All things considered, time does help heal wounds

I realized this morning (July 22nd 2012), that it will be 25 years since I went to Europe for a month, next month.  For those of you doing the math in your head right now, I'll save you.  I was 19 when I left, celebrated a birthday and was 20 when I came back.  I left on Aug. 4th and returned Sept. 3rd.  I flew to Belfast, Northern Ireland to stay with a pen-pal I had met through my high school's program to foster contact and friendships between international students.  I forget what the actual name of the program was called, but I signed up for several pen-pals, and only one stuck with it long enough to correspond for several years.  When my grandmother passed away in April of 1986, she left a small amount of money to her grandchildren and with my mother's approval, this is what I used my money for.  My grandmother loved travel and adventure and even though she didn't get to travel and have all that many adventures, she talked often with fond nostalgia about the few trips she did have.  She would have loved to go to Europe, and I'm sorry that she didn't get to go, so I like to think that with her financial help, she traveled through me.

  I was invited by my pen-pal (does anyone still use this term?) and his family to come stay with them for the month.  I gladly accepted and for a year and a half we planned our trip.  This was all done with snail airmail letters because an international telephone call was more expensive than gold in that time period (and no, no email either).  I called them the day before I left just to make sure everything was set, and that was the first time I actually talked with him "in-person".  So, the next night, off I flew for eight hours to Heathrow, and then had to transfer to British Airways to go to Belfast.  A small diversion here:  Traveling to Belfast in 1987 was akin to traveling to Yemen today.  I was searched, my luggage was THOROUGHLY searched, every canister of film (all 25 of them) was opened and searched (no such thing as digital cameras then), and questioned as to why a single, female traveler was going to Belfast.  This was in the midst of one of the worst times of their "Troubles" so, yeah, I guess it did seem kind of suspicious when I look back on it now.  It took about two hours to get through the security gate, including a phone call to my host family to confirm I was going to stay with them.  But, I digress.

Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament

I finally got to Belfast, met up with my friend, and started my adventure.  I'd like to say that it was a perfect friendship that evolved between us, but it wasn't.  We really clashed.  It was no one's fault really, and I chalk it up now to not understanding one another's backgrounds and cultures at all.  He expected me to be submissive and not question anything he said or did (including walking six paces behind him in public at all times), and I, a head-strong, independent American teenager (and a girl yet!) had no problems being assertive and didn't understand the male dominate society that was (and is?) the United Kingdom, and Northern Ireland in specific.  The first clue that I wasn't a shrinking violet to him should have been the fact that I flew BY MYSELF from my home to his.  At 19.  His family, however, was wonderful.  His mom and sister were in awe that I had done something like this, and I just didn't get why they thought that.  I do now, but again as time went by and I was able to put some mature perspective on the whole situation, I get it now.

We had planned side trips to England and Norway for two weeks, and it was within those two weeks that any semblance of a friendship was removed.  I still didn't get "the male must make all the decisions (including what I eat)" attitude and I started to go off on my own which just made the situation worse.  Ok, enough of those details, I don't want to re-live that whole thing again.  We flew back to Belfast for my last week, and I mostly hung around his sister.  We had a great time, (although escorted by him), and at the end of the week, I flew home.  My flight home is a blog in and of itself and a good study on what goes wrong with airports and  airplanes, but needless to say, 28 hours later, I was home.  In tears, shock, and full of regrets.  I've never been able to fully verbalize the whole situation between he and I, and it was a huge lesson to me on how word manipulation and mental games can really mess with a person.  I'd love to just casually toss the "we were young and stupid" line in here, and I guess I just did, but it has taken a very, very long time to not have the internal gut-clench every time I think about him.  I loved seeing the sights and being in London and Oslo, Bergen, and Oystese, Belfast and Dublin.  I had a great time going to the various tourist places (The Giant's Causeway is fantastic!) and being in all that history.  But, it's tinged with that regret of losing a friendship.  His mother wrote me a letter shortly after I got home and said I was welcome to come back and that she was sorry for any bad feelings that had happened.  He didn't write that letter, his mother had to.  I wrote her back and thanked her for the letter and tried to explain that it was not her fault, he and I just didn't get along.  That's all there was to it.  Our cultures were so very different that at that young age there was no way we could see each other's point.

Hardinger Fjord, Oystese Norway

Giant's Causeway, Northern Ireland

So, here it is, 25 years later.  Even though I know what happened was nothing more than stubbornness and misunderstanding on both our parts, I'm thankful that the adage of "time heals all wounds" is particularly true in my case.  And, maybe it should be "time seals all wounds with scars" instead.  I wouldn't want to meet with him, even after all this time.  I think everyone at some point in their lives, comes across a person that leaves such a mark on them.  Hopefully, you only have that happen to you once and you put it away for reference and experience.  It's also what shapes us into understanding one another.  I learned a very harsh lesson at a young age that not everyone has the same value set I do.  It's neither good nor bad, it's just that what I believe is not necessarily what someone else believes.  And whether or not I agree with it, it is that person's core belief system that shapes them and I will never be able to change that.  Nor should I.  And, at that point you either accept it and revel in your differences or reject it and separate.  To do anything else causes nothing but misery to both people and will never solve your problems.            

Tolerance

Way back when I first started this blog, I made an entry about tolerance and how people treat different subcultures of their fellow human beings.  Specifically, how science fiction and fantasy people were seen as freaks to some in the public who do not like these genres, don't understand them, or, will not admit they like the genre for fear that they too will be made fun of by their friends, family, and other people who make fun of anything that isn't what they are "in" to.  In various stages of my life (so far), I have had more than enough opportunity to be involved in and interested in subjects that many in "normal" society deem strange, weird, and just plain stupid or a waste of time and money.  And yet, over the years, I have noticed that the same things that I've been ridiculed for are now the trend in vogue.  


A few weeks ago, I spent a considerable amount of time, money, and energy at the Bead & Button Show in Milwaukee.  This was my 7th or 8th show, and it was a really good show this year.  I first got into beading when my friend Kathie, who had moved to Ohio, came to visit me and asked if we could go to the Bead Show.  I also have another friend, Jill, who had already been going to this show and had been beading for awhile.  As I was a dedicated quilter by this time (this was wwwaaaayyyyy before I went back to school in 2008), I didn't need another hobby.  But, Kathie came for a visit and Jill told me if I found anything I like I could give it to her and she'd make a piece for me.  It was a truly eye-opening experience for me the first time I walked into the dealer's room of the (then) Midwest Express Airlines Center.  The ENTIRE upper floor was filled with tables and booths of dealers from around the world, and had every item related to beading, buttons, and the accouterments to store, house, and complete all things beady.  I bought one thing, gave it to Jill, and she made a necklace for me.  Kathie came back the next year, and I bought a few more things, including a seed bead kit that is a thimble holder.  Because every quilter needs a thimble holder.  

The black holder is my first seed bead project

But, my husband said something to me that released the mental gate in my head that was holding back the whole "yes, I really do need a new hobby" thought.  He said to me, "Beads are small, they don't take up as much room as fabric".  Now, he and Kathie were joking with me at the time because I kept denying that I was going to start beading.  I was going to give this kit to Jill and had every thought that she would be ok with this and make it for me.  Well, when I showed it to her, she rolled her eyes and laughed at me.  I was such a newbie to the whole beading hobby, that it never occurred to me that there are subcultures within subcultures.  She flat out denied making the holder for me and I took it home.  But, the frugal person I am, was not about to let that kit go to waste.  So, never having done any beading before, I dumped out the seed beads, grabbed the directions, and made it myself.  And, that, is how I came into the world of beading.  Little did I know that this was an advanced project that no newbie in her right mind would have ever taken on.  But, make it I did, and I did a really good job of it too.  I also needed three cortisone shots in my left arm because I knew nothing of beading ergonomics, but that's a whole 'nother blog.  


The title of this blog is "Tolerance" and I'm getting to that point.  I love seed beading, and a few years ago when Kathie showed me a chain maille bracelet she had made, I was instantly smitten with the medium.  It was a calling to me, one I can't really explain, and ever since I always have a piece I'm working on.  I switch back and forth and sometimes coincide working on seed beading and chain maille, and when I went to the Bead Show this year, I took two classes on chain maille instead of beading.  I'm self-taught for chain maille too.  Everything I've learned has been from the internet, magazines, or eye-ballin' other people's work.  Now, there's really nothing new in chain maille as far as standard weaves are concerned so there is no chance of copyright infringement.  If the smithy's from ancient times thought that the armor they were making would eventually be fine jewelry, they would have laughed in your face.  But, here it is.  Pieces at the Bead Show were in high three figures price ranges and every one of them I could make, or learn to make.  It's just too bad that most women, and some men, think that chain maille is of a lower class in the jewelry world and wouldn't even think of wearing a piece unless it comes from a high priced jeweler.  There is no tolerance for something that isn't from the "normal" world of jewelry, and there still persists the notion that unless it has a recognizable name brand, it isn't "real" jewelry.  Very snobbish and intolerant.  Thus, the title of this blog.  

My favorite chain maille are the micro mailles.  The smaller the ring, the better.  I'm currently making a Jens Pind 3 in 24 gauge 1/16th inch gold rings.  If this measurement means nothing to you, the ring is about the size of a small tapioca pearl.  Not the large ones, the SMALL ones. I had taken the class Jens Pind 5 at the bead show and the teacher showed us on much larger rings which were gigantic for me.  I had on one of my favorite chain maille necklaces, a roundmaille in fine silver, 5 across.  Roundmaille is made with Euro 4-in-1, rolled together and "zipped" up to form a tube.  I made this necklace in the same 24 gauge 1/16th size ring.  Now, the Jens Pind weave is a very advanced weave and I took this class because I was having trouble starting the weave.  And, come to find out, many and most people do.  In fact, the teacher works at a store where they SELL the started weaves for people!  But, because I don't know any better, I asked her to show me how to start the weave.  She was shocked that I wanted to learn this, and I was expecting to learn it because me, being the frugal person I am, am not going to pay someone else to start a weave for me when I'm perfectly capable of doing my own work.  

Roundmaille necklace

The teacher comes over to show me how to start the Jens Pind 5 weave, and she shrieks "OMG! Your necklace is roundmaille??!  I thought it was just a chain!  Let me see it!"  This is a common thing at the Bead Show.  People are always looking at other people's stuff.  In fact, it's the only place I've ever been to where it's acceptable to run up to someone, grab whatever is on them and fondle it.  It's a bit disconcerting at first, but you quickly get used to it.  I'm not a touchy person unless I know you really well, so it's still uncomfortable for me when people do this.  And, it's usually a necklace at a particular level that isn't really appropriate for public touching, but it's never like that.  There's so much to be in awe over, that you really can't help touching or staring.  Odd, but I digress.  I take off my necklace, give it to her and she scrutinizes it for several minutes and then looks up to me and says, "you have an incredible tolerance for annoying things".  And, in all this time I've never once thought of chain maille as annoying, although sometimes the rings get frustrating when they don't cooperate.  

Yes, that is the head of a standard pin next to the ring

The word "tolerance" however, stuck in my mind as something that I wouldn't need to ever associate with chain maille, yet recently when a person I know said to me (and you know who you are :o)) "I used to make fun of those kids that were into science fiction and fantasy, but now I love the genre and realize what I missed out on all those years" when we were talking about chain maille and the book series "Game of Thrones". (And yes, you're forgiven)  I've known for many years that if people were truly honest with themselves, yes, they too would like this genre and the fact that there are very good stories to be told within them, and that the uniqueness of this world is the very same "something different" they are craving in their lives.  A coworker just told me that she didn't know what she was going to do with herself when she retired.  And yet, my thought is, I have so much I want to do, why can't I retire now?  That, in a nutshell, is the difference between someone who has lived her life in the "normal" world and someone who keeps a foot in both worlds.  Because you never know when a good hobby and story are going to come along.  She also insists that UW Sheboygan is a "crafty" college and said that she would never pay for "crafty" lessons.  I'm not sure where you start with intolerant people like her because even when I correct her, she still persists in saying these things because it's her passive/aggressive way of making fun of me.  I almost always have a chain maille piece on me, and occasionally she will ask if I've made that from one of my "crafty" lessons.  Her questions are done in such a way she thinks she is being nice, but she is so transparent that most times I pretend I haven't heard her.  There is no winning with intolerant people like her, and she is so full of jealousy because she won't allow herself to embrace something "out of the normal" world.  Her loss.       


I have an incredible tolerance for annoying things.  Even a teacher of chain maille, and I might add, she is making her wedding dress from rings, finds what I do and crave annoying.  Maybe that is my skill in life.  All those small things need to be put together to make a bigger picture.  And, because it was established in a certain Spanish class that I can't adapt well to just the parts, I need to see that finished piece in the big picture.  That is where my tolerance comes from, knowing that eventually there will be a bigger picture.  I just need to add one more ring....

Things I learned in two semesters of Spanish

• Es is pronounced ACE! ACE! ACE!  I will forever hear him yelling this at the class.
• I am terrible at speaking Spanish.
• I loved learning new words.
• I don't like Spanish verbs so much.
• One verb=one option, two verbs=two options.  Do I get extra credit if I tattoo this on my forehead?
• Younglings learn at a much faster rate than their much wiser elders.
• When swearing, be sure your mouth is closed and you use your inside your head voice and don't do it when the class is stone silent and el profesor is writing answers to el señor pop quiz on the board.
• El profesor has the ears of a hawk.
• After swearing, be sure to bring in cookies.
• Cookies are the solution for EVERYTHING!
• Cookies are great for making friends, and making them happy.  Lily gave me a hug!
• It was established that everyone loves cookies.
• I would not want to teach Spanish; too much drama and heartache.
• I have new emotions to deal with now.
• I didn't think I could have so many migraines in such a short period of time...and live.
• I am a black plague of English!  And proud of it!  MORE COOKIES!
• Without humor (see above) from el profesor I would not have made it. 
• The Dude definitely abides.
• You're killin' me Smalls! (Great movie, thanks for the reference)
• You can't just add an "o" to the end of every word, Scott.  It's el tenedor NOT el forko!
• Natalie is better at learning my flash cards than I am.
• I still want to give Jill my million dolares.
• I never knew a dictionary of just verbs existed.
• Secretly, I loved going to class and learning something new.  I just wish I could have been better at it.  I liked the mingles because I could get the kids to laugh.  I think I made them feel better about making mistakes, especially when el profesor would pick (ON?) me to answer questions.  (Sometimes twice and making it dependent on el señor pop quiz if I got the answer right or wrong)  If I gave just one of them a pass in their mind that it is ok to make mistakes openly, verbally, and in front of everyone and live to tell about it - I would gladly do it all over again.
• I think in words; flow-chart style; big picture.  I made a verb flow chart because I can't adapt to small parts without knowing how they fit into the world of language.  Several of my classmates loved my verb flow chart and I'm quite honored that el profesor felt it was good enough to include on our D2L website for class.  
• I know way more about English grammar by studying Spanish than I ever knew before taking Spanish.
• I take some satisfaction in knowing that the new gray hair on my head equals the number of gray hair I gave el profesor.  Sorry about taking the years off your life though....
• There is much crying in Spanish.
• The epic battles of ser vs. estar, para vs. por, saber vs. conocer, and preterit vs. imperfect.  
• There is ALWAYS an exception.
• And finally, I hope I never have to do this for college credit again.  I would love to learn this for fun and without the pressure of college degree requirements.  I would love to go to Spain and understand and speak and be understood.  Maybe someday.

Thanks Professor Kendall for all your help, humor, movie quotes, and banter.  It made a very difficult two semesters bearable for me.  Again, sorry about the hair and years.  No one should be THAT gray at 21!

  

I failed something very important this week

I failed something very important this week. I failed my spoken final for Spanish 105, and it's 10% of my grade. Why I'm choosing to publish this as a blog is beyond me, other than the fact that I'm hoping somehow to make sense of what happened. The final consisted of two parts. A one-on-one interview with the professor, and a role play activity with another student. There is no one else in the room, just the teacher and the students taking the test. I sat down, looked at my professor, and my mind went blank. I couldn't even return his greeting which, any person off the street with absolutely no experience in the language could have greeted back. I felt like a deer in the headlights, and after three questions, he stopped the test and asked if he should go on. All I could do was stare at him, hands over my mouth, and see nothing in my head but a blinding light. No words, no thoughts, no emotions, nothing. When I didn't respond to him, he called my name and snapped me out of whatever trance I had fallen into. He said he didn't even know how to grade me, and my response, which will haunt me forever was "just fail me".  And, he did.  I didn't leave him much choice.  I regret saying this, but it was so guttural and instinctual, that I could hardly even speak the phrase clearly.    

 He asked me to compose my face so that I didn't scare the confidence out of the rest of my classmates. Wow, that was a first for me.

 So, here I sit, writing a blog about it and trying to figure out why I failed so utterly. Usually I can muster some type of response, or a verb or two, but I couldn't even think in English, let alone translate something into Spanish. I was aware of my surroundings, I saw the look on his face when he realized this was not going to go well, and I saw the look of disappointment (or disgust?) on his face when I gave up. Yet, only now, am I able to have some type of reaction to the whole thing, and luckily I'm the only one here to see the meltdown. I don't feel any better, in fact I feel worse because I can actually feel the emotions now.

I know we all fail at things in our lives, and we hope for the best when these things do happen. I had some inkling that the oral final was not going to go well early on in the semester. I found that I could hear the words volume-wise, but for the life of me, I couldn't comprehend what they were. They were nothing more than noise with no meaning to me. It doesn't help I have hearing issues, but as I've been able to understand English, albeit with several repeats sometimes, I assumed I could do the same with Spanish. Well, on the oral comprehension test, no. Repeats lower your grade. There was a good chance I would have failed this test anyway because I would have had to ask for repeats. So, I thought maybe he could spell, in Spanish of course, some of the words I couldn't understand. But, when it came down to it, I didn't understand the sentence to even be able to ask what words to spell. I'm not sure what grade I got on the role play, but with the interview at 40% of the overall grade I would have had to score a perfect grade to even get a D. And there is no way I scored a perfect grade. I can still do math, and that adds up to a big, fat F.

 So, now what? I have the written composition and the written final left. In my heart, I believe I will pass this course, hopefully, but I need to ace both. The composition was handed in earlier in the week, but I worked really hard on it, took all the feedback into consideration and changed a lot of what I had written, and I hope that it will at the very least, cancel the oral final out. They are both worth 10% of my grade.

 I really am not coming up with any answers for what happened other than panic and anxiety. And, I'm really tired of those two excuses. I want the old me back, where I could take a test without this drama and nonsense. If this is what my future is going to bring, yeah, it's a bright light alright. One that obliterates my memory only long enough for me to fail and then leave me with the scorching memory of that instead of the answers. I now question if that's what I really want out of school.

English, Then Spanish

I have to write a composition in Spanish on a movie we watched in class. This doesn't bother me except that I have an almost compulsive-like need to state exactly the word I want to use for the intended and inflected meaning. I've always had that problem, and it is one of the reasons why I keep a dictionary handy, especially when I write. And, well for spelling reasons, but that's a whole 'nother blog. In any case, I have to write about a topic from the movie, in Spanish, and without the use of the internet, friends, family, and coworkers who speak Spanish, and anything else that isn't our textbook, the Professor, or our classmates. I'm ok with that, I certainly understand why he wants that and I would do the same thing if I were teaching this course. We had to do the same for Spanish 1 too. My problem, however, is that I keep finding myself wanting to state exactly what I want to state but can't. My Spanish is no where near my level of English and I have to keep reminding myself that it's not really what I want to say, but HOW I say it. The grading rubric is 50% content and 50% grammar,and no movie summaries allowed. It is frustrating, and I find myself just wanting to write it in English and then translate it. He assures me this is the path to chaos and destruction, so I've been avoiding that very scenario. However, this morning, I woke up and the paper was pretty much formed in my head, in English, and now I'm really struggling to separate the two languages.

The paper in English is good. At least I think so, but what I'm able to type out in Spanish is not so good, not exactly what I want to say, and grammatically is horrible. I think. I'm never really sure about Spanish grammar because it's different that English. I've discussed this issue with my Professor, well the grammar issue and the paper in English issue, and he shrugs when I tell him that the paper is pretty much formed in my head and it's almost like taking dictation when I write my papers. There's always going to be room for correction and refinement, but for the most part, I put down on paper (type, actually) and let it be. And, it's usually after sleeping so I'm guessing my brain just figures it out and then lets me know. I really can't explain it, and for the longest time I thought that this is how everybody writes a paper. When I told my husband this, he looked at me oddly and said flatly, no, that's not how people write papers. I didn't believe him. I made the mistake of telling a coworker this, and she REALLY looked at me oddly and said that she hated people like me. I told my best friend and she looked at me shrewdly and said that yes, of course I would write a paper that way. Way back in the day, before computers, I typed her papers for her. I was a receptionist and could type, and still do, around 70wpm. It never once occurred to me to ask her how she wrote her papers. I just assumed she did whatever research she needed to and presto! there was a paper.

Now, after asking several people this question, I've come to realize that it is not usual, and that it also sounds like I'm bragging. So, I've stopped telling people this and just go about writing my essays and papers like I would normally. Which brings me to this morning, and needing to get something in English out of my system so I can try and write in Spanish. Thus, this blog. My hope is that I can get the compulsive need to communicate in my native tongue out of my system and hopefully finish my rough draft before Tuesday's class. Working full-time through the week leaves me with really only the weekend to get the bulk of my homework done, so I really need to get this finished today. So, purge myself of English and then switch to Spanish.

I'm trying to decide what classes to take this summer. I'm transferring to UWM, and my appointment to register is this Thursday. I'm trying to decide if I should take two Information Resources classes, or one IR class and math stats 215. I had a conversation with an advisor who tells me that I'm ONE science credit short (only six biology credits transfer from my eight and a five credit chemistry class. I need 12 total), and if I want to follow the pre-1998 graduation guidelines (two semesters of foreign language instead of four) then I need two classes on formal reasoning (I already have one). And, apparently, math stats 215 will cover both. So, I'm trying to figure out if I should take it this summer, on an accelerated path and probably less material or in fall when I would have more time, but more material. I'm leaning toward the summer because schedule-wise it would work out much better than in the fall. Summer evening classes, rather than fall day classes. I still am working full-time during the day, so the fall class will really mess my schedule up. The IR classes are online, so that's not an issue. I suppose I could try and take it in the summer and if I fail it, repeat it in fall. I'm not sure why I think I'll fail it, but that has become my first knee-jerk reaction for classes with scary names for me. Math stats.... Spanish....

I can't believe I'm transferring schools. I started at UW Sheboygan in the Spring of 2008, and kept thinking that transfer and major decisions were really, really far away. I'm very glad I went back, and also finished my Associate Degree, but finishing the Bachelor's seems just as far away as the Associate did when I first started. The thing that bothers me is this: When I started I had a very distinct path in mind. Repeat the classes I did poorly in, prove that I can do this, and then try and finish what I started so many years ago. I would have thought my confidence would be greater, but I find that the thought of transfer makes me a bit anxious. I have worked across the street from UWM for 21 years and at some point I should have lost the anxious feeling I get when I looked out my window. But I never did. And now, only a few weeks to summer session, here I am. A student of the same school I never thought I'd attend. I hope this is just transfer jitters and I will settle in at some point, but all the same, I'm really going to miss UW Sheboygan. A person grows with new experiences, and I hope my experience at UWM will be better than I expect.

Ok, that's enough English for now. Let's see how that paper is going to turn out in Spanish....

Winning

I'm not sure why I seem to forget that sometimes people do not always represent who they truly are and will goad me into arguments. I'm also not sure why people want to argue with me either, but that's another blog. I have a coworker, who deliberately leads any conversation into some heated topic no matter what non sequiter she has to inject into the conversation. We had been chatting about sports and kids, specifically what sports we played as kids. This seems a harmless conversation, and I've come to pick what I think are harmless conversations with this person because I'm fully aware that she will direct any and all conversations into some political, religious, controversial, women's rights, PETA, environment save the world topic that just makes me want to do the exact opposite whether or not I agree with her. This morning's topic of what we played as kids started out harmless enough. I said that my group of "friends" pretty much existed as an older group of kids that were my sister's friends because there were no other kids my age group in our neighborhood. So, they were at least five years older and more than I was. You can imagine the discrepancy in coordination as far as playing any sport. Specifically, baseball and football. Anyway, the topic evolved into what a national phenomenon the "Big Sunday Game" has turned into for this country. Several years ago (1996?) when the Packers went to this game, my friend Kathie (hi Kathie!) and I went to Joann's Fabrics after work. Upon entering the store, we were told by the employee standing in the door way to make our trip quick because they were closing in 15 mins. When we asked why, she looked at us like we were idiots and simply replied, "we are closing early because of the Packers". To Kathie and I, we really didn't care all that much and thought that at least this bastion of estrogen store would be open. Nope. But, that's not the point here. My coworker, who is an atheist, turns and states, "Well, there are stores that close for a few hours on Good Friday and I see no difference in that". At which point, I stopped in my tracks with my store story and tried to connect Good Friday with sports and why she is so rude to interrupt me to get her "All religion is evil" point across to me. And yet again, I'm left with a vague sense of irritation and anger because I had somehow forgotten that she is not what she appears to be, and will do everything she can to incite an argument with me. I simply stated I wasn't about to discuss theology with her and stopped talking.

It's hard enough to go into a job every single day, in a locked room with the same person every single day, and not try to at least make the time pass in a somewhat social or pleasant way. Do I now have to keep silent because this person is so toxic that you can't even have a conversation of simple niceties without it turning into some argument in which she needs to prove she is ALWAYS right?

My mother gave me this advice repeatedly as I was growing up. Never discuss politics, religion, or sex with anyone. Now, obviously she meant people who were not your close and immediate family (and maybe sometimes them too), but in the past few years it seems to me that those are the topics that everyone wants to discuss, and if you don't want to discuss them there must be something wrong with you, AND if you don't agree with that person, you are wrong and on some inherent level you must be hiding some type of personality or character defect. Because why wouldn't you want to advertise your personal belief system to EVERYONE. I have tried to adhere to mom's advice and it has usually served me well. Once in a great while I will slip and be goaded into some kind of conversation I'm not comfortable with, but for the most part, I keep her advice constantly. This coworker seems to make it her personal mission to get me to reveal my beliefs on those very subjects, and every time she makes this transition from pleasant conversation to demanding to know about any of the above, it's like a train derailing. The conversation violently stops because I'm not willing to discuss what ever confrontational question she has demanded of me. I told her repeatly this morning that I was not about to discuss religion and theology with her, but she wouldn't stop. Finally, I said that if she couldn't at least intellectually see the difference between Good Friday and the Superbowl, she must be an idiot. And THAT was the end of the conversation. But, that's what happens when you goad me into confrontation. I will tell you exactly what I think, and in not so nice terms. Mom always told me to tell the truth and to be upfront too, but I wonder if she would have had me be as blunt as well. I learned it from her, whether she meant to teach me that or not.

I have a facebook account and I'm often stunned at the level of information that people put on their statuses. And, confrontational statements that they demand all their friends adhere and repost on their own status updates. I am coming to believe the sad fact that social media will be the device that will eventually break down all social niceties that as a society we've built up in order to interact with one another. It's not enough anymore to just let people believe privately, now we are forced to put our belief system out there for anyone and everyone to read and, most likely, dispute. And because we have now raised a generation of people who think they are always right because we wouldn't crush little Johnny or Susie's "spirit", these same people now feel they have the right to tell you why you are wrong and don't really understand that what they are doing is exactly what was trying to be avoided to begin with. Interestingly, my coworker is considerably older than me, but has embraced this attitude for whatever reason and seems to think that she can enforce her own belief system on me.

I am Christian, and I have a picture of my husband and I lighting our Congregational Unity Candle at our wedding ceremony on my desk. It's a small 5" x 7" photo in a small, wooden frame. She detests this pic, and on several occasions when I've come into work, the picture has been turned face down. As we are the only two in this locked room, I know it's her doing this. It's so unbelievably rude to me, but because I know she's doing it purely to goad me into confronting her about it, I just simply return it to its original state and begin my work day. But part of me screams at the complete lack of social manners on her part to first, leave my desk alone, and second, why if she demands I be tolerant of her atheism (which I am) that she doesn't accord the same to herself and tolerate my Christianity? It seems hypocritical to me, but for her to demand that she is right is the bigger problem in my opinion. If we plan on solving anything in this country, I think it is time that the people who think they are always right, no matter what, begin to think or even comprehend that they may not always be right. That the very fact they feel to be the "enlightened" ones, are often the very ones who are very "unenlightened" and uninformed. No one is always right. And not every solution is always right. There is a happy medium somewhere, and the key is to find that happy medium and get everyone to agree to it. But that will never work because there are so many people that no longer want the niceties or the civility that life can offer, and want nothing more than to argue, confront, deceive, bully, goad, and demand that their belief system is the "right" one. It doesn't matter the subject or problem and I fear that we have lost something essential in our world that may have led us to solutions, but that the need to be "right" all the time is now the biggest obstruction to truly and completely solving our problems. Instead the need to appease our egos no matter the cost of civility, has supplanted the actual desire to solve the problem. All that matters is "winning" the argument and point, and that, will never solve anything.

Yet more Spanish drama

I was asked by my Spanish Professor tonight to reflect for ten minutes on a writing I had turned in. So, I decided to write a blog because, quite frankly, I just can't think about it anymore. Sometimes writing about it helps. This assignment, escritura #3, was originally an in-class assignment. That gets graded and then we have to re-write it with our corrections. Now, this isn't pages of stuff, it was two gut-wrenching paragraphs that took me 20 minutes to write. The revision took longer to do and I did WORSE than the first time around. And stupid mistakes that I really should have known better at this point in Spanish. Thus, the "I really want you to reflect for 10 minutes" speech. So, here I am, reflecting. I can't blame it on panic or migraines, I had neither when I wrote my revision. I was at home, albeit in a situation where my full attention was not on that particular homework assignment. Our kitchen faucet for the second time in as many weeks was doing its best Mt. Vesuvius impression and I was enlisted to help my husband fix it. Those home projects that are supposed to take an hour to fix, but end up taking weeks. I'm not even going into that whole issue. But, really that's not the reason. I should have been able to re-write my assignment in a semi-intelligent manner.

I really have no excuse why I did so poorly in my re-write. So, if no excuses, then why? I wasn't necessarily angry, or sad, or otherwise irritated I had to do it. I can't even really remember doing it, to tell the truth. Is it because it was such a small assignment that I didn't really feel the need to pay attention to it? But the things I got wrong on it are building blocks to the language. Is that what I'm supposed to be learning here? That I really need to pay attention to details in order to get a true understanding of the language? And how do I do that when memory recall is failing me? My Professor pointed out to me tonight that all he hears me say is, "I can't....." and tagged me with "Negative Nicki". I am not sure how I feel about that because, and he would have never known this, I've been labeled and branded as being "negative" for a good percentage of my adolescence and young adulthood. The "negative" label brought me nothing but heartache for several things I won't go into here, and is something I've tried for years to play down. But, maybe, when it comes to Spanish, I am. I do say "I can't" a lot, but it's not without reason. Nonetheless, it really hurt me a bit when he said it. I had thought that after all these years I would not have to deal with someone who still thinks I'm a negative person.

But, that still doesn't answer why I did so poorly on my re-write.

So, it's been more than ten minutes and I still don't have an answer. I feel like I have more questions than answers when it comes to Spanish, and I just don't think it should be this complicated or drama-filled. I have ten weeks left to this semester, and I really hope that I can pull it together and figure out what my problem is. So, like I remember learning in Eng 102 (Hi Azor!) I will take my crappy first (and second) draft and make it better. I will keep trying until I do get it right because, after all, I might be a "negative Nicki", but I'm not a quitter.