People are Stupid: Strange Things Were Afoot at the 7-11

As many of you know, I am a Coke addict (Coca-cola, that is).  There is nary a Coke to be seen in my house, so I scrounged up some changed and walked to the 7-11 to get a fix.

I'm trying to walk more often as sort of thought therapy, but this ended up being quite a lesson in human nature.

So I walk to the 7-11, and I had that weird awkward do-si-do when you're trying to get in and someone else is trying to get out.  The guy had a good sense of humor about it.  It was especially funny because I'm 5'2" and he was well over 6', so it must have looked hilarious.

"Well," I thought to myself, "that must have been the adventure for this trip."

I should know better than to ever say that to myself ...

I got my Coke, salivating all the way, and stood in line as the guy in front of me ordered two "big hot dogs".  The cashier went and put on the gloves and put two hot dogs into buns then into the little cardboard container; I watched this, and they weren't even my hot dogs.

At about this point, this guy wearing suspenders and a smug look stood between the counter and the door, waving a five dollar bill around.  I should also mention that the line had grown exponentially as the cashier got the hot dogs.

Back to the guy with the hot dogs, who apparently wanted little big hot dogs (???? his English wasn't great), but he was a good sport and seemed willing to pay and walk away.

At this point, however, my attention was diverted when a second cashier joined the first behind the counter.  I was next in line (and it was a pretty long line by then), so I stepped forward with my beautiful Coke.

The guy in the suspenders said, "Uh, excuse me, I just need five dollars in gas on pump three."

Before I could say, "And, uh, I've been waiting since you got into the store and I just have one item and I REALLY want a Coke right now", the cashier lit into him and basically said if he'd just gotten in line in the first place instead of trying to push hi way ahead of people, he'd have had his turn.

The guy got all red, muttered that he'd take his business elsewhere, and stormed out.

I have two questions ...

1.  Who the hell did he think he was?  I mean, yeah, it's a pain in the ass to wait in line, especially if you're just getting something small (*cough*Coke*cough*), but what made this guy think that he was so special that he should get pushed to the front of the line when everyone else was waiting patiently?

2.  How far does $5 in gas get you, anyway?

Anyway, I started to have a little bit of anxiety because confrontation and bullies and yelling and unfairness get me all freaked out, but I just took a deep breath and laughed.

Because sometimes, that's the only thing you can do ;-)

When the Media Passes Judgment ...

Part of being human is the capacity for making judgments.  For better or worse, whether it's right or wrong, all human beings judge.  The best among us look at all the facts and don't come to conclusions about other people, social issues, or whatever based solely on emotion.

I am as guilty of making knee-jerk judgments as anybody, and I have a tendency to give more credence to emotion than I perhaps should.  I also have a tendency to never forget a wrong that has been done to those I love.  I can (and do) forgive, but I never forget, and you'd better believe that past history plays a role in how I view a person or a social issue or a given situation.

I think everybody has their own set of rules, their own moral compass, to use a tired old expression.  That's our right and privilege as human beings, and I'd be shocked if any two compasses were 100% synchronized.  I'm good with that.

What bothers me, though, is when we are told what our morals and values should be...and even more so when we, lemming-like, follow those directions without thinking about them for ourselves and applying our own set of beliefs.

And it is especially deplorable when it's the media doing the judging.

This is a picture of Elizabeth "Lizzi" Marriott, a first-year student at the University of New Hampshire.

When Lizzi Marriott was reported missing on a Tuesday in October, New Hampshire's lone news station went crazy reporting on it.  Lizzi's family was making posters, volunteers were searching, she was a "good kid", a marine biology major, a Harry Potter fan, basically the quintessential "girl next door".  Daily updates of the search for Lizzi focused on what a tragedy it was, how her family was holding out hope, the volunteer turnout to look for her.

On Friday night, police began searching the waters off of Peirce Island in Portsmouth.  The heroics of the rescue team, the fact that evidence had in fact been discovered and was being acted upon, and, yes, the continued tragedy of Lizzi's absence were all over the news.

On Saturday, October 13th, 30-year-old Seth Mazzaglia was arrested and charged with second-degree murder.  New Hampshire news venues once again exploded; after all, now there was a clear-cut "bad guy".  Mazzaglia was described as an odd duck, a loner, a martial arts experts, a man with a college degree in theatre (and the media took pains to find and quote people as saying a pretty crappy actor).

Rumbles of a Fifty Shades of Grey-esque encounter gone terribly wrong began to circulate, although good old WMUR didn't report on this.  Instead, they quickly tapered off coverage of Lizzi Marriott over the course of a few days, briefly mentioning that the search continued for her body but essentially eliminating any coverage of Lizzi as a person.

If you wanted details on the sexual bondage aspects of the case, you could find them on national sites, but New Hampshire's media had pretty much washed its hands of Lizzi Marriott...and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to deduce that someone made a decision that her participation in what many would consider a deviant sex act placed some of the blame for her death on Lizzi's own shoulders.  

Does the fact that Lizzi Marriott was "either strangled or suffocated" by Seth Mazzaglia when S&M sex went too far change the fact that her death was a tragedy?  Does it make her any less dead?  Does her family feel any less pain?

Apparently the "murder victim" line blurs when the saga twists in a direction that will raise the "morals and values" hackles on the necks of some viewers.

Better to just let Lizzi Marriott disappear into the woodwork.

And that is the media passing silent judgment on Lizzi Marriott, which is terribly wrong.

On Christmas Eve, 19-year-old Kat McDonough was arrested on charges connected to Lizzi Marriott's disappearance.  Gone were the personal anecdotes about the young woman who'd volunteered with marine animals and was loved by friends and family in her hometown.

Instead, WMUR's reference to Lizzi Marriott was formal and technical.

A second arrest has been made in the disappearance and death of a University of New Hampshire student.
Michael A. Delaney, New Hampshire attorney general, Dover Police Chief Anthony F. Colarusso Jr., and Col. Robert C. Quinn of the New Hampshire State Police made the announcement on Monday. The officials said that Kathryn McDonough, 19, of Portsmouth, was arrested Monday and charged with two felony counts in connection with the disappearance and death of Elizabeth "Lizzi" Marriott, 19, whose body has not been found.

If you're interested in the basic details, Kat McDonough was evidently dating Seth Mazzaglia.  She and Lizzi Marriott worked together at a nearby Target store and were friends.  Lizzi had plans with McDonough the night she disappeared, and we can infer that those plans involved sexual activity that was more likely than not a bondage-based ménage a trois where something went terribly wrong.

We know that a young woman died when she'd barely had time to experience and enjoy life as an adult.

If you want to judge Lizzi Marriott's sex life, that is your prerogative.  After all, when you put the facts of this sad story into the matrix of your own moral compass, you'll more likely than not feel a little bit differently than if Lizzi had, say, been savagely stabbed by a stranger while walking to class.

What is not okay with me, though, is how the media coverage passed its own judgment.  It is their job to report the news, the facts.  If news outlets had matter-of-factly reported on Lizzi Marriott's disappearance in a hands-off manner from the start and continued in this vein as less-than-savory details emerged, that would be one thing.

What they did, though, is put her into the hearts of viewers initially.  We heard wonderful, personal, touching anecdotes about Lizzi Marriott as a person, as a volunteer, as a hardworking college student.  That angle disappeared as suddenly and shockingly as Lizzi herself, though, when it came to light that she had evidently made a choice to participate in a potentially deadly activity.

And that is just wrong.

Passing judgment is something human beings will always do, no matter what.  However, in the case of Lizzi Marriott, the media took away the rights of viewers to think about what happened and apply it to their own sliding scale of morality.  It skewed our perception of a young woman, first by putting her on a pedestal as "Girl Next Door of the Year, 2012" and then by coldly and callously knocking it away because she let a guy tie her up and choke her during sex.

This post is not about my opinions on Lizzi Marriott and the circumstances leading to her death, although I should probably mention that my older daughter is a college freshman, which makes the young woman more personally accessible to me than she might be to others.      

Instead, it is about the concept of passing judgment.  Do you agree that it's an integral part of being human, or am I way off base there?  What elements should be involved in judgments you make, even if you never say them aloud to anyone?  And does the media have the right to push the morals and values of its parent company when allegedly reporting news?

I'm curious to see what people think about this one ...   

It's Easier to Complain Than to Say, "Good Job!" ... and How Sad is That?

I had an interesting epiphany about human nature yesterday ... and it wasn't exactly one that speaks well to us, at least when you make a basic generalization that's unfortunately all too easy to make.

Why is it that, if something goes wrong in a restaurant or grocery store or autobody shop or whatever, people are very quick to complain, but it's fairly rare for customers to go out of their way to point out exceptional work?

I've worked many a customer service job over the years--Chuck E. Cheese's, Water Country, Cumberland Farms, and so on.  If the pizza had a bubble on it or an item was accidentally priced wrong, many people had a knee jerk reaction to go utterly nuclear.

I was fifteen when I started working at Water Country, a local water amusement park, and one of my first jobs was "bag checker".  There were signs all over the place outside the admissions area stating that no glass is allowed inside.  I mean, picture a bunch of little kids in bathing suits running around with bare feet and you can probably imagine why this policy existed.  And, I repeat, there were signs before you even walked into the park clearly stating this.

On my first day at work, a woman came up to my checking station, and her cooler was full of glass.  It was almost like she'd gone out of her way to locate glass containers of everything.  When I told her that she couldn't bring it into the park, she hit the roof.  I suggested that we had paper cups with lids that she could transfer her mayonnaise and stuff into, and then ...

Well, she hit me.  Yup, she grabbed a bag of hamburger buns out of her bag and threw it in my face.  She had excellent aim, and I suspect she could throw a decent fastball.  

She also had a pretty good selection of wine coolers that she'd hidden under her baby in the poor kid's stroller (security picked up on this when they were removing her from the park ... I hadn't gotten a chance to look at the stroller for contraband, and I wasn't getting any closer to her after the hamburger bun incident).

And yet, as she was forcibly removed from the park, she was screaming about what a horrible place Water Country was, how shabbily she'd been treated, and so forth.  It was just crazy--she didn't get what she wanted, so she was going to complain (and loudly--I'm pretty sure she'd already dipped into the wine coolers).

Remember the woman who sued McDonald's for quite a chunk of change after getting burned from coffee purchased at a drive up window?  God forgive me, all I could think about was that she sounded like the kind of customer that would have been freaking out, demanding her money back, and possibly throwing any available bags of hamburger buns if her coffee had come out cold.  And while I feel badly for her (third-degree burns in the vaginal region ... *shiver*), she ordered hot coffee ... what the heck did she expect?  And this woman was pulled over adding cream and sugar when she spilled the coffee ... it's not like the Mickey D's employee dumped it in her lap.

But I'm veering quite far afield of my point.

There is nothing wrong with an expectation of competency by employees in any field.  In fact, customers should be treated with respect and given what they are paying for.  

But why is it so less common for exceptionally good work to be lauded than for exceptionally poor work to be noted?

I got a flat tire yesterday, and it was a bad scene.  My car has all wheel drive, so the traction control went kerflooey once the spare tire was on ... the speedometer didn't move, emergency lights telling me that the brake system failed flashing, just a horrible experience.

Anyway, I called the VIP store I do business with (VIP is an auto parts, tires, and service chain, based primarily in the northeastern United States, I believe).  The experience I had was so exceptional that I sent the following e-mail to John Quirk, the company's president and CEO.

Dear Mr. Quirk,

I am writing to commend three of the employees at your Stratham, NH VIP store.  While I have always had positive experiences at this location, I felt strongly enough about my recent incident to let you know about the outstanding customer service I received from these three gentlemen.

I got a flat tire in Manchester and, while I was able to get the spare tire on, the traction control on my vehicle caused the speedometer to stop working and for emergency brake lights to flash repeatedly.  Needless to say, I was petrified.  I called the Stratham VIP store in a fairly distressed state.  I spoke to an employee named Chris on the phone, who calmed me down and reassured me about the situation.  

When I arrived at the store, Chris assisted me with identifying the tire as a complete loss and explained how I would be able to get some of the warranty I had on the tire based on the tire tread.  The tire was not in stock, but he ordered it immediately and gave me an estimate and a timeline.

I then mentioned a sway bar that had been mentioned as a future concern the last time I'd had my car in for work, and he asked the mechanic looking at the tire situation to look into that.  He then prepared another estimate based on the sway bar.

At this point, the mechanic, a gentleman named Mike came out front quickly to make sure I knew that the tie rod was also a serious concern.  Mike explained that the tie rod was actually a higher priority than the sway bar.

Your employee Robie oversaw the entire lengthy exchange and got right on the phone to parts stores to locate a tie rod for my car (it's evidently a part they had to order from another company because my car has very specific dimensions), and Robie went out of his way to call around and get the best price available.  The initial estimate ("worst case financial scenario") was changed by a fairly significant amount of money because he took the time to make those phone calls.

Robie, Mike, and Chris all told me repeatedly that they were "just doing their job", but the effort they put into creating multiple estimates in my best interest while focusing on other customers was exemplary.  It was a time-consuming process that they apologized for while making it very clear that they were doing everything possible to take care of my car as quickly and financially-friendly as possible.

I am a single mother working two jobs, so I appreciated the lengths they went to in order to keep the necessary work done at the best possible price.  I am also a high school teacher, and these three gentlemen exemplified the morals, values, respect, politeness, and work ethic that I strive to bring out in my students and in my own children.

Customer service is an area that is often overlooked in this day and age, and I wanted to make sure you were aware of the outstanding combination of customer service and obvious knowledge about their work demonstrated by Robie, Mike, and Chris.

I felt so strongly about my positive experience that I asked for a contact person that I could express this to. The gentlemen assured me that I didn't have to let anyone know just how pleased I was by their outstanding work, that they were "just doing their jobs". However, people always seem to want to complain when something isn't done well; it saddens me that it's much rarer for people to take the time to express positive experiences.

Therefore, I wanted to make sure you were aware of the outstanding employees you have in Robie, Mike, and Chris. 

Regards,

Katie Loud

(an extremely satisfied VIP customer)

A bit long-winded, I know, but you cannot imagine how grateful I was.

Even more, though, I think I went a little bit overboard because I spent a lot of time yesterday afternoon and this morning wondering why it is so rare for someone to recognize and commend in some way when service goes above and beyond. 

Why is it so much easier to complain (and often in nit-picky ways) than to take the time to acknowledge the other extreme--which, when you stop and think about it, is a lot more common than we perhaps realize on the surface? 

Is Simple Human Kindness Possible in 2012?

**This is an exemplar paper I wrote for an argumentative essay assignment.  I really liked the way it turned out, so I figured I'd share it here and hopefully get some conversation going ... it's a subject I feel incredibly strongly about.

How many people have felt hurt, embarrassed, or even bullied by others?  The number is incredibly high.  Think about how truly sad it is that so many people are mistreated—whether it be at school, at work, or even at home—every day.  Perhaps the most tragic part is evidence shows that those who are treated poorly are far more likely to be cruel to other people, creating a vicious cycle that just makes the problem that much bigger.  There is absolutely no doubt that far too many people are mean to (or, at the very least, insensitive to the feelings of) other people every day.

Feeling helpless at times is part of being human; it is an emotion that we can all relate to, whether we’re talking about driving a car sliding out of control on an icy road or the time we are unable to keep from passing gas in the classroom.  Let’s face it, helplessness goes hand in hand with fear, and there is not much worse in the world than being afraid.  There is an old saying that misery loves company, and this is unquestionably a reason that people mistreat others.  Say you’re having the kind of morning where the jelly squirts all over your shirt when you take a bite of your doughnut, then you spill chocolate milk onto your pants (and somehow onto your hair as well, where it quickly gets crusty and foul-smelling) while reaching for the Tide-to-Go Stick.  When you get to your first period class, Susy Sunshine looks perfect in her

new outfit, wearing just a hint of lovely perfume instead processed strawberries and rotten milk.  There are some people that might feel the urge to “accidentally” spill Susy’s orange juice all over her, just to make themselves feel a little less helpless over their own stinky situation, or even make a cruel comment, something like, “Wow, Susy, you just wore that shirt yesterday, and something smells funny in here.  Didn’t you know you’re supposed to wash your clothes and not wear shirts two days in a row?”  After all, it’s entirely possible that it might take away that horrible feeling of helplessness.

A lot of the time, people that are cruel to others are doing so to deflect negative attention from themselves.  If, for example, you drive a Ford 500 sedan that looks like the kind of car your grandmother would pick out and it embarrasses you, you might make fun of cars that other people are driving so no one will think to make fun of your old lady mobile.  This sort of preemptive strike is very effective; once a few people are making fun of somebody else, a lot of people will jump on the bandwagon and join in just because they are afraid that, if they don’t, they’ll be getting made fun of, too, sooner or later.  Gossip is a cruel sword, and nobody wants to be the subject of nasty conversations, to be the person written about on Facebook, to have their actions exaggerated until the stories that are spreading like wildfire have pretty much no basis in reality.  How to make sure that doesn’t happen?  Pretty simple, really … keep the rumors flying to be sure that everyone is talking about somebody else; that way, you can keep people from getting the chance to even start spreading gossip about you.  This is very sad but, unfortunately, also very effective.

                                                                                                                                               

So where do people get the idea that it’s okay to treat people this way?  There’s no question that movies and television have played a role in this for quite some time, with thousands of Americans getting subtle lessons on how to treat each other from Jersey Shore and movies like Mean Girls.  It is impossible to ignore, though, the level of cruelty that became more acceptable through videos on YouTube.  Perhaps the most telling example is the story of Jessi Slaughter, a young middle schooler from Florida who spent a lot of time making YouTube videos talking about how wonderful she was … until she started hearing from followers and comments that she was nowhere near as cool as she thought.  Instead of walking away from the increasingly ugly situation and just letting it go, Jessi posted a video arguing back, basically saying that people were hating on her because they were jealous of her for being so amazing.  To say the least, people weren’t impressed, and her real name, address, and phone number were posted, leading to some potentially dangerous situations.  What ended up happening was that Jessi’s father appeared in a response YouTube video, totally freaking out and saying ridiculous things such as threatening to call “the cyberpolice”, stating that he knew who was harassing Jessi because he “backtraced” the comments, and most infamously yelling, “You done goofed!” at a webcam.  I’ve seen the video, and listening to a southern farmer screaming, “I’m gonna report you to the cyber police!” is really quite funny … until you stop and think about the fact that there are real people involved.  YouTube and reality television have narrowed the gap between real life and entertainment to the point where it is probably difficult for some to make the distinction.  It’s easy to forget that there are real people getting hurt when you’re watching Parkour fail videos or something.  The little screen that we watch has become all too real, and forgetting that is both increasingly common and a little dangerous.  It’s hard enough sometimes to take the thoughts and feelings of other people into consideration; when we see what is often downright cruelty right in front of our eyes, marketed as entertainment, it just reinforces the idea that being mean to others is okay.

But are the people that make a big thing about this overreacting?  After all, there is growing agreement that YouTube videos where people get hurt and reality TV shows, where gossip and backstabbing are par for the course are simply entertainment.  Most people know right from wrong and are not going to change the nature of who they are because they watch The Hills or enjoy watching things get blown up on YouTube.  Furthermore, the world is not always a kind place; unfortunately, there are a lot of adults that never seemed to outgrow the middle school gossipy, backstabbing mentality.  To pretend that most people are good and nice is just not realistic; is there anything wrong with watching TV shows, movies, and internet that reflect the way that life really is in 2012 America? 

The increasing acceptance of cruelty and unkindness in the media is a result of too many people using the pain of others to push away their own feelings of helplessness, of far too many members of society making fun of other people so that maybe, just maybe, nobody will take the time to notice—and start making fun of—them.  I know that it sounds simple, perhaps overly so, but life is much happier for all concerned when we extend a warm smile rather than a sneering smirk.  It’s easy to make fun of those that stand out as different—perhaps they’re too tall, too short, overweight, underweight, owner of an annoying cackling laugh, have clothes exclusively from American Eagle, have close exclusively from Wal-Mart, come to school covered in dog hair, and so on and so forth—because it seems better than looking at the mirror and trying to figure out what about you people could focus in on to make fun of.  If for one day, everyone could make an effort to extend a hand in kindness instead of to tape on a “kick me” sign, if an effort could be made to say something nice about everyone, think about the good things that you would get back in return.  And if nobody was gossiping, nobody would have to worry about who was spreading rumors about them and what was being said and so on.  It’s a leap of faith that is more than likely impossible, but, until we are willing to walk toward that sort of “treat others the way you want to be treated” mentality, people are going to be unkind to each other.  I have faith that this can change, but it would require a huge effort from the entire population; and that’s where, unfortunately, I think the sticking point would be.  I’ll keep hoping, though; if enough of us are thinking this way, perhaps someday kindness can be the reality and norm instead of something unusual and strange.           

Does the Golden Rule Mean Nothing?

I am in kind of a funk at the moment, a definite change from my usual Pollyanna-like existence.

I've been noticing a lot, both in my personal life and in the world around me, that people have a tendency to treat others like crap. It's starting to really get to me, to be perfectly honest with you.

I've gotten to the point as a person, however, where I can look at what is annoying me about other people and ask if I am part of the problem or part of the solution. In other words, is what pissing me off about other people something that I do myself, making me an unintentional hypocrite?

I broke this down to the so-called "Golden Rule"--in other words, treat other people the way you would like to be treated.

If everyone lived this way, if each person on the planet made a conscious effort to extend to others the courtesies that they themselves expect, the world would be a far more pleasant place.

So I asked myself, "How do you treat people?"

In general, I think that I do offer everybody kindness, respect, humor, a willingness to work hard, a ready smile, and a helping hand. At least, that is my perception.

That being said, I am also aware that I am not one to forgive and forget. If a person burns me enough times (and in many cases, there has been an awful lot of burning that's gone on before I finally gave up ... I'm kind of a sucker), I will eventually lose any sort of respect or regard for that person.

But does that change the way I treat them?

Yes and no.

I cannot think of the last time I did something malicious to someone, an action intended purely to cause pain, discomfort, or humiliation. It's just not in my nature, I don't think.

But in terms of going out on a limb for someone that's hurt me or someone close to me or even someone I've never met? As far as I'm concerned, the bridge is broken. I would never initiate the burning of a bridge, wouldn't fan its flames or instigate destruction of any sort, but I've been forced--through observing and witnessing and screaming in agony from hurt and betrayal--to accept that walking away (literally when possible and metaphorically when it's not) is sometimes the only thing you can do.

And that makes me immeasurably sad.

I guess the bottom line is that I do not understand human nature. There seems to be a common need to use the misfortune of others to make yourself feel better, even if you're not the one to instigate said misfortune.

Is it because focusing on the tragedies and tribulations of others allows you to put your own pain and shortcomings and weaknesses and fears into some kind of perspective? I think so.

I love hearing gossip, for instance. Celebrity gossip, workplace gossip, the drama that goes on among my students, and so on ... I enjoy hearing about it. I like to know the dirt. However, I do not myself gossip; I'm not one who'll call up a hundred people and say, "Oh my God, you know what I just heard about Joe Jones?"

I guess I'm rambling, but writing makes me feel better even if I don't come to any sort of conclusion that's going to make a difference in the great scheme of things.

I'd love to know your thoughts on this one, though.

Do you treat other people the way you'd like to be treated? Do you think the concept of everybody taking on this challenge would make the world a better place?

And is that even possible?

The Red-Tailed Hawk (And Taking The Time To See What's Right In Front Of You)

I have no common sense. Let's get that right out there. I am the person who can analyze poetry for hours, write term papers in two hours ... and who loses her keys at least once a day. I'll remind myself that I have to bring a toilet paper roll from the giant BJ's pack into the bathroom the next time I have to go, but still forget. I can understand Plato and Aristotle, but knock knock jokes go completely over my head.

One of my greatest weaknesses, as both a human being and as a writer, is that I miss the obvious, as I was reminded yesterday.

I've posted before about my dog Mollie and her affinity for balls.

My golden retriever, Mollie, is passive aggressive.

Most dogs I've owned are very sweet-tempered. My black lab, Sonja, for example, just kind of goes with the flow, is thrilled to see you when you get home at the end of the day, sits at your feet when you're reading a book, is thrilled when you take her outside to play, and so on.

Mollie is just crazy.

The best example of this, I guess, is her obsession with balls. She always has a ball in her mouth, and when you're inside the house, she'll drop the slimy thing on your lap as if to say, "Throw it, throw it, I want to play fetch!" The logical response to this action, of course, is to pick up the ball, walk outside, and start a rousing game of fetch.

Um ... nope. You throw the ball once and Mollie goes running after it, retrieves it, and comes back to dance around your feet ... and refuses to give you the ball. After you try to pry it out of her mouth a few times to no avail, you give up and go back inside ... at which point, Mollie comes and drops the slimy ball in your lap and the cycle continues.

Even more annoying, though, is when you give her the ball back and say, "No, not gonna do it right now" or something like that. She hides the ball under heavy pieces of furniture and scratches at it until you lift it up, straining back muscles in the process, so she can get the ball ... and, two minutes later, drop the slimy thing in your lap.

Well, I was having a lazy day yesterday. A very, very lazy day. I was engrossed in a book (Sammy the Bull's memoir, in case you're curious ... I do have the strangest literary journeys sometimes) and, when Mollie started barking, I figured I'd get to a good stopping point and start lifting up couches.

But Mollie kept barking consistently, which isn't like her, so I finally looked up, and she literally had her nose to the window. I got up to look out the window, and imagine my surprise to see a hawk in the tree right outside.

It was absolutely beautiful, something I'd never before realized about hawks. It was so close that I could see every detail, could easily identify it as a red-tailed hawk based on its tail feathers.

The hawk had put up with Mollie barking without comment but evidently sensed my movement when I went to get my camera. It flew to a higher tree, and I wasn't able to get a good shot of it. Still, I watched it until it flew away.

I was reminded of Stephen King's novella "The Body" (and of Rob Reiner's excellent movie adaptation, Stand By Me), the part where Gordie LaChance encounters an unspeakably beautiful doe, something so unexpected and purely, innocently, naturally gorgeous. He's on a journey with his friends to go find a dead body, and the doe shows up while he's "on watch". It is a moment of peace and awe that he often goes back to in times of tribulation.

This hawk was kind of like that for me ... and the fact that I almost missed out on seeing it because it's all too easy sometimes to ignore Mollie's yapping is not lost on me. It's strange where you get life lessons from sometimes ...

Alone

Do you ever get the feeling that you're completely alone, that everyone you ever loved and trusted and believed in and blah blah blah turned out to be nothing that you thought they were?

It is so frightening to realize that, no matter what you do, no matter what you give, it is never quite good enough.

I wouldn't mind so much if I hadn't been burned so severely in the past two years. Family, friends, significant others ... and it's not really their fault, it's just that nobody seems to be who I think they are.

I guess I'm just a very bad judge of human nature.

And so I will stop believing in people.

Haha, that's funny ... believing in people is my fatal flaw, the very essence of who I am. I'll feel differently tomorrow.

For tonight, though ... I am alone in the universe, and it hurts so much.

Knowing the Minds and Hearts of Others

I seem to attract people with a tendency to avoid sharing their minds and hearts. The old adage claims that actions speak louder than words, but sometimes you just need to hear the words.

Sometimes you just want to know what exactly is going on in the minds and, perhaps more importantly, hearts of other people.

Or would this be a mixed blessing? A blessed curse? Please let me know what you think ...

What Difference do YOU Make?

Maybe it's the holiday season, but there seems to be a recent trend toward focusing on the positive differences that we as people make. I think this is a great thing, natch, but it's harder to do than you'd think, scary as that is.

One of my internet connections, Erinn, has started a blog focusing on being nice to strangers, and it's really very interestng. Honestly, I'm pretty much in awe of her for the amazing and original ideas she's come up with and her reactions to how they go over. Very thought-provoking.

What's kind of ironic is that, completely unintentionally, the weekly paper topic I gave my students last week was, "What Difference do YOU Make?" It seemed like a good thing to get them thinking about, but it combined with Erinn's blog experiment really got me thinking instead (amazing how that happens sometimes :)).

What occurred to me is how difficult it is to make a concerted effort to be nice ... and that kind of bothered me about myself. Part of me was like, "Hey, you get a pass, you teach high school students every day, there's no question that you make a difference," but I honestly felt like that's kind of a cop-out. It might be true, but it's still a cop-out. After all, I am paid to make a difference to my students--isn't there more I should do in reality?

So in that vein, I thought I found a golden opportunity when I saw a woman with a cane while at Rite Aid getting poster board and markers for Addie's Biology project. I should probably mention that it's snowing like nobody's business, the plow trucks aren't really out in full force, and the driving is horrible ... and the floor of Rite Aid was so wet and slippery that it brought ice skates to mind. Anyway, I pretty much stalked this poor woman on my quest to help her.

I don't know what I was thinking, just that maybe she'd need help carrying things or something ... epic fail, as Addie would say. I ended up dropping everything I was carrying and nearly knocking her over with my klutziness. So I went to grab some stuff in the grocery section, and we met again at the cash register ... at which point she looked at me, looked at the cashier, and said, "I think I'll let this lady go ahead of me."

Wow. I felt like a complete idiot. She was very polite about it, but I was clearly rebuffed. And then I got all pissed off at myself for having the mindset that a woman would need help just because she had a cane, and ...

Clearly I'm just not good at making a difference in reality. This is something I will be working harder on. It's something I hope all of you will think about, since I think the world would be so much more beautiful if everyone gave just a little bit more thought to others.

I'd love to hear from you, though--what difference do YOU make? I'm curious to see if the implementation of a simple and beautiful idea is as difficult for others as it is for me : )

Convenience Store Clerks Trying to Strike it Big

On my way to get Addie from marching band rehearsal, I stopped at a gas station convenience store to get a Coke (well, Diet Coke since I'm doing Weight Watchers, but the principle's the same).

There were two clerks on duty, and they were having a ball with scratch tickets. I mean, they were so enthralled by their "three nines in a row" that it took me about ten minutes to pay for a can of soda.

I honestly didn't mind waiting ... it gave me time to think :) And here's what I came up with:
* Were they an advertising ploy to get people to buy scratch tickets?
* Why would the company pay to have two employees on the clock if they're so busy fooling around to wait on customers?
* Why is it that scratch tickets appeal so strongly to a certain, shall we say, demographic?
* Is it unprofessional, unethical, or even illegal to use scratch tickets bought from your place of employment when you're on the clock?
* What the holy hell is so funny about the phrase "three nines in a row"? You'd think Will Ferrell was in the house or something!

Uh ... Yeah, guess that's all I've got. I'm reading Dan Brown's new book ...

Charlie Brown's Football

You know the scene from Peanuts where Lucy is always trying to get Charlie Brown to try to kick the football she's holding? The football she always yanks away at the last second? The football she always swears up and down to Poor Old Chuck that she is not going to yank away this time, that he just needs to believe her?

What does it say about Charlie Brown that he is able to be talked into believing that she will hold the football in place? Is he stupid? Gullible? Or just someone who thinks that kicking the football is worth the pain and humiliation? That feels strongly about giving someone else the benefit of the doubt, even when betrayed and hurt every time?

And how about Lucy? What sort of person would again and again convince someone to give them a second (and third ... and fourth ... and infinite) chance knowing the whole time they're going to just yank it away?

Button Pushing (or "Going out of your Way to Tick People Off")

Have you ever noticed that there are some people who truly seem to enjoy pushing the buttons of other people? I mean, it's fun for them to see how aggravated, irritated, or upset they can get someone else. It's ridiculous!

My current "button-pusher" (well, the main one ;)) is not a person at all. No, it's my golden retriever, Mollie, who has taken the fine art of pissing people off to new heights. She's an ambassador of annoyance.

Here's a picture for you:



Just a ball ... pretty harmless, right? Hahaha! Not where I'm sitting. No, Mollie uses this circular piece of rubber as the equivalent of a medieval torture device.

Let's say you get home from a long day at work. The idea of taking the dogs out for a run sounds pretty appealing, right? Even more fun--since they're both retrievers and have a natural love of fetching--would be a nice game of ball.

Hmm.

What usually happens is that Mollie picks up her ball, charges outside, and starts running laps (the Invisible Fence concept is a great invention, by the way). Sonja usually joins her, and it's great that they're getting their energy out plus it's pretty cute to watch. At some point, however, Mollie comes running up to you and starts saying, "Would you throw the ball, please? A nice game of fetch sounds like fun." (Anyone who says dogs can't talk has never had a dog) So you tell her to drop the ball so you can throw it--and she just gives you this look of defiance. Sonja, who's generally laying under a tree at this point, comes over because heck, fetch is a great game and she wants in.

And then Mollie won't drop the ball. She'll sit there dancing around with it in her mouth, sometimes dropping it then snatching it back up before either myself or Sonja can reach it, but she will not put it down. At some point, I usually try to take it out of her mouth just because the whole thing is so aggravating and poor Sonja clearly wants to play fetch even if Mollie wants to be a twit (and yes, we have multiple balls ... you can probably figure out what happens when we try that). Yeah ... she draws blood when you try to take her ball away. Not pretty.

But in the great scheme of Mollie as a Master of Masochism, that's nothing. No, she has far more devious devices for that freaking ball.

Although she WILL NOT drop the ball for you outside, she somehow thinks that inside the house is just the perfect location for playing fetch. She will drop her ball--slimy with dog drool and smelling unbelievably bad--into your lap and, if you don't throw it, will take it out of your lap and then drop it there again. Over and over and over again. If you do throw it, she'll fetch it perfectly and bring it to you to throw again, the very behavior you want her to do outside. Here's a visual of the great ball drop according to Moll:



I saved the best for last, though. Mollie's latest and not-so-greatest trick is that she will push her ball under a piece of furniture and then scratch at the floor, whine, cry, and otherwise drive you bonkers until you get the ball out. Doesn't sound too bad, right? I mean, how hard is it to lift the end of a couch end up or use a yard stick to swipe under a hutch? Well, one would think so, but only if that person didn't know Mollie ...

No, Mollie has figured out which furniture cannot be lifted--and that's where she focuses her energies. I have had to empty out my bureau twice since I couldn't lift it any other way and, when the yardstick doesn't work with the hutch (it's all about angles--definitely not my forte), that's an adventure too. Furthermore, she has started a new habit of hiding her ball under Belle's bed and then scratching all around it, jumping all over it, and just being in general a loud, obnoxious nuisance when Belle is asleep.

The thing is, that dog is smart. Like, ridiculously smart. She gets ample attention, has people around happy to play with her, and went through extensive dog school training. She knows right from wrong--she's just a button-pusher, and I've never met one of the canine variety before. If it wasn't so darn annoying, it would be really funny. And there's not a lot to be done--I mean, we tried moving every single ball outside, and ... well, you can probably imagine what the door looked like after that.

But smart as she is, conniving as she is, Mollie is a dog. I also have to say, to be fair, that I love her dearly and that she's wonderfully gentle with Belle and Addie (especially Belle--Addie is not a fan of dogs in general and Mollie in particular). Belle is the only person Belle will play fetch appropriately with outside. And, of course, there's this:



So how do you deal with human versions of Mollie?

Why do People Always Complain About the Weather ?

I have probably said this before, but it probably bears repeating. The weather is an ever-changing state, a difference in temperature and precipitation and cloud cover. As such, it seems to be a solid last-ditch conversation piece.

I'm good with that. I talk about the weather as much as anyone. One of the reasons I love living in New England, in fact, is that we have four definitive seasons. Weather conditions are always changing, never the same.

My favorite season is fall (or autumn, for the more literary among you). If you've never been to New Hampshire in the fall, I probably can't do it justice. It's long sleeve weather, but you're comfortable. Perfect for going on long walks. Leaves changing to different brilliant colors that Crayola could never reproduce. The scent of apples on the breeze. No humidity. Skies of a blue so deep it could make you cry.

I hate summer, though. Hate it. I hate being hot and sweaty and sticky and miserable. If you're cold in the winter (or even fall or spring), you can put on another sweater or add a blanket or whatever. In summer, even if you walk around naked, you're still going to be hot, sweaty, sticky, and miserable (well, this is true for me, anyway ... not that I walk around naked, but you know what I mean).

But I'm honest about my hatred of summer. The fact is, I'm more than likely going to be a bitch from late June through late August, and I spend extensive time bemoaning the weather and wishing for fall, winter, spring ... anything that isn't horrifically oppressive. I'm probably not a lot of fun to be around when the mercury goes above eighty. On those winter mornings that are below zero, though, while everyone else is complaining about how cold it is, I'm just grateful that it's not summer. Eternally grateful.

What bugs me, though, is the number of people who spend all winter complaining about being cold and wanting summer to come ... but then, when it's summer, they go on and on about how hot, sticky, and uncomfortable they are and how they can't wait for winter. I tend to be rather short-tempered with these people--after all, I feel like I've earned the right to bitch and moan about summer since I don't complain the other nine months of the year.

To be fair, New Hampshire's summer of 2009 has been exceptionally cool (and of course most people have done a lot of complaining about that, but I digress). The last few days have reached the eighties, though, with fairly high humidity. The sort of weather, in other words, that does not bring out the best in me.

Perhaps that's why I've got such a bee in my bonnet about this right now. It just got me thinking, though, about why it seems to be characteristic of human nature to complain all the time ... and then, when your complaints are reversed, complaining about that.

Kind of maddening, if you think about it ...

The Allure of a Dunking Booth (and the Evident Masochism of Human Nature)

Today was Field Day at my school. It seemed that lots of fun was had by all (including me).

I ended up supervising the dunking booth (all staff had a "station", and the word was you'd get assigned perimeter duty if you didn't volunteer for something). What this ended up meaning is that I was the first person sitting on the platform of the dunking booth ... and, consequently, the first person to get dunked.

Now, I love the water. I've been swimming in the New Hampshire Atlantic twice already this year and had my feet in Lake Winnapesaukee in early March. The idea of being dunked didn't bother me, nor did the dunking itself. Truthfully, none of it bothered me, per se. It was just ... odd to see a certain side of human nature.

What does it say about humanity when people come in droves and line up to throw a ball at a little tiny target for the sole purpose of knocking someone into a big bucket of freezing cold water?

It was kind of funny, actually. I forgot my contact lenses in the car (I was running VERY late this morning, so I figured I'd just pop them in when I got to school, but I had morning duty so I had to be there earlier than usual, then my gas light came on so I had to stop and get gas ... yeah, one of those mornings), so I ended up wearing my (rather expensive Ralph Lauren) glasses onto the dunking platform. They flew off on the first "dunk", and I had to fish them out with my foot. I gave them to a kid to put on my backpack, which he kindly did, then I realized that some of the kids were giving me a hard time for not going under when I got dunked (I'm 5'2", so it's not like I wasn't pretty much soaked). Well, the next four times I got dunked, you'd better believe I went fully under : )

Then my supervising colleague had a turn so I could warm up, then I went back up so she could warm up, and so on. We finally got enough other teachers to brave the dunking platform so we could both actually get changed out of our "dunking attire" and stuff. That water was freezing, and it wasn't exactly warm in New Hampshire today.

This probably sounds like I'm complaining, but I'm honestly not. I had a fabulous time today, a great chance to relax with my students, my colleagues, and my friends. I enjoyed being in the dunking booth, but the ferocity and intensity that some (of all ages) brought to the task at hand was just ... odd.

Anyway, what do you think the allure of a dunking booth is? Do you think it would be entertaining to cause another person discomfort if it's in the name of fun? Would you ever go into a dunking booth : )?

The Truth About Cats and Dogs

My mom just left with her dog, the inimitable Mollie, a hyperactive golden retriever with a penchant for getting into trouble. Mollie has a basic sweetness, and she's calmed down a lot, believe it or not, as she's grown out of her puppyhood a bit. However, she's still kind of high-maintenance, so there's a kind of peace that radiates my house after she leaves and I'm left with my own two animal "babies".

Going in this direction has got me thinking about how most people seem to be either dog people or cat people. There isn't necessarily any rhyme or reason to why this is, at least as much as I can figure--I mean, I can't walk down the street and be like, "Dog. Dog. Cat. Dog. Cat. Neither. Cat. Cat. Dog."

I was raised a dog person, in large part because my mother is a dog person so we always had dogs. I was never a cat fan, finding them to be solitary and unfriendly when I encountered them at the homes of friends or relatives. Dogs always struck me as friendlier.

And then Charlie came along. I got Charlie by accident in a weak, sucker-written-on-my-forehead moment when one of my coworkers said her husband was going to flush the one kitten she hadn't been able to find a home for after her cat had a litter down the toilet if she didn't find someone to take it. I don't know if she was serious--I'd like to think she wasn't, but anyway, we ended up with a little orange kitten that we'd never planned on.

We got our black lab, Sonja, in much the same way. She'd been abandoned, abused, and in need of leg surgery as the result of being hit by a dirt bike. The humane society wouldn't take her, unless it was to exercise euthanasia. We decided that she deserved a better fate than that, so we adopted her as a year old puppy.

The thing is, Charlie and Sonja are very much alike. Both are sitting at the door, tails wagging (yes, Charlie wags her tail ... I think it's a learned behavior), when we get home. Sonja sleeps on my feet every night, Charlie on my head (well, sort of next to, but really ... yeah, on my head). They both come running when you call them, and they follow the four of us around to a degree where it's moderately annoying. It breaks my heart that they are both so grateful all the time--while it's true they'll never be flushed down a toilet or run over with a inappropriately handled motor vehicle here, they do get snapped at (mostly by Addie, who is not an animal person), not walked or played with as much as they deserve, and are forced to play dress-up with Belle (they actually like this ... go figure).

But my animals are an exception, I think, in large part because of the early trauma they suffered. It's my understanding that most dogs share a similar set of characteristics, and the same can be said for cats. Clearly, Sonja and Charlie are just freaks of nature : )

Which leads me, of course, to the human beings who make the choice to own one (or the other ... or both). What makes either a cat or a dog preferable to you? Is the thought of a cat as a stereotypical loner and a dog as a friendly pal accurate? Do you think you can tell something about a person by whether they prefer dogs or cats (note--Pythagorus prefers Sonja, Addie prefers Charlie when pressed, Belle prefers Sonja, and I love them both equally)?

The Human Condition

As any of you that read the post I wrote last night know, I have some drama going on in my personal life. It was intended to be posted on my personal blog (and I've since moved it there) but, as it was posted here in the first place, I realize that many people read it, and many gave good wishes, thoughts, and prayers. All are appreciated. I want you to know that I am fine, that things will eventually work out as they always seem to in life in the way that fate means them to.

What stood out to me the most, though, was how we can all relate to the human condition, to the tremendous pain (in any of its manifestations) that impacts all of humanity. It seems that this deep-seated hurt, this feeling of being so overwhelmed by pain that you don't know what to do, is something that everyone can understand, that everyone has felt on some level.

Can anyone truly understand someone else's pain, or just the depth of agony someone else is feeling? Is there a point in sharing your private hurts in detail, or is it enough to say, "Gee, you know, I have some bad stuff going down right now?"

And really, in the great scheme of things, is there anything anyone can do about the pain of others other than sympathize, empathize, send good thoughts and well wishes, and hope and pray that things will change for the better?

Is the human condition unique to each human, or do we all feel the same pain, just suffered (and dealt with, I suppose) in different ways?

The Pratfalls of Human Nature

I'm a simple person, really. I just wish I could understand human nature even as I live and breathe as part of the human race.

I am so overwhelmed with unkindness and sneakiness and selfishness and a number of other words ending in -ness. These are all things that I try desperately not to be, and I cannot for the life of me understand how these things are a way of life to so many people. Why in the world would you actively WANT to be an asshole?

I guess maybe I'm not such a simple person. My life philosophy is to do everything I can to help other people, to give all of myself. I get frustrated, ridiculously so, when people don't hold themselves to the same standard. Somewhere along the line, either from my parents, in Girl Scouts (hey, come on, I was a Brownie for one year), or some other location that escapes me at the moment, I learned something called the golden rule: Treat others the way you want to be treated.

That's how I try to live my life. Do I always succeed? Nope, although I can live with what I do accomplish under that dictum. I seem to do at least as well as most people and obviously far better than some.

I mess up all the time, and I really am okay with that. After all, the bigger your mistake, the more you learn from it, at least if you're someone that takes things to heart the way I do. I learn an awful lot every day : )

I don't know how to live in a world where there are people who espouse a philosophy that cries out the polar opposite.

I guess all I can do is keep on trucking, though. I can only be the best person I can be. I can honestly say that I've learned and grown from all my mistakes, the huge ones in the past and the unknown of the future.

I just wish that human nature was more forthcoming.