Like a rubic's cube, only with people

I'm a problem solver.  I like to figure out what's wrong and fix it.  I like to know how things work, and how to put them back together.  The problem is, you can't do that with people.

I will never understand people.  From the humans who want to torture innocent animals to the people who I swear must stay up at night coming up with new ways to screw other humans over.

I need to learn that people cannot be figured out.  It would be nice to say "oh, this person is mean" and "that person uses drugs" or "she is grieving and deserves a bit of slack."  But the fact is, human behavior can't always fit into a box.  You'd think, with all the bat-shit crazy stuff I've seen, I would remember that. But, I don't.

Several years ago, we were guests at a dinner party.  It was lovely, everyone was having fun, dinner was delicious and the host accidentally dropped the perfect chocolate cake his wife had made.  She was calm and said we'd have ice cream and whipped up some chocolate sauce.  He later told me that he felt so terrible about dropping the cake, and she'd made it even worse by not yelling at him.

I wonder if that's what I have done wrong with Problem Child?  Rather than working past the many mistakes, I should have yelled at her?  Maybe yelling would have had an impact and she would have worked harder to not repeat the same mistakes over and over?

But, there were times I spoke to her using a harsh tone of voice . . . it didn't work because her inclination was to stomp and yell and be irrational.

I'll never quite wrap my brains around you people.  Yer all nuts.

Don't do the drama

I've been rolling my eyes since I was a young monkey.  I'm pretty sure the reason I spent half my adult life trying to talk to school kids about safe sex and good relationships was because my karmic reward for each and every time I rolled my eyes at the Old Woman was to find myself receiving the eye roll from a whole classroom of brats.

But, I never managed to do the "mean girl" thing or drama.  I'm a drama free sort of monkey.  I much prefer all the dramas that touch my life to be those of other people.  (I also cannot stand bickering. Ugh.)

Mean Girls are an interesting study of human behavior.  Their actions are wholly intentional, but they operate under the illusion of plausible deniability.  They believe they are being calculatedly vicious.  I have a friend who teachers middle grades who once told me that little boys are like gorillas . . . pounding their chests and making as much noise as possible to establish their position with their peers.  But, she said that little girls were like cats  . . . quietly grooming themselves when really they are looking to sharpen their claws across your face the minute they think they can get away with it.

So, today we're leaving work, all of us at the same time which is rare.  I'm holding the door for my co workers and say "have a good weekend."  One co worker returns the sentiment but Problem Child employee stays silent, gets to the parking lot and very pointedly looks at the other co worker and says "bye" in the most exaggeratedly sweet voice she could muster.

Really?  If you're still thinking that being a Mean Girl at 25 is the way to go through life, I hope you never have children.

Privileged

My favorite 13 year old is on the cusp of becoming my favorite 14 year old.  Over the last year, it has been fun to see her start to adopt "teenagery" behaviors.  The way she flips her hair, the language, and the semi-permenant state of being non-plused.

Last night, she drew me into a conversation where clearly she wanted help, but didn't want to actually ask for it.  I always take that bait.  It turns out, she has a crush and has decided to do the "ask" for the date.  But, as with any venture of this sort, the thought that it could go very badly had caused her to hesitate.  We discussed the pros and cons.  I encouraged.  I made the rule "no naked selfies."

Tonight, she said she was going to do it.  She was going to make the ask.  Then, there was brief hesitation . . . and then plunging in.  I crossed all my monkey fingers and toes in hopes the object of the crush wouldn't crush her.  BUT! NO! SUCCESS! A DATE IS FORTHCOMING!!!

And, it was wonderful to see my favorite teenager so giddy and excited.  I felt bad that I was getting to share this with her and her parents were in another room. (We do this all online as we live several hundred miles apart.)

I asked what made this person so amazing?  Nearly 14 year old said it would take a whole paragraph to describe.  I asked for the top three.  She said "only three?"  Finally, her top three things that make her like this person are:  1) not afraid to stand up for themselves, 2) likes books and 3) believes in supernatural things.

Not bad for a first crush.  In fact, if I were to try to find someone for Nearly 14 year old to date, these might be characteristics I'd look for too.

I'm just so taken in with how very privileged I am that I got to share this moment with her.  I'm pretty sure this will be one of my all time favorite memories.  I got lucky tonight.

Hadn't thought of it that way before

Retail chain, Target, has gone to a genderless toy section.  And, as one might expect in this world devoid of calm and rational response to ANYTHING, some people have absolutely lost what was left of their pea-brains.  They seem to think that without a giant, overhead sign, they won't know if the toy they are about to buy for their sister's 3 year old is for a boy 3 year old or a girl 3 year old.

Someone pointed out a handy, easy to use guide these people can keep in mind . . . or write on an index card and tuck behind their phones in that over-sized case . . . 

if the toy is designed to teach nurturing or development of life . . . it's for a girl

and

if the toy is designed to leave the child with a god-like control over life and death or cause destruction . . . it's for a boy.

Which is so messed up, you should probably go have a bit of a lie-down.

Never say I don't give second chances

Remember when my head exploded over someone's misguided food choices and the Phenom pointed out that the real problem was my food snobbery?

That person is in NOLA right now.  And, I might passively rant in my own home when he eats frozen-from-the-other-side-of-the-planet crab legs during soft-shell season on the NC/SC coast, I can not let him eff up eating in NOLA.  I sent him several options for fine food and drinks ranging across the cost spectrum.

The Phenom has been taunting me all evening with "I bet he's at the IHOP on Canal Street."  Just might be the meanest thing you could say to me.

In which I learn that I am, actually, a prude.

We are in NOLA.  We have had many drinks and lots of excellent food.  We tried three new bars and tiki seemed to be the theme of the trip.

BUT! Today, a convention has rolled into our hotel.  Swingers.  OLD SWINGERS.  I saw a woman, a good 15 years older than me and likely someone's grandmother, leave our hotel in a see-through nightie and panties. And, my gut reaction was not one of "meh."

I like to think that for the most part, I pretty much don't care about what other folks do in the privacy of their rooms.  Frankly, I don't really want to ever have to think about what other folks do in private.  I do, however, have all kinds of judgement for those who patronize "sex" businesses; largely because I know that the great majority of such establishments not only exploit their "workers" but also condone and encourage their customers to push boundaries of consent and decency.  I know that the women, young men, transpeople who work in such businesses are not safe.

I also have all kinds of judgement for people who force others to deal with their sex acts.  This is different from their sexuality . . . but if you're wacking it in public, or humping up on other people/critters/furniture where others can see you . . . or leading your partner around on a leash at the mall then you have violated the rights of others.

Frankly, this shouldn't make me a prude, but I guess it does.   You do you and I'll do me but don't make me see you doing IT.

Where I show my own Sheldon Cooper side.

I was a speaker at a local association of some group of professionals tonight. I arrived early to set up my presentation materials and chat with the event organizers.  As we made small talk, I found that I made mention of various research articles I'd read .  I quipped that I read a lot of research on a variety of subjects.  It's the monkey-nerd in me.

Well, here's what I read tonight.  Dating research. I find it interesting because the Old Woman taught me rules for dating.  It was very important that I present myself as respectful of my companion's wallet.  Of course, now I realize that there is also some bizarro link between men spending money on dates and the expectation of sexual returns on the investment.  She never explained it to me in those terms, but I get it now.  (And, it is wrong and we need to fix this notion in our culture.)   Primarily, I was taught that I should inquire as to what my companion was planning on ordering, and then order something less expensive on the menu.  I was also taught to by pass the extras like apps or dessert.  (There is always homemade cake at the house, why don't you invite your young man in for a bite?)

In college, I had a bad beau who convinced me that being a feminist meant I should pay for our dates.  (Somehow, there was still an expectation of sexual favors.)  Then, I started offering to make dinner for our date and let my companion contribute by paying the cover at a club or for a movie.  (Even with this actually equal arrangement, I still ended up some dude sitting at my kitchen table and declaring that he could have sex with me.  He explained that once he bedded a person, he granted them the nickname of their first initial and he'd never slept with a M (M for monkey) before.  Seems his logic did not factor in the possibility that he would be shown the door before dinner hit the table . . . which is what happened.  I'm not a prude, but I do not hold with such foolishness.)

When I started dating the Phenom, I was pretty burned out on dating and cynical about the whole arrangement. (The dude above contributed his share.)  We really were dating more as placeholders and a social arrangement rather than some monkey/human mating game.  This meant that I made the decision to stop playing games.  I started ordering what I actually wanted to eat (of course, still being respectful of the cost . . . no massive steaks or lobsters . . . but no more side salads with a shared plate of fries either.)   Dates would be negotiated for shared interest as well as expense.

And that was 26 years ago.  We still negotiate dates.  We still work to make sure that neither is taken for granted.  And, we still have great fun on dates.  In fact, just last year, a cabbie in NOLA asked if we were in town on our honeymoon, because we clearly were having fun being together.  We said yes.

Confessions

One aspect of my relationship with Phenom is that we actually inspire each other to be our best selves.  (I know, gag.)

He has become more patient with others because of conversations we've had about struggles I've seen from other humans.  I want to be more generous because of his example.

But, I also find that we have this odd little accountability ritual.  We confess to each other when we were selfish or lacked compassion or decided to not be our best selves.  We actually never admonish each other as a result of these confessions.  In fact, we usually validate the choice.  But, it's interesting.

This realization came about the other day when I confessed that I had not been generous.

One of the people who works in my office is sometimes referred to as "the original freeloader" by others in the office.  She constantly is hinting around that we should give her whatever it is that we have . . . food, make-up, gadgets, clothes.  She doesn't just admire our things, she out-and-out asks for them. My tact is usually to laugh and act like it's an absurd notion. . . me giving you the scarf I wore today.  (And, it is absurd, right? The asking, in itself, is absurd, right?)

So, the other day, she popped into my office when I was eating my lunch.  I'd made myself a large "asian" citrus chopped salad from a kit.  The package itself was large enough that it could easily have been a side item for a meal for a group of people.  But, it was my whole lunch . . . that and a chicken breast I'd brought for protein.  I was more than half way through my salad when she sat down.  She asked what I was having.  She exclaimed that she was really quite hungry.  She told me that she really thought that salad looked good and that she wished I'd brought enough to share.  She asked several times what was in it?  Where did I get it?  How much was in the package? Did I really eat the whole thing for a meal?  Gee, I wish I'd brought lunch with me today.

I let her go on, without suggesting that she should share in my salad (I was eating straight from the bowl . . . no one expects you'd share from your ACTUAL bowl, right?)  I didn't mention that I had a whole, uncut chicken breast in a container on my desk that I planned to eat after I finished the salad.  I suspected she would have expected me to give her the chicken.  But, I'd not had protein with my breakfast, and I had a salad planned for dinner . . . I needed a few grams of protein intake for the day.

Still, I felt as if I had not been generous.  I felt that I'd been selfish, and I should confess.  The Phenom, of course, agreed that her insinuation that I should share my lunch was absurd, and I had no reason to feel guilty.

Confession is good for the soul.  So is validation from your loyal friends.

Shade and Boozy Cake

At some point, every kid brings home the trophy.  For some kids, it comes easy and for others it takes a little longer to find their niche.

I kinda stayed away from sports as a young monkey.  Well, there were brief stints on the track team and rowing team.  The rowing team might have worked out, you know with my long, muscular arms and all, but we moved away before it became an obsession.  Then, I discovered working and making money and running disappeared.

And, I was pretty smart, but never the smartest.

But, now, finally! I have brought home the big trophy.  I won a blue ribbon in the county fair for my "liquor loaf."

When I told Phenom, he said he was surprised.  Then he explained that he thought it would be disqualified for the booze content.

When I told the grad student, he asked if there it were the only entry.

Damn . . . I finally have a moment in the spot light.  I'm finally at the top of the awards dais, and ya'll throw shade.  See how many fruitcakes you get this year.  BFF said she knew it would win all along . . . she just might get one fruit cake every month next year.  HA!

No Excuse

Back when I was still sporting a wound vac, there were days that I would suck it up and decide that the need for some supply was worth becoming one of "the people of walmart."  You know, that web site that chronicles the scary, mismatched, wild "fashions" of the people who wander the aisles of the walmarts.

Yesterday, as I was removing a bowl of black bean soup from the microwave, I lost control of it as I tried to slip a hotpad under the bowl, and scalded my arm pretty badly.  After running it under cold water for a while and getting an ice pack from the freezer, I was able to consult with a friend of mine who is a family nurse practitioner.  She gave me a list of the supplies I'd need to treat the burn myself rather than fork over $150 for an emergency room visit.

I was able, in my pain, to put on underwear, pants and a shirt.

So, people of walmart, what's your excuse?

Unenthusiastic

I've been dumped by ESK.  She's moved on to greener pastures.  I understand, intellectually, why.  I knew the day would come.  But, now I have to find her replacement, and such does not exist.

I'm interviewing for a new ESK (evil side kick) this week. I sent all the people who applied a fact sheet about the job/program as well as a document that would introduce them to the thought process behind the program.

I decided to interview everyone who met the minimum requirements.  Even the ones I knew from their applications that they probably had no chance.  I did reject a person who applied who met the minimum requirements because she didn't complete the full application (only two pages) and did not follow the directions.

Yesterday, the interview process started.  And, I admit, I don't have the best attitude.  In the past, interviews have been more conversational.  These are much more cut and dry.  I haven't tried to chat much with the candidates.

But, from just the first two interviews, I've decided that our future interns, poor dears, will get an in-service training on interviewing for a job.  I will share some of our interview questions (as well as common other questions) with interns so that they can think about how they want to present themselves.  I think the mistake these folks are making is that they appeared for this interview completely unprepared.  As if simply walking into our office would be impression enough for us to hire them.

But, since lecturing my interns is several weeks off . . . lucky you people are gonna get the lecture.

a) if they send you a document with the application, assume they are going to expect that you read it, be familiar with it, and are willing to discuss it at the interview.

b) assume that, at some point, they will want you to describe yourself.  Put some thought into how you want people to think of you as a first impression.  Telling me "I'm just me" isn't enough for me to know what that means . . . since I'm just meeting you.

c) think about your future . . . where do you see yourself in 5-10 years?  It isn't an insult to the person interviewing you to hear that someday you want to run for congress or you'd like to start your own non-profit with _____________ mission.  I would suggest avoiding saying "I want your job" . . . some folks may find that a tad aggressive.

d) do some research about the organization.  How long have they existed? What services/programs/products do they offer?  Are they growing?  Telling me that you know nothing about what our organization does will not impress me or inspire me to want to hire you.

e) come up with questions of your own.  Ask if the position is a new one, or why the previous holder of the position left.  If they provided you with documents, read over them and ask some question that indicates you read them.

I'm sure I'll be adding to this list . . . as I have several more interviews to go.

Incredibly Bad

One of my job duties is to hire for open positions in my office.  We are currently hiring.  This means I get resumes and applications daily.  I have to read through these applications and decide which applicants will get a job interview.

I try to be very fair about the process.  I have a streamlined system that allows everyone to start off on equal footing.  Then, those who meet the qualifications for the job will get an interview.  But, I admit, I'm biased by the time the interviews roll around.

My first inclination is to deny most applicants an interview in the first place.  I consider the application process a test, and if you can't follow simple instructions, I don't want to be forced to work with you.  Also, your tone and attitude can be a real turn off.  Also, applying for a job other than the one advertised will work against you.

One dude said he'd "graciously" accept the job since there are so few persons of his caliber doing this sort of work.

One lady described every professional job she's ever had with the exact same phrase and included it in her cover letter.  She applied for some job that isn't what we are hiring for.  But, the really impressively (bad) aspect of her application is that she, despite having multiple professional positions, listed her aunt, cousin, and father as her references.

One person didn't complete 3/4 of the application and instead of a cover letter, prepared a cover sheet (name, position, date) as one would submit with a paper in school.

This is how I know I'm getting old.  When I was younger, I would have found hiring an exciting process.  Now, it pretty much just triggers my bitch-face.

Monkey blocking

In the town where the Old Folks live, there is a Chinese/Japanese buffet restaurant.  The older couple who own/operate the restaurant seem to hold themselves to be the moral keepers of the community.  The Old Woman told me that several years ago, when she and the Old Man went in for dinner, the older woman owner seemed overjoyed that they'd patched up their marriage.  (This included a freebie dish of crab rangoons.)  The Old Woman was confused.  The Chinese woman explained, in hushed tones, that just a couple weeks before, the Old Man had lunch with a young, blonde woman.  (Tsk, tsk)  The Old Woman tried to explain that no doubt that was their youngest child . . . but the owner refused to believe that a woman as dark haired as the Old Woman could have a blonde daughter.

Another friend told me that he frequently lunched with co-workers at this restaurant.  He works in a small office, and frequently, only one other member of the crew was available for lunch.  Oh, and all of his co-workers are women.  One night, he went to this restaurant with his wife and children.  He introduced his wife to the owner, and her response was "Oh, you have wife, too?"

Not long ago, (well, probably longer ago than I'd like to think) the Phenom and I decided to venture out to a local bar for a late night drink.  Sitting at the bar was a young man the Phenom previously had worked with, many years before.  The young man was sitting with a lovely young woman.  They clearly were flirting with each other and smitten.  They stayed well after midnight and as they left (at the same time we did) they were discussing how to prolong the evening.  At the time, I thought little of the night.

This was until the young man friended me (because Phenom's friends have to use my facebook page if they want contact with him) on facebook.  Then, I realized that this young man was married . . . and not to the young woman we'd met at the bar.

Since our encounter, I've noticed that this young man has started posting more about his wife and children.

I like to think that this encounter with a former colleague (whose opinion he values) was what convinced him to stop hanging out with women, not his wife, well after midnight in bars.  I won't have to use the line "oh, you have wife, too?" on him.

The spiral to helplessness

I have a friend who runs a craft group for kids.  She is often dismayed that the kids she teaches often lack basic crafting skills . . . like gluing and cutting.  And these are kids ranging from 2nd - 7th grades.  She says that what is even more baffling is that they are incapable of following simple instructions.  She says that with each craft, she breaks them down to easy steps . . . and even then, the kids have a difficult time following what she's doing.  And, just as disheartening is that the kids in her group rarely work outside the prescribed template, they are fairly lacking in creativity.

We have had many a discussion about how we were learning to knit and sew and create large paper mache' sculptures at ages much younger than these kids.

I've got another example of this spiral into helplessness.

A class mate of a child I use to baby sit for has started a foodie blog.  She is newly into her 30s and has a real, grown up job.  She decided that it was about time she learned what that weird room with all the appliances really is for after all.

She writes that she printed out a simple recipe and was happily gathering ingredients in the grocery store t prepare her own dinner when she realized the instructions called for several hours between prep steps.  So, she googled something else to eat and came across two recipes that claimed to be quick.  So, she purchased entirely different ingredients and went home to start creating.

After chopping and throwing ingredients into the pot did she read the recipe enough to realize she'd already screwed it all up.  Her finished project, as much as it was a learning experience, wasn't actually food she wanted to eat.

But, what I saw was someone who couldn't be bothered to read past the first line of a recipe before finding herself lost. I think this is a phenomena particular to her generation . . . they don't read all the way through an article or recipe before launching head first into something.

Just wait until they have kids and need to assemble a bike on christmas morning.

Vet Shamed

Sunday afternoon, we realized one of the cats was struggling . . . litter box issues.  It took us until the early hours of Monday to determine which one of the little fuzzbuckets was getting a free trip to the Vet.

It was Louie.  He has a wee uti.  The vet called me and said that there weren't crystals, so she thinks it was brought on by stress.  Yeah.  Stress, in this household?  Not for the cats.

He's on an anti-biotic and pain meds.  And we got several pages about reducing his anxiety and stress while creating a more stimulating environment for him.  She wants us to invest in videos of birds and fish that we can leave playing on the television when we leave the house.  I wanted to ask if she were aware that cats sleep 20 hours a day?

She also suggested a water fountain for the cats.  Which I bought.  Which they are terrified of . . . and which gives me a headache.

But, the best part of the conversation was her being shocked and disappointed that one of us doesn't stay home each day to keep the cats company.  When I explained that I was at work, she suggested Louie stay overnight a few nights so he could be watched.  Then, a couple days later, she called and wanted to know if perhaps my schedule had cleared up so I could be home with Louie, now?  I explained that we BOTH are out of the house from approximately 7:30am until around 5:00pm each day.  This seemed to worry her.  She seems to think that if one of isn't home during the day, it is something akin to forcing our cats into the risky world of being latch-key cats.

Because our cats want us to watch them sleep all day.

Dear Interns,

When you are engaged and interested and committed, we couldn't love you more,

However, if you are some slacker who is just trying to do the minimum to get your diploma so you can free load off your mama and have a higher level of whining because no one will give you a job worthy of your degree . . . by this time in the semester, please know we pretty much hate you.

We recruit interns because a) we have a project that requires extra personnel, b) we truly believe one way our agency can "give back" is through helping the next generation get that "work experience" that will help them get a job and c) we believe that if you learn good, professional habits before you graduate, it will help you avoid problems with your first "real" job.

But, please know that interns represent MORE work for our staff . . . not less.  We work hard to create an experience that will allow you to find ways to apply what you learned in your classes in a real world setting.  Many of the assignments we give you are more about giving you items for a portfolio you can use to demonstrate your abilities to your future employers.  (Really, we could care less about putting up bulletin boards at the local college . . . that's purely for you.)

You should know, our staff is always going to be more loyal to ourselves than to you.  And, you should understand that we communicate . . . a lot.  When you're standing at the doorway of my office giving me some song and dance about how another employee gave you instructions different than what I gave you. . . you should understand that while you're dancing around, I'm likely instant messaging with the staff person you're putting all the blame on and getting the truth.  If you say that you did call in "sick" but that another employee wasn't answering her phone, we can look and see if you ever called.

Also, that employee all of you slacker interns seem to think is the "sympathetic" one . . . you should understand that she generally loses her patience with you before I do.  Just because she's kind, doesn't mean she buys your line of BS.

Lastly, everyday you should remember that we will evaluate you for your grade.  We get together as a full staff to evaluate interns.  We share our various perceptions and experiences with your work, work ethic.  If you were a slacker.  If you lied to us.  If you didn't get your work done.  IT ALL GOES ON YOUR EVALUATION.

Just sayin' . . .

You would think it would be common sense.

You know that app that seems to be taking over people's brains, bitstrips?  You know, it turns you and your situation into a cartoon?  Yeah.  Those annoying things.

Well, Annoying Intern has discovered them.  She now gives everyone on her friends list an hourly bitstrips update on her life.  Freeloading meals from friends, being judgmental about her friend's dance styles, shopping, etc.

Well, here is a handy bit of advice as you are turning everyone's facebook feed into your own bitstrips dominated disaster:  If, after you post a bitstrips of you being stopped by the cops, you post another bitstrips expressing frustration over wasting your "one phone call" on a friend who doesn't answer her phone, and then comment about how you weren't about to call your parents from jail, DO NOT call in "sick" to your internship the next day.  They will only assume that you were, in fact, arrested the night before.  You might have been joking, but they will assume the worst about you.

True story.

Anatomy of a spam fail

The other day, in my personal email, I received notice of a direct message from the twitterverse.  It told me that "Dr. Oz is my savior" and had a link attached.

And, I knew it was a hack job and spam.  Let's examine why it was obviously a hack job/spam.

First, I can't not remember the last time I logged into my twitter account.  I view twitter and linkedin as fairly worthless.  I know, everyone loves them. . . I just can't see the point.  I have a linkedin because I've actually found that I could contact "long losts" through it when they didn't have facebook.  I started a twitter because I was curious.  But, again, can't even remember the last time I logged on to twitter.  So, the idea that someone would feel that a direct message to me through twitter was the easiest way to convey their personal and heartfelt faith was laughable.

Second, the supposed direct message was from someone I know IRL.  And, not only do I know them, actually, but we communicate via other social media on the regular.

Third, this particular friend and I share a love of good food and strong drink. I'm pretty sure this particular friend would not be a minion of Dr. Oz.

And, lastly, my friend has rejected the religious traditions of his upbringing . . . I'm pretty sure some attention-hound, media quack isn't going to replace the most organized crime syndicate of all time.

But, now I have something more to taunt my friend with on a regular.  Thank you hacker/spammers for that.

Haunting

This showed up in my news feed this morning.  I've looked at it a few times, and shared it with several other folks.

On one hand, I find the subject matter horrifying.  I admit, I'm pretty darn smug about the fact that I live in a community that ran the klan out years ago.  (I complain and sniff at the culinary offerings . . . but being klan free is pretty impressive.)

But, when I think about the defensiveness the subjects must feel coupled with the candidness of the photos, I'm curious.  The photographer must be a truly interesting person, to gain (and keep) the trust of his subjects.
Also, I see real poverty in the pictures.  I can't help but wonder if the photographer intentionally selected impoverished members . . . to garner sympathy from the viewer?  To add a layer of pity?  To establish a greater void between the viewer and the subjects?

I remember, years ago, a friend/counselor telling me that people act when they believe there is a benefit to the action.  And, it makes sense . . . even with mean or irrational or immoral behavior, the actor must believe that there is a personal benefit or that their actions are the wiser/more beneficial of their choices.  Which makes me wonder what benefit members of the klan believe they are gaining from being a member of a hate group?  Is it group identity?  Is it feeling connected to something rather than nothing?  Does it stave off loneliness?  Or, is there solidarity in creating a sense of superiority?

But, then again, why do any of us do the crazy, inexplicable, or irrational things we do?

Mayo Sandwiches

When I was very young, I recall the Old Woman bringing home a book from the library called the "White Trash Cookbook."  It had been featured on her morning news show, and she was curious.  She was fascinated, in a repulsed sort of way, by a recipe for a 'mayonnaise sandwich.'  It was wonder bread, "balloon bread" as the Old Woman called it,  and mayonnaise.

I thought of this when I read this article about yet another attempt at making some overblown and misguided statement about race and equality.

Many colleges have Persian Student Clubs or Latino Clubs or Atheist Clubs.  These students usually come together because they share a deeply personal but connected history or viewpoint.  Often these groups will highlight their school year with some organized way of sharing their culture with other members of the community.  Music/dance festivals or food tastings or film nights.  It's an opportunity for people to not only feel less marginalized for a short while, but also to help people outside their culture understand their dress, values, foods, etc better.

So, a White Student Union.  Pretty broad.  Just as Latinos will tell you . . . not every Spanish speaking person is the same, culturally.  The same holds for white folks.  There are immigrant white folks.  There are white folks who experienced poverty.  If a White Student Union were to have an event to share their culture with others, what would that look like?  I mean, other than mayo sandwiches?