Are You Planning on Being Direct Today?

There is a problem running rampant at my job: half the employees are passive-aggressive. I don't know why, but I think that the store somehow attracts people who do not know how to effectively interact with others and, as such, do not know how to disagree or even manage others without sounding "bossy" or "demanding" - even if that is what they should be. So they try to be non-confrontational, which unfortunately results in them being douchebags. For example:

I have a to wear a green vest at work. Everyone has to wear a green vest at work (except stockers or managers/supervisors.) These vests, aside from being visually hideous and poor quality, are oppressively hot. I often work customer service and for the past week have not worn my vest (gasp!) I have it with me, just not on because I feel it's pretty obvious I am an employee since I am the one behind the counter. Regardless, I know not wearing the stupid vest is against the rules or dress code or what-the-fuck-ever and as soon as someone would say, "Wear your vest," I'd put it back on. This happened yesterday, but being as I work in the passive-aggressive zone, what my supervisor actually said was, "Are you planning on wearing your vest today?"

I had to pause and laugh because I never realized I had an option, which, of course, I don't. Why suggest one, then? What if I had said, "No" or, "Are you planning on speaking to me like an adult?" Really, though, the most important question I asked myself as I shrugged into my green shame was, "Why haven't I left this job yet?"

To Commenter HelloKitty

I hate reading the comment sections of blog posts, but sometimes you just get sucked in: you read one acerbic comment, then the response, then the response to the response, oftentimes including comments on grammar and how this reflects the poster's (lack of) education, until you are scrolling through five pages of comments trying to find where the argument began - and breathe as you realize the activity is stupid and not providing further enlightenment to the original post or your day.

When those sometimes occur, damn it, you almost feel like posting a comment yourself. STOP! Never join the comment threads! Rather, post your thoughts on your own blog, the appropriate place for personal rants. Here's mine:

To HelloKitty, a commenter on the The 14 most hilariously effective signs supporting gay marriage post over at HappyPlace:

Please stop complaining that gay men are mean and make rude and bitter jokes about women. You claim you don't why they behave this way, as you are a kind and sensitive person, but maybe it's the fact that you defend yourself by writing "It's hard because straight women love the male body, but gay men seem to almost abhor the female body." Perhaps these gay men don't want you fawning over them because they are not attracted to you. Because they are gay. If they found the female body attractive they would not be gay. But they are, so they don't. If you stop telling them they are hot, they may stop telling you vaginas stink. Just a suggestion.

If the rude/bitter jokes and comments continue, I understand you may feel uncomfortable so I have another suggestion: stop hanging out with those people. If you know the one gay man who does not make rude comments about women, because he slept with one once, then by all means make him your go-to gay. Otherwise, stop hanging out at gay bars in the hopes that a man will turn for you. They won't (see above.)

HelloKitty, please stop claiming you speak for the silent majority of women. The majority of women have enough sense not to ask gay men to respect and love the female body because they know gay men are gay. If you are confused by this, please refer to my first suggestion.

Finally, if gay men make snide comments that seem "bitter" please remember the content of the original blog post: gay marriage, or the fact that gays (and lesbians, but you don't seem to know any of them) cannot legally marry. That is a right not afforded them, thus making them lesser citizens in the eyes of the law. That might engender some bitterness. If gay men (all of them, apparently) flaunt their sexuality, it is likely a show of pride in who they are despite the fact that they are persecuted incessantly by so many people - and in the case of marriage, the government. Those who are homophobic or protest gay marriage for whatever reason want homosexuality to simply go away; flaunting your homosexuality is shouting, "No, it won't!"

PS - Just to be clear, if a gay man says women are gross it's probably because he thinks they are gross. Describing the beauty of a vagina will only confirm his belief.

Kthx!

Bombing in Norway

Earlier today (Friday, July 22) a bomb went off in a government building in Oslo and two hours later, shooting at an annual youth event. So far, 17 people have died. I am not the one to give in-depth analysis, but Al Jazeera is regularly updating their Oslo blog. Check it out for new information.

We're Done Already?

I have recently begun volunteering with Habitat for Humanity, specifically the family selection aspect of the organization. Tonight I went to a meeting of the Family Selection Committee, my first, and was prepared to stay until 10pm if need be (the meeting started at 6), but really wanted to be out by 8. I was listening, absorbing, doing my best to understand how the committee works, when at 6:42pm one of the committee members announced the meeting was finished. What the f*ck?, I thought. Who the hell ends a meeting within the hour? Then I remembered the last meeting I was in was for Edirisa Smiles, where four hours was a short meeting. The point being that I love Austin Habitat for Humanity already.

The Right Questions for Gov. Perry

I read this article in the Austin American Statesman today: "Questions need answering before Perry runs for real". How true, I thought to myself. Potential supporters need to ask how Perry will manage the Federal budget when he is unable to properly manage Texas. Or how can he claim to support better education efforts while firing hundreds of teachers and spending public funds on a Formula One track?

That is where my mind went, before reading the article: pertinent questions concerning policy. However, the point Mr. Ken Herman, the author, is making is this: is Perry ready to have his personal life come under complete public scrutiny? Almost immediately after George W. was inaugurated the papers became running articles on Laura Bush's choice of shoes and reported that peanut butter sandwiches were being served in the White House. Gasp! Governor Perry, this (apparently) is the only question you need to ask yourself: "Do you ever want to be able to fish alone again?"

Aren't these questions better discussed between Perry and his family, rather than the subject of a newspaper article? Mr. Herman, do you ever want to do any political reporting? Seems to me your answer is simple: No.

A Historian's Dilemma

In my apartment I have a small cabinet filled with china dinner service for eight, including two serving platters, tea cups and saucers, and random little crescent-shaped bread plates, not to mention the standard plates, bowls and what-have-you. The china is safely packed away in zipper cloth containers, each piece of china separated by a thin strip of foam and, in the case of the bowls and plates, a small piece of cardboard, as well. Sitting on the floor next to the cabinet are two boxes which contain crystal glasses, also for eight, including large wine goblets, smaller goblets and dainty sherry glasses. As with the china, each glass is carefully packed away, wrapped in foam covers and separated from one another by cardboard partitions. They would also be in a cabinet but I do not have a piece of furniture that can safely hide the china and the crystal, so the crystal remains in boxes on the floor. Next to the crystal boxes, going in a line along the wall, is a hutch which, in addition to my cookbooks, mixing bowls and Dutch ovens, displays a large, somewhat tarnished silver tea service: tall tea pot, sugar bowl with lid and milk pitcher, all perfectly positioned on a silver tray. On top of the hutch is a silver cake stand, also slightly tarnished but, perhaps due to less filigree in the pattern, shining more brightly than the tea service below. If you open the hutch doors you will find a large, heavy, crystal punch bowl with eight glasses and a ladle, casually sitting next to some muffin tins.

These are all items that once belonged to my parents, items specifically given to me for various reasons including simple circumstance (both my sisters already had china and crystal, with no need for second sets), physical association (I would polish the tea set and cake stand for my mother, so out of three children I was the only one with known attachment to the pieces), and personal claim (I wanted the punch bowl because I was determined to use it, rather than leave it stored in a box as it had existed for the past thirty years.) There are other items in my apartment, as well, odds and ends that my sisters could not stand to give away when they packed up the house. In the same cabinet which houses the china I also have two decorative plates commemorating Western Maryland College, where my (our) great-grandmother attended (and graduated.) Did I attend Western Maryland? No. But because I graduated from college, unlike my sisters, and the great-grandmother in question is my namesake, it was determined that the plates would be best served in my hands. I think it was staring at those plates, trying to decide what to do with them, that started my dilemma.

I was not around when my sisters packed up the house. When my (our) parents died I ran away, first all over the country, then overseas where I stayed for almost two years. I was grateful for the work my sisters did and gladly accepted the choices they made. In truth, I wanted the china and the crystal and the tea set - I wanted any and every physical connection to my parents that I could have, things I could touch and smell and hold in my hands while remembering holidays spent 'round the dining room table, crystal glasses in use only because my sisters and I begged our mom to use them, or a quiet, sunny Sunday afternoon, talking to my mom and dad as I polished the silver for them. Simple memories that do not require aides, yet at the time I needed those physical objects to stand as a shrine to my parents. That was then. Now, I am not so sure I want my dining room to be a memorial and my inheritance seems more of a hindrance. After all, when I become nostalgic about Thanksgiving or Christmas dinners it is not the plates I am remembering; in my memory, and in reality, the tea set was (is) just a useless dust-collector; despite an initial determination to put the punch bowl to good use, it still sits in the dark, untouched and unused. Sometimes I take one of the crystal glasses from its respective box and hold it, imagining how it would feel to fling it at the wall and watch it shatter into a thousand pieces. It is only a glass; my parents died years ago.

Preservation. Remembrance. I feel the weight of these words, of the historian's duty to maintain memory, each time I walk past my relics. How long must I carry these objects with me? Until I have a house of my own and will use the china and crystal at holidays dinners I host, serving coffee and cake form the silver sets? I am no longer sure that it the lot I want in life or that I care about serving Thanksgiving dinner on matching china - or on china, at all. It is a tradition that now means nothing to me, yet just the thought of allowing a tradition die fills me with more guilt than abandoning these things my sisters entrusted me with. Nevertheless, I must admit to myself that I am not a museum, I have no duty to be a museum, and holding on to their plates will not bring my parents back. Yet how can I claim to be a historian when I do not want to hold on to the past? And really, how would I explain myself to my sisters? Regret and guilt versus preservation and memory. I do not know which, in the end, will win out.

A Few Shots of Summer

Of what we do in Austin, such as paddleboarding on Lake Austin - albeit with no actual paddleboarding shots.