Context
I have a large amount of t-shirts. Since this is a wearable collection, I rotate them on a regular basis and usually wear whatever comes to the top of the pile. Today's selection was a shirt depicting Suicide Squid, the mascot for an old Usenet group named rec.arts.comics. You can find a picture of the shirt in question, plus a faux description of the character, here.
Commentary
Over the years I've become more aware of the sensitivities of others, so I've discarded some of my t-shirts that, while funny, could also be construed as insulting. Therefore, when I looked at the Suicide Squid this morning, with its depiction of seven methods of self-annihilation (It would be eight, but one of his tentacles is holding a knife while slitting the wrist[?] of another.), I thought about whether he should join his departed friends. After all, I can hear the reaction in my mind: "Suicide isn't funny!"
Actually, that's wrong. Anything, viewed from the proper perspective, is funny. In my opinion, you only have to look at a picture of an octopus sticking a knife in a toaster (C'mon, have you clicked on the link up in the Context yet?) to know that. Furthermore, although I take the pain that precedes a suicide attempt very seriously, I think poking some fun at the act itself might be beneficial.
It seems to me that one of the reasons some vulnerable populations like teenagers consider suicide is because it is serious. They think, "This, finally, is the thing that will make me worthy of people's attention." The movie Heathers, which takes on the unenviable task of making both suicide and homicide funny, shows this in a scene where a high school loser gets excoriated for trying to commit suicide, an activity which is apparently reserved for the cool kids.
Even Freddy Mercury took his potshots at the "that'll show 'em" aspect of suicide. He wrote a song for Queen that seemed like an effective deterrent to me when I was a teenager because it said this in a jaunty uptempo rhythm:
Don't try suicide; nobody's worth it.
Don't try suicide; nobody cares.
Don't try suicide; you're just gonna hate it.
Don't try suicide; nobody gives a damn!
In the end, that's why we make fun of dark subjects; it takes away a little bit of their power, their mystique. If wearing a t-shirt with a squid reading Kafka in order to off himself (Seriously, go look at the link!) reduces the allure of suicide even a little bit, my work is done.
What did you see today?
10/27/2012
10/26/2012
I saw a story about a touching gesture
Context
I was looking over the New Items List on my library's catalog when I found Eric LeGrand's Believe: my faith and the tackle that changed my life. LeGrand is paralyzed as the result of an injury he sustained while playing football for Rutgers University. The summary of the book mentions that earlier this year, LeGrand was signed to the roster of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers largely due to the efforts of the former Rutgers and current Tampa Bay coach, Greg Schiano.
Commentary
Up until today I would have told you I didn't like Greg Schiano. Earlier in the season, his first in the NFL, he told his players to knock down Eli Manning when the Giants went into what's called "the victory formation," ten guys huddled around the quarterback as he kneels on the ball in the closing seconds of a game. A very unflattering description of Schiano and the league-wide reaction to this legal, but not very sportsmanlike gesture can be found here. So it was very surprising to me to read about about this same man who many consider to be a classless bully deciding to extend the benefits of a NFL career, albeit briefly, to a guy who was never really going to have one.
There are 32 teams in the NFL. Because I was born in Michigan, I always root for the Lions and against whoever they're playing. However, that leaves 15 other games on most weeks that I want to choose a favorite in. Most of the times I make my choices pretty arbitrarily, focusing on one characteristic, good or bad, of the teams in question: Jay Cutler is whiny, Peyton Manning is brilliant, that sort of thing. So I had written off the Buccaneers because they had this badly behaved coach. It seemed like harmless fun to me, since I have no impact on Greg Schiano's actual life. It was just an opportunity for me to set up a straw man and knock him down, nothing to do with real life.
But what do I do with my newfound knowledge about Schiano, that he is in fact a normal human being who is capable of both great gestures and boneheaded ones? Should I now be rooting for the Buccaneers? Should I alternate weeks believing Schiano is a hero and a villain? Or should I just give up my love of quick and easy judgments, even about things that don't really matter? If I say "I don't know," I've kind of already made up my mind, haven't I?
What did you see today?
I was looking over the New Items List on my library's catalog when I found Eric LeGrand's Believe: my faith and the tackle that changed my life. LeGrand is paralyzed as the result of an injury he sustained while playing football for Rutgers University. The summary of the book mentions that earlier this year, LeGrand was signed to the roster of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers largely due to the efforts of the former Rutgers and current Tampa Bay coach, Greg Schiano.
Commentary
Up until today I would have told you I didn't like Greg Schiano. Earlier in the season, his first in the NFL, he told his players to knock down Eli Manning when the Giants went into what's called "the victory formation," ten guys huddled around the quarterback as he kneels on the ball in the closing seconds of a game. A very unflattering description of Schiano and the league-wide reaction to this legal, but not very sportsmanlike gesture can be found here. So it was very surprising to me to read about about this same man who many consider to be a classless bully deciding to extend the benefits of a NFL career, albeit briefly, to a guy who was never really going to have one.
There are 32 teams in the NFL. Because I was born in Michigan, I always root for the Lions and against whoever they're playing. However, that leaves 15 other games on most weeks that I want to choose a favorite in. Most of the times I make my choices pretty arbitrarily, focusing on one characteristic, good or bad, of the teams in question: Jay Cutler is whiny, Peyton Manning is brilliant, that sort of thing. So I had written off the Buccaneers because they had this badly behaved coach. It seemed like harmless fun to me, since I have no impact on Greg Schiano's actual life. It was just an opportunity for me to set up a straw man and knock him down, nothing to do with real life.
But what do I do with my newfound knowledge about Schiano, that he is in fact a normal human being who is capable of both great gestures and boneheaded ones? Should I now be rooting for the Buccaneers? Should I alternate weeks believing Schiano is a hero and a villain? Or should I just give up my love of quick and easy judgments, even about things that don't really matter? If I say "I don't know," I've kind of already made up my mind, haven't I?
What did you see today?
10/14/2012
I saw a description of negotiations
Context
I'm reading The Social Life of Information by John Seely Brown and Paul Duguid. This book contends that the belief that more information, especially in the form of the internet, will somehow solve all our problems is at least premature, if not hopelessly naive. I've just finished a section where the authors talk about the intricacies of negotiation, pointing out that human beings makes thousands of implicit negotiations every day, and that we only resort to rule-based decision making, the kind computers are really good at, when those fail. As an example, they point out that committees often have to make rules about how to communicate, like who can talk for how long, but groups of friends usually do not.
Commentary
The idea of rule-based decision making and negotiation got me to thinking about the rule of law. Patriotism is a challenging concept for me. I like being an American because I think we have a kick-ass constitution, not because of any loyalty to a geographic or cultural entity. Does the U.S. even have a culture? Our embrace of multiculturalism maybe, but I digress. Anyway, I like the rule of law in this country.
On the other hand, I'm a Quaker, and as a matter of practice, we abjure some of the things the Constitution prescribes. For example, Quakers don't vote when doing church business. In my experience, Quakers vote like mad in the national elections, but that's a separate issue. Anyway, in our meetings for worship with attention to business (We're a simple people, but we like the names of things to be painfully precise.), we make decisions by "sense of the meeting." This means we work together until we find an answer that resonates with everyone participating in the process, rather than voting, which produces winners and losers.
If you ask a dozen Quakers why we do things this way, there's a good chance you'll get at least ten different answers. Christian Quakers often believe that a collective answer is more likely to reflect the will of God. In my case, I specifically hark back to the wrong turn the children of Israel made when they told God they no longer wanted their disputes settled and armies led by the itinerant judges He raised up among them. They wanted a permanent hereditary king, like all the other cool nations had. The extra level of remove from the Lord did not work out well for them.
Quakers who are not explicitly Christian sometimes still invoke the mystical aspect of collective decision-making, even if the mystery is not attributed to a particular deity. Even non-Quakers sometimes adopt the "sense of the meeting" language to their secular business dealings, in the belief that consensus (or in the case of the International Monetary Fund pretending to have consensus) serves better than conflict when expecting people to work together.
So I like the rule of law, but I avoid using it whenever I can. Brown and Duguid point out computers can't manage the slight change-of-course negotiations people navigate with ease because these depend on shared values and trust, which machines can neither create nor maintain. And there's the rub: the moment we turn to the rule of law, which is the set "If you cross this line, these consequences will happen," way of looking at the world, we give up human connection in order to take a chance on "being right." Which one is really more valuable?
What did you see today?
I'm reading The Social Life of Information by John Seely Brown and Paul Duguid. This book contends that the belief that more information, especially in the form of the internet, will somehow solve all our problems is at least premature, if not hopelessly naive. I've just finished a section where the authors talk about the intricacies of negotiation, pointing out that human beings makes thousands of implicit negotiations every day, and that we only resort to rule-based decision making, the kind computers are really good at, when those fail. As an example, they point out that committees often have to make rules about how to communicate, like who can talk for how long, but groups of friends usually do not.
Commentary
The idea of rule-based decision making and negotiation got me to thinking about the rule of law. Patriotism is a challenging concept for me. I like being an American because I think we have a kick-ass constitution, not because of any loyalty to a geographic or cultural entity. Does the U.S. even have a culture? Our embrace of multiculturalism maybe, but I digress. Anyway, I like the rule of law in this country.
On the other hand, I'm a Quaker, and as a matter of practice, we abjure some of the things the Constitution prescribes. For example, Quakers don't vote when doing church business. In my experience, Quakers vote like mad in the national elections, but that's a separate issue. Anyway, in our meetings for worship with attention to business (We're a simple people, but we like the names of things to be painfully precise.), we make decisions by "sense of the meeting." This means we work together until we find an answer that resonates with everyone participating in the process, rather than voting, which produces winners and losers.
If you ask a dozen Quakers why we do things this way, there's a good chance you'll get at least ten different answers. Christian Quakers often believe that a collective answer is more likely to reflect the will of God. In my case, I specifically hark back to the wrong turn the children of Israel made when they told God they no longer wanted their disputes settled and armies led by the itinerant judges He raised up among them. They wanted a permanent hereditary king, like all the other cool nations had. The extra level of remove from the Lord did not work out well for them.
Quakers who are not explicitly Christian sometimes still invoke the mystical aspect of collective decision-making, even if the mystery is not attributed to a particular deity. Even non-Quakers sometimes adopt the "sense of the meeting" language to their secular business dealings, in the belief that consensus (or in the case of the International Monetary Fund pretending to have consensus) serves better than conflict when expecting people to work together.
So I like the rule of law, but I avoid using it whenever I can. Brown and Duguid point out computers can't manage the slight change-of-course negotiations people navigate with ease because these depend on shared values and trust, which machines can neither create nor maintain. And there's the rub: the moment we turn to the rule of law, which is the set "If you cross this line, these consequences will happen," way of looking at the world, we give up human connection in order to take a chance on "being right." Which one is really more valuable?
What did you see today?
9/19/2012
I saw a complaint about carelessness
Context
A colleague at the library I work at sent me an e-mail asking if I would remind people how important it is to do proper data entry when registering patrons for library cards. I replied back both my apology that this would fall outside the scope of my job duties and my opinion that if just reminding people of the importance of a task was enough to ensure perfect execution of it, airplanes would never crash.
Commentary
I think there is a sweet spot where we do our best work on any given task. When we're first learning, we're very careful, but we make mistakes because we don't understand everything we're doing. Later on, when we understand both the procedures and the logic behind them really well, we think we can do the task with our eyes closed and the carelessness bugaboo emerges. Somewhere in between we probably produce outstanding work a couple of times.
I can see a couple of ways to fight this problem. One is cross-training, or at least, task variation. If we only do something once a month, rather than 20 times a day, there's the potential for it to seem a little bit unfamiliar each time we do it, maybe enough to make us work carefully. At the very least, we don't grow so resentful of the repetition that we switch off our brains. Balancing my checkbook is a pretty mindless task, but I don't do it often enough to be bored by it.
Automation is another solution. Machines are uniquely suited to repetitive tasks, even complex ones. What's great about computers these days is they can learn (mostly by trying different procedures and keeping only the ones that work), but they can't get bored. In my line of work, as in many others, there are people concerned about their jobs being turned over to computers. I always assure them that computers are only good for tasks that are too stupid for human beings, by which I mean too mindless to be satisfying for us. Maybe I'd get more leverage if I said "tasks that are too boring for human beings."
What did you see today?
A colleague at the library I work at sent me an e-mail asking if I would remind people how important it is to do proper data entry when registering patrons for library cards. I replied back both my apology that this would fall outside the scope of my job duties and my opinion that if just reminding people of the importance of a task was enough to ensure perfect execution of it, airplanes would never crash.
Commentary
I think there is a sweet spot where we do our best work on any given task. When we're first learning, we're very careful, but we make mistakes because we don't understand everything we're doing. Later on, when we understand both the procedures and the logic behind them really well, we think we can do the task with our eyes closed and the carelessness bugaboo emerges. Somewhere in between we probably produce outstanding work a couple of times.
I can see a couple of ways to fight this problem. One is cross-training, or at least, task variation. If we only do something once a month, rather than 20 times a day, there's the potential for it to seem a little bit unfamiliar each time we do it, maybe enough to make us work carefully. At the very least, we don't grow so resentful of the repetition that we switch off our brains. Balancing my checkbook is a pretty mindless task, but I don't do it often enough to be bored by it.
Automation is another solution. Machines are uniquely suited to repetitive tasks, even complex ones. What's great about computers these days is they can learn (mostly by trying different procedures and keeping only the ones that work), but they can't get bored. In my line of work, as in many others, there are people concerned about their jobs being turned over to computers. I always assure them that computers are only good for tasks that are too stupid for human beings, by which I mean too mindless to be satisfying for us. Maybe I'd get more leverage if I said "tasks that are too boring for human beings."
What did you see today?
9/09/2012
I saw a quote about grandparents
Context
I read this at the end of Annie's Mailbox in the Shreveport Times today:
Annie's Snippet for Grandparents Day (credit Alex Haley): Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children.
Commentary
I don't usually celebrate what I consider to be "Hallmark Holidays." Sure, I commemorated Mother's Day and Father's Day when my parents were still alive, but after a while you start to feel like some things were just added to the calendar to push greeting cards. Boss's Day? Really? In fact, my mother was dismayed when we lived in Mexico that there was an official Children's Day celebrated there. She was of the not uncommon opinion that every day is Children's Day. So anyway, I didn't celebrate Grandparents' Day when my grandparents were living and the last surviving one died about 10 years ago. Nonetheless, I agree wholeheartedly with the quote above and I'm glad the Annie's Mailbox people posted it.
When I got to be of teenaged years and older, I learned some negative things about my grandparents. My maternal grandfather, who I never knew, was an alcoholic. Neither of my grandmothers was particularly nice to my mother, her mother-in-law being quite picky and her mother fairly self-involved. My paternal grandfather was a little distant.
None of these things mattered when I was a child. There was nothing I looked forward to more than my week of summer vacation alone with Mimi and Papa, watching TV, playing oh-so-carefully with Mimi's china, and listening raptly while Papa gave out wisdom in his slow and measured way. My other grandmother died when I was quite young, but I still remember snippets of the times I got to spend with her, as well as still having the stuffed tiger she gave me for my third birthday. I think she made it, but that's subject to some dispute. Whatever, she was my Grandma Russell and I can believe what I want! The point is: a child loves her parents, but Alex Haley is right, grandparents are magical.
I have no children of my own, but I saw some of the same things in my mom's life as a grandparent, too. My nephew is autistic, but my mother, in the stubborn way that is common to my family, refused to believe it. He was her Alex and he was just what he was meant to be, no disability at all. Her own great-granddaughter returned the favor when my mother was suffering from Alzheimer's. Actually, I should rephrase: my mother had no problem with her dementia at all; the rest of us did most of the suffering.
Anyway, my favorite two pictures of my mother are from that time. She is sitting on the steps with Shelby, her great-granddaughter. In one of them they are leaning forward, in the other, leaning back. My sister (Shelby's grandmother) came by and asked the nominally more responsible party, my mother, what they were doing. My mom said, "I don't know," and they just kept rocking.
I guess that's what's at the heart of the special relationship between grandparents and grandchildren. It might be different if you're actually raised by your grandparents, but that generation of remove seems to help grandparents accept grandchildren as whole people in their own right, needing to be guided, sure, but never a stand-in for their personal expectations or a reflection of their own failings. Grandchildren, in their turn, think every grandparental eccentricity is just normal, possibly because they don't have to see them often enough to chafe against them.
If you still have grandparents, I hope you enjoy a special relationship with them, and if not, I hope you have some magical memories.
What did you see today?
I read this at the end of Annie's Mailbox in the Shreveport Times today:
Annie's Snippet for Grandparents Day (credit Alex Haley): Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children.
Commentary
I don't usually celebrate what I consider to be "Hallmark Holidays." Sure, I commemorated Mother's Day and Father's Day when my parents were still alive, but after a while you start to feel like some things were just added to the calendar to push greeting cards. Boss's Day? Really? In fact, my mother was dismayed when we lived in Mexico that there was an official Children's Day celebrated there. She was of the not uncommon opinion that every day is Children's Day. So anyway, I didn't celebrate Grandparents' Day when my grandparents were living and the last surviving one died about 10 years ago. Nonetheless, I agree wholeheartedly with the quote above and I'm glad the Annie's Mailbox people posted it.
When I got to be of teenaged years and older, I learned some negative things about my grandparents. My maternal grandfather, who I never knew, was an alcoholic. Neither of my grandmothers was particularly nice to my mother, her mother-in-law being quite picky and her mother fairly self-involved. My paternal grandfather was a little distant.
None of these things mattered when I was a child. There was nothing I looked forward to more than my week of summer vacation alone with Mimi and Papa, watching TV, playing oh-so-carefully with Mimi's china, and listening raptly while Papa gave out wisdom in his slow and measured way. My other grandmother died when I was quite young, but I still remember snippets of the times I got to spend with her, as well as still having the stuffed tiger she gave me for my third birthday. I think she made it, but that's subject to some dispute. Whatever, she was my Grandma Russell and I can believe what I want! The point is: a child loves her parents, but Alex Haley is right, grandparents are magical.
I have no children of my own, but I saw some of the same things in my mom's life as a grandparent, too. My nephew is autistic, but my mother, in the stubborn way that is common to my family, refused to believe it. He was her Alex and he was just what he was meant to be, no disability at all. Her own great-granddaughter returned the favor when my mother was suffering from Alzheimer's. Actually, I should rephrase: my mother had no problem with her dementia at all; the rest of us did most of the suffering.
Anyway, my favorite two pictures of my mother are from that time. She is sitting on the steps with Shelby, her great-granddaughter. In one of them they are leaning forward, in the other, leaning back. My sister (Shelby's grandmother) came by and asked the nominally more responsible party, my mother, what they were doing. My mom said, "I don't know," and they just kept rocking.
I guess that's what's at the heart of the special relationship between grandparents and grandchildren. It might be different if you're actually raised by your grandparents, but that generation of remove seems to help grandparents accept grandchildren as whole people in their own right, needing to be guided, sure, but never a stand-in for their personal expectations or a reflection of their own failings. Grandchildren, in their turn, think every grandparental eccentricity is just normal, possibly because they don't have to see them often enough to chafe against them.
If you still have grandparents, I hope you enjoy a special relationship with them, and if not, I hope you have some magical memories.
What did you see today?
8/29/2012
I saw a book description
Context
I was looking over the new children's nonfiction books at my library when I found Moonbird: a year on the wind with the great survivor B95 by Phillip Hoose. If you go to this link and click on A Look Inside, you'll see that the book describes the survival of an individual migrating shorebird in the face of myriad threats to his existence, including environmental changes wrought by human beings.
Commentary
Yes, once again I'm blogging about a book description, rather than the book itself. I'm a librarian; I read a lot of book descriptions. And movie descriptions. And CD descriptions. I also seem to be on an environmental kick as well, so forgive me if I grow repetitive.
I've been reading little bits of Charles Darwin's The Origin of Species and feeling dismayed that some people hold it in such contempt. Far from being a dry scientific treatise tasked with disproving God's existence, it's actually page after page of Darwin describing the wonders he sees in nature and offering his best explanation as to why they happen. Perhaps I'm perverse, but to me it reads much more like a celebration of creation than a debunking of it.
Anyway, one of the things Darwin is particularly taken with is adaptation, and he devotes most of a chapter to talking about how human beings create (if I can use that word) adaptations in domesticated plants and animals. I agree that it's an amazing process, but not really a surprising one. As people, we're all about making things fit what we want and/or need.
Think about it. Most species reside in places that are suited to their physical makeup: tropical plants in Brazil, penguins in Antarctica. People move to places that are not suited to their physiology at all and then change their physiology! Well, they either put on some clothes or some sunscreen. Or they just change the place itself, by building air-conditioned condos in the middle of the desert.
I'm starting to think this is why we are so hard on the ecology of our planet. We figure we'll always be able to adapt to whatever nature throws at us. And we may be right about that, but we fail to take into account that other species do not adapt that quickly. When we change the environment to suit ourselves, we frequently make it lethally inhospitable to the other inhabitants of the planet. You might say we do this unintentionally, but that doesn't really excuse us. We're supposed to be the ones with the big brains, not to mention the caretakers of all creation. We ought to be able to both adapt and accommodate, not just carelessly wreck everything in our path.
What did you see today?
I was looking over the new children's nonfiction books at my library when I found Moonbird: a year on the wind with the great survivor B95 by Phillip Hoose. If you go to this link and click on A Look Inside, you'll see that the book describes the survival of an individual migrating shorebird in the face of myriad threats to his existence, including environmental changes wrought by human beings.
Commentary
Yes, once again I'm blogging about a book description, rather than the book itself. I'm a librarian; I read a lot of book descriptions. And movie descriptions. And CD descriptions. I also seem to be on an environmental kick as well, so forgive me if I grow repetitive.
I've been reading little bits of Charles Darwin's The Origin of Species and feeling dismayed that some people hold it in such contempt. Far from being a dry scientific treatise tasked with disproving God's existence, it's actually page after page of Darwin describing the wonders he sees in nature and offering his best explanation as to why they happen. Perhaps I'm perverse, but to me it reads much more like a celebration of creation than a debunking of it.
Anyway, one of the things Darwin is particularly taken with is adaptation, and he devotes most of a chapter to talking about how human beings create (if I can use that word) adaptations in domesticated plants and animals. I agree that it's an amazing process, but not really a surprising one. As people, we're all about making things fit what we want and/or need.
Think about it. Most species reside in places that are suited to their physical makeup: tropical plants in Brazil, penguins in Antarctica. People move to places that are not suited to their physiology at all and then change their physiology! Well, they either put on some clothes or some sunscreen. Or they just change the place itself, by building air-conditioned condos in the middle of the desert.
I'm starting to think this is why we are so hard on the ecology of our planet. We figure we'll always be able to adapt to whatever nature throws at us. And we may be right about that, but we fail to take into account that other species do not adapt that quickly. When we change the environment to suit ourselves, we frequently make it lethally inhospitable to the other inhabitants of the planet. You might say we do this unintentionally, but that doesn't really excuse us. We're supposed to be the ones with the big brains, not to mention the caretakers of all creation. We ought to be able to both adapt and accommodate, not just carelessly wreck everything in our path.
What did you see today?
8/28/2012
I saw a garden
Context
I was looking at pictures on the internet of people who have replaced their lawns with gardens and found a link to this story of a man who's been cited for having an educational garden instead of a lawn in front of his house because it's considered an eyesore. Wanting to see for myself, I found this picture of the garden in question.
Commentary
Does the garden in the link above look bad to you, like it would diminish property values in the neighborhood? It's OK; you can be honest. It does look a little odd, doesn't it? I mean, there's food growing right out there where everyone can see it!
It seems to me that Americans sometimes have a paradoxical relationship to work. Everyone is supposed to work hard, but when you return to your middle-class home in the suburbs no one is supposed to see the effort you put in. You go to an air-conditioned office in the city for eight hours a day to make enough money to buy food; you don't grow it yourself! It's not just food, either. You're not supposed to work on your car in your yard either, and you're not supposed to hang your clean laundry out to dry.
Pardon the digression, but having been raised in Mexico, that last one was quite a shock to me when I returned to the United States. I mean, line-dried laundry can be a little stiff, but it smells so much better and lasts so much longer than the dryer-processed version. Not to mention how much better it is for the environment.
Which brings me back to the garden, which is also more environmentally sensible than keeping a lawn. And it shouldn't be that difficult. After all, we used to all grow our own food and hang out our own laundry. But I think that's part of the problem. Americans are very fond of progress. We like to feel like we're starting at one point and constantly improving on our way to one goal or another. Going back to something we've already done feels like failure or surrender. In our culture "old-fashioned" and "traditional" are usually meant pejoratively. That's why the words "new" and "improved" so often go together.
Realistically, though, we have to recognize that some progress is not good. Like the constant upward climb of our average weight, which is considerably diminishing our quality of life. Increasingly sophisticated and efficient weaponry is not my favorite form of progress either. Mind you, I'm not advocating that we return to the good old days of beating each other up with rocks. I'm just saying that maybe growing a little food on your property is not a crime. Even if it is a little unusual-looking.
What did you see?
I was looking at pictures on the internet of people who have replaced their lawns with gardens and found a link to this story of a man who's been cited for having an educational garden instead of a lawn in front of his house because it's considered an eyesore. Wanting to see for myself, I found this picture of the garden in question.
Commentary
Does the garden in the link above look bad to you, like it would diminish property values in the neighborhood? It's OK; you can be honest. It does look a little odd, doesn't it? I mean, there's food growing right out there where everyone can see it!
It seems to me that Americans sometimes have a paradoxical relationship to work. Everyone is supposed to work hard, but when you return to your middle-class home in the suburbs no one is supposed to see the effort you put in. You go to an air-conditioned office in the city for eight hours a day to make enough money to buy food; you don't grow it yourself! It's not just food, either. You're not supposed to work on your car in your yard either, and you're not supposed to hang your clean laundry out to dry.
Pardon the digression, but having been raised in Mexico, that last one was quite a shock to me when I returned to the United States. I mean, line-dried laundry can be a little stiff, but it smells so much better and lasts so much longer than the dryer-processed version. Not to mention how much better it is for the environment.
Which brings me back to the garden, which is also more environmentally sensible than keeping a lawn. And it shouldn't be that difficult. After all, we used to all grow our own food and hang out our own laundry. But I think that's part of the problem. Americans are very fond of progress. We like to feel like we're starting at one point and constantly improving on our way to one goal or another. Going back to something we've already done feels like failure or surrender. In our culture "old-fashioned" and "traditional" are usually meant pejoratively. That's why the words "new" and "improved" so often go together.
Realistically, though, we have to recognize that some progress is not good. Like the constant upward climb of our average weight, which is considerably diminishing our quality of life. Increasingly sophisticated and efficient weaponry is not my favorite form of progress either. Mind you, I'm not advocating that we return to the good old days of beating each other up with rocks. I'm just saying that maybe growing a little food on your property is not a crime. Even if it is a little unusual-looking.
What did you see?
8/11/2012
I saw a description of the Divine
Context
My Quaker meeting is reading excerpts from Patricia Loring's Listening Spirituality. One person was particularly struck by this sentence, found in the chapter entitled "Discernment: the Heart of Listening Spirituality: "Both interpretation reflect Friends' felt sense of the Divine as a dynamism rather than as an entity." After some discussion, I added "some" before "Friends'" to my copy of the reading.
Commentary
Quakers are non-dogmatic, which means that although we may spend time talking about what we believe as individuals, we never say that someone else's belief is incorrect. At my meeting, at least, that means that people come to the table with many different conceptions of God. The person who most tends toward the atheistic side of the spectrum like to tease me by asking if I believe God is an old white man in long robes. The completely honest answer to this question is, "Sometimes."
Realistically, I think it's quite a stretch to expect that any human being's understanding of the divine would be entirely accurate. We end up using different language to describe the various aspects we do understand, but those aspects change over time, if only because we choose to emphasize different ones. Even if we decided to remove a great deal of cultural vagaries by talking only about Roman Catholics, a child's idea of her God would vary from a Jesuit's about to graduate from seminary, and his would likely be different from the one held by an elderly woman who's recently been widowed.
So I don't object to people seeing the divine as a dynamism rather than an entity. I even kind of understand where the idea comes from. I think many people prefer this conception because being a discrete entity, or a person, as some of us would have it, would seem to establish inappropriate limits of time and space on the divine nature. On the other hand, I think non-personal language like "flow" or "energy" or, say, "dynamism" is inappropriately limiting as well, in that it takes away the idea the God has a will.
Loring has an answer for this. In the very next paragraph of our reading she discusses a recording of Thomas Merton (referenced in this list) in which he jokes with students about wasting time looking for the map God has planned out for history so they'll know exactly what to do. In Merton's mind, there is no pre-designed map; the road is constantly changing according to the decisions we make and the actions we take.
From my perspective, Merton and Loring are batting .500 as a team. I do agree it's not a good use of our time to try to figure out what God's entire plan is, but that's because the "trying to fit divine-sized stuff into a human brain" problem occurs again, not because the plan doesn't exist. In the final analysis, I feel much more confident living my little Lynn-sized life if I know that God has everything around me in hand (Eeek! A personification!), and everything will work to the good.
What did you see today?
My Quaker meeting is reading excerpts from Patricia Loring's Listening Spirituality. One person was particularly struck by this sentence, found in the chapter entitled "Discernment: the Heart of Listening Spirituality: "Both interpretation reflect Friends' felt sense of the Divine as a dynamism rather than as an entity." After some discussion, I added "some" before "Friends'" to my copy of the reading.
Commentary
Quakers are non-dogmatic, which means that although we may spend time talking about what we believe as individuals, we never say that someone else's belief is incorrect. At my meeting, at least, that means that people come to the table with many different conceptions of God. The person who most tends toward the atheistic side of the spectrum like to tease me by asking if I believe God is an old white man in long robes. The completely honest answer to this question is, "Sometimes."
Realistically, I think it's quite a stretch to expect that any human being's understanding of the divine would be entirely accurate. We end up using different language to describe the various aspects we do understand, but those aspects change over time, if only because we choose to emphasize different ones. Even if we decided to remove a great deal of cultural vagaries by talking only about Roman Catholics, a child's idea of her God would vary from a Jesuit's about to graduate from seminary, and his would likely be different from the one held by an elderly woman who's recently been widowed.
So I don't object to people seeing the divine as a dynamism rather than an entity. I even kind of understand where the idea comes from. I think many people prefer this conception because being a discrete entity, or a person, as some of us would have it, would seem to establish inappropriate limits of time and space on the divine nature. On the other hand, I think non-personal language like "flow" or "energy" or, say, "dynamism" is inappropriately limiting as well, in that it takes away the idea the God has a will.
Loring has an answer for this. In the very next paragraph of our reading she discusses a recording of Thomas Merton (referenced in this list) in which he jokes with students about wasting time looking for the map God has planned out for history so they'll know exactly what to do. In Merton's mind, there is no pre-designed map; the road is constantly changing according to the decisions we make and the actions we take.
From my perspective, Merton and Loring are batting .500 as a team. I do agree it's not a good use of our time to try to figure out what God's entire plan is, but that's because the "trying to fit divine-sized stuff into a human brain" problem occurs again, not because the plan doesn't exist. In the final analysis, I feel much more confident living my little Lynn-sized life if I know that God has everything around me in hand (Eeek! A personification!), and everything will work to the good.
What did you see today?
7/27/2012
I saw an article that contradicted itself
Context
I found this article regarding James Holmes's prison behavior while perusing the Time Magazine website today. The article states that Mr. Holmes has been engaging in erratic behavior in jail, then says that might not be true, and concludes that the man's behavior is "mysterious."
Commentary
Consider this my Friday evening snark: I believe there's a difference between mysterious behavior and not confirming your information before posting a news story. Oh wait! This is the internet age, where the truth is "fluid."
What I find particularly funny is that the updated version, the one that says Holmes has been quiet throughout his incarceration, seems less credible, quoting only "sources," as opposed to the more specific "Arapahoe County Jail officials." Honestly though, can we just not say anything until we find someone willing to go on the record? Or are we just as crazy as James Holmes himself, believing that if we stuff ourselves with every morsel of information thrown our way everything will eventually become clear?
What did you see today?
I found this article regarding James Holmes's prison behavior while perusing the Time Magazine website today. The article states that Mr. Holmes has been engaging in erratic behavior in jail, then says that might not be true, and concludes that the man's behavior is "mysterious."
Commentary
Consider this my Friday evening snark: I believe there's a difference between mysterious behavior and not confirming your information before posting a news story. Oh wait! This is the internet age, where the truth is "fluid."
What I find particularly funny is that the updated version, the one that says Holmes has been quiet throughout his incarceration, seems less credible, quoting only "sources," as opposed to the more specific "Arapahoe County Jail officials." Honestly though, can we just not say anything until we find someone willing to go on the record? Or are we just as crazy as James Holmes himself, believing that if we stuff ourselves with every morsel of information thrown our way everything will eventually become clear?
What did you see today?
7/24/2012
I saw reaction to an obituary
Context
Sally Ride died yesterday. I didn't know this until I was looking at The Huffington Post for another reason and saw the headline to this article. I didn't read the article, but understood from the headline that Sally Ride was a lesbian. About 15 seconds later, I saw the headline to this article about some reactions in the LGBTQ community to a memorial tweet by Mitt Romney. This time I actually clicked through to the article in question.
Commentary
My first response to the Twitter fight referenced above was puzzlement. I thought that the fact that people were getting angry meant that Romney had said something derogatory about Sally Ride's sexual orientation on his Twitter account. But no, just the standard, "We've lost an American hero today" stuff. So the retweets seemed to be saying, "Because you haven't fully supported equality for homosexuals, you don't get to honor them when they die."
On the face of it, I though the reaction was crazy for two reasons:
1) It was unfair. I don't know the exact timing of Romney's tweet, but I get the impression that Sally Ride did not come out of the closet to the general public while she was alive. There is every reason to believe the presumptive Republican nominee didn't even know she was gay when he tweeted about her. And if you're going to blame him for that, you're too far gone for me to even talk to you.
2) It was ungracious. When someone says he admires you or holds a door open for you, you thank him politely. You don't spit in his face.
My husband contends that the offended members of the LGBTQ might have been saying that tweeting about someone's death is somewhat self-aggrandizing, unlike sending a private note of condolence to the family. It's kind of like mentioning Sally Ride's death at the beginning of your stump speech for the day. It acknowledges the loss, sure, but also ties it to your current endeavors. So the retweeters respond, "Nuh-uh, you don't get to hitch your wagon to our star!" and that might be a reasonable response.
We have so many ways of communicating these days and mass communication is becoming increasingly massive in both its reach and its accessibility. Telling everyone how you're feeling has become simple, as has gathering everyone's response. Even things that really should be private, like letting someone know you're breaking up with him, end up happening through Facebook.
Which brings me to God. Generally speaking, although I'm pretty sure He can, God does not engage in mass communication, except in the person of Jesus. Usually, when the Almighty speaks from a place of divinity, He gives a personalized message to one person. Now, that person often passes the message on to a crowd, in which case we call him/her a prophet, but some of the best Bible stories derive from private communication between an individual and her/his Lord: the Magnificat; Jesus telling the woman, "Your sins are forgiven;" even Jonah's argument with God about job satisfaction. I'm not saying I know why God chooses to communicate this way, but I think it does bring home the idea the manner in which we deliver a message can be as telling as its content.
What did you see today?
Sally Ride died yesterday. I didn't know this until I was looking at The Huffington Post for another reason and saw the headline to this article. I didn't read the article, but understood from the headline that Sally Ride was a lesbian. About 15 seconds later, I saw the headline to this article about some reactions in the LGBTQ community to a memorial tweet by Mitt Romney. This time I actually clicked through to the article in question.
Commentary
My first response to the Twitter fight referenced above was puzzlement. I thought that the fact that people were getting angry meant that Romney had said something derogatory about Sally Ride's sexual orientation on his Twitter account. But no, just the standard, "We've lost an American hero today" stuff. So the retweets seemed to be saying, "Because you haven't fully supported equality for homosexuals, you don't get to honor them when they die."
On the face of it, I though the reaction was crazy for two reasons:
1) It was unfair. I don't know the exact timing of Romney's tweet, but I get the impression that Sally Ride did not come out of the closet to the general public while she was alive. There is every reason to believe the presumptive Republican nominee didn't even know she was gay when he tweeted about her. And if you're going to blame him for that, you're too far gone for me to even talk to you.
2) It was ungracious. When someone says he admires you or holds a door open for you, you thank him politely. You don't spit in his face.
My husband contends that the offended members of the LGBTQ might have been saying that tweeting about someone's death is somewhat self-aggrandizing, unlike sending a private note of condolence to the family. It's kind of like mentioning Sally Ride's death at the beginning of your stump speech for the day. It acknowledges the loss, sure, but also ties it to your current endeavors. So the retweeters respond, "Nuh-uh, you don't get to hitch your wagon to our star!" and that might be a reasonable response.
We have so many ways of communicating these days and mass communication is becoming increasingly massive in both its reach and its accessibility. Telling everyone how you're feeling has become simple, as has gathering everyone's response. Even things that really should be private, like letting someone know you're breaking up with him, end up happening through Facebook.
Which brings me to God. Generally speaking, although I'm pretty sure He can, God does not engage in mass communication, except in the person of Jesus. Usually, when the Almighty speaks from a place of divinity, He gives a personalized message to one person. Now, that person often passes the message on to a crowd, in which case we call him/her a prophet, but some of the best Bible stories derive from private communication between an individual and her/his Lord: the Magnificat; Jesus telling the woman, "Your sins are forgiven;" even Jonah's argument with God about job satisfaction. I'm not saying I know why God chooses to communicate this way, but I think it does bring home the idea the manner in which we deliver a message can be as telling as its content.
What did you see today?
7/20/2012
I saw a corporate settlement
Context
This morning, an agreement was reached between DirecTV and Viacom in their 10-day-long dispute over how much the former would pay to carry the latter's channels. DirecTV's announcement posits the settlement as a triumph over "bullying" by a programming provider. Viacom's announcement is more subdued. I myself am a DirecTV subscriber who frequently watches Comedy Central, one of Viacom's channels.
Commentary
I found many interesting aspects to this dispute and its resolution, but I'm going to start with the one that caused me to want to blog in the first place: the belligerents immediately removed all references to the dispute itself from not only their main websites, but the little ancillary ones each of them had set up just to rag on each other about it (this one for DirecTV, and this one for Viacom).
I was sad this information was gone, because I thought the tone each company took in defending its viewpoint might be indicative of their corporate culture, and I wanted to share them with you. Fortunately, the people over at Ping! Zine have been covering the story and have some characteristic quotes from each side here.
It's funny, in the past the two parties seemed to be taking the opposite positions of the ones they're using today. DirecTV generally spoke in measured tones. "We are negotiating." "We'll get this handled." "We're on your side." Viacom claimed to be on the consumer's side as well, but their rhetoric went more along the lines of, "DirecTV is run by greedy, lying bastards who want to take away your Spongebob!" In fact, I have to believe that one of the reasons Viacom took down their previous comments so quickly was because only yesterday they were saying, "DirecTV refuses to negotiate!" And yet a settlement was reached today. Magic, yes?
Perhaps I'm predisposed to take DirecTV's side. I've been generally happy with them as an entertainment provider, and I don't really feel like I have a relationship with Viacom. I like The Daily Show, but I associate that with Comedy Central and Jon Stewart, not Viacom. And of the other 16 channels that were in dispute (See, I even take DirecTV's word for that figure.), TV Land and Nick at Night are the only ones I watch, and those very rarely.
That being said, I really just liked DirecTV's approach to the whole conflict. I don't like scare tactics under the best of circumstances, and Viacom's making the loss of a few TV channels sound like a personal assault was just egregiously bad. It's more than that, though. From my perspective, disputes over money rarely have an ethically right or wrong side. If money's been stolen, or if one party is much more vulnerable, sure, but we're talking about two corporations arguing over how much money they were going to, let's face it, take from me. Best to make it sound like business, because that's all it was. So DirecTV's decision to use the emotionally charge "bullying" word today was disappointing. Ah well, at least I get my Daily Show back.
What did you see today?
This morning, an agreement was reached between DirecTV and Viacom in their 10-day-long dispute over how much the former would pay to carry the latter's channels. DirecTV's announcement posits the settlement as a triumph over "bullying" by a programming provider. Viacom's announcement is more subdued. I myself am a DirecTV subscriber who frequently watches Comedy Central, one of Viacom's channels.
Commentary
I found many interesting aspects to this dispute and its resolution, but I'm going to start with the one that caused me to want to blog in the first place: the belligerents immediately removed all references to the dispute itself from not only their main websites, but the little ancillary ones each of them had set up just to rag on each other about it (this one for DirecTV, and this one for Viacom).
I was sad this information was gone, because I thought the tone each company took in defending its viewpoint might be indicative of their corporate culture, and I wanted to share them with you. Fortunately, the people over at Ping! Zine have been covering the story and have some characteristic quotes from each side here.
It's funny, in the past the two parties seemed to be taking the opposite positions of the ones they're using today. DirecTV generally spoke in measured tones. "We are negotiating." "We'll get this handled." "We're on your side." Viacom claimed to be on the consumer's side as well, but their rhetoric went more along the lines of, "DirecTV is run by greedy, lying bastards who want to take away your Spongebob!" In fact, I have to believe that one of the reasons Viacom took down their previous comments so quickly was because only yesterday they were saying, "DirecTV refuses to negotiate!" And yet a settlement was reached today. Magic, yes?
Perhaps I'm predisposed to take DirecTV's side. I've been generally happy with them as an entertainment provider, and I don't really feel like I have a relationship with Viacom. I like The Daily Show, but I associate that with Comedy Central and Jon Stewart, not Viacom. And of the other 16 channels that were in dispute (See, I even take DirecTV's word for that figure.), TV Land and Nick at Night are the only ones I watch, and those very rarely.
That being said, I really just liked DirecTV's approach to the whole conflict. I don't like scare tactics under the best of circumstances, and Viacom's making the loss of a few TV channels sound like a personal assault was just egregiously bad. It's more than that, though. From my perspective, disputes over money rarely have an ethically right or wrong side. If money's been stolen, or if one party is much more vulnerable, sure, but we're talking about two corporations arguing over how much money they were going to, let's face it, take from me. Best to make it sound like business, because that's all it was. So DirecTV's decision to use the emotionally charge "bullying" word today was disappointing. Ah well, at least I get my Daily Show back.
What did you see today?
6/25/2012
I saw a cheesecake shot
Context
I'm at the annual meeting of the American Library Association this weekend. While walking the exhibit floor, I saw that one booth had a life-sized standee image (not a photograph) of a woman wearing what could only be generously called a g-string and bra. They had a science-fictiony look to them, almost like Batman's utility belt. I don't remember if the vendor was selling books or tech, two of the most common things to see at ALA.
Commentary
I've been to comic book conventions, math conventions, and library tech conventions, and the only ones I remember seeing a similar display to this one are the comic book ones. When I looked at this scantily-clad woman I thought, "Man, did their marketing department ever blow it!"
This has to do with the fact that the library profession is made up predominantly of women. Not entirely, and some of the women are lesbians, who might have found the woman attractive, but enough so that the vast majority of people passing the display would be annoyed or offended. What's worse, because of that general level of offense, the people who might actually find the image attractive would be embarrassed. I found myself wondering if the vendor managed to snag anyone at all.
The contrast between what works in a conference composed primarily of women and one composed primarily of men reminded me of the talk I had just attended by Dan Ariely, author of the new book The Honest Truth About Dishonesty: How We Lie to Everyone, Especially Ourselves. The book is mostly about cheating, but it seems like one of the things Ariely's research has uncovered applies to other mores and values as well: social context matters. So if you're a man in a convention hall surrounded by other men, you likely won't feel too self-conscious about ogling a pretty girl. Quite the opposite, in fact. But when you're the only guy walking around with five female colleagues? Very different standards of behavior apply, and as Ariely says, each of your actions in the different contexts will seem right to you, even if they appear contradictory to an outside observer.
I'm not saying there's anything wrong with displaying or looking at a picture of a sexy woman. I'm just saying it may not always be your best marketing tool.
What did you see today?
5/31/2012
I saw a description of a school
Context A little over six weeks ago, the Louisiana State Legislature passed HB 976 (look it up on this site, if you like). This legislation, among other things, allows students in underperforming public schools to attend private schools using vouchers provided by the state. It is up to the private schools to decide whether and how many of these transferring students they will accept. Today I read in the Shreveport Times that the state Superintendent of Education is getting into some hot water because one of the private schools in question does not appear to have facilities to accommodate all the transfers they said they would accept.Commentary I am a firm believer in school choice, in that I believe parents should be allowed to enroll their children in the school of their choice. If the school is public, then children should be able to attend for free, regardless of the location of the school or the child's residence. I take something of a free market approach to public schools, believing that the good ones that attract lots of students should be allotted more tax revenue, and the ones that don't, not so much.I like this idea in theory, but the practice might be a little tricky. C.E. Byrd, located a block from my house, has over 2000 students, double the number of any competing high school in town bar one. It is stuffed to the gills now and already a traffic nightmare, but I have every confidence that if more students were allowed to enroll, they would. Everyone wants to go to Byrd. So I can see that the same problem might occur at New Living Word School, the private school described in the Shreveport Times article linked above: they're anticipating a lot of demand.My question is, "Why?" Late in this article by Diane Ravitch in the New York Times Review of Books, she talks about the belief some people have that private schools are, by their very nature, better than public ones. I attended a private school from 3rd to 12th grade (and college, too, but that's a separate issue), and it was academically better than the public school I started at (no link, to protect the guilty). I have also heard of people who enrolled their children in private schools that touted their superior academics and discipline, only to find that the standards for teacher recruitment were so poor that students slipped to below grade level in reading comprehension and were nearly held back a grade when they returned to their neighborhood school.The discussion of whether private is intrinsically better than public would be academic (Hee!) if it wasn't for the fact that flesh and blood parents are trying to make decisions about their children's futures. The belief that a private school that has to compete more directly for its financial resources than a public one would provide a higher quality education is not an irrational one. Nor is there anything wrong with expressing a general preference for commercial solutions to problems over tax-based ones. It's not the way I roll, but there's nothing evil about it.The problem comes from taking these philosophical opinions and substituting them for careful evaluation of the real choices before you. Schools, and all other institutions for that matter, are defined by more than just their revenue streams. The people involved, students as well as teachers, the physical location, even the history of a school can affect its success or failure. That's why everyone wants to go to Byrd. And hopefully considerably less than 315 kids will want to go to New Living Word.What did you see today?
4/30/2012
I saw a 3000-word rejection letter
Context
Someone on Help a Reporter Out made reference to a 3000-word rejection letter that was on the internet as an example of something job recruiters shouldn't do. When I sought out the actual contents of this letter, I found them on Gawker, which also included comments from the recipient who forwarded the letter, and two catchy titles.
Commentary
OK, it's official. All of my inspiration comes from HARO now. Plus all that, I deliberately titled today's entry as search engine bait, because "3000 word rejection letter" has become an internet meme. I have lost all my morals.
Anyway, I was surprised at the amount of vitriol thrown at this this list of dos and don'ts from Shea Gunther. In particular, I don't understand the accusations of arrogance and condescension. Both of those terms imply to me, "This guy thinks he's better than his applicants." Perhaps I have too hierarchical a view of the world, but to me, the person who not only has a job but has a job to offer is, in fact, better than the applicants. At least in the job-hunting realm, which is where rejection letters come from. Moreover, I think we can all agree that Mr. Gunther is better at seeking employment than the people whom he apparently encountered who applied for a writing job without proofreading for spelling and punctuation!
I'd like to believe I would not have been offended if I had received this letter. After all, it's obvious from the first paragraph that it was sent to over 900 people. Which means that each of the criticisms contained in it belong to one of three categories:
1) Doesn't apply to me. Water off my back.
2) Might or does apply to me, but not something I want to change. Great, now I know I would not be a good fit at Shea Gunther's place of business.
3) Might or does apply to me, and I didn't know it was a problem. Yippee, something I can fix before my next round of job applications.
So where's the down side to any of these three scenarios?
Is it just considered rude to say, "Some of you are really bad at applying for jobs."? That can't be right, because career advice websites do it all the time. So then it looks like we're mad at Gunther because he actually has some interest in receiving good applications, as opposed to people who are spouting the same old cliches in order to create column inches.
Here's a scale of types of rejection letter I'd like to receive. OK, I don't like to receive any, but you know what I mean. From least-favorite to favorite:
1) Dead silence. Hello, is anybody there? Did you get my application? Does your company still exist?
2) Polite, meaningless form letter. By far the most common of rejections, it gives me no help whatsoever, except to know for sure I didn't get the job.
3) Something like what Shea Gunther wrote. It's like an extra 3000 words of job ad I can build on for the next time!
4) A personalized rejection saying exactly why I didn't get the job. This would be golden, but according to most human resource offices, also actionable. Isn't that great? Someone takes the time to tell me why it wasn't a good fit, and I sue them!
What did you see today?
Someone on Help a Reporter Out made reference to a 3000-word rejection letter that was on the internet as an example of something job recruiters shouldn't do. When I sought out the actual contents of this letter, I found them on Gawker, which also included comments from the recipient who forwarded the letter, and two catchy titles.
Commentary
OK, it's official. All of my inspiration comes from HARO now. Plus all that, I deliberately titled today's entry as search engine bait, because "3000 word rejection letter" has become an internet meme. I have lost all my morals.
Anyway, I was surprised at the amount of vitriol thrown at this this list of dos and don'ts from Shea Gunther. In particular, I don't understand the accusations of arrogance and condescension. Both of those terms imply to me, "This guy thinks he's better than his applicants." Perhaps I have too hierarchical a view of the world, but to me, the person who not only has a job but has a job to offer is, in fact, better than the applicants. At least in the job-hunting realm, which is where rejection letters come from. Moreover, I think we can all agree that Mr. Gunther is better at seeking employment than the people whom he apparently encountered who applied for a writing job without proofreading for spelling and punctuation!
I'd like to believe I would not have been offended if I had received this letter. After all, it's obvious from the first paragraph that it was sent to over 900 people. Which means that each of the criticisms contained in it belong to one of three categories:
1) Doesn't apply to me. Water off my back.
2) Might or does apply to me, but not something I want to change. Great, now I know I would not be a good fit at Shea Gunther's place of business.
3) Might or does apply to me, and I didn't know it was a problem. Yippee, something I can fix before my next round of job applications.
So where's the down side to any of these three scenarios?
Is it just considered rude to say, "Some of you are really bad at applying for jobs."? That can't be right, because career advice websites do it all the time. So then it looks like we're mad at Gunther because he actually has some interest in receiving good applications, as opposed to people who are spouting the same old cliches in order to create column inches.
Here's a scale of types of rejection letter I'd like to receive. OK, I don't like to receive any, but you know what I mean. From least-favorite to favorite:
1) Dead silence. Hello, is anybody there? Did you get my application? Does your company still exist?
2) Polite, meaningless form letter. By far the most common of rejections, it gives me no help whatsoever, except to know for sure I didn't get the job.
3) Something like what Shea Gunther wrote. It's like an extra 3000 words of job ad I can build on for the next time!
4) A personalized rejection saying exactly why I didn't get the job. This would be golden, but according to most human resource offices, also actionable. Isn't that great? Someone takes the time to tell me why it wasn't a good fit, and I sue them!
What did you see today?
4/27/2012
I saw a request for information
Context
Help A Reporter Out (HARO) had a query today that made me laugh out loud. When I've discussed HARO in the past, I've mentioned that they had a strict "no copying the query to your blog" rule, but that appears to have gone by the wayside. So here it is (author removed to protect the laughed-at):
I'm looking for a female podiatrist who can help readers understand how to wear heels without sacrificing long-term health. Note: This is not about telling readers NOT to wear heels. They can do whatever they want. We want to help them wear heels safely.
Commentary
It's the second-to-last sentence that did me in. The way the writer jumps to the defense of her reader's personal liberty is both heartwarming and technically true. They can, in fact, do whatever they want. If I want I can drive at 90 miles per hour through rush hour traffic. There's not really much advice you can give me that will help me do it safely, though.
What the reporter is up against is a sad part of reality: facts do not yield to principles. Freedom of choice is something worth fighting for, but you can't use it as a bludgeon against biological processes like joint and bone breakdown. OK, it's just a story about wearing high heels, and although doing so regularly will cause long-term damage (Look, I'm not even a podiatrist and I said it!), it's not that big a deal right? Probably not, but acting as if belief can defeat reality can have truly terrifying consequences.
Randy Shilts wrote an excellent book about the beginning of the AIDS epidemic called And the Band Played On. In it he talks about how often proper health precautions were not taken because no one wanted to violate gay men's civil rights by suggesting their sexual practices were a vector for spreading the disease. Even though they were. And they were killing each other in numbers that would have made the Nazis proud. You should read the whole book, but if you want just one concentrated example of what I'm talking about, take a look at the entries for January 3, 1983 (The book goes in chronological order).
I can understand why we do this. I too have principles I like to live by. People shouldn't get mad at me when I tell the truth. I should be able to walk unmolested down any street I please. The animals who live in my house should do what I say, because I have their best interests in mind. The facts, however, do not yield.
We can choose to ignore this bit of unpleasantness, sticking to our principles and ignoring all inconvenient truths, or at least being really annoyed by them. Or we can abandon principle, being tempest-tossed by every new piece of information that comes along, whether it be a new diet or the latest management technique, and not the slightest bit worried that nothing we say or do can be counted on for more than twenty minutes.
But I think there's a middle road, one that recognizes that what we're really talking about is competing principles and we can choose between them according to our desires and values. You can believe both that high-heeled shoes are an important piece of professional attire and that it's important to take good care of your feet. My doctor does, after all. She's wearing her high heels every time I come into her office and every time we discuss them, she mentions the dangers inherent in doing so. Because she's made an informed choice. Now there's a principle I can get behind!
What did you see today?
Help A Reporter Out (HARO) had a query today that made me laugh out loud. When I've discussed HARO in the past, I've mentioned that they had a strict "no copying the query to your blog" rule, but that appears to have gone by the wayside. So here it is (author removed to protect the laughed-at):
I'm looking for a female podiatrist who can help readers understand how to wear heels without sacrificing long-term health. Note: This is not about telling readers NOT to wear heels. They can do whatever they want. We want to help them wear heels safely.
Commentary
It's the second-to-last sentence that did me in. The way the writer jumps to the defense of her reader's personal liberty is both heartwarming and technically true. They can, in fact, do whatever they want. If I want I can drive at 90 miles per hour through rush hour traffic. There's not really much advice you can give me that will help me do it safely, though.
What the reporter is up against is a sad part of reality: facts do not yield to principles. Freedom of choice is something worth fighting for, but you can't use it as a bludgeon against biological processes like joint and bone breakdown. OK, it's just a story about wearing high heels, and although doing so regularly will cause long-term damage (Look, I'm not even a podiatrist and I said it!), it's not that big a deal right? Probably not, but acting as if belief can defeat reality can have truly terrifying consequences.
Randy Shilts wrote an excellent book about the beginning of the AIDS epidemic called And the Band Played On. In it he talks about how often proper health precautions were not taken because no one wanted to violate gay men's civil rights by suggesting their sexual practices were a vector for spreading the disease. Even though they were. And they were killing each other in numbers that would have made the Nazis proud. You should read the whole book, but if you want just one concentrated example of what I'm talking about, take a look at the entries for January 3, 1983 (The book goes in chronological order).
I can understand why we do this. I too have principles I like to live by. People shouldn't get mad at me when I tell the truth. I should be able to walk unmolested down any street I please. The animals who live in my house should do what I say, because I have their best interests in mind. The facts, however, do not yield.
We can choose to ignore this bit of unpleasantness, sticking to our principles and ignoring all inconvenient truths, or at least being really annoyed by them. Or we can abandon principle, being tempest-tossed by every new piece of information that comes along, whether it be a new diet or the latest management technique, and not the slightest bit worried that nothing we say or do can be counted on for more than twenty minutes.
But I think there's a middle road, one that recognizes that what we're really talking about is competing principles and we can choose between them according to our desires and values. You can believe both that high-heeled shoes are an important piece of professional attire and that it's important to take good care of your feet. My doctor does, after all. She's wearing her high heels every time I come into her office and every time we discuss them, she mentions the dangers inherent in doing so. Because she's made an informed choice. Now there's a principle I can get behind!
What did you see today?
4/26/2012
I saw a discussion about validity
Context
Slate magazine often runs a feature whereby they will have one or more participants weigh in on a piece of pop culture. Currently Katie Allison Granju is debating Hanna Rosin on the Elisabeth Badinter book The Conflict: How Modern Motherhood Undermines the Status of Women. Over her past couple of entries, Granju has focused on how Badinter's financial interest in Nestle's PR company disqualifies her from taking a position on breastfeeding, snce Nestle is a multinational manufacturer of infant formula. Here is a paragraph from today's entry:
"So how can anyone take anything Elisabeth Badinter has to say on the topic of infant-maternal nutrition seriously? Her ethical conflict is so enormous, and her motives so glaringly questionable, that her position on the topic ultimately doesn’t even matter. There’s just no way to get past who it is making the argument. It’s as if the Board Chairman for American Beef Association’s publicist released a book criticizing Americans’ “naturalist” eating habits, and vegetarianism in particular. It wouldn’t matter if she had a Ph.D. in nutrition from Harvard or a history of bashing vegetarianism. It also wouldn’t matter if her book were well argued and persuasive. The very idea of someone in that position writing such a book would be laughable."
Commentary
There is a saying in American politics, and maybe elsewhere as well: "If you can't attack the message, attack the messenger." With that in mind, I'm forced to disagree with Ms. Granju. It always matters if a book, or any statement of opinion for that matter, is well argued and persuasive. I have no problem with accounting for someone's character, personal history and economic ties when evaluating an argument, but if those are the only criteria you use, I think you'll miss out on some good stuff. I personally thought the late Christopher Hitchens was an execrable human being, but man could he write stuff!
I also think this critique fails to allow for the possibility that Badinter might be taking a principled position in both the economic and philosophical spheres. If one truly believes in the legitimate uses of baby formula to free up women's time, why wouldn't you invest in Nestle's publicist and even Nestle itself? Are we supposed to expect hypocrisy and cynical self-interest instead, where no one actually puts their money where their mouth is? Wouldn't that be a bigger "ethical conflict?"
So, to sum up, I don't think a well-researched book written by a PhD in nutrition on the evils of vegetarianism would be laughable, even if it was written by someone employed by the American Beef Association. I like to gather as many reasoned opinions as I can. I'm about done with the Slate series, though. I think the conversation has gone about one entry past "reasoned."
What did you see today?
Slate magazine often runs a feature whereby they will have one or more participants weigh in on a piece of pop culture. Currently Katie Allison Granju is debating Hanna Rosin on the Elisabeth Badinter book The Conflict: How Modern Motherhood Undermines the Status of Women. Over her past couple of entries, Granju has focused on how Badinter's financial interest in Nestle's PR company disqualifies her from taking a position on breastfeeding, snce Nestle is a multinational manufacturer of infant formula. Here is a paragraph from today's entry:
"So how can anyone take anything Elisabeth Badinter has to say on the topic of infant-maternal nutrition seriously? Her ethical conflict is so enormous, and her motives so glaringly questionable, that her position on the topic ultimately doesn’t even matter. There’s just no way to get past who it is making the argument. It’s as if the Board Chairman for American Beef Association’s publicist released a book criticizing Americans’ “naturalist” eating habits, and vegetarianism in particular. It wouldn’t matter if she had a Ph.D. in nutrition from Harvard or a history of bashing vegetarianism. It also wouldn’t matter if her book were well argued and persuasive. The very idea of someone in that position writing such a book would be laughable."
Commentary
There is a saying in American politics, and maybe elsewhere as well: "If you can't attack the message, attack the messenger." With that in mind, I'm forced to disagree with Ms. Granju. It always matters if a book, or any statement of opinion for that matter, is well argued and persuasive. I have no problem with accounting for someone's character, personal history and economic ties when evaluating an argument, but if those are the only criteria you use, I think you'll miss out on some good stuff. I personally thought the late Christopher Hitchens was an execrable human being, but man could he write stuff!
I also think this critique fails to allow for the possibility that Badinter might be taking a principled position in both the economic and philosophical spheres. If one truly believes in the legitimate uses of baby formula to free up women's time, why wouldn't you invest in Nestle's publicist and even Nestle itself? Are we supposed to expect hypocrisy and cynical self-interest instead, where no one actually puts their money where their mouth is? Wouldn't that be a bigger "ethical conflict?"
So, to sum up, I don't think a well-researched book written by a PhD in nutrition on the evils of vegetarianism would be laughable, even if it was written by someone employed by the American Beef Association. I like to gather as many reasoned opinions as I can. I'm about done with the Slate series, though. I think the conversation has gone about one entry past "reasoned."
What did you see today?
4/12/2012
I saw an article about "The Talk"
Context
I came across this article today, although I can't remember how I was referred to it. The main point is that now that John Derbyshire has heard about the talk African-Americans routinely have with their children about racism, he has decided to publicize his own version.
Commentary
I had never heard about The Talk prior to today; so much for my command of pop culture memes. It occurs to me, though, that our lives would be immeasurably better if everyone's version of The Talk went like this: "Racial tensions exist in our society. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem."
What did you see today?
I came across this article today, although I can't remember how I was referred to it. The main point is that now that John Derbyshire has heard about the talk African-Americans routinely have with their children about racism, he has decided to publicize his own version.
Commentary
I had never heard about The Talk prior to today; so much for my command of pop culture memes. It occurs to me, though, that our lives would be immeasurably better if everyone's version of The Talk went like this: "Racial tensions exist in our society. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem."
What did you see today?
3/27/2012
I saw some information about Trayvon Martin
Context
I was reading this article about the Trayvon Martin case on Slate. Until I watched the Daily Show last night, I hadn't realized he was shot over a month ago. I keep learning new things all the time, including the tidbit included in the Slate article about Martin's school suspension for marijuana possession.
Commentary
My husband and I differ on whether Trayvon Martin's death should be considered a lynching. We were in the park walking our dogs discussing it, so we didn't have a dictionary at hand, but it turns out we were pretty close to the correct definition. According to Merriam-Webster Online, to lynch is to to put to death (as by hanging) by mob action without legal sanction. So I will concede to my husband that this was not a mob action (unless you want to blame the entire Florida Legislature) and make the half-concession that it was not achieved by hanging. Nonetheless, very much without legal sanction. Or at least, without common sense sanction.
Departing from the formal definition, my husband made another argument that we think of lynching, at least the form that was practiced regularly down here where I live (check this data set if you want your hometown's scorecard), as being predicated on teaching someone a lesson. I remarked that it's hard to teach a corpse a lesson, but I understood the point he was trying to make.
And now, from hyperbole to trivializing. Lynching in this country is what white people do to black people who are bugging them. It's our way of saying, "The law of proportional response only applies to people who look like me. For others, I can react however I want." Remember, we used to use this form of capital punishment for offenses like speaking to white women, failing to yield the sidewalk, or looking someone in the eye. Which is why I don't find the continued investigation into Trayvon Martin's various misdemeanors helpful. It's like we keep trying to come up with a sum of offenses that make it OK that he's dead.
Well, maybe it is helpful. Decide for yourself, does walking around a gated community + hoodie + marijuana use + school problems = put him down like a rabid dog? I'm going to be even meaner and say that if Martin was beating George Zimmerman up he still shouldn't have been shot. If someone is punching you in a populated area, you yell. You or someone else calls the cops and the perp is taken to jail. Everybody survives the encounter. Even people who bug the crap out of each other.
What did you see today?
I was reading this article about the Trayvon Martin case on Slate. Until I watched the Daily Show last night, I hadn't realized he was shot over a month ago. I keep learning new things all the time, including the tidbit included in the Slate article about Martin's school suspension for marijuana possession.
Commentary
My husband and I differ on whether Trayvon Martin's death should be considered a lynching. We were in the park walking our dogs discussing it, so we didn't have a dictionary at hand, but it turns out we were pretty close to the correct definition. According to Merriam-Webster Online, to lynch is to to put to death (as by hanging) by mob action without legal sanction. So I will concede to my husband that this was not a mob action (unless you want to blame the entire Florida Legislature) and make the half-concession that it was not achieved by hanging. Nonetheless, very much without legal sanction. Or at least, without common sense sanction.
Departing from the formal definition, my husband made another argument that we think of lynching, at least the form that was practiced regularly down here where I live (check this data set if you want your hometown's scorecard), as being predicated on teaching someone a lesson. I remarked that it's hard to teach a corpse a lesson, but I understood the point he was trying to make.
And now, from hyperbole to trivializing. Lynching in this country is what white people do to black people who are bugging them. It's our way of saying, "The law of proportional response only applies to people who look like me. For others, I can react however I want." Remember, we used to use this form of capital punishment for offenses like speaking to white women, failing to yield the sidewalk, or looking someone in the eye. Which is why I don't find the continued investigation into Trayvon Martin's various misdemeanors helpful. It's like we keep trying to come up with a sum of offenses that make it OK that he's dead.
Well, maybe it is helpful. Decide for yourself, does walking around a gated community + hoodie + marijuana use + school problems = put him down like a rabid dog? I'm going to be even meaner and say that if Martin was beating George Zimmerman up he still shouldn't have been shot. If someone is punching you in a populated area, you yell. You or someone else calls the cops and the perp is taken to jail. Everybody survives the encounter. Even people who bug the crap out of each other.
What did you see today?
2/28/2012
I saw a stereotype
Context
I was perusing my library's catalog again, and this time I came across a book called Are All Guys Assholes?, by Amber Madison. It's described as an effort to answer this particular question by asking guys themselves about their behavior and attitudes.
Commentary
Please understand, looking over catalog entries is part of my job. I don't just troll around looking for blog material. Besides, this book actually looks like something I might read, if only because I'm fascinated by how people see themselves and others.
That being said, I'll ask this: is sexism the prejudice that just won't die? Most of the people I know wouldn't dream of lumping all African-Americans, all homosexuals or all Muslims into one category, but they will cheerfully say all men are obsessed with sex and all women are obsessed with shoes.
I think our sexuality exacerbates the problem. Straight people are obliged to try to attract people who are different from them, often in puzzling and frightening ways. This is not just "I have to get along with this person at work or on the street;" it's "I want this person to spend a considerable amount of time naked with me." So we'll look for any clue to help us navigate the weirdness, even the false security of a stereotype.
There's a scene in The American President where the titular character is talking with his tweenaged daughter about an upcoming date. She tells him that if he can't think of anything to say, he should compliment the woman's shoes. It's sound advice; you can rarely go wrong complimenting a woman's shoes, just as you can rarely go wrong offering a man sex. What makes it funny is that a non-fetishistic guy would rarely notice a woman's shoes (My husband only remarks on mine when I'm wearing impractically high heels or sandals in what passes for wintertime in Shreveport). The same thing is true of women, not because we rarely think about sex, but because we are constantly amazed by how high it ranks in a man's thought processes.
So the stereotypes are true, right? Well, sort of. I think there are general differences between men and women, some of them having nothing to do with either shoes or sex. And I think those differences are what both attract and confound us, if we happen to be of a heterosexual orientation. What worries me is how these differences affect our relationships, both intimate and otherwise.
Take the workplace. Does sexual harassment originate because we don't realize that gender differences are not usually relevant when people are trying to earn a paycheck? To put it crudely, this is not the place where you're supposed to pay attention to the fact that I have breasts. You're supposed to notice that I have a keen eye for cataloging mistakes.
And once you get past the initial attraction phase, it's not fair to treat your favorite guy as if he's an out-of-control horndog all the time, if only because you'll find yourself never speaking civilly to another woman again. Differences are fun, fascinating, and maybe even complementary, but your similarities are the glue that will keep you together. Besides, if you've singled him out, he must be different from all other guys, right? What good are the stereotypes then?
What did you see today?
I was perusing my library's catalog again, and this time I came across a book called Are All Guys Assholes?, by Amber Madison. It's described as an effort to answer this particular question by asking guys themselves about their behavior and attitudes.
Commentary
Please understand, looking over catalog entries is part of my job. I don't just troll around looking for blog material. Besides, this book actually looks like something I might read, if only because I'm fascinated by how people see themselves and others.
That being said, I'll ask this: is sexism the prejudice that just won't die? Most of the people I know wouldn't dream of lumping all African-Americans, all homosexuals or all Muslims into one category, but they will cheerfully say all men are obsessed with sex and all women are obsessed with shoes.
I think our sexuality exacerbates the problem. Straight people are obliged to try to attract people who are different from them, often in puzzling and frightening ways. This is not just "I have to get along with this person at work or on the street;" it's "I want this person to spend a considerable amount of time naked with me." So we'll look for any clue to help us navigate the weirdness, even the false security of a stereotype.
There's a scene in The American President where the titular character is talking with his tweenaged daughter about an upcoming date. She tells him that if he can't think of anything to say, he should compliment the woman's shoes. It's sound advice; you can rarely go wrong complimenting a woman's shoes, just as you can rarely go wrong offering a man sex. What makes it funny is that a non-fetishistic guy would rarely notice a woman's shoes (My husband only remarks on mine when I'm wearing impractically high heels or sandals in what passes for wintertime in Shreveport). The same thing is true of women, not because we rarely think about sex, but because we are constantly amazed by how high it ranks in a man's thought processes.
So the stereotypes are true, right? Well, sort of. I think there are general differences between men and women, some of them having nothing to do with either shoes or sex. And I think those differences are what both attract and confound us, if we happen to be of a heterosexual orientation. What worries me is how these differences affect our relationships, both intimate and otherwise.
Take the workplace. Does sexual harassment originate because we don't realize that gender differences are not usually relevant when people are trying to earn a paycheck? To put it crudely, this is not the place where you're supposed to pay attention to the fact that I have breasts. You're supposed to notice that I have a keen eye for cataloging mistakes.
And once you get past the initial attraction phase, it's not fair to treat your favorite guy as if he's an out-of-control horndog all the time, if only because you'll find yourself never speaking civilly to another woman again. Differences are fun, fascinating, and maybe even complementary, but your similarities are the glue that will keep you together. Besides, if you've singled him out, he must be different from all other guys, right? What good are the stereotypes then?
What did you see today?
2/27/2012
I saw a call to action
Context
I was looking at my library's list of new audiobooks, when I came across Charles Moore's Plastic Ocean: How a Sea Captain's Chance Discovery Launched a Determined Quest to Save the Oceans. I don't plan to read the book, but I was horrified by the idea that there's a part of the ocean where plastic refuse has just taken over.
Commentary
Despite the fact that I haven't read this book, I'm still interested in its purpose. Not so much the environmental one, although cleaning up the oceans is a good and worthy cause, but the motivational one. This book probably contains accounts of both the sea captain's discovery and his quest, but I'm assuming the main purpose is to convince others to join him in the endeavor. In fact, if the description of the plastic-filled North Pacific Subtropical Gyre is horrifying enough, I'm thinking the author believes that will be a sufficient call to action.
It won't be, though.I've written before about how I see a great deal of information, care about only some of it and only act on a small portion of that. At the moment, just reading the basic premise of Plastic Ocean makes me care, but not enough to even take the action of reading the actual book.
Discouraging, no? You could have an epiphany, write a book about it, move people to care, even, and still get no tangible results from the effort. How can an experience that completely changed one person's life have little to no effect on another's? Quick! Hundreds of evangelical preachers are waiting for your answer!
Easy. People are different. Their priorities are different, their values are different, their very way of experiencing the same phenomenon are different. I am concerned about the amount of trash in the ocean. However, at the moment I am more concerned about taking care of my husband and the animals who live in our home, so I won't be changing careers in order to help refarm kelp. I'm concerned about saving time, so I'm not going to take the extraordinary measures necessary to create a zero waste household. And so on. Succinctly, it's not my thing.
And yet not so simple, because I believe our reactions to these differences cause the vast majority of conflicts in both our personal and societal relationships. In a bizarre combination of arrogance and insecurity, we believe if something is important to us, it must be important to everyone. Otherwise, they'll just be wrong. Or we'll be wrong. Or something. So we'll put a great deal of effort into changing others' minds, which is fine. But if that doesn't work, we'll decide to put a great deal of force into doing so. And preventing that IS my thing.
What did you see today?
I was looking at my library's list of new audiobooks, when I came across Charles Moore's Plastic Ocean: How a Sea Captain's Chance Discovery Launched a Determined Quest to Save the Oceans. I don't plan to read the book, but I was horrified by the idea that there's a part of the ocean where plastic refuse has just taken over.
Commentary
Despite the fact that I haven't read this book, I'm still interested in its purpose. Not so much the environmental one, although cleaning up the oceans is a good and worthy cause, but the motivational one. This book probably contains accounts of both the sea captain's discovery and his quest, but I'm assuming the main purpose is to convince others to join him in the endeavor. In fact, if the description of the plastic-filled North Pacific Subtropical Gyre is horrifying enough, I'm thinking the author believes that will be a sufficient call to action.
It won't be, though.I've written before about how I see a great deal of information, care about only some of it and only act on a small portion of that. At the moment, just reading the basic premise of Plastic Ocean makes me care, but not enough to even take the action of reading the actual book.
Discouraging, no? You could have an epiphany, write a book about it, move people to care, even, and still get no tangible results from the effort. How can an experience that completely changed one person's life have little to no effect on another's? Quick! Hundreds of evangelical preachers are waiting for your answer!
Easy. People are different. Their priorities are different, their values are different, their very way of experiencing the same phenomenon are different. I am concerned about the amount of trash in the ocean. However, at the moment I am more concerned about taking care of my husband and the animals who live in our home, so I won't be changing careers in order to help refarm kelp. I'm concerned about saving time, so I'm not going to take the extraordinary measures necessary to create a zero waste household. And so on. Succinctly, it's not my thing.
And yet not so simple, because I believe our reactions to these differences cause the vast majority of conflicts in both our personal and societal relationships. In a bizarre combination of arrogance and insecurity, we believe if something is important to us, it must be important to everyone. Otherwise, they'll just be wrong. Or we'll be wrong. Or something. So we'll put a great deal of effort into changing others' minds, which is fine. But if that doesn't work, we'll decide to put a great deal of force into doing so. And preventing that IS my thing.
What did you see today?
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