A revelation has recently unveiled itself to me. In the past week, I have been surprised by people and my reaction to them. My surprise is a double-edged sword that is both bitter and sweat. On one hand, I discovered something very ugly about myself; yet on the other, I discovered something surprisingly beautiful about other people.
I will cast judgement on myself and admit that I have been a most intolerable, hypocritical bigot. I am guilty of judging the proverbial book by its cover. For that reason, I feel truly terrible about my thoughts.
I have always flattered myself by saying that I am fair and non-judgmental. However, as I discovered over the past few days, I do not always practice what I preach. Although it pains me to admit it, I have wrongly judged a person. Yet, at the same time, part of me is elated that I was wrong. This man, who I prematurely judged, killed all of the stereotypes in which I feared he would fall.
I am mortified about my thoughts and feel like an idiot. I will continue to be careful when judging people, but I shall no longer have a fine print in the back of my mind that states: "...and look out for this type of person, in particular." No. Now I will give the same severe caution to every person I meet, no exceptions.
Although this was a blow to my ego and self-righteousness, I also feel as though I have grown so much over the past few days. I have learned a lesson that cannot be fully conveyed in a mere classroom, seminar, or workshop. To reinforce this lesson, I happened to meet two other men of varying backgrounds and beliefs who have surprised me by their outlook on life and personality.
I can't believe that in two days I can be so surprised by people in a positive manner. Generally, I have been a pragmatist towards human behavior, well maybe a pessimist or a cynic would be a better word. But my experiences this week have shown me another side. It is my sincere hope that good surprises continue, rather than disappoint.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Adventures in Swing Dancing
Last night, my roommate and I went to swing dancing class. I saw a girl from my English class last semester. She happens to be the roommate of my roommate's friend. Once again: "It's a small world after all."
Anyway, the first step we learned was the rock step. It's easy enough. The rock steps later transitioned into inside and outside turns in both open and closed positions. After a bit of practice, I had a pretty good mastery of these basic steps.
During practice we rotated partners. There were tall partners and short partners. Fat partners and skinny partners. Stiff partners and spastic partners. For most of them, this was either their first or second time swing dancing.
After class, the floor was opened to free dancing. Guys asked girls and girls asked guys. At first, I danced with some of the guys in my class who were beginners. I felt like I was taking baby steps as the more experienced dancers whizzed, twirled, and hopped across the floor. But, then I was asked to dance by the more experienced dancers. That's when the real fun began.
The first experienced partners I dance with surprised me. My surprise was due to the fact that if you saw any one of them on the street, you would never have guessed that the danced. So when they began to move me around the floor, really feeling all the tones and accents in the music, I was taken aback. I now know what people mean when they say a good partner can make you look good. The better the partner I had, the more advanced steps I was thrown into and the more fun I had. At this point, I was thankful for my sixteen years of ballet training which taught me to pick up and follow steps quickly. All in all I must have danced with at least ten guys, three of which had serious ballroom training. Therefore, it is safe to say that last night I danced with more guys in half an hour than I've danced with at all of the school dances I've ever been to combined!!!
Needless to say, I will be returning to swing dance club in the near future.
Oh, on an entirely different note, that guy from my econ class of whom I spoke in my last post must have been joking with me. I saw him again today in class and he was very nice. After class he asked me for my e-mail so he could befriend me on FB. Additionally, the guy who sits next to him is really nice too. We had a lovely conversation about Florida before class.
I know that was useless info that you probably don't care about, but I thought I'd keep you posted since I previously mentioned it.
Anyway, the first step we learned was the rock step. It's easy enough. The rock steps later transitioned into inside and outside turns in both open and closed positions. After a bit of practice, I had a pretty good mastery of these basic steps.
During practice we rotated partners. There were tall partners and short partners. Fat partners and skinny partners. Stiff partners and spastic partners. For most of them, this was either their first or second time swing dancing.
After class, the floor was opened to free dancing. Guys asked girls and girls asked guys. At first, I danced with some of the guys in my class who were beginners. I felt like I was taking baby steps as the more experienced dancers whizzed, twirled, and hopped across the floor. But, then I was asked to dance by the more experienced dancers. That's when the real fun began.
The first experienced partners I dance with surprised me. My surprise was due to the fact that if you saw any one of them on the street, you would never have guessed that the danced. So when they began to move me around the floor, really feeling all the tones and accents in the music, I was taken aback. I now know what people mean when they say a good partner can make you look good. The better the partner I had, the more advanced steps I was thrown into and the more fun I had. At this point, I was thankful for my sixteen years of ballet training which taught me to pick up and follow steps quickly. All in all I must have danced with at least ten guys, three of which had serious ballroom training. Therefore, it is safe to say that last night I danced with more guys in half an hour than I've danced with at all of the school dances I've ever been to combined!!!
Needless to say, I will be returning to swing dance club in the near future.
Oh, on an entirely different note, that guy from my econ class of whom I spoke in my last post must have been joking with me. I saw him again today in class and he was very nice. After class he asked me for my e-mail so he could befriend me on FB. Additionally, the guy who sits next to him is really nice too. We had a lovely conversation about Florida before class.
I know that was useless info that you probably don't care about, but I thought I'd keep you posted since I previously mentioned it.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
"Something's Got To Go Wrong Cause I'm Feeling Way Too Damn Good"
As I might have alluded to in my past post, I've been on sort of a personal high over the past few days, feeling quite comfortable and pleased with myself. I was in my usual "no-one-can-touch-me," c'est la vie mode which I have cultivated well.
But like all good things, this high had to come to an end. You see, my balloon of happiness and self-satisfaction was becoming overly bloated. So I guess God decided that some air needed to be let out.
The blood leading occurred yesterday. Yesterday, began really well: Art history (really evolving into my favorite class to here a lecture in) and a relatively smooth diagnostic examination for Spanish.
Things went down a tiny incline in economics when a guy called me rude. I don't know if he was joking with me, or if I had really made a bad impression. You see before class, I was outlining art history, so I was sort of in a mental fog where my social acuteness (quickness of tongue?) becomes blunted and rather innocent. I was only half-listening to the conversation when the two guys in front of me asked me where I was from. I hesitated and then said it. For some odd reason, I thought that my answer was obvious and embarrassingly mumbled something about "forgetting where I was from." Don't ask, it confuses me too. But that little faux paux on my part isn't the problem. The problem came when I attempted to begin polite conversation and return the question. Apparently, the guy had already said where he was from three times. I honestly hadn't heard him because I was in my outlining zone. For this he said something to the effect of not listening as being rude and then repeated that he was from Washington, DC three additional times. I don't know if he was being serious or trying to be funny? Once again, I was in that odd brain fog of mental exersion after outlining, so I had a difficult time responding to and interpreting human interactions in said state.
Nevertheless, I recovered as best as I could, and as the lecture began I regained my usual public face of polite, unfazed passiveness.
The bigger blow came around 8:30 that night when my roommates and I received a knock on our apartment door. Four guys were at the door, holding beers. They said they lived in the building and were having "a meet the neighbors" party, and we should stop by for a beer. After they left, my roommates and I held a conference about whether or not we should go. We're not big party people, but it would be nice to meet new people. So after much debate, we decide to go and stay for a bit. We get there and their are a few people there. The hosts were surprised we came. Apparently, it really wasn't a meet the neighbors party. One of the guys lived in our apartment two summers ago and that's the reason they decided to invite us/ knock on our door.
At this point, I feel like an invader. They all know each other. Some of them don't even live in the apartment complex. After later thought, we concluded that they we also seniors, hence the keg and beer pong table. Don't get me wrong, they seemed like nice enough guys, even though they were drunk and even seemed disappointed when I gave my exit excuse after five very awkward minutes. One of them seemed legitimately sad when he learned we wouldn't be staying for an extreme game of flip cup. In his inebriated state, his eyes reminded me of a toddler when you tell him that he can't go to the park.
So away we fled "to rescue my lost and drunken friend," who in reality happened to be a 75 cent set of wooden spoons from Walmart. I felt sickened with regret from the whole experience. Why did we go in the first place? Why did we make such a lame exit? The answer to the former question: we would have been kicking ourselves if it had really been a neighbors' party. I wanted to push my self out of my normal comfort zone to reach new growth to enable me to "mingle" and "network" better. But as a result, the answer to the latter question arose: I was way, way, way TOO far out of my league.
Therefore, I failed at party mingling which lent itself to a subsequent three hour semi-panic about not being able to make new friends without the recommendations of others. However, there is nothing a shower, a hot cup of tea, and a night's rest filled with dreams of the successful, mid-twenty something me holding a rather witty tee-a-tee with Gerard Butler, while looking extraordinary fetching, can't fix. Therefore, needless to say, I'm out of my funk, but my guard is now raised which isn't necessarily a bad thing.
Time to move on with life.
But like all good things, this high had to come to an end. You see, my balloon of happiness and self-satisfaction was becoming overly bloated. So I guess God decided that some air needed to be let out.
The blood leading occurred yesterday. Yesterday, began really well: Art history (really evolving into my favorite class to here a lecture in) and a relatively smooth diagnostic examination for Spanish.
Things went down a tiny incline in economics when a guy called me rude. I don't know if he was joking with me, or if I had really made a bad impression. You see before class, I was outlining art history, so I was sort of in a mental fog where my social acuteness (quickness of tongue?) becomes blunted and rather innocent. I was only half-listening to the conversation when the two guys in front of me asked me where I was from. I hesitated and then said it. For some odd reason, I thought that my answer was obvious and embarrassingly mumbled something about "forgetting where I was from." Don't ask, it confuses me too. But that little faux paux on my part isn't the problem. The problem came when I attempted to begin polite conversation and return the question. Apparently, the guy had already said where he was from three times. I honestly hadn't heard him because I was in my outlining zone. For this he said something to the effect of not listening as being rude and then repeated that he was from Washington, DC three additional times. I don't know if he was being serious or trying to be funny? Once again, I was in that odd brain fog of mental exersion after outlining, so I had a difficult time responding to and interpreting human interactions in said state.
Nevertheless, I recovered as best as I could, and as the lecture began I regained my usual public face of polite, unfazed passiveness.
The bigger blow came around 8:30 that night when my roommates and I received a knock on our apartment door. Four guys were at the door, holding beers. They said they lived in the building and were having "a meet the neighbors" party, and we should stop by for a beer. After they left, my roommates and I held a conference about whether or not we should go. We're not big party people, but it would be nice to meet new people. So after much debate, we decide to go and stay for a bit. We get there and their are a few people there. The hosts were surprised we came. Apparently, it really wasn't a meet the neighbors party. One of the guys lived in our apartment two summers ago and that's the reason they decided to invite us/ knock on our door.
At this point, I feel like an invader. They all know each other. Some of them don't even live in the apartment complex. After later thought, we concluded that they we also seniors, hence the keg and beer pong table. Don't get me wrong, they seemed like nice enough guys, even though they were drunk and even seemed disappointed when I gave my exit excuse after five very awkward minutes. One of them seemed legitimately sad when he learned we wouldn't be staying for an extreme game of flip cup. In his inebriated state, his eyes reminded me of a toddler when you tell him that he can't go to the park.
So away we fled "to rescue my lost and drunken friend," who in reality happened to be a 75 cent set of wooden spoons from Walmart. I felt sickened with regret from the whole experience. Why did we go in the first place? Why did we make such a lame exit? The answer to the former question: we would have been kicking ourselves if it had really been a neighbors' party. I wanted to push my self out of my normal comfort zone to reach new growth to enable me to "mingle" and "network" better. But as a result, the answer to the latter question arose: I was way, way, way TOO far out of my league.
Therefore, I failed at party mingling which lent itself to a subsequent three hour semi-panic about not being able to make new friends without the recommendations of others. However, there is nothing a shower, a hot cup of tea, and a night's rest filled with dreams of the successful, mid-twenty something me holding a rather witty tee-a-tee with Gerard Butler, while looking extraordinary fetching, can't fix. Therefore, needless to say, I'm out of my funk, but my guard is now raised which isn't necessarily a bad thing.
Time to move on with life.
A Fresh Start: The New School Year
Well, I'm finally back at school, living comfortably in my new apartment. Moving in was much less stressful than last year. Now that I've been here half a week, I feel as thought the apartment is a home away from home. Unlike my dorm, I don't feel awkward or alone. Living here has really lowered the stress of being away from home.
For a more homey feel, my roommates and I have been cooking for ourselves. It's not too difficult. Tonight, we completed our second completely home-cooked meal: Greek-inspired chicken in a crock pot. The dish was good, even though it was a bit under-salted, a correctable miscalculation.
In regards to school itself, I have to say that I think I am going to enjoy my classes this semester. My Italian Renaissance Art class is interesting even thought I have to read SOOO much for it. I'm so interested in the lectures it makes me wonder why I'm not majoring in art history. My conversational Spanish class should be interesting. The professor is crazy, but believe it or not, I can actually understand her. My biggest fear: getting tongue-tied/brain fart. International economics should be okay. However, it's one of my classes in which I consciously yawn. Not as interesting as art history, but perhaps it will get better. Also, I have two science classes this semester. They will be the only science classes I will ever take in college. My two professors for those couldn't be more opposite. My meterology teacher is a young, doctoral grad-student, where as my energy and environmental enginnering teacher will be out of class next week because was called as an expert witness in a court case in Louisanna, or some state like that. I'm most anxious for my business law class because that's my tentative career path at this current moment. I hope that I do well in it and find it interesting. If not, there could be trouble...
Over the beginning few days of the week, I've been feeling really inspired and intrepid. For Spanish, I feel like really taking my learning to the next level by watching movies and reading novels in Spanish. I've been outlining most of my reading material. I want to join so many clubs too. Tonight, I may possibly join the swing dancing club, and in the beginning of next week the ballet club will hold its placement classes. I want to try to get into that again because I really miss the stage. However, as always, I fear that I'll have time commitment issues, an impediment that constantly halts most, if not all, of my extracirrcular illusions of grandeur. Decisions, decisions. Additionally, I have my business club and honor society to attend to. I should probably become more involved in one of them.
Oh, mentioning business reminds me that I have to revise my resume and coverletter and have them reviewed by Career Services before the Career Fair on Sept. 16. Also, I should probably research the companies where I might intern/work. I should do that this weekend, because the 16th is going to arrive quickly.
Time has been flying by lately. I don't know what it is. Maybe the reason is that I'm actually being productive after a summer of almost complete leisure? Who knows? At least I'm having fun.
For a more homey feel, my roommates and I have been cooking for ourselves. It's not too difficult. Tonight, we completed our second completely home-cooked meal: Greek-inspired chicken in a crock pot. The dish was good, even though it was a bit under-salted, a correctable miscalculation.
In regards to school itself, I have to say that I think I am going to enjoy my classes this semester. My Italian Renaissance Art class is interesting even thought I have to read SOOO much for it. I'm so interested in the lectures it makes me wonder why I'm not majoring in art history. My conversational Spanish class should be interesting. The professor is crazy, but believe it or not, I can actually understand her. My biggest fear: getting tongue-tied/brain fart. International economics should be okay. However, it's one of my classes in which I consciously yawn. Not as interesting as art history, but perhaps it will get better. Also, I have two science classes this semester. They will be the only science classes I will ever take in college. My two professors for those couldn't be more opposite. My meterology teacher is a young, doctoral grad-student, where as my energy and environmental enginnering teacher will be out of class next week because was called as an expert witness in a court case in Louisanna, or some state like that. I'm most anxious for my business law class because that's my tentative career path at this current moment. I hope that I do well in it and find it interesting. If not, there could be trouble...
Over the beginning few days of the week, I've been feeling really inspired and intrepid. For Spanish, I feel like really taking my learning to the next level by watching movies and reading novels in Spanish. I've been outlining most of my reading material. I want to join so many clubs too. Tonight, I may possibly join the swing dancing club, and in the beginning of next week the ballet club will hold its placement classes. I want to try to get into that again because I really miss the stage. However, as always, I fear that I'll have time commitment issues, an impediment that constantly halts most, if not all, of my extracirrcular illusions of grandeur. Decisions, decisions. Additionally, I have my business club and honor society to attend to. I should probably become more involved in one of them.
Oh, mentioning business reminds me that I have to revise my resume and coverletter and have them reviewed by Career Services before the Career Fair on Sept. 16. Also, I should probably research the companies where I might intern/work. I should do that this weekend, because the 16th is going to arrive quickly.
Time has been flying by lately. I don't know what it is. Maybe the reason is that I'm actually being productive after a summer of almost complete leisure? Who knows? At least I'm having fun.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Reflection On Today's Homily
Today, I've been thinking about many different things on various levels of life. My thoughts began today when I was in mass. The priest celebrating this morning is not my favorite. He's new to the parish. I realize that he is trying to fit in and make his homilies exciting and meaningful; however, I believe for most of his audience his approach is wrong. For example, he speaks in a condescending, if not patronizing, tone. He is one of those priest who likes "to preach to the choir," so to speak.
In the name of objectivity and fairness, I have admit that much of what he says is true, even if I am not inclined to agree with him. This admission appears to be an oxymoron, which is is the reason I decided to reflect upon this peculiar dilemma. How is it that I know that what this priest says is true and that I, myself, might even preach the same issue under different circumstances, yet when he voiced the very same opinion I was instantaneously angered by the notion?
To make the issue clearer, here is a topic mentioned: getting up in the middle of church to go to the bathroom.
In regards to the this issue, my first instinct was outrage. Not all people know they need to use a bathroom before mass begins. Sometimes those sort of things come abruptly or sometimes children don't bring the situation to there parents' attention until the eleventh hour. However, the more I thought about the issue, the more I realized that these must fall under his notion of an "emergency." Therefore, my only conclusion must be that he was scolding the people who decide to take a trip to the restroom to stretch their legs or out of sheer boredom. My mother used to teach CCD to eighth graders before their Confirmation. She said many of the kids used to need to "use the bathroom," but ended up dallying in the bathroom to kill time. Since telling the dalliers from the people who honestly need to relieve themselves is difficult, I suppose the priest decided to address the entire congregation as the guilty party. Naturally, this treatment is taken as an offense by those who are not the perpertraitors and who cannot conceive a reason for using the restroom for purposes other that their original intent. Thus, the priest's over-agressive tactic to right a wrong ironically backfired and won him little support and sympathy.
Using over-aggressiveness when trying to win understanding and support in dealing in religious matters is the second line of thought I would like to briefly speak about today. Although having passion is a good thing, it can often turn people away if it is not presented properly. Some people cannot at first believe certain religious truths just because the Bible and dogma says so. These situations need to be dealt with rationality, clear-mindedness, true understanding, and respect. If you want your thoughts to be respected, you cannot appear to be completely imperialistic in regard to what people should believe. Not that I'm saying one should give in to relativism either. Both extremes are no good. If you believe there is a definite set of truths that is great. However, if you want someone else to be persuaded to your side, strong arming them is not always the best route. Remember, in one of the stories in the Old Testament, I believe one with Joshua, God did not speak in the thunder or the earthquake, but in the gentlest breeze.
In the name of objectivity and fairness, I have admit that much of what he says is true, even if I am not inclined to agree with him. This admission appears to be an oxymoron, which is is the reason I decided to reflect upon this peculiar dilemma. How is it that I know that what this priest says is true and that I, myself, might even preach the same issue under different circumstances, yet when he voiced the very same opinion I was instantaneously angered by the notion?
To make the issue clearer, here is a topic mentioned: getting up in the middle of church to go to the bathroom.
In regards to the this issue, my first instinct was outrage. Not all people know they need to use a bathroom before mass begins. Sometimes those sort of things come abruptly or sometimes children don't bring the situation to there parents' attention until the eleventh hour. However, the more I thought about the issue, the more I realized that these must fall under his notion of an "emergency." Therefore, my only conclusion must be that he was scolding the people who decide to take a trip to the restroom to stretch their legs or out of sheer boredom. My mother used to teach CCD to eighth graders before their Confirmation. She said many of the kids used to need to "use the bathroom," but ended up dallying in the bathroom to kill time. Since telling the dalliers from the people who honestly need to relieve themselves is difficult, I suppose the priest decided to address the entire congregation as the guilty party. Naturally, this treatment is taken as an offense by those who are not the perpertraitors and who cannot conceive a reason for using the restroom for purposes other that their original intent. Thus, the priest's over-agressive tactic to right a wrong ironically backfired and won him little support and sympathy.
Using over-aggressiveness when trying to win understanding and support in dealing in religious matters is the second line of thought I would like to briefly speak about today. Although having passion is a good thing, it can often turn people away if it is not presented properly. Some people cannot at first believe certain religious truths just because the Bible and dogma says so. These situations need to be dealt with rationality, clear-mindedness, true understanding, and respect. If you want your thoughts to be respected, you cannot appear to be completely imperialistic in regard to what people should believe. Not that I'm saying one should give in to relativism either. Both extremes are no good. If you believe there is a definite set of truths that is great. However, if you want someone else to be persuaded to your side, strong arming them is not always the best route. Remember, in one of the stories in the Old Testament, I believe one with Joshua, God did not speak in the thunder or the earthquake, but in the gentlest breeze.
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