options for what might really happen, neither of which resembles the above scenario.
1) I am proposed to. I freak out and run away and say no, because 9 times out of 10, I think a guy would be far more likely to feel ready to get married before I would and therefore, I would have to refuse and pospone until a later time.
2) If I actually did want to get married, and the guy didn't have any intentions of proposing. I would propose. Why wait for the guy? I don't exactly see the benefit of sitting there, building up anger because the guy isn't "moving fast enough" but not taking any action themselves. Where is it written that the woman can't do anything when it comes to presenting the idea of getting married.
When I am asked if I see a wedding in my future, I usually just say "No," but I am thinking of extending that into a more full display of my feelings on the subject, perhaps adding in a blank stare and a "Why, should I?"
Friday, October 8, 2010
Proof?
A patron just asked me to get her a recipt for a book fine that didn't exist. One that she paid while I was standing there, seconds after informing her of said fine.
Normally asking for a recipt is not an odd request, except that the type of fine she paid never registers in our computer system, and thus, normally, a recipt is never printed. (It should also be noted that people who ask for recipts are stubborn and distrustful of the library in general, as they seem to be of one mind that your Friendly Public Library is in fact trying to rob you blind by saying you have fines when you really don't, and/or not marking that you paid them after you did.) The particular charge that we were now wrangling with is a courtesy charge that we apply to certain kinds of book requests, but our circulation software doesn't know this, and we normally don't input such a charge into the system, as 99% of the time it is paid in full the moment we ask the patron to pay and a recipt is never waranted. She did in fact pay for it the moment I asked her for the spare change it amounted to, but in asking for a recipt, she was asking for proof of payment that the computer didn't even know she owed. So, we spend the next 30 seconds in amicable yet strained silence as I manually entered a fine onto her account, then went right back in and told the computer she had paid the amount in question (which, as it happens, is only 50 cents). I could have explained to her that what she was asking for was ridiculous and waste of time, paper, and energy, but as noted above, people who ask for recipts should in general not be messed with.
She now thinks that she has some kind of solid proof of payment, and I think she is a moron. I picture her gloating over her poorly-earned recipt, imagining with relish the moment where she might wisk the slip of paper out of her wallet and wave it under the librarian's nose who next tells her she has a fine. "A ha!" she will shout, "I have a recipt, and proof that I have already paid!" when in fact she hasn't, the fine now being asked of her is legitimate, and all she has is evidence that I can successfully put amounts into and out of our circulation computer.
Such is life.
Normally asking for a recipt is not an odd request, except that the type of fine she paid never registers in our computer system, and thus, normally, a recipt is never printed. (It should also be noted that people who ask for recipts are stubborn and distrustful of the library in general, as they seem to be of one mind that your Friendly Public Library is in fact trying to rob you blind by saying you have fines when you really don't, and/or not marking that you paid them after you did.) The particular charge that we were now wrangling with is a courtesy charge that we apply to certain kinds of book requests, but our circulation software doesn't know this, and we normally don't input such a charge into the system, as 99% of the time it is paid in full the moment we ask the patron to pay and a recipt is never waranted. She did in fact pay for it the moment I asked her for the spare change it amounted to, but in asking for a recipt, she was asking for proof of payment that the computer didn't even know she owed. So, we spend the next 30 seconds in amicable yet strained silence as I manually entered a fine onto her account, then went right back in and told the computer she had paid the amount in question (which, as it happens, is only 50 cents). I could have explained to her that what she was asking for was ridiculous and waste of time, paper, and energy, but as noted above, people who ask for recipts should in general not be messed with.
She now thinks that she has some kind of solid proof of payment, and I think she is a moron. I picture her gloating over her poorly-earned recipt, imagining with relish the moment where she might wisk the slip of paper out of her wallet and wave it under the librarian's nose who next tells her she has a fine. "A ha!" she will shout, "I have a recipt, and proof that I have already paid!" when in fact she hasn't, the fine now being asked of her is legitimate, and all she has is evidence that I can successfully put amounts into and out of our circulation computer.
Such is life.
SMS Chat
I just tried to SMS Chat on my Tracfone, which was kind of a terrible idea. While it worked fine and didn't overcharge me for what amounts to neolithic IM service, after I exited the chat, it left the little chat bubble still open in my taskbar at the top of the screen, and there was no way to get rid of it other than completely turn the phone off. So, while the chat function does, in fact, work on my phone, there's no reason to, unless I can't spare the ~5 seconds it takes to press "READ" on the Unopened Text announcement that pops up for new messages.
Win: The function works. Sort of. While you're using it.
Fail: It's a useless function. And when you're done using it, it won't stop working.
Win: The function works. Sort of. While you're using it.
Fail: It's a useless function. And when you're done using it, it won't stop working.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
News from the Desk of MisInformation
Hear ye, hear ye: I have returned to the blogosphere.
Who knows for how long this time, but I have recently discovered that I have a lot of thoughts (one would not think this kind of a thing would actually take "discovering," as it were, but apparently for me it does) and the medium currently known as Facebook is just not cutting it. I have too much to link to, write about, and complain about that using Facebook as my only vent would be unfair to my friends residing there, who cannot escape from my ranting delivered to them via their LiveFeed. Lord knows theres some information from others that I'd like to escape seeing on Facebook, but that is another story that is not appropriate now, nor will it probably ever be so.
Thus, a return to Writings from a Cluttered Mind, as my mind is indeed cluttered, and perhaps worth writing about.
Who knows for how long this time, but I have recently discovered that I have a lot of thoughts (one would not think this kind of a thing would actually take "discovering," as it were, but apparently for me it does) and the medium currently known as Facebook is just not cutting it. I have too much to link to, write about, and complain about that using Facebook as my only vent would be unfair to my friends residing there, who cannot escape from my ranting delivered to them via their LiveFeed. Lord knows theres some information from others that I'd like to escape seeing on Facebook, but that is another story that is not appropriate now, nor will it probably ever be so.
Thus, a return to Writings from a Cluttered Mind, as my mind is indeed cluttered, and perhaps worth writing about.
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