I will never even begin to understand the human instinct.
Why do we do some things, even when we know the outcome may possibly be less than desirable?
As many of you may know (and if you don't, do you even read my blogs?), I work in a restaurant in The Great Little Big City. And I have to say, my sampling of the human race that serves as our restaurant patrons do not give me much hope.
I've had people ask stupid questions, say stupid things, and order things like "hush puppies" and "onion rings" (we have neither).
But there is one thing I have noticed without fail.
However, let me preface this next bit with a little background info (as always).
We have recently installed new glo-rays at work. This now means that our plates, which are normally pretty hot, are now unbearably hot, within just a matter of minutes. I mean, it's almost impossible to leave a plate there for even the amount of time it takes to assemble it and then be able to pick it up again. The glo-rays are good for food temps, bad for fingertips.
Which brings me to my observation.
As I deliver these said piping-hot plates to picky patrons, I always say, "These plates are very, very hot. Do NOT touch them. In fact, it would be in your best interest to just merely eat the food right off the plate, right where it is, unless you want your flesh to melt together in a most horrific way." (Okay, that last part was an embellishment, but that is exactly how hot these plates can get.)
You would think this would be an ample warning.
Oh, no.
People take plates from me, grab them out of my hands, and then utter some curse and proceed to drop it on the table. Oh, golly gee, I wish I would have TOLD you the plate was hot, you fucktard.
Or another reaction, one of my favorites, is when you set the plate down and people automatically feel the need to look to see if you're looking and then grab the plate. I'm sorry, did you think this was a test of strength? I will win, believe me you. Or they give it a quick quarter-turn one way, then another quarter-turn back. What the hell was that? Does that make it taste better? Do you want to shift the food around a bit? Or is it just that necessary that you touch your plate to see if it is hot, then you want everything to think that you had reason to touch it. As you turn your plate, others that so patiently waited and tried to avoid first-degree burns will turn to one another, nod and say, "Oh, yes. He had to turn his plate. It was absolutely essential that he touched his plate."
There are variations of this example of the human instinct.
For example, when you get a taste of something really gross, and you spit out the offending material and then lean to the person next to you and suggest that they take a taste as well.
Or when you smell something really horrible and then try your hardest to contain that smell so that someone else can smell it and back you up on the fact that yes, it does indeed, smell.
But you know what? I'm guilty of it, too. I make the wrong decisions, too, a LOT, and it always seems like I end up getting burned.
Anyway. That's all. Just something I was thinking about.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
scraped knees and bruised hearts
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Current mood: contemplative
When you are a child, you think you are invincible. You run around, all willy-nilly, not concerned about bumping your head or falling down and skinning your knees.
But it is inevitable that you will do so. You get hurt, and you begin to cry.
As an adult, I have dealt with children many times - babysitting, church, taking care of friends' children. People always tell you when a kid falls down and hurts themselves, never let them see your initial reaction. Act like everything is okay. Speak in a sweet, soothing voice, and almost practically ignore the fact that they are hurt because if you get upset, they will, too.
But what do you do when the person that is hurting is a grown-up?
There are so many different ways of dealing with pain and loss. We all react in different ways. One of the hardest things to comprehend is how to respond when someone you are very close to is hurting.
One of my very, very dear friends has experienced that kind of loss twice in the past two weeks. Most recently, he lost his roommate and one of his best friends in a devastating car accident this past week, before that it was his grandfather.
When I first found out, I couldn't believe it. It doesn't seem fair that someone should ever have to go through someone like this, but this time it felt particularly unjust. I felt transported back to last fall when Ben was taken away from me in a car accident, leaving his fiance and another one of my good friends in poor physical condition.
I wanted to reach out to him, and I called him, just so that he would know he is on my mind. But then I was faced, once again, with a dilemma.
How do you reach out to someone who is hurting? Do you take them in your arms, like that little child, comfort them with soft words and do your best to take their mind away from what has just transpired?
Or do you sit down with them, let them talk, acknowledged that it all happened, and just commiserate that this really, really sucks?
We aren't children anymore, but it's times like these that I miss that innocence.
My thoughts are with you, good friend. We're here for whatever you want...whether you want to talk or you just want a friend, we are all here, and we love you very much.
No matter what you decide that makes you feel better, there's one thing that remains.
You're not alone.
Current mood: contemplative
When you are a child, you think you are invincible. You run around, all willy-nilly, not concerned about bumping your head or falling down and skinning your knees.
But it is inevitable that you will do so. You get hurt, and you begin to cry.
As an adult, I have dealt with children many times - babysitting, church, taking care of friends' children. People always tell you when a kid falls down and hurts themselves, never let them see your initial reaction. Act like everything is okay. Speak in a sweet, soothing voice, and almost practically ignore the fact that they are hurt because if you get upset, they will, too.
But what do you do when the person that is hurting is a grown-up?
There are so many different ways of dealing with pain and loss. We all react in different ways. One of the hardest things to comprehend is how to respond when someone you are very close to is hurting.
One of my very, very dear friends has experienced that kind of loss twice in the past two weeks. Most recently, he lost his roommate and one of his best friends in a devastating car accident this past week, before that it was his grandfather.
When I first found out, I couldn't believe it. It doesn't seem fair that someone should ever have to go through someone like this, but this time it felt particularly unjust. I felt transported back to last fall when Ben was taken away from me in a car accident, leaving his fiance and another one of my good friends in poor physical condition.
I wanted to reach out to him, and I called him, just so that he would know he is on my mind. But then I was faced, once again, with a dilemma.
How do you reach out to someone who is hurting? Do you take them in your arms, like that little child, comfort them with soft words and do your best to take their mind away from what has just transpired?
Or do you sit down with them, let them talk, acknowledged that it all happened, and just commiserate that this really, really sucks?
We aren't children anymore, but it's times like these that I miss that innocence.
My thoughts are with you, good friend. We're here for whatever you want...whether you want to talk or you just want a friend, we are all here, and we love you very much.
No matter what you decide that makes you feel better, there's one thing that remains.
You're not alone.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
livin' time and the summer is easy :)
I just wanted to thank everyone that has kept me in their thoughts as I have been waiting patiently to hear back about my internship. Almost two weeks ago, I interviewed at The Magazine in The City for an internship that I have been wanting since I was a senior in high school. My entire college career has been working up to this, really.
I started to get a little discouraged, especially when I found out that they were interviewing 10 and only hiring 2.
However, Friday afternoon I received a phone call from KB with The Magazine informing that they would like to offer me a position....!
I'm so so excited, and I really can't wait to start. But I'd be lying if I were to say that I'm not scared at all about moving to Birmingham or actually doing the work I will be doing or leaving my friends and family at RL in The Great Little Big City.
I'm scared as hell.
But.
That's one of the best parts, the being scared. It leads way to more excitement and the feeling that I'm taking a huge step towards what I would ultimately like to do.Thanks again to everyone for hoping, praying, thinking, wishing, believing, and wanting this for me just as badly as I did. I love you!
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
you're so fucking money, and you don't even know it
Have you ever felt like you were playing a game with all the wrong rules? Or worse, everyone else is using a different set of rules from you?
That's how I feel sometimes, especially when it comes to life.
To illustrate my point, I'll use an example from recent weeks. I met someone, he got my number, and then he said, "I'll call you tomorrow....nah, I won't call you tomorrow. It'll actually be more like sometime next week."
At first I was a little put off by it, but I soon grew to realize that his honesty made me feel way better than when someone says, "I'll call you," and they never follow through.
This is a touchy subject, I think. I'm reminded of the great scene in Swingers in which Mike gets a number, and then he asks his buddies how long he should wait to call.
Two days, they respond, is industry standard. But then again...three days is really kinda money. When he asks them how long they will wait before they call their beautiful babies, their answers are most unexpected:
"Six days."
Now, I must take a slight time out to be brutally honest here. I will be the first to say that games are wrong, men and women should be honest with one another, let's cut the bullshit and get to the heart of the matter, right?
But.
That being said, I actually like a little mystery. If I like someone, chances are I won't like them nearly as much if they call me right away. I gave my number to someone one time, and he called me not a few hours later. Needless to say, I deleted him right away. I enjoy thinking, "Is he going to call, is he not going to call, did he like me..." et cetera, et cetera.
Is that so wrong?
I'm afraid that my attitude sets women back instead catapulting us forward. But I can't help it; that's how I'm programmed. There is such thing, however, as too much. Six days in my eyes in entirely inappropriate. Who sets the standard? If you get the number on the weekend, do you wait until the next weekend? Is it okay to call the next day if you really, really thought there were sparks?
While we are on the subject of phone etiquette, I've had a few other musings as well. There is an episode of "Sex and the City" in which Carrie gives her number to a man and starts to get worried when several days pass by without him calling. She asks her friends what they think. One man talks about how he met a girl and really liked her, so he didn't call her for about four days. The woman, pissed, says that she waited to call him back for three days, and so it went. My question is, once the lines of communication are opened, what is acceptable?
I've always had the fear of calling too much or too often. But then there have been other times where I've honestly wanted to say fuck it, I have something to say, I want to talk to this person, I'm calling. But I never really know if I'm helping or hurting my case.
For example.
I went out with a guy two summers ago. We had dinner, watched TV; a fun time was had. The next day, I waited for him to call me. He didn't. So I waited again. Still didn't call. Beginning to get frustrated, I actually called him. We talked; things were fine. I think we spoke a few other times but never went out again.
What went wrong?
Many months later, we were chatting. Determined to get to the bottom of this, I brought it up. He said simply, "I thought you didn't like me when you didn't call. I figured when you wanted to see me, you'd let me know."
Damn it. I tried to explain my whole system of not calling when you want to call, and trying not to feel like you're overdoing it, and the complicated rules of the phone call, but he just looked really confused. This threw me off. It was one of the first times (but not the first, just one of the best examples) that I realized we were all playing by different rules.
So I guess the only hard and fast rule is that there are no rules. Everyone is different. Not all women like a little mystery, and not all men are going to call once they get the digits.
But one thing does remain.
If you like someone, there is still that little tingle during the number exchange, and the wondering, "Does he like me? Is he going call?" and "Did she like me? How long should I wait to call?"
At least, that's true for me.
And PS. He did call me...not the next day, or the next day, or even the next day. But he did call.
That's how I feel sometimes, especially when it comes to life.
To illustrate my point, I'll use an example from recent weeks. I met someone, he got my number, and then he said, "I'll call you tomorrow....nah, I won't call you tomorrow. It'll actually be more like sometime next week."
At first I was a little put off by it, but I soon grew to realize that his honesty made me feel way better than when someone says, "I'll call you," and they never follow through.
This is a touchy subject, I think. I'm reminded of the great scene in Swingers in which Mike gets a number, and then he asks his buddies how long he should wait to call.
Two days, they respond, is industry standard. But then again...three days is really kinda money. When he asks them how long they will wait before they call their beautiful babies, their answers are most unexpected:
"Six days."
Now, I must take a slight time out to be brutally honest here. I will be the first to say that games are wrong, men and women should be honest with one another, let's cut the bullshit and get to the heart of the matter, right?
But.
That being said, I actually like a little mystery. If I like someone, chances are I won't like them nearly as much if they call me right away. I gave my number to someone one time, and he called me not a few hours later. Needless to say, I deleted him right away. I enjoy thinking, "Is he going to call, is he not going to call, did he like me..." et cetera, et cetera.
Is that so wrong?
I'm afraid that my attitude sets women back instead catapulting us forward. But I can't help it; that's how I'm programmed. There is such thing, however, as too much. Six days in my eyes in entirely inappropriate. Who sets the standard? If you get the number on the weekend, do you wait until the next weekend? Is it okay to call the next day if you really, really thought there were sparks?
While we are on the subject of phone etiquette, I've had a few other musings as well. There is an episode of "Sex and the City" in which Carrie gives her number to a man and starts to get worried when several days pass by without him calling. She asks her friends what they think. One man talks about how he met a girl and really liked her, so he didn't call her for about four days. The woman, pissed, says that she waited to call him back for three days, and so it went. My question is, once the lines of communication are opened, what is acceptable?
I've always had the fear of calling too much or too often. But then there have been other times where I've honestly wanted to say fuck it, I have something to say, I want to talk to this person, I'm calling. But I never really know if I'm helping or hurting my case.
For example.
I went out with a guy two summers ago. We had dinner, watched TV; a fun time was had. The next day, I waited for him to call me. He didn't. So I waited again. Still didn't call. Beginning to get frustrated, I actually called him. We talked; things were fine. I think we spoke a few other times but never went out again.
What went wrong?
Many months later, we were chatting. Determined to get to the bottom of this, I brought it up. He said simply, "I thought you didn't like me when you didn't call. I figured when you wanted to see me, you'd let me know."
Damn it. I tried to explain my whole system of not calling when you want to call, and trying not to feel like you're overdoing it, and the complicated rules of the phone call, but he just looked really confused. This threw me off. It was one of the first times (but not the first, just one of the best examples) that I realized we were all playing by different rules.
So I guess the only hard and fast rule is that there are no rules. Everyone is different. Not all women like a little mystery, and not all men are going to call once they get the digits.
But one thing does remain.
If you like someone, there is still that little tingle during the number exchange, and the wondering, "Does he like me? Is he going call?" and "Did she like me? How long should I wait to call?"
At least, that's true for me.
And PS. He did call me...not the next day, or the next day, or even the next day. But he did call.
Monday, April 16, 2007
like dust in the wind
Ok, so I know embarrassment.
I have fallen in public, many many times, notably this past weekend in a very humiliating fashion. I have done a lot of stupid stuff.
But the point is, you never get used to it, and every time something like that happens, I still can't help but feel like an idiot.
Case and point.
I'm at the library right now, the only place I can really rely on for internet, trying to work a project.
As I was walking down the steps this evening, a strong gust of wind blew past me, through my hair, through the leaves, and lastly, through the stack of papers that were tossed all willy-nilly into my shoulder bag.
That's right. All my papers were tossed about, including my previous tests from advanced grammar which I'm using to study for finals. I had no choice but to go after them.
So, as all of the students in the downstairs lobby watched on, I chased my belongings across the front grassy area on the library, trying to coax my papers back to me.
I tried my best to hold my head up high as I walked through the double doors.
Eh, screw it.
I have fallen in public, many many times, notably this past weekend in a very humiliating fashion. I have done a lot of stupid stuff.
But the point is, you never get used to it, and every time something like that happens, I still can't help but feel like an idiot.
Case and point.
I'm at the library right now, the only place I can really rely on for internet, trying to work a project.
As I was walking down the steps this evening, a strong gust of wind blew past me, through my hair, through the leaves, and lastly, through the stack of papers that were tossed all willy-nilly into my shoulder bag.
That's right. All my papers were tossed about, including my previous tests from advanced grammar which I'm using to study for finals. I had no choice but to go after them.
So, as all of the students in the downstairs lobby watched on, I chased my belongings across the front grassy area on the library, trying to coax my papers back to me.
I tried my best to hold my head up high as I walked through the double doors.
Eh, screw it.
Monday, February 19, 2007
second place is the first loser
***This blog is only about me and how I'm feeling, and it is in no way directed to anyone else, and it is not me telling someone how they should be or feel. That is all, thank you.***
I have this theory about second best. I was having a conversation with a friend of mine one time when they said that they were not sure whether or not they wanted to continue dating someone because they felt as if they were not said person's first choice.
I had to stop them right there to say that I feel as if everyone is always someone's second best.
It sounds like an eccentric theory, but I honestly and truly feel as if it is just so.
There are times in our lives when we realized that there is always going to be someone out there who is prettier than you, funnier than you, smarter than you, overall better than you. It doesn't matter what you do, there will always be one person to whom you do not measure up.
Who puts us in second place? Is it that other person that reminds you that they are everything that you are not? I think sometimes I do it to myself. I have these preconceived notions about myself, and I know that I don't stand a chance in some category, and I essentially doom myself at whatever it is that I am concerned with at the moment. I fail before I even begin.
As someone who always feels second best, I strongly believe in my theory.
You won't always get your first choice. I feel as if I may safely say that more than 50 or even 75 percent of the time, you won't get your first choice. You may not even get your second or third. But whatever it is, or rather whoever it is that may happen to be your second choice will always be just that - runner-up.
When it comes to people that you are dealing with, it's tricky. I am very prideful. If there is something I want that is theoretically my "first choice," and I realize that it is not mutual, I don't care what happens, I don't want it anymore. I don't want to be anyone's second fiddle, no matter where it is concerned.
But I have to grow up and realize that it won't always go my way.
That's why I think I automatically put myself in second place. I was going over some past situations in my life during which I thought I was compromising, but it was okay because I was still satisfying myself. But then upon a second glance, I realized that I was the one being compromised, I wasn't first choice or first picked, and then I felt like damn, what the hell was I thinking? (This is hard to explain, but at least I know what I'm talking about, that's all that really matters.)
This past week was Valentines. I've had a Valentine once, in fourth grade, and it was my very best friend to this day. (I love you, Matt, probably more than life itself.) And I've never had one since. I'm okay with that. I think about all the sad time I spent in the past years feeling like I needed someone, more so on that day and time of year than any other. I tried to settle, tried to pretend like it was okay that I was someone's next to the best choice.
But that's not what I want. I want to be first picked. I want to be first place. I don't want to be second best.
Lately, that's just how I feel. Runner-up. Second place. Honorable mention.
What am I trying to say? I don't know. Sometimes there is that strong me, that is fine, cool calm and collected, and there in a pinch.
Then there is the me that struggles to hold it all together, when things are crashing down around me and I can't come up for air. I'm human, just like everyone else, and I can't help but feel alone sometimes. Not just alone, but...empty. Like I come up short, insufficient, inadequate. (I'm a lover of the language, so I'm sure I could go on for days, but you get the point.)
So here I am, awake but not un-tired (I'm plenty exhausted), tossing and turning with different thougts plaguing my mind, rendering me unable to sleep and trying to cope with this empty, bitter, hollow feeling in my chest.
Sometimes I think, what is wrong with me? Then I feel myself answer, what isn't wrong with me. That's no way to feel, but it happens, and it happens to the best of us. I have a lot that I do feel like I'm proud of. But all too often, I feel as though the things that I am pleased with are far outweighed by the things that make me feel the way that I do now.
It all goes back to feeling in second place. No matter how glad you are to be as high up as you are, there is always going to be someone on that next step up. Someone that will always win out. What can you do?
I don't know. If I did, I'd probably be asleep and happy.
***I didn't intend for this to be my invitation to my pity party. I'm not trying to use this to fish for any sort of compliments or sympathy or anything, it's just me expressing how I feel and imparting my theory out to the masses.
I have this theory about second best. I was having a conversation with a friend of mine one time when they said that they were not sure whether or not they wanted to continue dating someone because they felt as if they were not said person's first choice.
I had to stop them right there to say that I feel as if everyone is always someone's second best.
It sounds like an eccentric theory, but I honestly and truly feel as if it is just so.
There are times in our lives when we realized that there is always going to be someone out there who is prettier than you, funnier than you, smarter than you, overall better than you. It doesn't matter what you do, there will always be one person to whom you do not measure up.
Who puts us in second place? Is it that other person that reminds you that they are everything that you are not? I think sometimes I do it to myself. I have these preconceived notions about myself, and I know that I don't stand a chance in some category, and I essentially doom myself at whatever it is that I am concerned with at the moment. I fail before I even begin.
As someone who always feels second best, I strongly believe in my theory.
You won't always get your first choice. I feel as if I may safely say that more than 50 or even 75 percent of the time, you won't get your first choice. You may not even get your second or third. But whatever it is, or rather whoever it is that may happen to be your second choice will always be just that - runner-up.
When it comes to people that you are dealing with, it's tricky. I am very prideful. If there is something I want that is theoretically my "first choice," and I realize that it is not mutual, I don't care what happens, I don't want it anymore. I don't want to be anyone's second fiddle, no matter where it is concerned.
But I have to grow up and realize that it won't always go my way.
That's why I think I automatically put myself in second place. I was going over some past situations in my life during which I thought I was compromising, but it was okay because I was still satisfying myself. But then upon a second glance, I realized that I was the one being compromised, I wasn't first choice or first picked, and then I felt like damn, what the hell was I thinking? (This is hard to explain, but at least I know what I'm talking about, that's all that really matters.)
This past week was Valentines. I've had a Valentine once, in fourth grade, and it was my very best friend to this day. (I love you, Matt, probably more than life itself.) And I've never had one since. I'm okay with that. I think about all the sad time I spent in the past years feeling like I needed someone, more so on that day and time of year than any other. I tried to settle, tried to pretend like it was okay that I was someone's next to the best choice.
But that's not what I want. I want to be first picked. I want to be first place. I don't want to be second best.
Lately, that's just how I feel. Runner-up. Second place. Honorable mention.
What am I trying to say? I don't know. Sometimes there is that strong me, that is fine, cool calm and collected, and there in a pinch.
Then there is the me that struggles to hold it all together, when things are crashing down around me and I can't come up for air. I'm human, just like everyone else, and I can't help but feel alone sometimes. Not just alone, but...empty. Like I come up short, insufficient, inadequate. (I'm a lover of the language, so I'm sure I could go on for days, but you get the point.)
So here I am, awake but not un-tired (I'm plenty exhausted), tossing and turning with different thougts plaguing my mind, rendering me unable to sleep and trying to cope with this empty, bitter, hollow feeling in my chest.
Sometimes I think, what is wrong with me? Then I feel myself answer, what isn't wrong with me. That's no way to feel, but it happens, and it happens to the best of us. I have a lot that I do feel like I'm proud of. But all too often, I feel as though the things that I am pleased with are far outweighed by the things that make me feel the way that I do now.
It all goes back to feeling in second place. No matter how glad you are to be as high up as you are, there is always going to be someone on that next step up. Someone that will always win out. What can you do?
I don't know. If I did, I'd probably be asleep and happy.
***I didn't intend for this to be my invitation to my pity party. I'm not trying to use this to fish for any sort of compliments or sympathy or anything, it's just me expressing how I feel and imparting my theory out to the masses.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
don't play, quit actin' celly
I published this article in the Chanticleer, along with my Seussical article. It was originally several thoughts that were supposed to be a blog, but instead I made it into an opinion piece for the paper.
Now hear this...
As someone who uses her cell phone every day, even instead of a house phone, I understand and appreciate the value and importance of a mobile phone. I know that there are some people out there who say that they hate them or wish they'd never gotten theirs, but not me. I love mine; I never leave home without it, and I feel terribly disconnected if I don't have it on me at all times. It is my communication tool, my camera and my watch.
However, I must to stop right here and say that there are certain rules that go along with possessing a cellular phone. Recently I have found myself in several situations in which I want to turn around, rip said miracle invention from a person's ear and smash it on the ground into a million little pieces.
Some places are sacred when it comes to using a cell phone. I happen to think that the library is still one of those places, right up there next to churches and hospitals. (Probably church is first purely because of the God thing.) It still amazes me that people think that their conversation is so contained just because no one can hear the voice on the other end of the line. It's all whispered words and silent glances in the hospitals until someone pulls out their cell phone. "Yep, it's cancer….no, can-cer….yeah, he's gonna die. What? No, I said CANCER. Cancer."
I was simply standing in the library, using the free access to the internet to check my Facebook and MySpace accounts since the cable had yet to be connected at my own dwelling. All was well until the girl behind me started yakking. Apparently her stomach was hurting "real bad," and she wasn't sure if she wanted to go to her history class. She continued on with her conversation at about three decibels above what is even considered normal for an average, everyday inside-voice. And this went on for a while. I mean, a looooong while.
By the time she was finished, I knew that she was debating about whether or not to go to history (because she already knew a lot of that "stuff" - "I mean, it's like, common sense stuff, right?") and that she had eaten some sort of food item that made her stomach go "grrrrrrr." It was all I could do to keep from pulling some sort of antacid tablet out to give to her.
Another time that I felt accurately informed on a state of affairs that probably was none of my business occurred at our local Jacksonville Wal-Mart Supercenter, and the subject matter was little bit more serious. As I stood in line with my 10 items or less, the woman behind me seemed to be either consoling or notifying her phone friend. I picked up on the conversation at this time:
"I mean, it's just so sad, you know? One minute, it's like their mom and stuff, and then the next minute, she's dead. How do you like, recover from that? I mean, she's dead. Dead. Deeeeeeaaaaaaaddddddd."
Okay, maybe the last word was a bit exaggerated. But said woman was dead as a doornail from what I gathered. And it was sad; I also gathered that as well. But it went on, and on, and on. I honestly felt as if she was waiting for me to turn around and ask more about the details or inquire as to what address I could send flowers to, she was so loud. I didn't sign up for this - I just wanted to pay for my Cosmo and my Snickers bar and go home.
But no. As I left, I was then burdened with this dead woman and her three little kids that had to face the fact that "their momma is never, ever comin' home." Thank you, ma'm.
The worst of all the mobile phone devices would quite possibly have to be the Blue Tooth device. I don't know much about it, and I don't have one. But the most startling thing is to be standing next to someone in the grocery store, trying to select a delicious bunch of bananas, when they burst out with, "HEY! What you doin'?" I either think that the person has a spasmodic speech disorder or they are talking to themselves. I'm sure this device comes in handy in the car or around the house, but please limit the use of such implements when traveling out in public. It's just plain weird.
I'm not asking people to discontinue their cell phone use. It's so much more than that. I'm just politely suggesting that mobile phone users exercise a little public awareness and employ a bit of cell phone etiquette. That's all.
Now hear this...
As someone who uses her cell phone every day, even instead of a house phone, I understand and appreciate the value and importance of a mobile phone. I know that there are some people out there who say that they hate them or wish they'd never gotten theirs, but not me. I love mine; I never leave home without it, and I feel terribly disconnected if I don't have it on me at all times. It is my communication tool, my camera and my watch.
However, I must to stop right here and say that there are certain rules that go along with possessing a cellular phone. Recently I have found myself in several situations in which I want to turn around, rip said miracle invention from a person's ear and smash it on the ground into a million little pieces.
Some places are sacred when it comes to using a cell phone. I happen to think that the library is still one of those places, right up there next to churches and hospitals. (Probably church is first purely because of the God thing.) It still amazes me that people think that their conversation is so contained just because no one can hear the voice on the other end of the line. It's all whispered words and silent glances in the hospitals until someone pulls out their cell phone. "Yep, it's cancer….no, can-cer….yeah, he's gonna die. What? No, I said CANCER. Cancer."
I was simply standing in the library, using the free access to the internet to check my Facebook and MySpace accounts since the cable had yet to be connected at my own dwelling. All was well until the girl behind me started yakking. Apparently her stomach was hurting "real bad," and she wasn't sure if she wanted to go to her history class. She continued on with her conversation at about three decibels above what is even considered normal for an average, everyday inside-voice. And this went on for a while. I mean, a looooong while.
By the time she was finished, I knew that she was debating about whether or not to go to history (because she already knew a lot of that "stuff" - "I mean, it's like, common sense stuff, right?") and that she had eaten some sort of food item that made her stomach go "grrrrrrr." It was all I could do to keep from pulling some sort of antacid tablet out to give to her.
Another time that I felt accurately informed on a state of affairs that probably was none of my business occurred at our local Jacksonville Wal-Mart Supercenter, and the subject matter was little bit more serious. As I stood in line with my 10 items or less, the woman behind me seemed to be either consoling or notifying her phone friend. I picked up on the conversation at this time:
"I mean, it's just so sad, you know? One minute, it's like their mom and stuff, and then the next minute, she's dead. How do you like, recover from that? I mean, she's dead. Dead. Deeeeeeaaaaaaaddddddd."
Okay, maybe the last word was a bit exaggerated. But said woman was dead as a doornail from what I gathered. And it was sad; I also gathered that as well. But it went on, and on, and on. I honestly felt as if she was waiting for me to turn around and ask more about the details or inquire as to what address I could send flowers to, she was so loud. I didn't sign up for this - I just wanted to pay for my Cosmo and my Snickers bar and go home.
But no. As I left, I was then burdened with this dead woman and her three little kids that had to face the fact that "their momma is never, ever comin' home." Thank you, ma'm.
The worst of all the mobile phone devices would quite possibly have to be the Blue Tooth device. I don't know much about it, and I don't have one. But the most startling thing is to be standing next to someone in the grocery store, trying to select a delicious bunch of bananas, when they burst out with, "HEY! What you doin'?" I either think that the person has a spasmodic speech disorder or they are talking to themselves. I'm sure this device comes in handy in the car or around the house, but please limit the use of such implements when traveling out in public. It's just plain weird.
I'm not asking people to discontinue their cell phone use. It's so much more than that. I'm just politely suggesting that mobile phone users exercise a little public awareness and employ a bit of cell phone etiquette. That's all.
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