I really do love election season for a number of reasons. I like the dialogue it can inspire about sacred cows and oft-ignored but ill-intentioned civic happenings and discourse. I like the excitement and passion it can inspire for our role as citizens. I like the promise elections hold for reinvention, reform and review.
What I don't like is the vitriol and pettiness that those same things can engender, especially with the advent of social media. I watch with some delight about the amount of unfriending and hiding on facebook that happens in these months (and occasionally do it myself). As a general rule, I don't get too political online; for me, facebook is for joking with friends, finding funny cat videos, and peeping at pictures of friends' vacations and kids.
But I did post today, something a little pointed, because it mattered to me. The fallout was at once dispiriting and enlivening. I haven't seen that much action on my wall in a long time. The first responders disagreed with me, and then lots of friends weighed in, referring by name and position to those who preceded them. While their points were clear, and their stances clearly in opposition, most of their rhetoric was civil. It was kind of exciting.
Still, one friend who'd taken the time to post immediately got her hackles up when someone asked a direct question following her post, and she retreated to her own page to whine about "being burned" by posting. I couldn't help but ask why she felt that way. In my mind, if you respond at all, you're inviting another response; being upset by one suggests that you're not arguing or engaging, but ranting, and well, there's enough of that on the talk shows.
Nonetheless, what I appreciated about the whole thing is that I had friends on both sides of the issue who registered their agreement and disagreement. No one changed my mind about anything, but it occurred to me that too often, when we post anything with any substance at all, we're preaching to a choir of the like-minded. We're seeking validation, or cheers, or kudos for a witty articulation. A friend convinced me not long ago that a lot of the divisiveness we're plagued with these days, especially in politics, is the result of the fact that people with divergent thoughts, attitudes and worldviews don't actually speak to each other; they speak to those who share their ideals, shrugging their shoulders, rolling their eyes, and raising their fists at those who hold others. I'm not above that myself; I'll own that I am bewildered by some seeming untenable positions and have begun sentences "How can they possibly..." or "Why can't they see..." among friends from whom I didn't really expect an answer. At the same time, I lost some respect for a former colleague when she posted that all those who supported one candidate should get half the country, and those who liked the other should get the other half, and we should just call it a day.
I don't really know where that leaves me. A hypocrite? A lurker? What I'm thinking about right now is whether or not being somewhat more political on facebook and the like will open my eyes and provide more of these answers (even if they're unconvincing) or start a more serious friend-purging. We'll see...
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Monday, August 13, 2012
Let Me Count the Ways
Things I Love About My New Home:
1. The sounds. There are crickets that live near every window, apparently, and the evening is full of their chirping. There are coyotes who roam the open space behind me, and I relish their yipping and howling. Admittedly, the first night I heard it, I was kind of freaked out - it sounded less animal than adolescent, and I was convinced that there was a rabid pack of 13 year old girls roaming the trail in the dark causing mischief. When the barking became more identifiable, I was actually relieved that it was coyotes instead. When storms come in or through, the leaves on the trees of my patio rustle and shush insistently. These are just a few.
2. My windows are always open. The weather permits home airiness that I missed in Michigan, where the muggy air was too heavy to breeze even with all the windows and doors open.
3. I love eating outside, and there are near limitless opportunities to do that here, for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
4. People really do seem happy and relaxed here. Now first let me preface this by saying I'm not one of those people who thinks that people in other parts of the country are rude or rushed. I have found nice people everywhere - when I left my wallet at a phone booth in Penn Station, the woman who found it tracked me down through my college rather than calling the home address on my license because she feared that my parents would be mad at me! In Tucson, strangers stopped their car to help my (then)boyfriend carry our couch up stairs so I wouldn't have to, an act of chivalry I chose not to contest on feminist grounds.
That said, this is that to the nth degree. I entered a parking lot not long ago that had one row of spots on either side to pull in to. Just as I started to turn in from the street, a car in the left hand row started to back out, so I was forced to stop, kind of hanging out into the road. I hate when that happens, and I'd be lying if I said I always responded gracefully or tactfully to such affronts. I resisted the urge to glare, swear or grimace, and miraculously, the car returned to its spot, letting me pull through, which I did, and proceeded to park in a vacancy a few spots further down. As I got out and shut my door, the aforementioned vehicle rolled up behind me and stopped, perpendicular to my own car, and the driver's side window crept down slowly. For real. The Jersey girl in me was bracing myself for an argument, or at least a pointed refusal to acknowledge said lout, or fierce show of indignation - was he seriously about to accuse me of being in the wrong for wanting to get out of a busy road? The gall!
Instead, he waved, almost sheepishly (and I should add, that the driver was not a man who's likely referred to as sheepish often - his neck was the size of one of my thighs, he had guages in his ears, and a heavy brow and high forehead that one usually associates with Bond villains) and called out,"Sorry! I didn't see you coming in - I'm so sorry..." An actual apology for a road violation? Is this Colorado or Valhalla?
5. The sky. There really aren't any words.
6. They know how to make a great margarita here. I haven't had a bad one yet.
7. My cats are happy.
Things I Don't Love About My New Home:
1. Apparently, there are snakes here. I saw one dead on the road the other day, and I was warned about keeping my eyes on the ground when I hike the trails.
That's all I got for the second list so far.
1. The sounds. There are crickets that live near every window, apparently, and the evening is full of their chirping. There are coyotes who roam the open space behind me, and I relish their yipping and howling. Admittedly, the first night I heard it, I was kind of freaked out - it sounded less animal than adolescent, and I was convinced that there was a rabid pack of 13 year old girls roaming the trail in the dark causing mischief. When the barking became more identifiable, I was actually relieved that it was coyotes instead. When storms come in or through, the leaves on the trees of my patio rustle and shush insistently. These are just a few.
2. My windows are always open. The weather permits home airiness that I missed in Michigan, where the muggy air was too heavy to breeze even with all the windows and doors open.
3. I love eating outside, and there are near limitless opportunities to do that here, for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
4. People really do seem happy and relaxed here. Now first let me preface this by saying I'm not one of those people who thinks that people in other parts of the country are rude or rushed. I have found nice people everywhere - when I left my wallet at a phone booth in Penn Station, the woman who found it tracked me down through my college rather than calling the home address on my license because she feared that my parents would be mad at me! In Tucson, strangers stopped their car to help my (then)boyfriend carry our couch up stairs so I wouldn't have to, an act of chivalry I chose not to contest on feminist grounds.
That said, this is that to the nth degree. I entered a parking lot not long ago that had one row of spots on either side to pull in to. Just as I started to turn in from the street, a car in the left hand row started to back out, so I was forced to stop, kind of hanging out into the road. I hate when that happens, and I'd be lying if I said I always responded gracefully or tactfully to such affronts. I resisted the urge to glare, swear or grimace, and miraculously, the car returned to its spot, letting me pull through, which I did, and proceeded to park in a vacancy a few spots further down. As I got out and shut my door, the aforementioned vehicle rolled up behind me and stopped, perpendicular to my own car, and the driver's side window crept down slowly. For real. The Jersey girl in me was bracing myself for an argument, or at least a pointed refusal to acknowledge said lout, or fierce show of indignation - was he seriously about to accuse me of being in the wrong for wanting to get out of a busy road? The gall!
Instead, he waved, almost sheepishly (and I should add, that the driver was not a man who's likely referred to as sheepish often - his neck was the size of one of my thighs, he had guages in his ears, and a heavy brow and high forehead that one usually associates with Bond villains) and called out,"Sorry! I didn't see you coming in - I'm so sorry..." An actual apology for a road violation? Is this Colorado or Valhalla?
5. The sky. There really aren't any words.
6. They know how to make a great margarita here. I haven't had a bad one yet.
7. My cats are happy.
Things I Don't Love About My New Home:
1. Apparently, there are snakes here. I saw one dead on the road the other day, and I was warned about keeping my eyes on the ground when I hike the trails.
That's all I got for the second list so far.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
The Joys of Happy Distractions
So here I am, two weeks in my new home, and the truth is, I haven't been very productive. And that's just fine with me.
I have, mind you, registered my car, applied for a driver's license, unpacked loads of boxes, gotten library cards, visited my new school and met my new boss, found the best farmer's markets, checked out lots of local restaurants, purchased new furniture, set up utility accounts, changed my address for every possible online account I have, explored the trails around my home, had my bike tuned up, acquired some very much needed back-to-school clothes, introduced myself to neighbors, et cetera et cetera, blah blah blah. In other words, many of the logistical and pragmatic things have been dealt with well.
More significantly, I've spent happy oodles of time with my mom, my brother, my sister-in-law and my amazing niece, who's working on mastering my name. She pronounces it differently every time, with silly lilts and lisps. Sometimes I'm "Taren" or "Sharen," and other times it's even more like "Arreee," as if she's some loopy British kid off to Hogwarts, but every time I hear her say it, I melt. It's so cheesy, but true. I've been having fun spending time with her, and I am filled with dopey warmth and excitement every time I think about the fact that I'll be here when she grows up, that I won't be one of those aunts who just sends cards on birthdays and swoops in once or twice a year for holidays.
I'm well aware that I'm still in vacation mode - that's the only way I've been managing putting off the schoolwork that nags me daily when I'm just hanging out with family or even catching up on old Hulu episodes - but the non-work I've been doing is exactly what I need to be doing to make my new house feel like home. The work can wait.
At least for a few more days.
I have, mind you, registered my car, applied for a driver's license, unpacked loads of boxes, gotten library cards, visited my new school and met my new boss, found the best farmer's markets, checked out lots of local restaurants, purchased new furniture, set up utility accounts, changed my address for every possible online account I have, explored the trails around my home, had my bike tuned up, acquired some very much needed back-to-school clothes, introduced myself to neighbors, et cetera et cetera, blah blah blah. In other words, many of the logistical and pragmatic things have been dealt with well.
More significantly, I've spent happy oodles of time with my mom, my brother, my sister-in-law and my amazing niece, who's working on mastering my name. She pronounces it differently every time, with silly lilts and lisps. Sometimes I'm "Taren" or "Sharen," and other times it's even more like "Arreee," as if she's some loopy British kid off to Hogwarts, but every time I hear her say it, I melt. It's so cheesy, but true. I've been having fun spending time with her, and I am filled with dopey warmth and excitement every time I think about the fact that I'll be here when she grows up, that I won't be one of those aunts who just sends cards on birthdays and swoops in once or twice a year for holidays.
I'm well aware that I'm still in vacation mode - that's the only way I've been managing putting off the schoolwork that nags me daily when I'm just hanging out with family or even catching up on old Hulu episodes - but the non-work I've been doing is exactly what I need to be doing to make my new house feel like home. The work can wait.
At least for a few more days.
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