I feel a little guilty, seeing as the last post on this blog was dated almost a month ago. I'm not sure where the source of this guilt lies, since my weekly update continues to report a grand total of 2 visitors a week. But the guilt remains. Must be my upbringing. What can I say? Things are going pretty good. I can't even think of any piddling little detail I can exacerbate for the purpose of amusing my 2 readers.
I guess I could tell a story. Let's see... It can't have too many personal details. Some people are already getting a little too close. I know, I'll tell you about the time I got lost at a Mennonite Quilt Auction. It was a blustery Autumn day in October, somewhere in the Midwest, and I was tightly wrapped in my jean jacket with waaaay too many pockets. Man, the crap I used to carry around in that thing is incredible. It was all so stereotypically little boy too. Half a yo-yo, a super bouncy ball, some double-bubble (I can't stand it now, but I used to love that stuff), an odd bit of steel I had found on the ground that vaguely resembled something that could potentially come in handy. I was very much a pack rat back then.
Anywho, we were wandering around what I guess were fairgrounds, taking in all the sights and sounds of a bustling rural community. It was a Saturday, so the crowds were out in force. We all stuck close to one another and made our way to the main stage to see what was being proffered. It was a very interesting experience to see/hear my first auctioneer. There were so many assumptions about them being barrel-chested old men with thick handlebar moustaches bellowing out across a crowded room with a torrent of words so fast that it seemed like a foreign language.
Let me tell you, this guy did not disappoint. He was a little more barrel-shaped around the midsection than the chest, and his moustache was a little scrawnier and salt-and-peppered than I expected, but man did he spew forth with a steady stream of-well, I'm not entirely sure I am qualified to say what was coming out of his mouth. In the hopes of propriety I can only assume it was bids being placed, but to be honest he could have been cursing out my mother for all I know.
Despite the intrigue at this new and exciting experience, my siblings and I soon grew bored with the ever-rotating display of quilts. So to stave off the mischief that typically accompanies such boredom, ma and pa decided to do a little more wandering (read:wear out the little ones with excessive walking) before settling in to begin their bidding.
We had no sooner left the small stadium where they were doing the auctioning, when we came across some sort of penny display. This was great for me since just a few months prior I had begun what would be a life-long obsession with coin collecting. So I paused there briefly to see what they were up to. Unfortunately, I was the only one who paused.
Let me set the stage for you here. There were thousands of people at this small event. Got it? No, but seriously, there were hoards of people, moving very quickly from event to event. It reminds me of traffic on L.A. roads, as well as some of the big cities in Texas, where you are about 4 1/2 ft away from the car in front of you going 80 miles an hour. It's not really like the traffic in New York, cuz that's pretty much just at a standstill all the time.
So I look up from the penny trough, assuming that my big brother will be blocking my path and I'm surprised to find my path clear. Like, completely. As in there were only a handful of people left in the area of this booth. And none of them were related to me. This display was set up in the entrance to the auction building, so I rushed outside to try and catch sight of my clan. But they were nowhere to be found.
Not one to panic, I quickly reassured myself that I had heard which displays in which building my mom had planned to visit, so I could just head in that direction and catch-up to them there. It never occurred to my 8-yr old mind that they would actually notice being short one child and return to the last spot they had seen him. So I spent the better part of an hour wandering the fairgrounds searching for my family, with nothing but half a yo-yo for company.
At some point I had the brilliant idea that I could just head to the car, since at some point they would have to leave (if they hadn't already) and so the best place to be would be by their only means of transportation. It just so happened that the car was quite a ways away, which meant I was out of earshot of the announcements over the PA system they had started to make thanks to the vehement cajoling of my dear sweet worried sick mother (see where the guilt comes from?).
So cut this long story short, I hung out by the car for a while until I started to get cold (that denim was fashionable, but it didn't do much to cut the wind) so I headed back to where this all began, not really sure what I would do next. It just so happened that as I was walking into the auction house, my dad was walking out. Cue the joyful reunion, rushed explanations, the telling of how my dad almost bought a $900 quilt because the auctioneer mistook his wild gesticulations to my mother as a bid. It was great.
I look back on it now with such a shudder to think if I lost my child at a crowded fairground for 45 minutes, and the sheer panic that would have overtaken me by that point. I try not to think about it too much.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
I have plenty of friends...
Another good one is, "I wasn't really in a clique in high school. I was friends with everybody." More like, "I was friends with my parents." Today I write about one of our greatest social morays. That is, our social Quasimodos.
Everybody knows one. Most people know several. They are the people that you "have" to spend time with, rather than the people you "want" to spend time with. That may be a gross over-generalization, but it more than includes those I am referring to.
Essentially, there are people in the world that somehow made it to the adolescent development of about 11 or 12 and decided it was far enough. They are the ones who just don't get it, whatever "it" is, although each and every one of them, despite any protests to the contrary, desperately want to.
How do I know? Because, I used to be one. (Dun dun duhhhhh)....(used to?) I grew up in the world of make believe those social midgets among us call acceptance. I believed I had plenty of friends, because television told me that it was normal for smart, well-adjusted, generally put-together young men to get picked-on and bullied mercilessly. Of course TV didn't say this was a daily, if not hourly, occurrence, but I was able to infer.
Also, the socially challenged (that's my last one, I promise), or SC's, create their environment. How is this accomplished? By carefully crafting the boundaries of their reality to only include those people who accept them and enjoy their company. For most of us, that only includes very close family. My own cousin was in the same class as me and a member of the "gang" of boys that tormented me throughout my early schooling.
Sure, I had friends. Two, to be exact. That was for the whole of elementary school and middle school. One of them was more socially awkward than me (only because he didn't care (no, I'm not contradicting what I said before, but he had far less concern for acceptance than I did. He was an exact duplicate of Napoleon Dynamite. Right down to the snow boots and Trapper Keeper. I'm not even joking)). The other one was probably the nicest guy I knew throughout that entire period of my life. He was just friends with everybody. Everyone liked him, without him being popular at all, if that makes any sense.
But I believed that I was accepted. I knew I wasn't cool, but people would talk to me (occasionally). The truth is I would talk incessantly. To anyone who would listen. All the time. We had a system of punishment in grade school that included talking in class(1/2 a mark), fighting (2 marks), being late to class (1mark), etc. I was almost expelled because I got so many marks for talking. That was it. Just talking. Mark after mark. When the expulsion review board met (I'm not even joking) the principal looked at my record of talking, looked at the teachers responsible, and said something to the effect of, "Maybe we should just challenge him more academically."
Because that's how we SC's fool ourselves. That's the Achilles Heel of any path to rehabilitation of anyone you know like this. We are good for something. And we cling to that like -ahem- a child clings to his blanket. That one thing we are gifted with, be it math skills, singing ability, bow-hunting skills, computer hacking skills, whatever. That gets us attention, much the same way a freak show garners it's following. Those people have no interest in bringing home and/or hanging out with these abnormalities, but look at that one guy shove a nail up his nose. Isn't that cool!
So we think 'People think I'm cool' instead of 'People are only friends with me so I'll help them with their math homework'. And it's a nearly unbreakable cycle. Because the people willing to hurt our feelings to help us see the light (the bullies) are the same people whose voices are forgotten as the day is reviewed, and the ones we are willing to listen to (very close family) doesn't want to hurt our feelings/is an over-protective mother who sees nothing wrong with her baby spending all their time at home (not the case for me...at least I don't think so).
If you have one of these people in your life, I have a method of solution. How I was able to solve my own shortcomings and become a paranoid schizophrenic, certain of annoying someone around every turn. It's a simple process. It works for kids or adults (though a bit harder for adults). You just have to make them your friend. I felt each and every one of you cringe at the thought of that, but it's what has to be done.
And I don't mean the kind of "friend" where you say hi to them at the supermarket, and know a single fact about their lives that you constantly ask them the status of. I mean a 'invite them out with you to events or shopping and have them over for dinner' friend. Then, once you're close, you tell them everything they are doing wrong. Maybe not all at once. But casually mention how disgusted you are when people burp in public (sex neutral) or scratch themselves in public (mostly the guys) or don't use proper hygiene (unfortunately sex neutral).
Don't mention it just after the SC has done or said or acted out your pet peeve, but maybe after someone around the two of you has, or at random, or when you see it on TV. Your new friend will take that information to heart. They will seriously consider trying out a brand of deodorant (any brand will do), or over-hear you telling someone to go to the bathroom to make those kinds of noises and do just that. It's a long, arduous process (kind of like this post), but keep in mind, this person wants to be accepted. They may not realize what that entails, and the hours in front of the mirror a young woman has to spend to get ready (not 12 minutes) or the physical activity a guy has to maintain to remain fit (not reading and posting blogs), but if they work up to it, they will be grateful as they leave you in the dust for their new cooler friends. See, they turned around to wave. You didn't see it? Aww.
Everybody knows one. Most people know several. They are the people that you "have" to spend time with, rather than the people you "want" to spend time with. That may be a gross over-generalization, but it more than includes those I am referring to.
Essentially, there are people in the world that somehow made it to the adolescent development of about 11 or 12 and decided it was far enough. They are the ones who just don't get it, whatever "it" is, although each and every one of them, despite any protests to the contrary, desperately want to.
How do I know? Because, I used to be one. (Dun dun duhhhhh)....(used to?) I grew up in the world of make believe those social midgets among us call acceptance. I believed I had plenty of friends, because television told me that it was normal for smart, well-adjusted, generally put-together young men to get picked-on and bullied mercilessly. Of course TV didn't say this was a daily, if not hourly, occurrence, but I was able to infer.
Also, the socially challenged (that's my last one, I promise), or SC's, create their environment. How is this accomplished? By carefully crafting the boundaries of their reality to only include those people who accept them and enjoy their company. For most of us, that only includes very close family. My own cousin was in the same class as me and a member of the "gang" of boys that tormented me throughout my early schooling.
Sure, I had friends. Two, to be exact. That was for the whole of elementary school and middle school. One of them was more socially awkward than me (only because he didn't care (no, I'm not contradicting what I said before, but he had far less concern for acceptance than I did. He was an exact duplicate of Napoleon Dynamite. Right down to the snow boots and Trapper Keeper. I'm not even joking)). The other one was probably the nicest guy I knew throughout that entire period of my life. He was just friends with everybody. Everyone liked him, without him being popular at all, if that makes any sense.
But I believed that I was accepted. I knew I wasn't cool, but people would talk to me (occasionally). The truth is I would talk incessantly. To anyone who would listen. All the time. We had a system of punishment in grade school that included talking in class(1/2 a mark), fighting (2 marks), being late to class (1mark), etc. I was almost expelled because I got so many marks for talking. That was it. Just talking. Mark after mark. When the expulsion review board met (I'm not even joking) the principal looked at my record of talking, looked at the teachers responsible, and said something to the effect of, "Maybe we should just challenge him more academically."
Because that's how we SC's fool ourselves. That's the Achilles Heel of any path to rehabilitation of anyone you know like this. We are good for something. And we cling to that like -ahem- a child clings to his blanket. That one thing we are gifted with, be it math skills, singing ability, bow-hunting skills, computer hacking skills, whatever. That gets us attention, much the same way a freak show garners it's following. Those people have no interest in bringing home and/or hanging out with these abnormalities, but look at that one guy shove a nail up his nose. Isn't that cool!
So we think 'People think I'm cool' instead of 'People are only friends with me so I'll help them with their math homework'. And it's a nearly unbreakable cycle. Because the people willing to hurt our feelings to help us see the light (the bullies) are the same people whose voices are forgotten as the day is reviewed, and the ones we are willing to listen to (very close family) doesn't want to hurt our feelings/is an over-protective mother who sees nothing wrong with her baby spending all their time at home (not the case for me...at least I don't think so).
If you have one of these people in your life, I have a method of solution. How I was able to solve my own shortcomings and become a paranoid schizophrenic, certain of annoying someone around every turn. It's a simple process. It works for kids or adults (though a bit harder for adults). You just have to make them your friend. I felt each and every one of you cringe at the thought of that, but it's what has to be done.
And I don't mean the kind of "friend" where you say hi to them at the supermarket, and know a single fact about their lives that you constantly ask them the status of. I mean a 'invite them out with you to events or shopping and have them over for dinner' friend. Then, once you're close, you tell them everything they are doing wrong. Maybe not all at once. But casually mention how disgusted you are when people burp in public (sex neutral) or scratch themselves in public (mostly the guys) or don't use proper hygiene (unfortunately sex neutral).
Don't mention it just after the SC has done or said or acted out your pet peeve, but maybe after someone around the two of you has, or at random, or when you see it on TV. Your new friend will take that information to heart. They will seriously consider trying out a brand of deodorant (any brand will do), or over-hear you telling someone to go to the bathroom to make those kinds of noises and do just that. It's a long, arduous process (kind of like this post), but keep in mind, this person wants to be accepted. They may not realize what that entails, and the hours in front of the mirror a young woman has to spend to get ready (not 12 minutes) or the physical activity a guy has to maintain to remain fit (not reading and posting blogs), but if they work up to it, they will be grateful as they leave you in the dust for their new cooler friends. See, they turned around to wave. You didn't see it? Aww.
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