This is from In the Woods, which I've finally gotten around to reading (hi, Meg! Thanks for sending). I think it's funny (tragic?), because this novel takes place in Ireland. But I'm glad (frightened?) to know it's a world thing, and not just an American thing. The following is a conversation between two cops.
"I was thinking of the people who make religion out of something completely different. Like money -- actually, that's the nearest thing the government has to an ideology, and I'm not talking about bribes. Nowadays it's not just unfortunate if you have a low-paid job, have you noticed? It's actually irresponsible: you're not a good member of society, you're being very, very naughty not to have a big house and a fancy car."
"But if anyone asks for a raise, they're being very, very naughty to threaten their employer's profit margin, after everything he's done for the economy."
"Exactly. If you're not rich, you're a lesser being who shouldn't have the gall to expect a living wage from the decent people who are."
"The other big religion these days is bodies. All those patronizing ads and news reports about smoking and drinking and fitness. But those reports and stuff aren't just saying things are unhealthy -- they're saying they're morally wrong. Like you're somehow a better person, spiritually, if you have the right body-fat percentage and exercise for an hour a day -- and there's an awful condescending set of ads where smoking isn't just a stupid thing to do, it's literally the devil. People need a moral code, to help them make decisions. All this bio-yogurt virtue and financial self-righteousness are just filling the gap in the market. But the problem is that it's all backwards. It's not that you do the right thing and hope it pays off; the morally right thing is by definition the thing that gives the biggest payoff."
Amen, kids...
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Save the Bar Car!
I heard this morning on NPR that MetroNorth (the train line that connects Grand Central Terminal in New York to the Connecticut pipeline of financiers' homes) did not budget enough money for bar cars. According to the report, there aren't enough seats for the amount of people who board the train so they're going to discontinue the barcar and add another coach. However, riders can still buy beverages and snacks on the platform at GCT and bring them onboard. To which I say: Sigh.
Do you ever get the feeling that we've become a society that lacks culture and refinement? That we have reduced everything down to its barest necessity? Afterall, what is a train for? To transport people. Ergo, why do you need a bar car? Answer: Um, we don't? Get rid of the bar car. Its like we don't understand the human need for an experience. For connection. We have to be on the train to get from point A to point B. Why can't we have something to make that experience -- that forty-five minutes to an hour and a half of our lives, five days a week, twice a day -- nice? Or at the very least, nicer. We've become a society that shuttles people from place to place with no thought to comfort, convenience, or (yes) culture. Take for instance, our airline industry.
While most of you might not know the MTA or, more specifically, MetroNorth, majority of you do know about flying. It's kinda a hell right now, isn't it? Volcano ash aside (I currently have three family members stranded in Ireland), it's not the nicest of experiences to begin with. I have noted in this blog numerous times the mental angst and anguish I've endured with the airline industry, and it only seems to be getting worse. One place is now charging for carry-ons and another wants to charge to use the latrine! And that's only after you get through TSA where you've stripped off most of your clothes and exposed all your toiletries to the world. No secrets here. There was a time when people would have found all this humiliating. Of course, those people were used to a little comfort and luxury, too. Things we've given up in the name of cheap travel and national security.
I used to travel MetroNorth. I went from New Haven, Connecticut to New York, New York and back, every Monday through Friday for four months. And then, I would take it random weekends and every holiday for five years. It's not a pretty train to begin with. It is sparse to say the least and was usually cleaned with some ammonia smelling strigent that always made me slightly sick. (And god help you if you sat near the latrine.) The bar car was basically one car with a bartender who served you nipper sized drinks with cans of Coke or Sprite and a basket of personal sized Lays products. Luxurious? Not exactly. But it was the community that actually sprung up in the bar car. The Wall Streeters and Madison Ave execs on their way home, chatting about something that happened that day. I enjoyed the bar car. It was a loose atmosphere where no one scowled at you if the train lurched and you got thrown into them. While the coach cars were filled with people reading the New York Times or the last Grisham, plugged firmly into their iPods, the bar car actually promoted conversation. Even someone like me, who definitely is not a chit-chatter, enjoyed the jovial atmosphere there than the tense "don't look at me" experience one had anywhere else on the train. On the other hand, I've also been one of those people on the train who didn't get there early enough to get a seat and had to stand for an hour while we were shuttled out of the city like cattle. Inconvenient? Yes. Irritating? Could be.
What's the answer? I don't have a clue. Sometimes I do think the planned community movement has something to it. With more and more people moving all over the country, living in one state while working in another, we are destroying something. Not just the ozone layer either. We're destroying communion, conversation, and community. And by doing that, we're destroying culture. There's nothing to agree upon any longer except to say that none of us are happy, and none of us really know why. We feel disconnected. We feel unheard. We feel impotent. All anyone has to do is read a comment section on any public web site forum and you can see that. The thing about the barcar is that it's there for the people who want to talk and mingle. Exchange ideas. Its there for those extroverts out there who like meeting new people. And even for the introverts who occassionally want to enjoy a glass of wine. Leave a space for socializing. The more we force people into seats and away from each other, the more singular we will become. And that's not very nice at all.
Do you ever get the feeling that we've become a society that lacks culture and refinement? That we have reduced everything down to its barest necessity? Afterall, what is a train for? To transport people. Ergo, why do you need a bar car? Answer: Um, we don't? Get rid of the bar car. Its like we don't understand the human need for an experience. For connection. We have to be on the train to get from point A to point B. Why can't we have something to make that experience -- that forty-five minutes to an hour and a half of our lives, five days a week, twice a day -- nice? Or at the very least, nicer. We've become a society that shuttles people from place to place with no thought to comfort, convenience, or (yes) culture. Take for instance, our airline industry.
While most of you might not know the MTA or, more specifically, MetroNorth, majority of you do know about flying. It's kinda a hell right now, isn't it? Volcano ash aside (I currently have three family members stranded in Ireland), it's not the nicest of experiences to begin with. I have noted in this blog numerous times the mental angst and anguish I've endured with the airline industry, and it only seems to be getting worse. One place is now charging for carry-ons and another wants to charge to use the latrine! And that's only after you get through TSA where you've stripped off most of your clothes and exposed all your toiletries to the world. No secrets here. There was a time when people would have found all this humiliating. Of course, those people were used to a little comfort and luxury, too. Things we've given up in the name of cheap travel and national security.
I used to travel MetroNorth. I went from New Haven, Connecticut to New York, New York and back, every Monday through Friday for four months. And then, I would take it random weekends and every holiday for five years. It's not a pretty train to begin with. It is sparse to say the least and was usually cleaned with some ammonia smelling strigent that always made me slightly sick. (And god help you if you sat near the latrine.) The bar car was basically one car with a bartender who served you nipper sized drinks with cans of Coke or Sprite and a basket of personal sized Lays products. Luxurious? Not exactly. But it was the community that actually sprung up in the bar car. The Wall Streeters and Madison Ave execs on their way home, chatting about something that happened that day. I enjoyed the bar car. It was a loose atmosphere where no one scowled at you if the train lurched and you got thrown into them. While the coach cars were filled with people reading the New York Times or the last Grisham, plugged firmly into their iPods, the bar car actually promoted conversation. Even someone like me, who definitely is not a chit-chatter, enjoyed the jovial atmosphere there than the tense "don't look at me" experience one had anywhere else on the train. On the other hand, I've also been one of those people on the train who didn't get there early enough to get a seat and had to stand for an hour while we were shuttled out of the city like cattle. Inconvenient? Yes. Irritating? Could be.
What's the answer? I don't have a clue. Sometimes I do think the planned community movement has something to it. With more and more people moving all over the country, living in one state while working in another, we are destroying something. Not just the ozone layer either. We're destroying communion, conversation, and community. And by doing that, we're destroying culture. There's nothing to agree upon any longer except to say that none of us are happy, and none of us really know why. We feel disconnected. We feel unheard. We feel impotent. All anyone has to do is read a comment section on any public web site forum and you can see that. The thing about the barcar is that it's there for the people who want to talk and mingle. Exchange ideas. Its there for those extroverts out there who like meeting new people. And even for the introverts who occassionally want to enjoy a glass of wine. Leave a space for socializing. The more we force people into seats and away from each other, the more singular we will become. And that's not very nice at all.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Entitle Me
It seems I have a serious problem. I am not entitled. According to Merriam-Websters, to be entitled means "to furnish proper grounds for seeking or claiming something." According to my therapist, a healthy psyche includes the belief that as an individual you have certain entitlements. Like, for instance, you are entitled to do the things you want and decline invitations to do things you don't want. Someone needed to inform both my parents and the Catholic Church to these inalienable rights because there seems to be a big ol' hole where those entitlements are supposed to exist.
Somewhere along the line, I was told and came to believe that anything worth having was worth fighting for. Or working hard for. Sometimes both. And if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. This made me a cynic and highly suspicious. You want to give me this? Why? What do you want in return? To this day, I often won't take something, do something, or accept help based on the ideology that the person offering the boon is going to expect a favor in repayment somewhere down the line from me. And instead of taking the easy road now only to pay for it later, I'll just suffer through it now, thank you very much. "Nah, I'll do it on my own; thanks anyway! [*super cheery, friendly, non-offensive smile*]" This is also probably why I don't like when someone pays for me. I keep the tab running in the back of my head because I'm pretty sure that person is doing the same thing. Maybe s/he doesn't have the precise number ($14.50 for a movie ticket), but I do. Lest at some point s/he doesn't have enough money to cover a dinner bill ($32.50) and off-handedly comments that I owe them from before. For instance, I have one friend who is always amazed that I remember who paid for coffee while another friend will occasionally remind me that s/he doesn't owe me because s/he paid for the last time. Let me be clear, I don't mind be generous, and I would never offer to pay for someone if I secretly believed that they owed me. As my mother once said, "You don't do something for someone with the idea that they will reciprocate. If you can't do it out of the goodness of your own heart, don't do it at all!" (She was really pissed at me for that one.) Also, don't loan someone money without the knowledge that you might never see it again. If you need the money, don't loan it to someone else. I operate from these life lessons (and yes, I've experienced both). So, if I do buy breakfast one morning, I mean it. And I would never say, "you owe me for breakfast." If at some point in the future you pick-up the tab because you remembered, well, we'll probably be besties 4evah.
The battlefield of entitlement, however, is played out in my relationships. Either with family members or my friends. And the more I like you, the worse it becomes. I consistently don't want to let people down, which means I will often sacrifice my own druthers and convenience to suit your schedule...then resent you for it. I am, at heart, a people-pleaser. And I hate it. I don't want to please you. Especially as most people's sense of entitlement is healthy and clear. "I'll get to you when I see to me." I always feel like I've got to get to you first so that you can't come back to me and say, "I asked you about this and you haven't responded." Um, maybe because I didn't want to do it. Or I didn't have time to do it. And why do I have to explain myself to you, anyway? Are you my mother? Am I getting graded on this? What the hell!
To end, I'm not quite sure what to do about this. I mean, how in the world does one develop entitlement? I once read in Malcolm Gladwell's OUTLIERS that it is taught by your parents. If your parents teach you to ask questions of adults and keep asking questions until you understand the concept that is being discussed, you end up feeling secure about yourself and your place in the world. But that didn't happen with me. My mother was not assertive; her parents didn't exactly entitle her either. And I'm 95% certain that my father is a classic narcissist. So? What to do? How to do it? Afterall, entitlement isn't something that's given. It's something that you claim.
Somewhere along the line, I was told and came to believe that anything worth having was worth fighting for. Or working hard for. Sometimes both. And if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. This made me a cynic and highly suspicious. You want to give me this? Why? What do you want in return? To this day, I often won't take something, do something, or accept help based on the ideology that the person offering the boon is going to expect a favor in repayment somewhere down the line from me. And instead of taking the easy road now only to pay for it later, I'll just suffer through it now, thank you very much. "Nah, I'll do it on my own; thanks anyway! [*super cheery, friendly, non-offensive smile*]" This is also probably why I don't like when someone pays for me. I keep the tab running in the back of my head because I'm pretty sure that person is doing the same thing. Maybe s/he doesn't have the precise number ($14.50 for a movie ticket), but I do. Lest at some point s/he doesn't have enough money to cover a dinner bill ($32.50) and off-handedly comments that I owe them from before. For instance, I have one friend who is always amazed that I remember who paid for coffee while another friend will occasionally remind me that s/he doesn't owe me because s/he paid for the last time. Let me be clear, I don't mind be generous, and I would never offer to pay for someone if I secretly believed that they owed me. As my mother once said, "You don't do something for someone with the idea that they will reciprocate. If you can't do it out of the goodness of your own heart, don't do it at all!" (She was really pissed at me for that one.) Also, don't loan someone money without the knowledge that you might never see it again. If you need the money, don't loan it to someone else. I operate from these life lessons (and yes, I've experienced both). So, if I do buy breakfast one morning, I mean it. And I would never say, "you owe me for breakfast." If at some point in the future you pick-up the tab because you remembered, well, we'll probably be besties 4evah.
The battlefield of entitlement, however, is played out in my relationships. Either with family members or my friends. And the more I like you, the worse it becomes. I consistently don't want to let people down, which means I will often sacrifice my own druthers and convenience to suit your schedule...then resent you for it. I am, at heart, a people-pleaser. And I hate it. I don't want to please you. Especially as most people's sense of entitlement is healthy and clear. "I'll get to you when I see to me." I always feel like I've got to get to you first so that you can't come back to me and say, "I asked you about this and you haven't responded." Um, maybe because I didn't want to do it. Or I didn't have time to do it. And why do I have to explain myself to you, anyway? Are you my mother? Am I getting graded on this? What the hell!
To end, I'm not quite sure what to do about this. I mean, how in the world does one develop entitlement? I once read in Malcolm Gladwell's OUTLIERS that it is taught by your parents. If your parents teach you to ask questions of adults and keep asking questions until you understand the concept that is being discussed, you end up feeling secure about yourself and your place in the world. But that didn't happen with me. My mother was not assertive; her parents didn't exactly entitle her either. And I'm 95% certain that my father is a classic narcissist. So? What to do? How to do it? Afterall, entitlement isn't something that's given. It's something that you claim.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Email Me
I'm an emailer. Probably because I feel I do my best communicating a'la the written word. I feel like I have a firm grasp of language and like the idea of being able to re-read what I've written and hone it so that it transmits the exact thought I mean to convey. The slowness is what I like. What can I say? I'm a control freak. Unfortunately, I'm behind on my emailing these days. Especially if someone has emailed me either through Facebook or my AOL address. While I check both sites daily, just to make sure that I'm updated on the state of my personal world and not missing vital information like Where in the World is my Globe Trotting Friend Andie or Toys R Us's sale on baby apparel, I don't always attend to the more involved emails that come along. The emails that actually require my full attention and deserve a well-thought out response. So, instead of dashing back, "Oh, wow. That's crap; I'm sorry," I don't respond at all. Which, quite frankly, is probably worse.
This morning, I set out to rectify the situation. There was an email from my old boss telling me about her teenage son's first girlfriend (dated February 24th). There were two emails from a NYC friend of mine who had just gone through a terrible ordeal with a guy she thought might be the New Boyfriend, but just ended up being That Jerk (dated from the beginning of March). There were also two emails from an old roommate explaining why she hasn't written back in sometime which included a prolonged illness of a parent (dated from mid-March). There is a Good News email from a friend who had been unemployed, but is no longer. Then there are the emails from my Great Aunt wanting to know about the earthquake that just occurred in California and the Easter greeting from a cousin who I tried calling but never reached. These last two are from this past weekend and for some reason I think I have more time in responding to them because they are "current." Don't ask...
The funny thing is: If you allow an email to go unanswered for long enough, you almost don't have to answer it at all. This makes me feel like a crappy friend, but why bring up That Jerk if the wound is healing and she's put it out of her mind? I did try calling some of these people, but never reached them (which explains the "two" emails). I guess they could have tried calling me back, but most of my friends are email people themselves. The type of people who are busy with their wacky lives and email people at four in the morning. Which makes sense because Like attracts Like, right?
So, if you've emailed me recently and I haven't responded, please know that I feel like a crappy friend and I will get back to you at some point. Either through email or Facebook or -- in the case of the old boss with the teenage son, the friend with a new job, and even the girlfriend who is getting over That Jerk -- in person. Because while I prefer email, I'm not so shabby in face-to-face communication also.
This morning, I set out to rectify the situation. There was an email from my old boss telling me about her teenage son's first girlfriend (dated February 24th). There were two emails from a NYC friend of mine who had just gone through a terrible ordeal with a guy she thought might be the New Boyfriend, but just ended up being That Jerk (dated from the beginning of March). There were also two emails from an old roommate explaining why she hasn't written back in sometime which included a prolonged illness of a parent (dated from mid-March). There is a Good News email from a friend who had been unemployed, but is no longer. Then there are the emails from my Great Aunt wanting to know about the earthquake that just occurred in California and the Easter greeting from a cousin who I tried calling but never reached. These last two are from this past weekend and for some reason I think I have more time in responding to them because they are "current." Don't ask...
The funny thing is: If you allow an email to go unanswered for long enough, you almost don't have to answer it at all. This makes me feel like a crappy friend, but why bring up That Jerk if the wound is healing and she's put it out of her mind? I did try calling some of these people, but never reached them (which explains the "two" emails). I guess they could have tried calling me back, but most of my friends are email people themselves. The type of people who are busy with their wacky lives and email people at four in the morning. Which makes sense because Like attracts Like, right?
So, if you've emailed me recently and I haven't responded, please know that I feel like a crappy friend and I will get back to you at some point. Either through email or Facebook or -- in the case of the old boss with the teenage son, the friend with a new job, and even the girlfriend who is getting over That Jerk -- in person. Because while I prefer email, I'm not so shabby in face-to-face communication also.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Catching Up to Now
I am woefully behind on blogging. I am also woefully behind on personal emails. I'm slightly behind on my work, but I'm very behind on my personal reading. I haven't been working out regularly, but way ahead on eating. Sometimes I feel like my life is just a little off track. Like if I got just a little extra sleep or took some time off from work, somehow I would be able to catch up to where I'm supposed to be. Weirdly, of course, Now always seems to come regardless of how far behind I feel I am.
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