Life's too short to be so cynical

A few years ago I had a part-time summer job where I sold bets or "wagers" at the local horse-racing track. Yep, I was a bookie, according to my friends. It was your typical summer job... outdoorsy, not too rigorous, and it had an insignificant commute and bizarre hours. Anyway, my duties consisted of sitting on a barstool for five- and six-hour shifts, wearing a polo shirt and khakis and ringing up bets. The stools were populated by all sorts of "tellers" as we were called: college students on breaks (like me), teachers who had summers off, retirees who sought the socializing, those who worked at OTBs (off-track betting parlors) and others that were lured by the $12/hr plus tips the job offered.

Anyway, all types of people came to bet there as well: compulsive gamblers, families with young kids that wanted to see horses, 20-somethings that yearned to spend a summer day outside whilst draining mint juleps and other higher brow concoctions, and Red Hat Society ladies.

My personal pet peeve was when people asked the same stupid questions repeatedly. There'd always be the guy who asked you to explain what an exacta or trifecta box was right before every race of the day's 12-race program. Or the lady who would bet on a horse to win and thus not be able to collect the money she could have if she made a place or show bet. And she'd complain that she was robbed after every race, despite your numerous explanations. I didn't mind the first or second explanation, but the repetition beyond that grated my nerves.

Anyway, one day I muttered something to a retiree sitting beside me about a customer who had annoyed me in about five or so straight races with the same question. The race had gone off a ndI was always cautious not to complain when customers were around. The other teller was someone I had shared many a laugh with and we had bonded over our similar senses of sarcasm.

"You know, you're too young to be this cynical," he said to me, in complete seriousness.

I was flabbergasted; I skipped a breath. What?, I almost yelled in immediate defiance.

The man's comment pierced through me like nothing anyone had ever said to me before. It was honest. Painfully honest. The brutal directness I so badly needed. And I knew it.

I had no choice but to make a conscious effort to change my attitude. I didn't have a poisonous attitude by any stretch of the imagination, but I was sarcastic, pessimistic, and yeah, cynical.

It hasn't been easy. If anyone enjoys making snide comments or wisecracks, it's me. But there's a time and place for all that. It was at this moment that I realize that the time and place wasn't everywhere and always.

Sure, I'm still pretty sarcastic today, but I think I'm a lot more level-headed. I don't get angry when I see PDA. Now I sorta smile and think about how nice it is when you're in love. If people ask annoying (or repetitive) questions, I now breathe, answer them politely, and move on. If people are participating in something I deem odd, I don't judge as much. Life's too short. Let them be who they are, have fun. Who's to say anything I ever say or do is any less idiotic or embarrassing or worthy of admonishing?

I think as a society, we're too quick to judge. Too ready to complain (OK, I acknowledge I violate this rule continually, but hey, I'm trying to reform!). Always disapproving of others without any real justification.

I say, just try to be more optimistic. Open-minded. Loving. Free to express ourselves without judgment. If you can't be this way everyday, just try to be it some days. Over time, you'll be kinder. You'll go from one day a week of optimism to three. Life is too short to hold all this excessive pent-up anger. You know it is.

And trust me, people pick up on cynicism. Not everyone's going to tell you something you need to fix. I'm so glad that man told me though, because who knows where I'd be without it.

Again, bitterness has a time and a place. And yes, it can be funny. But don't let it be your only funny.

Postcards from Mexico, part deux

Got a text from my cousin yesterday, she has now received her postcard (sent in August) as well. WTF? One to go!

Here are some ideas for future taglines for the Baja California Sur's postal system:

• 67% chance your mail will arrive, 0% chance it'll be within 2 months (not catchy enough)
• It's not really mail if there's no mystery to it!
• If you forgot you sent it, then it's a surprise when it arrives!
• Better late than never (too obvious)
• Good things happen to those who wait (see above)
• Every send begins with dismay
  
• You probably should have sent it by media mail.
• You've held your breath 78 trillion times, and it's finally here!
• If you really, really want to send it, you shouldn't here
• You'll never know where it's been before it got to you
• You could have swum it to your destination faster
• Expedience is not our forte
• What's service?
• We don't hurry (or We're in no hurry)
• Make sure the recipient is under 50
• Where every delivery is like unearthing a time capsule
• Mexico to the USA, and everywhere in between, 308 times.
• Every send is an adventure
  

I really should use less exclamation points.

Postal hilarity

So I got a phone call from my Mom tonight, apparently she just got my postcard from when I went to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico... which I sent in mid-AUGUST!

We stayed in a hotel in Los Cabos, which was about halfway between Cabo San Lucas and San Jose del Cabo, where the airport was. All three are in the Mexican state of Baja California Sur, so basically the southern tip of Baja California, on the Pacific Ocean.

Map from Mexico Connect

Mom said the postmark was from San Jose del Cabo and was dated in October. I don't know what to be more distraught by, the incompetence of the hotel's mailing "system" which resulted in a postcard sent in August not to get postmarked for two months, or the Mexican/U.S. postal services which took another month to get the card to my mother.

Nice hotel. Sweet deal on Priceline. Incompetent mailing system.

I sent two other postcards from the area (San Jose del Cabo) as well, but those I sent from the airport, which I assumed would have been the more competent of the two mailing locations. As of today, neither of the other two would-be recipients had received their postcards. Shocking.

Magic Eye Syndrome

So I was reading a friend's blog yesterday, and she had a nice, funny post about Photoshop Disasters, a pretty self-explanatory blog on -- you guessed it -- Photoshop disasters. Art directors, graphic designers, and Photoshop enthusiasts alike swear by this site. I'll be the first to admit it though, sometimes I see the errors, and other times, I can stare at an image for ten minutes and not be able to identify what's wrong with it.

All this time I've chalked up my visual ineptitude to being unobservant, blind, or some other unquantifiable variety of incompetent. But I've finally realized my dilemma. It's because I have Magic Eye Syndrome.

Magic Eye Syndrome of course, is no real ailment. And if it is, I feel like it only affects me.

Ever since 3rd grade or whenever those Magic Eye books hit bookstores, I've always felt like a loser. Everyone raved about those optical illusions, and how when they stared at them they could always see the unmistakable shape of ______ just leaping out of the page.


I never could see these things! Every time I've started to see one, I got so excited that I lost it somewhere on the way. Why must this always happen to me?!! (See the answer to the one above at the end of the post.)

I can't tell you how many times over the years that I've faked that I've solved a Magic Eye. No one wants to admit to being the only person in an elementary school class that they can't see it! I'm still a little embarrassed about it. I was just like Rachel on Friends when she had an ultrasound and pretended she could see her baby on the screen. Ross pointed it out to her and she said she saw it, cried, and then admitted to not seeing it. He re-pointed it out, and the process repeated over and over. Wow, that hit too close to home. Oh my God, I'm going to be that same awful mother someday!

Anyway, to this day I'll never understand why so many people raved about Magic Eye over the years. Do that many people really see the "subliminal" images? Or is the world full of fakers like me afraid to own up to their inability to solve them? And why on earth did these things cause such a fuss in the 90s?

I will now return back to looking at Photoshop Disasters, where I'll likely not see what everyone is laughing at. But hey, then again maybe it'll be in the 30% of the time I get it and laugh with everyone else -- not lying! I much prefer my odds in Photoshop Disasters (a 30% chance is way much more encouraging than 0% after all).

Virginia is for free speech haters

Why are we having issues with free speech again? And in Charlottesville again no less!

A friend of mine sent me this. Basically, the Daily Progress, a newspaper in Charlottesville, Va., reported that "Voters at polling places who refuse to remove buttons, T-shirts or other apparel with political messages will face possible misdemeanor charges," per the Virginia Code.

What sort of charges? Try up to a year in prison or a $2,500 fine! But hey, that's OK, because at least you still get to vote before they haul you away!

Virginia § 24.2-604 states:

A. During the times the polls are open and ballots are being counted, it shall be unlawful for any person (i) to loiter or congregate within 40 feet of any entrance of any polling place; (ii) within such distance to give, tender, or exhibit any ballot, ticket, or other campaign material to any person or to solicit or in any manner attempt to influence any person in casting his vote; or (iii) to hinder or delay a qualified voter in entering or leaving a polling place.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

D. It shall be unlawful for any authorized representative, voter, or any other person in the room to (i) hinder or delay a qualified voter; (ii) give, tender, or exhibit any ballot, ticket, or other campaign material to any person; (iii) solicit or in any manner attempt to influence any person in casting his vote; (iv) hinder or delay any officer of election; or (v) otherwise impede the orderly conduct of the election.

E. The officers of election may require any person who is found by a majority of the officers present to be in violation of this section to remain outside of the prohibited area. Any person violating subsection A or D of this section shall be guilty of a Class 1 misdemeanor.

from http://cvillain.com/2008/10/30/if-you-wear-political-paraphernalia-to-election-day-in-virginia-you-face-misdemeanor-charges/

Needless to say (and rightfully so), the Virginia ACLU and a couple of Charlottesville-area groups are stepping in and voicing their disgust for this blatant infringement of free speech.

Didn't we just (finally) turn over the sign ban at UVA sporting events? Why is this issue resurfacing again?

And aren't those eligible to vote (18+) mature enough to not be swayed by someone else's innocuous campaign button or t-shirt while in line? C'mon now, we aren't that stupid, are we?

I'm curious to see how many people press the issue at the polls this Tuesday...

08-08-08

It's here, it's here! The (Summer) Olympics are here! I've only waited 4 exhausting years for this! (You'd think I was a world-class athlete with that proclamation.)

Too bad it's the most insanely busy week of my life (OK -- that's a little dramatic -- but it is extremely hectic right now). I just hope I don't miss all the action.

Go Team USA! I had a snowcone named after you last week in your honor.

My mini Olympic week consists of an agency-wide intern presentation at work, hour-long presentation for my class, and two papers, one being 18 pages. While much less exciting and exhilarating than platform diving or performing the iron cross on rings, it will be intense in its own "special" way.

I will definitely be squeezing in mini-watching sessions for swimming at the very least, and very likely gymnastics, diving, and track & field as well. Here's to hoping Michael Phelps gets mostly silvers (except relays) & that the other US Olympians take golds in all his individual events.

I'm such a jerk. But how can you not despise him when you see this picture? Ugggh.


If that wasn't bad enough, the free Olympic Preview Sports Illustrated delivered to my house (under someone else's name) had him "gracing" the cover. Fine, fine, he's a big story, again. And he's great for the sport. I get it. But did a full 9 (I got tired of counting after that) pages have to be dedicated to this guy? I guess it's only prep for all the "feel good" producers' storylines that will be raised again and again. But did we really need to know how many Facebook friends he has? The answer is 4,621 if you were wondering.*

Anyway, here's hoping that Team USA destroys the Land Down Under in all swimming relays (just a little friendly competition of course)! Though I'll admit, I'm still pretty sad that we won't see Gary Hall, Jr. in these Games.

In the back of my mind I'm on the semi-lookout for ambush marketing attempts too, but with recent IOC sanctions, I have a feeling I won't be seeing much of that.

OK, back to the insanity.


*This number has probably grown since I wrote this.

Annoying phrases and other meaningless drivel

It's been a whole week since a rant post, but frankly, it's time...

"Burning the midnight oil, eh?"

That has got to be one of the most annoying phrases ever vocalized. I can just see an old guy you barely know but thinks he knows you well saying it about you reading something at midnight, or pulling an all-nighter to write a paper. Or in reference to your retelling of such an incident.

Why does everyone who says this phrase think they are saying something insightful or funny?

I'm pretty convinced that saying something as "phony" as that, to quote Holden Caulfield, you either have to be 40+ or just a huge jackass.

While we're on this subject, here are some other annoying phrases and questions posed to me regularly (thanks SW, I'm sure you know which one I'm crediting you with):

• It is what it is... (Really? You don't say.)
  
  
• Hey, did you know you're sunburnt? (Um, do you think I'm hard of feeling sunburn?)
  
  
• Do you know how many calories are in that? (I'm eating chicken fried steak, and yeah I'm aware of the consequences you bumbling idiot. Isn't it evident that I don't care?)
  
  
• You knew what you were getting yourself into. (Yeah true, but how is this "incisive" comment helpful?)
  
  
• Fair enough. (What does that even mean?)

That's all for now because I actually do have to go B the m-n O now. Translation: stay up really late to perform an arduous reading task I should have hours/days ago. Gross.

Musings from a Cold Shower-Taker

Part of writing a blog is the seemingly inherent title to whine and complain. Often it's what I've done best, but with my recent and blooming love affair with the city of Austin, I've sorta been oblivious to one of my daily nuisances.

I absolutely love the neighborhood I live in. I live in North Campus, just south of even better Hyde Park. I love being walking distance from so many places... the Drag, UT, Hyde Park of course, and several bars and restaurants I like. I don't like that there is a lot of graffiti around, everywhere, including my apartment's washer & dryer room (!), but the free parking and amazing location more than quell that annoyance.

I do, however, pay sooooo little compared to the rest of my neighborhood, and often even less than my friends who commute great distances to get to the city's downtown or UT. The thing that has annoyed me most has not been the graffiti however, but the lack of hot water in my apartment.

I had always been able to get at least 3 minutes of hot water for my shower on a bad day, 5-8 minutes on an average day, and 8+ minutes if I showered sometime during the magic 4:00 pm hour. Don't ask me why this is the case; I have no idea.

However, as of Friday, they started working on our natural gas. I stressed started as it is now Sunday, and the work hasn't been finished yet. They kept interrupting when a friend was over and we were trying to watch TV, and later, when I tried to take a nap (however I ignored their knocking and slept anyway, and my roommate dealt with it). They took apart our oven, so now I can't cook, and the shower now produces no heat whatsoever. It has been a total nightmare.

I am assuming that the 100% lack of heat in the shower is somehow related to the "fixing the gas." This being the case, I now have to work up my guts for a full 15 minutes in order to brave my very shortened, 5-8 minute, polar bear plunge shower. Yes, we are now down to 0 minutes of warmth in the shower. The worst has been the hairwashing. At least when you wash everything else you can mostly get out of the way of the frosty downpour, but washing your hair commits you fully to the freezing shower concept, and your whole body will face borderline hypothermia once you've made this decision.

I have had to face this struggle for 3 straight days and my bitterness shows no sign of subsiding. My roommate says that they're coming in either Monday or Tuesday to fix the gas and I pray, pray, pray that that alleviates our shower dilemmas once and for all.

In the meantime, it's time to head out and remember what it's like to be warm again... and then immediately regret that desire 5 minutes later in the 95-105 degree Texas heat.