and the world says hello

Two weeks ago I started a post, but forgot about it. Or I was unmotivated and never finished it. Here it is, with follow up.

Unlocking the door to my apartment, I noticed something green in the snow, coming out of the flower beds. There are two inches of future crocuses poking their way into the world. As I looked at them, the crocuses said, "Hey! Soon all the snow will be gone, and we will bloom!" I wonder what color they are going to be.

Two weeks later, the snow is gone, and the calendar says it is spring, and they are purple.

The time went so slowly in the moments, but now that I look back on the excitement of anticipation, I want it back. But not all of it. So much for nostalgia.

snow again

something happened two years ago and i haven't posted since: kenny. it's a wonderful story, but I won't tell it here. i absolutely love being in love, which i am, in a pretty earnest way. i know everyone else has their own wonderful stories, but mine is the most wonderful in the entire history of the world, ever. still.

i'm sitting on my bed in my new fuzzy blue pajamas, wishing my medicine would make me feel better, drinking tea, and hating the snow. i'm tired of it. there's snow on top of snow on top of ice on top of old, dirty snow, and it's snowing again.

so, last year (sometime in 2008), i had an awkward moment when a coworker (from one of the seven jobs i held in 2008) told me a story. [all identifying details have been removed to make this story less interesting.] this coworker (see? you don't even know whether they are Sex: M/F) was relating a funny occurrence that happened another year when they had heard a strange, repetitive noise and couldn't figure out what was going on, so they asked this girl who worked at the workplace before i came what it was, and found out she was causing the noise by being anal about the way she was doing her job. i tried to laugh and say something socially appropriate ("oh! that's really funny!"), but it was a little forced. see, what actually happened was: two weeks before, i was being a perfectionist, trying to do my job to my satisfaction, and my coworker suddenly asked, "what is making that noise?" and i explained how i was trying to get something just right. yeah. it didn't happen a year before. memory fallibility. it can make for some awkward moments. i wondered if my coworker had some inkling that they were telling me a story i was part of, but i couldn't tell. i hope i'm a little more self-aware, but then again, maybe people just aren't telling me when i repeat myself... because it's awkward.

snow

I waited for the bus for twenty minutes in the snow. Fresh snow was falling, so I stepped in it carefully to admire the beautiful footprints of my new tennis shoes. They have little triangles on the bottom. In twenty minutes, I made a lot of footprints.
While the light was red, a car with the window rolled down asked for directions. The guy on the sidewalk (who was not jumping around in the snow) said, “take a right at this street and then turn right on that street.” The light turned green, they went right, and I started laughing inside. The street they just turned onto dead-ends. I wanted to tell the helpful guy, but I didn’t. I wondered what eventually happened to them. When they realized his directions were wrong, did they get upset, or think he was stupid? Did they figure out where to go, or did they have to ask for more directions? It was strange to know something like that about a complete stranger’s future. If I were in the car, the last thing I would think of is a random person at a bus stop knowing I would dead-end in a minute.

hey look! it's the first day of winter (or summer)!

Weeks ago, a girl next to me on the bus was reading what appeared to be a very important article (probably because she needed to finish it before she got off the bus), so I decided to read it with her. I only got to read a few paragraphs, because I was being so discreet (possibly making up for the intrusion of her privacy), and had such limited time, but I made sure to get the keywords so as to find the article again on JSTOR. (JSTOR is marvelous.) I've always been addicted to the written word, but I was definitely hooked on the article as soon as I saw that it was about stereotyping based on skin color.

I wish people wouldn't call these "race" issues. As there is no such thing as "race" in the old sense that divided people by appearance, use of the word perpetuates an illegitimate concept, reinforcing and adding validity to an idea I believe should be obselete in everyone's mental repertory. People choose to divide themselves into groups based on perceived differences in appearance all over the world, and cultures are even shaped around these constructs. But all the differences are made by people; in no way do they result from innate differences. Really, it's all just part of a conspiracy in which some amorphous meta-organism twists the concepts and abstract ideas from which you draw your world by defining and limiting the words you are able to use, thereby controlling your thoughts. What a scary sentence.

Now that my point of view on using appearance to stereotype individuals has been fully heard, a background for understanding my reaction to the article is in place. Also, now that our quota for passive sentences has been reached, we will continue. Thomas Ford did a very specific study on the general topic of Television Stereotypes and Person Perception that dealt only with how people with darker skin (grouped arbitrarily and labelled as black) are stereotyped by people with lighter skin (grouped arbitrarily and labelled as white). Even if I think that these groupings are illegitimate, the fact that a society regularly uses them renders them important, and, of course, worthy of scrutiny. One thing that follows my understanding of this issue is a distaste for limiting the problem of judging others by their appearances to just the United States of America, and actually just between a few of these ill-defined groups. (For me, it's not a black-white issue, just a people issue. For those not aware of a larger world outside the US, these same problems do come up in other places, with different 'colors'.) Despite the fact that Thomas Ford did just that, I found his research to be thought-provoking and probably helpful in understanding the implications to all groups (going far beyond skin color). Everyone with access should read his article ("Effects of Stereotypical Television Portrayals of African-Americans on Person Perception") for the experimental method, data, and explanation, but one semi-summarizing sentence states that "present research demonstrates the possible power of seemingly harmless comical television portrayals of social out-groups in stereotypical roles on the way we think about and respond to individual members of those groups" (p. 271). Basically, making fun of and through stereotypes will put them in people's consciousness and make it more likely they will refer to and make decisions based on them.

After mulling over the article and observing television (aka mentally checking out on the couch), I tend to agree with Thomas Ford. Not only that, I decided to give up Dave Chappelle. I do respect Chappelle's career decisions, resulting from what I conjecture to be a realization that his sketches had that very effect, but just to be safe, I still won't be watching his comedy shows again. Obviously one show is not the cause of the common stereotyping we encounter, and more observation led me to think that most of the portrayals of stereotypes I take in are not trying to promote them at all, but rather the opposite. Then I wondered if any references to the stereotypes might be counterproductive, in a way. If I had never seen or heard about the stereotypes, they would never have been able to influence the way I think. Not only is there a great deal in entertainment culture, but sometimes it seems there is a lot coming from the people who are actively trying to get rid of them. Perhaps there can be a negative priming effect of social activism.

What if everyone decided they wouldn't tell any children about any stereotypes (in addition to eradicating them in entertainment)? Would it be possible for society to leave these stereotypes behind? Could children grow up thinking that people who believe and act based on skin color stereotypes are similar to people who believe the world is flat? I don't think we should ever ignore history; I wish it seemed more historical, utterly confusing that anyone could ever have treated any other person differently because of stereotypes based on their appearance. A lot of US history and even the civil rights movements of my parents' lifetimes are like that to me, but I sometimes feel that the more I hear about them the more aware of skin color differences I become. It's hard enough for me to never mentally refer to stereotypes based on skin color in all my interpersonal interaction because of the fact that there are cultures built around them and references come up so frequently.

Even if the next generations grew up without knowing about certain stereotypes, it wouldn't solve the problem that people still tend to segregate themselves by appearance. Part of me thinks eradicating stereotypes is impossible. After all, people are constantly dividing themselves into groups, and it becomes part of making and projecting an identity. This article could be applied to any and all stereotypes, whether hurtful or just misleading, like those about math majors (Ford's example). Trying to fix all the world's stereotyping problems on this level is obviously pointless. But wouldn't it be helpful to at least get rid of the idea that people look different and therefore are different? To start out, I have just eliminated the use of the "r" word. Hopefully that's a step in the right direction...

I'd really like to hear what people think who disagree at any point, and I'd like to know why. I haven't had very much chance to bounce all my ideas off other's ideas, so I know I might be overlooking something vital.

oops

I almost ran out of gas in Middle-of-Nowhere, IL, while heading back to school from my parent's house. I know that when my temperamental harpmobile gets below an eighth of a tank, it really only has about a gallon left (not an eighth of a tank), so after I heard the beep, I made a passing mental note that I probably ought to get gas sometime soon. But I forgot about it for ten miles, and then suddenly noticed that I was below a "sixteenth" of a tank. Not only that, but I could see the needle moving in its downward journey.
I couldn't believe how stupid it was - I would never let myself mentally live down running out of gas. I mean, my car even tells me if it needs more fuel, so it's not like I just forgot to check one time I got in the car. I know that I need to find fuel immediately after it beeps.
I started scanning for a nearby gas station, or any other road with a gas station within a mile or two, or heck, even just an exit somewhere, but I was too close to Middle-of-Nowhere. There was nothing. In view of the probably several more miles to be traveled until the situation could be resolved, I took every fuel-efficiency measure possible, and tried to keep my nervousness from climbing exponentially as the fuel gage fell. Watching it gracefully descend was very unnerving. I felt the relentlessness of an impending doom, and it made me uncomfortable.
Five minutes later, I saw a sign for a gas station at an exit still several miles away. As my van is rather fuel inefficient, after fifteen miles or so, my gallon was almost gone. I had been calculating and recalculating as each mile passed without any hope, and desperately trying to remember exactly how long ago it beeped. I really didn't know if I would make it, but I decided to go for it. (Well, what else would I do?) As the exit came into sight, the needle finally hit the Empty line. By the time I was pulling off the exit, it was almost at the bottom of the line. (See? I told you I could see it moving.) But fortunately, the gas station was right off the highway, and I made it in, no sputtering.
I don't know exactly how close I came to running out, but I do know that I put over eighteen gallons into a "seventeen" gallon tank. Obviously 'they' were wrong...
Fortunately, I did not run out of gas, and so I didn't have to feel stupid, and no one ever found out that I had almost run out of gas in Middle-of-Nowhere (cuz that would have made me feel equally stupid).