So I got on the bus this morning and I sat down next to what I think most people would constitute as a male nerd. I know the distinction has gotten a bit muddled with the emergence of the hipster culture, but this guy wasn't trying to be a nerd. He just was a nerd.
He had a Napoleon Dynamite type shirt on tucked in to his pants of course. He was futzing at first with his iphone, which I caveat is not nerdy, but then started awkwardly bobbing his head to music I couldn't quite make out. Actually bobbing isn't the correct word. It was more a seizure like motion with his head and a weird Hitch like containment with the rest of his body. Then he took of his head phones, took his out his glasses case and put on his 'four eyes'. Again, nothing against glasses, I wear them in fact, but it added to his overall Urkelness. He proceeded to pull out his ipad, again not nerdy, and began playing some sort of Grand Theft Auto like game but with way more parochial graphics. Grand Theft Auto is probably not nerdy, but on this guy, this game more than even his weird gesticulations made me really uncomfortable. His appearance alone made me assume he was not exactly bursting at the seams with social skills. That mixed with the fact that he was playing an unbelievably violent video game made me really uncomfortable. Even after I got off the bus I couldn't stop thinking about it.
I am not sure if news stories of men like George Sodini, or names like Dylan Clybold are the reason I had such a negative reaction to this guy and his video game but it got me to thinking. Maybe something other than his appearance gave me an uneasy feeling. Or perhaps the nerd factor lead me to think about the loner factor, and that made me uneasy. I don't know what it was. I mean he left me alone, he didn't leer. He was just doing his thing. However, in that short amount of time he got me to thinking. Historically, there aren't a lot of infamous females that have blown up buildings, convinced people to drink kool-aid, shot up their high schools and college campuses or randomly open fired in a female dominated gym. I am sure there are a few, but movie Monster was such a big deal because it was a case of an out of the ordinary serial killer. The out of the ordinary part is the fact that the killer was female. I don't know if it society, socialization or Malcolm Galdwell's exploration of contagious and infectious behavior that kept my mind running in circles. I obviously haven't done any reading on the subject, this is just how my mind was working that day.
There really is no point to this post, other than the fact that for a morning I was completely preoccupied with a stranger on the bus and a trend that has spanned news coverage for decades.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Cafeteria Christian...
For those of you who may not know, Cafeteria Christianity is a derogatory term used by some to accuse other Christian individuals or denominations of selecting which doctrines they will follow, and which they wont. A recent conversation about this very idea got me to thinking about what cafeteria line I'm standing in.
My family is heterogeneous when it comes to religion. My father was brought up and educated in the catholic system. My mother was brought up in a Presbyterian household. So my sister was born and baptized Catholic. I however was baptized Presbyterian, in what has been described to me as the coolest ceremony ever preformed by a foreign minister visiting the church that month. Yeah, riddle me that.
Anyway, I have had multiple conversations with both my parents about their religious upbringings. My father has not attended church since, I don't even know when, but he used the hood of his jacket to hide his eyes multiple times during 'The Exorcist". Obviously something about his Catholic background lives within him. My mother will say she was brought up in home that had a strong Christian foundation. Don't lie, don't cheat, don't steal and always treat others the way you would like to be treated. However, in college she was told by a professor that after talking about religious philosophy, hers in particular, he believed she didn't belong anywhere. She was a malleable early twenty something at the time. She doesn't claim any affiliation to this day.
That was the household I was brought up in. Someone who stopped placing any effort in Catholicism married to a person who believed in the fundamental application of Christianity but didn't subscribe to anything specifically. Therefore, my sister and I were baptized two different sects, yet we attended the same Sunday school. The years following Sunday school, if my memory serves me correctly, was empty of religion unless I was in a place of worship for a wedding or a funeral. A white or a black dress is what my religious experience boiled down to as an adult. That is a very slight over dramatization, but for the most part it hasn't played a huge role in my life. I took a World Religions class in college to try and figure out if I did belong anywhere. It just confused me more, and that is partly due to the fact that it is more common than ever to change religious affiliation. To get more generic or more specific. To cast off the teachings of an upbringing to follow your own path. Religious freedom abounds, or so it seems.
When you take that idea and put in the context of a cafeteria line, religion is much more Central Park West than General hospital, if you know what I mean. It is like politics. Nowadays you can be the daughter of a right wing nut job and have a baby out of wedlock. You can be a staunch environmentalist but lobby for factory farming. In the case of religion, you can be Catholic and divorced multiple times. You can be Buddhist and a billionaire. You can be atheist and hate the song Imagine. It seems that anything goes, or at least is possible in a country that boasts of religious freedom. I know the indoctrinated children from 'Jesus Camp' would disagree, bless their hearts, but there are two sides to every conversation. When it comes to religion I would argue there are many more than two.
Here is mine. I once thought that religion was the opiate of the masses. That faith was something people followed blindly. It is part of the reason, as a young adult I rallied so hard against it. I used to think that I was special because I thought religious texts were just really amazing sagas, written to quell or swell the fears of mere mortals. I thought I was outward thinking if I only entertained the idea of six commandants and filled in the remaining slots with Siddhartha's four sights. That as a woman, religion was created to hold me down and therefore was something to be reckoned with. So young. So self-indulgent.
In my experience the majority of people I know are in a line at The Religion Cafeteria. In my expeirence, most people are just like me, but different. I have friends in the Catholic line, the Latter Day Saints line, the Juddiasm line, the Wiccan line and of course standing in front of the consistently empty chafers of the Atheist line. They are picking and choosing what to put on their plate and subsequently swallow, just like me.
Everyone has a different palate, and can only consume so much of any given doctrine. I'll have a serving of Halakha, with a side of The Principle and some Christian Fundamentalism for dessert. I know it isn't as simple as fusion cuisine, but I can tell someone I am agnostic and that is the end of the conversation. It is not even close to a derogatory term. A word was created in the mid 19th century for people like me, so I could confidently express a religious unaffiliation and not necessarily be judged (again the 'Jesus Camp' kids come to mind) for it.
I'm still not sure of what I believe entirely, and I am not sure that I ever will, but what I do know is that my taste changes depending on the subject and even that ebbs and flows. I am at the cafeteria but even then I would jump lines. I would mix creeds and wash it all down with a healthy glass of apprehension. Maybe that means I have no faith in faith, or perhaps I am still struggling with the idea that I have no faith at all.
I don't know. But I do know if there is a line for people like me, I sure hope Chris Farley is behind the glass with a hair net slinging dogma along with a huge helping of comedic relief because everyone needs a good sense of humor to have this conversation.
Goodness, now I'm hungry.
My family is heterogeneous when it comes to religion. My father was brought up and educated in the catholic system. My mother was brought up in a Presbyterian household. So my sister was born and baptized Catholic. I however was baptized Presbyterian, in what has been described to me as the coolest ceremony ever preformed by a foreign minister visiting the church that month. Yeah, riddle me that.
Anyway, I have had multiple conversations with both my parents about their religious upbringings. My father has not attended church since, I don't even know when, but he used the hood of his jacket to hide his eyes multiple times during 'The Exorcist". Obviously something about his Catholic background lives within him. My mother will say she was brought up in home that had a strong Christian foundation. Don't lie, don't cheat, don't steal and always treat others the way you would like to be treated. However, in college she was told by a professor that after talking about religious philosophy, hers in particular, he believed she didn't belong anywhere. She was a malleable early twenty something at the time. She doesn't claim any affiliation to this day.
That was the household I was brought up in. Someone who stopped placing any effort in Catholicism married to a person who believed in the fundamental application of Christianity but didn't subscribe to anything specifically. Therefore, my sister and I were baptized two different sects, yet we attended the same Sunday school. The years following Sunday school, if my memory serves me correctly, was empty of religion unless I was in a place of worship for a wedding or a funeral. A white or a black dress is what my religious experience boiled down to as an adult. That is a very slight over dramatization, but for the most part it hasn't played a huge role in my life. I took a World Religions class in college to try and figure out if I did belong anywhere. It just confused me more, and that is partly due to the fact that it is more common than ever to change religious affiliation. To get more generic or more specific. To cast off the teachings of an upbringing to follow your own path. Religious freedom abounds, or so it seems.
When you take that idea and put in the context of a cafeteria line, religion is much more Central Park West than General hospital, if you know what I mean. It is like politics. Nowadays you can be the daughter of a right wing nut job and have a baby out of wedlock. You can be a staunch environmentalist but lobby for factory farming. In the case of religion, you can be Catholic and divorced multiple times. You can be Buddhist and a billionaire. You can be atheist and hate the song Imagine. It seems that anything goes, or at least is possible in a country that boasts of religious freedom. I know the indoctrinated children from 'Jesus Camp' would disagree, bless their hearts, but there are two sides to every conversation. When it comes to religion I would argue there are many more than two.
Here is mine. I once thought that religion was the opiate of the masses. That faith was something people followed blindly. It is part of the reason, as a young adult I rallied so hard against it. I used to think that I was special because I thought religious texts were just really amazing sagas, written to quell or swell the fears of mere mortals. I thought I was outward thinking if I only entertained the idea of six commandants and filled in the remaining slots with Siddhartha's four sights. That as a woman, religion was created to hold me down and therefore was something to be reckoned with. So young. So self-indulgent.
In my experience the majority of people I know are in a line at The Religion Cafeteria. In my expeirence, most people are just like me, but different. I have friends in the Catholic line, the Latter Day Saints line, the Juddiasm line, the Wiccan line and of course standing in front of the consistently empty chafers of the Atheist line. They are picking and choosing what to put on their plate and subsequently swallow, just like me.
Everyone has a different palate, and can only consume so much of any given doctrine. I'll have a serving of Halakha, with a side of The Principle and some Christian Fundamentalism for dessert. I know it isn't as simple as fusion cuisine, but I can tell someone I am agnostic and that is the end of the conversation. It is not even close to a derogatory term. A word was created in the mid 19th century for people like me, so I could confidently express a religious unaffiliation and not necessarily be judged (again the 'Jesus Camp' kids come to mind) for it.
I'm still not sure of what I believe entirely, and I am not sure that I ever will, but what I do know is that my taste changes depending on the subject and even that ebbs and flows. I am at the cafeteria but even then I would jump lines. I would mix creeds and wash it all down with a healthy glass of apprehension. Maybe that means I have no faith in faith, or perhaps I am still struggling with the idea that I have no faith at all.
I don't know. But I do know if there is a line for people like me, I sure hope Chris Farley is behind the glass with a hair net slinging dogma along with a huge helping of comedic relief because everyone needs a good sense of humor to have this conversation.
Goodness, now I'm hungry.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Resigning my family title...
It is an odd sensation when at 25 you are experiencing tinges of jealousy, at having lost the title of 'baby of the family'.
Yes that is right, I said jealousy. I mean, come on, I was the baby in my family for 25 years of my life. Giving up the spotlight is difficult when you've held and ROCKED the title for that long. But alas, my cousin had a baby, and my reign came to a close.
Yes I realize how awful that sounds. However, my selfishness is not the point of this post.
I now, after a recent extended family vacation am happy to report that jubilation beats jealousy every time. This little boy invigorates the older generations in my family in a way that their own children haven't been able to in years. It is an interesting thing when the youngest generation reaches adulthood and how a family's dynamic can change. To see my cousin, only a few years older than me, take on the role of a father. To see my grandfather become a great grandfather. It is strange.
The vacation traditions change but they stay the same. We still golf, we still play card bingo, we still make dinner. The conversations however, have changed from high school basketball games to babies. Salaries instead of summer camp. Home renovations over relationship statuses. Somewhere along the way the 'kids' grew up. It was inevitable. But now, there is a little one running around, and the traditions that I can only pull up from other people's recollections are happening right in front of me. The 'when you were little stories' are now playing out in real time. The horse rides my grandfather gave me as a two year old are reenacted as if I am watching a moving picture. My mother on her hands and knees playing peek-a-boo. The inflections in my grandmother's voice when she asks him a question, rings eerily familiar in my own ears. The silly faces my father makes. The worry my aunt cannot hide when play gets a little rough. All these things have an once removed element of déjà vu.
It is peculiar to observe the grandparents and parents go through the motions of what I can only assume was mine, my sister and my cousins childhoods. It is nostalgic. It is energizing in a way. To see what they must have been like with us. To see what they are like with him. It is the circle of life through the lens of a family. It is pretty extraordinary to see.
I can say, in all honesty, that I am glad to be among the adults in the family. I will find my role in this new group soon enough. But before I do I have to say, because it would be uncharacteristic if I didn't, that every baby will be welcomed into the family knowing full well that they have very big shoes to fill. Size eight and half to be exact.
Yes that is right, I said jealousy. I mean, come on, I was the baby in my family for 25 years of my life. Giving up the spotlight is difficult when you've held and ROCKED the title for that long. But alas, my cousin had a baby, and my reign came to a close.
Yes I realize how awful that sounds. However, my selfishness is not the point of this post.
I now, after a recent extended family vacation am happy to report that jubilation beats jealousy every time. This little boy invigorates the older generations in my family in a way that their own children haven't been able to in years. It is an interesting thing when the youngest generation reaches adulthood and how a family's dynamic can change. To see my cousin, only a few years older than me, take on the role of a father. To see my grandfather become a great grandfather. It is strange.
The vacation traditions change but they stay the same. We still golf, we still play card bingo, we still make dinner. The conversations however, have changed from high school basketball games to babies. Salaries instead of summer camp. Home renovations over relationship statuses. Somewhere along the way the 'kids' grew up. It was inevitable. But now, there is a little one running around, and the traditions that I can only pull up from other people's recollections are happening right in front of me. The 'when you were little stories' are now playing out in real time. The horse rides my grandfather gave me as a two year old are reenacted as if I am watching a moving picture. My mother on her hands and knees playing peek-a-boo. The inflections in my grandmother's voice when she asks him a question, rings eerily familiar in my own ears. The silly faces my father makes. The worry my aunt cannot hide when play gets a little rough. All these things have an once removed element of déjà vu.
It is peculiar to observe the grandparents and parents go through the motions of what I can only assume was mine, my sister and my cousins childhoods. It is nostalgic. It is energizing in a way. To see what they must have been like with us. To see what they are like with him. It is the circle of life through the lens of a family. It is pretty extraordinary to see.
I can say, in all honesty, that I am glad to be among the adults in the family. I will find my role in this new group soon enough. But before I do I have to say, because it would be uncharacteristic if I didn't, that every baby will be welcomed into the family knowing full well that they have very big shoes to fill. Size eight and half to be exact.
Water from the sky...
And I am not talking about rain.
If you live in a city, you have undoubtedly experienced the mystery that is random water falling from the sky.
It isn't at all reminiscent of getting slimed on Double Dare. No, that is just the window washer on the 27th floor who has bad eye-hand coordination. Be careful, the bucket usually follows.
No, I am talking about the fine mist that conjures memories of the first moments of a cool summer shower. However, when examined further there seems to be no point of origin. It also comes and goes as it pleases. It is not consistent. It is almost like a mirage. It is over before you know it and it leaves you wondering if it was real.
Where does this mystery condensation come from? What is it? Is there meaning behind it? Is something from above trying to tell us something?
There is something oddly intriguing about, but when I let my mind wander it goes to a disturbing place.
If anyone has answers, please let me know.
If you live in a city, you have undoubtedly experienced the mystery that is random water falling from the sky.
It isn't at all reminiscent of getting slimed on Double Dare. No, that is just the window washer on the 27th floor who has bad eye-hand coordination. Be careful, the bucket usually follows.
No, I am talking about the fine mist that conjures memories of the first moments of a cool summer shower. However, when examined further there seems to be no point of origin. It also comes and goes as it pleases. It is not consistent. It is almost like a mirage. It is over before you know it and it leaves you wondering if it was real.
Where does this mystery condensation come from? What is it? Is there meaning behind it? Is something from above trying to tell us something?
There is something oddly intriguing about, but when I let my mind wander it goes to a disturbing place.
If anyone has answers, please let me know.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Don't Buy That Shirt...
Here is my belated second entry. Fashion faux pas of the week.
Puka shell necklaces.
What up bro? Where did you get that sweet, double strand puka shell choker bro? Bro? Did you just get back from riding some surf or perhaps just revisiting 1992?
Seriously, I have never understood this fad, except for when I was in the islands, where it isn't a fad. In Hawaii, the wearing of puka shells was traditionally thought to ensure a peaceful and safe voyage, especially for sailors on a long journey, so puka shell necklaces were especially worn by those who had to travel at sea.
Someone should tell that to the 30 something man riding my morning bus. He didn't just have one ring of puka shells around his neck he had three. Count em. One. Two. Three. Each getting closer and closer to pushing the 'few extra pounds' up around his face, like a Shar-Pei whose collar is a few notches too tight. It was disturbing but I couldn't look away. I wondered if they were stuck on. Perhaps the clasps had rusted through to the point of impenetrability. Maybe they are the shackles he wears to remind him of his contrite and miscalculated past. I guess I will never know.
I'd like to believe that the Hawaiian snail shells, in the context of a fratastic 19 year old who has buried his puka within the folds of his popped collars would be better. My intuition, however, screams otherwise.
Puka shell necklaces.
What up bro? Where did you get that sweet, double strand puka shell choker bro? Bro? Did you just get back from riding some surf or perhaps just revisiting 1992?
Seriously, I have never understood this fad, except for when I was in the islands, where it isn't a fad. In Hawaii, the wearing of puka shells was traditionally thought to ensure a peaceful and safe voyage, especially for sailors on a long journey, so puka shell necklaces were especially worn by those who had to travel at sea.
Someone should tell that to the 30 something man riding my morning bus. He didn't just have one ring of puka shells around his neck he had three. Count em. One. Two. Three. Each getting closer and closer to pushing the 'few extra pounds' up around his face, like a Shar-Pei whose collar is a few notches too tight. It was disturbing but I couldn't look away. I wondered if they were stuck on. Perhaps the clasps had rusted through to the point of impenetrability. Maybe they are the shackles he wears to remind him of his contrite and miscalculated past. I guess I will never know.
I'd like to believe that the Hawaiian snail shells, in the context of a fratastic 19 year old who has buried his puka within the folds of his popped collars would be better. My intuition, however, screams otherwise.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
For the love of...
As a former resident of the great state of Minnesota, I have to say what a bunch of babies.
They said how ridiculous we acted when Brett decided to retire from the Pack, then un-retire, then retire, then un-retire, then retire, then un-retire...THEN go play for the Jets, then retire, then un-retire to play for the VIKINGS!!!! Everyone remembers how ridiculous they said we acted, right?
Okay Minnesota, he said he was coming and then he said he wasn't. But then he DID and he played for you and sure while he had a heck of a season, it culminated in an amazingly poor pass decision by the Brett that Packer fans know and for some still love. Had to mention that it puts a smile on my face.
Now he is saying after ankle surgery (poor baby) that he may not come back and EVERYONE in the entire state of Minnesota is crying??? Jimney Crickets...this kind of reaction after only 1 season??? I think Minnesota's reaction should be staggeringly different form the reaction of a state full of fans that cheered him on through thick and through thin for 17 seasons ...wouldn't you agree?
I hope all the criticisms, and reprimands, and taunts and heckles...I hope all of the words those Viking fans are just starting to swallow get stuck in their throats like a HUGE CHUNK OF CHEDDAR CHEESE.
SKOL THIS YOU INFANTS!!!!!!!
They said how ridiculous we acted when Brett decided to retire from the Pack, then un-retire, then retire, then un-retire, then retire, then un-retire...THEN go play for the Jets, then retire, then un-retire to play for the VIKINGS!!!! Everyone remembers how ridiculous they said we acted, right?
Okay Minnesota, he said he was coming and then he said he wasn't. But then he DID and he played for you and sure while he had a heck of a season, it culminated in an amazingly poor pass decision by the Brett that Packer fans know and for some still love. Had to mention that it puts a smile on my face.
Now he is saying after ankle surgery (poor baby) that he may not come back and EVERYONE in the entire state of Minnesota is crying??? Jimney Crickets...this kind of reaction after only 1 season??? I think Minnesota's reaction should be staggeringly different form the reaction of a state full of fans that cheered him on through thick and through thin for 17 seasons ...wouldn't you agree?
I hope all the criticisms, and reprimands, and taunts and heckles...I hope all of the words those Viking fans are just starting to swallow get stuck in their throats like a HUGE CHUNK OF CHEDDAR CHEESE.
SKOL THIS YOU INFANTS!!!!!!!
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