Dear Readers,
I want to get a few things off my chest. I'm sick of carrying the extra weight of secrets about myself that I hide to avoid being made fun of. Go ahead! Make fun of me! I don't care! Here it goes...
1. Even though I give my husband a hard time about it, I sometimes eat Kraft Cheese and Macaroni straight from the pan.
2. I like the band The Eagles, especially the songs "Hotel California" and "Desperado". I know The Dude hates The Eagles, but I like them anyway.
3. I've read the Twilight series 5 times. I enjoyed them every time.
4. Sometimes, I swear (sorry Mom!).
5. I really, really hate going to touristy places like Fisherman's Wharf in San Fransisco or The Space Needle in Seattle. I really, really like going to the seedy underbelly of big cities and seeing real live hookers and drug dealers. I don't know why.
6. For a long time I've felt like I owe apologies to a lot of people for not going to church anymore. However, rather than apologize, I'd like to say thank you to the people in my life who have taught me the important lessons in life, whether through church or friendship. Because of you, I know love, compassion, humility, friendship, family, and have given me the tools I need to make good choices and take responsibility for myself. Please know that the LDS church will always have a special place in my heart, even if I never go again.
7. I make fun of people. Mostly random people I don't know on the street. I don't mean any harm, but sometimes you just have to laugh.
8. I'm always on time for work. I'm rarely on time for anything else.
9. Really wealthy people scare me more than they impress me.
10. I'm making plans to visit the new Harry Potter theme park at Universal Studios Florida. Ironically, it will be super touristy...but I'm hoping it will be super cool as well.
Wow, I feel so much better! Like I've lost 10 lbs! Thanks for letting me get these things off of my chest.
Sincerely,
h.
2.25.2010
2.23.2010
Humble Beginnings
Dear Readers,
Yesterday I was listening to NPR (a shock, I know) and was lucky enough to hear an interview with His Holiness the Dalai Lama. A few years ago I had the wonderful experience of getting to see him speak in person in Sun Valley. Funny enough, just hearing him on the radio evoked the same reaction that I had when I heard him speak before. I can feel myself become enthralled in what he has to say; his messages of compassion, humility, and servitude toward your fellow men is so logical and precise that it almost doesn't make sense to have it come from a religious leader.
One of the things he spoke about on the radio was how as a child, after he had been found to be the Dalai Lama and was removed from his poor village to live in the monastery, he didn't have other children to play with. But he found playmates in the monks who swept the floors and were the care takers of the buildings. They taught him games, and although he was one of the foremost religious figures in the world, the care takers would not let him win the games they played unless it happened of his accord. They didn't have to do it. How many times do we as parents let our children win to spare them disappointment? His Holiness spoke of his gratefulness for losing those games though, as they planted the seeds of understanding humility in him.
I've put a lot of though into this concept over the last 24 hours. What is it to be humble? Is it the act of being shamed, or taught a lesson? Or is it the quiet reflection we experience after the shame or lesson, that helps us to understand what we did wrong and how we could do it better next time?
I hope I'm not what you would call a pretentious person. I have my areas of snobbery for sure, like literature, baking, and fine grades of heroin. But in my everyday life I would like to think that I'm a pretty easy going and understanding person. But after taking the last day and really reflecting my life, I know that there are improvements to be made, attitudes to change, and habits to kick. I'm a very fortunate person; I have a husband I adore, the best son in the world, and friends that fill my heart with joy every time I see them. I've had several wonderful opportunities present themselves as of late, and it humbles me just to know that I would be considered as a possible candidate for said opportunities. It's a wonderful feeling to step back from my life and be able to recognize that it's full of love, happiness, and potential. I've realized that having humility doesn't mean you have to be embarrassed or shamed or feel loss to recognize what's good in your life; rather it means to find the good in life, acknowledge and be grateful for it, and in turn try to spread the joy you have through service and compassion to those who are lacking.
Also, if you ever get the chance to listen to the Dalai Lama, I highly suggest you do so. For such a small man, he has a huge message to spread...and the greatest laugh in the world to boot.
Sincerely,
h.
Yesterday I was listening to NPR (a shock, I know) and was lucky enough to hear an interview with His Holiness the Dalai Lama. A few years ago I had the wonderful experience of getting to see him speak in person in Sun Valley. Funny enough, just hearing him on the radio evoked the same reaction that I had when I heard him speak before. I can feel myself become enthralled in what he has to say; his messages of compassion, humility, and servitude toward your fellow men is so logical and precise that it almost doesn't make sense to have it come from a religious leader.
One of the things he spoke about on the radio was how as a child, after he had been found to be the Dalai Lama and was removed from his poor village to live in the monastery, he didn't have other children to play with. But he found playmates in the monks who swept the floors and were the care takers of the buildings. They taught him games, and although he was one of the foremost religious figures in the world, the care takers would not let him win the games they played unless it happened of his accord. They didn't have to do it. How many times do we as parents let our children win to spare them disappointment? His Holiness spoke of his gratefulness for losing those games though, as they planted the seeds of understanding humility in him.
I've put a lot of though into this concept over the last 24 hours. What is it to be humble? Is it the act of being shamed, or taught a lesson? Or is it the quiet reflection we experience after the shame or lesson, that helps us to understand what we did wrong and how we could do it better next time?
I hope I'm not what you would call a pretentious person. I have my areas of snobbery for sure, like literature, baking, and fine grades of heroin. But in my everyday life I would like to think that I'm a pretty easy going and understanding person. But after taking the last day and really reflecting my life, I know that there are improvements to be made, attitudes to change, and habits to kick. I'm a very fortunate person; I have a husband I adore, the best son in the world, and friends that fill my heart with joy every time I see them. I've had several wonderful opportunities present themselves as of late, and it humbles me just to know that I would be considered as a possible candidate for said opportunities. It's a wonderful feeling to step back from my life and be able to recognize that it's full of love, happiness, and potential. I've realized that having humility doesn't mean you have to be embarrassed or shamed or feel loss to recognize what's good in your life; rather it means to find the good in life, acknowledge and be grateful for it, and in turn try to spread the joy you have through service and compassion to those who are lacking.
Also, if you ever get the chance to listen to the Dalai Lama, I highly suggest you do so. For such a small man, he has a huge message to spread...and the greatest laugh in the world to boot.
Sincerely,
h.
2.17.2010
Being an Adult
Dear Readers,
I just read a post on my friend Loren's Facebook page that got me to thinkin'. What makes a person a man or a woman? When do we stop being "boys and girls" and work our way up to the top of the ladder? Is it age? Experience? Knowledge?
Coincidentally, these questions come to mind on the same day that Shay and I talked to a bank about buying a home. We don't have a particular home in mind, but we've considered looking because the market is so good and thought we would see what we would qualify for. Here's what I learned: buying a home is a nauseatingly grown up thing to do. I'm sure if the bank just interviewed us as normal human beings, we would be approved for just about any house we wanted on charm and savvy alone. Mucking up said interview with credit scores, income, taxes, etc. etc. makes it a bit more difficult though.
So do you determine whether you're a man or a woman by credit score? I imagine real adults have credit scores surpassing 900.
Remember when graduating from college seemed like such a big deal? What about getting your driver's license? I suppose you could use milestones like these to determine when you step into adulthood as well. Perhaps it's when you realize that you can't do whatever you want, or be whoever you want to be, and realize that they were kind of lying to you as a kid when they said your potential is endless. Because honestly, it has to stop at some point! Don't get me wrong, I think my potential by far surpasses being a resident manager, that's not to say that I can call up NASA and tell them I'm joining the space program tomorrow, does it?
For me, the answer to the question at hand really depends on the day. There are some days I'm a woman, where I am an outstanding adult making healthy grownup decisions and eating broccoli on purpose. But there are other days that I am around 16 years old, where I want to hole up in my best friend's basement (that would be you, Monica), dip a giant spoon first in peanut butter and next in M&M's and watch Mystery Science Theater 3000 all day.
After speaking to the banker today, tomorrow will be best spent in Monica's basement.
Sincerely,
h.
I just read a post on my friend Loren's Facebook page that got me to thinkin'. What makes a person a man or a woman? When do we stop being "boys and girls" and work our way up to the top of the ladder? Is it age? Experience? Knowledge?
Coincidentally, these questions come to mind on the same day that Shay and I talked to a bank about buying a home. We don't have a particular home in mind, but we've considered looking because the market is so good and thought we would see what we would qualify for. Here's what I learned: buying a home is a nauseatingly grown up thing to do. I'm sure if the bank just interviewed us as normal human beings, we would be approved for just about any house we wanted on charm and savvy alone. Mucking up said interview with credit scores, income, taxes, etc. etc. makes it a bit more difficult though.
So do you determine whether you're a man or a woman by credit score? I imagine real adults have credit scores surpassing 900.
Remember when graduating from college seemed like such a big deal? What about getting your driver's license? I suppose you could use milestones like these to determine when you step into adulthood as well. Perhaps it's when you realize that you can't do whatever you want, or be whoever you want to be, and realize that they were kind of lying to you as a kid when they said your potential is endless. Because honestly, it has to stop at some point! Don't get me wrong, I think my potential by far surpasses being a resident manager, that's not to say that I can call up NASA and tell them I'm joining the space program tomorrow, does it?
For me, the answer to the question at hand really depends on the day. There are some days I'm a woman, where I am an outstanding adult making healthy grownup decisions and eating broccoli on purpose. But there are other days that I am around 16 years old, where I want to hole up in my best friend's basement (that would be you, Monica), dip a giant spoon first in peanut butter and next in M&M's and watch Mystery Science Theater 3000 all day.
After speaking to the banker today, tomorrow will be best spent in Monica's basement.
Sincerely,
h.
2.15.2010
Random Thoughts on Derbies and Pie
Dear Readers,
Happy President's Day to you! And a belated Happy Valentine's as well! I spent the weekend with friends, family, and cooking. Although it was exhausting, it was a lot of fun.
An interesting happened to me on Friday night. I was at my dear friend Caitlyn's house, and a man I don't know (I should mention this man was wearing a khaki kilt) told me I should "join the derby". "What?" I said. Apparently his girlfriend is on the Boise roller derby team, and he thought it would be a good idea for me to try out for the team.
Let's take a look at my graceful history:
-I've fallen countless times while just walking
-Hit by a car on my bike
-The last time I put on shoes with wheels was over 10 years ago and it ended with me falling in front of a large crowd of people who said "ow" in unison
-Broke my leg first time skiing (which led to 2 knee surgeries)
That's just what I can remember. I've whacked my head pretty hard a few times and it's very possible that I have lasting brain damage. Shay also pointed out to me that laying in bed hurts my old lady hip, not to mention walking. Assuming that logical advice is the best advice to follow, I'm going to surmise that avoiding roller derby whether as a participant or a spectator is probably the best thing for everyone. But thanks guy, I appreciate the suggestion.
With the exception of the idea to join "the derby", I had several people once again tell me that I should open a bakery. Are you sick of hearing about this yet? I hope not, because it will be a topic of conversation for a while. I made mini-blueberry pies, petite sugar cookies with vanilla frosting, and devil's food cupcakes with chocolate ganache frosting. I had a really good response from my goodies from perfect strangers, which I always enjoy. Not to discount the opinions of my loved ones, but they're required to be somewhat nice to me. Having a stranger pop a little pie in their mouth and say "That's amazing!" when they're not bound by friendship is a true compliment. I'm just waiting for the day that a stranger pops one my little treats in their mouth and says, "I want to give you $10,000 to open a bakery right now!".
One more little note, I just need to give my husband a shout out. We normally don't celebrate Valentine's Day, but this year Shay brought me flowers. It's stupid, but the sentiment was so sweet and heartfelt I can't help but smile every time I look at them. I'm very fortunate to have so a wonderful and thoughtful person in my life! If only he could say the same about me...
Sincerely,
h.
Happy President's Day to you! And a belated Happy Valentine's as well! I spent the weekend with friends, family, and cooking. Although it was exhausting, it was a lot of fun.
An interesting happened to me on Friday night. I was at my dear friend Caitlyn's house, and a man I don't know (I should mention this man was wearing a khaki kilt) told me I should "join the derby". "What?" I said. Apparently his girlfriend is on the Boise roller derby team, and he thought it would be a good idea for me to try out for the team.
Let's take a look at my graceful history:
-I've fallen countless times while just walking
-Hit by a car on my bike
-The last time I put on shoes with wheels was over 10 years ago and it ended with me falling in front of a large crowd of people who said "ow" in unison
-Broke my leg first time skiing (which led to 2 knee surgeries)
That's just what I can remember. I've whacked my head pretty hard a few times and it's very possible that I have lasting brain damage. Shay also pointed out to me that laying in bed hurts my old lady hip, not to mention walking. Assuming that logical advice is the best advice to follow, I'm going to surmise that avoiding roller derby whether as a participant or a spectator is probably the best thing for everyone. But thanks guy, I appreciate the suggestion.
With the exception of the idea to join "the derby", I had several people once again tell me that I should open a bakery. Are you sick of hearing about this yet? I hope not, because it will be a topic of conversation for a while. I made mini-blueberry pies, petite sugar cookies with vanilla frosting, and devil's food cupcakes with chocolate ganache frosting. I had a really good response from my goodies from perfect strangers, which I always enjoy. Not to discount the opinions of my loved ones, but they're required to be somewhat nice to me. Having a stranger pop a little pie in their mouth and say "That's amazing!" when they're not bound by friendship is a true compliment. I'm just waiting for the day that a stranger pops one my little treats in their mouth and says, "I want to give you $10,000 to open a bakery right now!".
One more little note, I just need to give my husband a shout out. We normally don't celebrate Valentine's Day, but this year Shay brought me flowers. It's stupid, but the sentiment was so sweet and heartfelt I can't help but smile every time I look at them. I'm very fortunate to have so a wonderful and thoughtful person in my life! If only he could say the same about me...
Sincerely,
h.
2.10.2010
INTEGRILUTION!
Dear Readers,
There are times in life that we make mistakes. It happens all the time, every day almost. Forgetting your mom's birthday. Burning a dozen cookies. Talking on the phone while driving a causing a wreck. Or occasionally, you leave your backpack in one of the theater rooms at the Holocaust Museum and it causes a bomb scare that requires an entire evacuation, a bomb squad, and a trained dog to resolve the situation. Whatever the mistake may be, I implore you as responsible adults to do me a favor:
Accept Responsibility.
I'm losing tolerance for the human race, and the reason why all stems back to a sincere lack of integrity. Really, the one thing that we all have in common with each other is that none of us are immune from being stupid from time to time. The thing that I don't understand is how we as a society have made up so many excuses to cover up those mistakes that we've lost the grace and ability to stand up and say, "You know, I messed up. I'm sorry. What can I do to fix it?" People aren't always going to understand, and they're not always going to forgive you. But if you made a mistake, if you caused someone or something harm in any respect, even if you knowingly and willingly make a choice that goes ari, take the first opportunity to make it right.
I apologize for the lecture. I don't attend church so I have to get preachy through my blog, I guess. But I'm trying to start a revolution, an "integrilution" if you will (if you won't, I understand...it's a stretch as far as made up words go). Be the bigger person. Put on your big boy or girl or unisex panties. Use expletives in lieu of "messed up" if you need to (I'd give better examples, but my mom reads this). Whatever you need to do instead of making excuses and trying to get out of the consequences, just do it. You'll have the satisfaction of knowing that you're human and you've got no one to blame but you. Funny enough, it's more rewarding then you'd think.
Sincerely,
h.
There are times in life that we make mistakes. It happens all the time, every day almost. Forgetting your mom's birthday. Burning a dozen cookies. Talking on the phone while driving a causing a wreck. Or occasionally, you leave your backpack in one of the theater rooms at the Holocaust Museum and it causes a bomb scare that requires an entire evacuation, a bomb squad, and a trained dog to resolve the situation. Whatever the mistake may be, I implore you as responsible adults to do me a favor:
Accept Responsibility.
I'm losing tolerance for the human race, and the reason why all stems back to a sincere lack of integrity. Really, the one thing that we all have in common with each other is that none of us are immune from being stupid from time to time. The thing that I don't understand is how we as a society have made up so many excuses to cover up those mistakes that we've lost the grace and ability to stand up and say, "You know, I messed up. I'm sorry. What can I do to fix it?" People aren't always going to understand, and they're not always going to forgive you. But if you made a mistake, if you caused someone or something harm in any respect, even if you knowingly and willingly make a choice that goes ari, take the first opportunity to make it right.
I apologize for the lecture. I don't attend church so I have to get preachy through my blog, I guess. But I'm trying to start a revolution, an "integrilution" if you will (if you won't, I understand...it's a stretch as far as made up words go). Be the bigger person. Put on your big boy or girl or unisex panties. Use expletives in lieu of "messed up" if you need to (I'd give better examples, but my mom reads this). Whatever you need to do instead of making excuses and trying to get out of the consequences, just do it. You'll have the satisfaction of knowing that you're human and you've got no one to blame but you. Funny enough, it's more rewarding then you'd think.
Sincerely,
h.
2.07.2010
Sitting With a Six Year Old
Dear Readers,
Well, the dream is over. I'm healing, as promised, and should be heading back to work tomorrow. I wish it were to my kitchen to bake instead of my office, but alas that is not my reality as of yet. I can't say that I haven't somewhat enjoyed laying around for the past several days though, because I absolutely have. Sure it's been somewhat painful, and most of it was lost in a drug haze, but hanging out with my family everyday has been really nice.
Today, for instance, was spent mostly with Lucas on the couch. He was feeling a little under the weather too, which meant that he wanted me to cuddle with him. What joy! What rapture! The bigger he gets, the less he wants to sit close to me, so when he welcomes it I take full advantage. I let him choose a movie, and we watched "Batman and Robin". This is the Batman that stars George Clooney, Chris O'Donnell, Arnold Schwarzenager (sp?), Alicia Silverstone, and Uma Thurman. I've seen some pretty lame movies in my time, but this one tops the charts. It was so stupid that I caught myself rolling my eyes at Yoshi (our cat), and could tell from his look that he agreed with me. Warner Brother's must have had 6 year old boys in mind for the demographic though because Lucas found it to be profoundly awesome and has been quoting the thought provoking dialogue all day. As I type this he's hiding around a corner from me with a Nerf gun in hand muttering some Iceman line under his breath about having to go to Arkum Asylum.
Those of you who have had the pleasure of meeting my son probably know what a sweet child he is. Relatively calm and collected, he's soft spoken like his dad and logical like his mom. He has an extremely dry sense of humor, has no patience for kids who throw fits, and is a real whiz at video games. Of course all parents think their kids are amazing, and I'm certainly not excluded from that group. What stands out to me as a very unique quality in Lucas is his level of compassion. His sensitivity is both a blessing and a curse, but I have no doubt that it will serve him well throughout his life. Sometimes I feel like he's growing up too fast and that he can already see through me and Shay (my sister Andrea likes to say that Lucas is raising us), but he would be too nice to say anything and will just go along with what we have planned for him.
I could write for days about my Lucas. About how proud of him I am. About how I never in a million years deserve such a wonderful child. There really isn't enough room for that though, is there? So instead I think I'll join him on the couch for another cuddle, even if it is accompanied by a crappy movie.
Sincerely,
h.
2.04.2010
From Hospital Room to the Streets of Compton
Dear Readers,
The last couple of days are a kind of blur, thanks to pain and pain killers. But there are a few happenings that I would like to share with you that I've experienced on my little vacation from reality.
First off, the St. Alphonsus surgery center is pretty high class. You get your own pre-surgery room, complete with glass doors, a shared bathroom, a small HDTV with DirectTV, and a few ceiling panels featuring photos of the tops of pine trees next to blue sky. Please note that the panels did not correspond, and had regular white panels scattered around them. I told my mom it was so you would be forced to use your imagination...a cruel trick in the hospital.
For some reason, they had me show up for my surgery at 11:00am. They didn't wheel me under the knife until 3:30pm. So with a lot of time to kill, I made friends with my nurse, Lucy, and watched a lot of tv. Lucy was from Uganda. She hummed and made quiet little jokes and was careful to tuck my prewarmed blanket all around me. Next to my mother, she's the closest I've ever come to encountering a saint.
As for television viewing, it was strange how many of the shows on featured food. Please note that I had not eaten since 9:00pm the previous night, so this was a horrible way to treat a hungry Badger girl. None the less, I still got some enjoyment out of watching a show on the Travel Channel about sandwiches. It really grossed my mom and I out, watching people gorge themselves on ridiculously huge piles of meat in between two measly pieces of bread. My favorite featured sandwich was a BLT that had 20 strips (or 2 lbs) of bacon on it. I love bacon as much as the next guy, but is two pounds in a meal really necessary? The restaurant owner when asked about it just chuckled and said, "I like my customers to leave full and happy.". It almost seems like a form of assisted suicide to me.
My other experience I'd like to share was my viewing of "Boyz in da Hood". Shay and I came across this title last night as we worked our way through our Netflix options. We both remember this Cuba Gooding Jr./Ice Cube flick as being extremely badass and hardcore. The sad truth of the matter was that it reminded us both of an after school special about black people. The violence was minimal, the drug use was non existent, and the action was best displayed at a barbecue scene where one of the girls insists on being called something other than a "ho". It made Compton look like a subdivision in Meridian. I guess after watching "The Wire" we'll never look at gangsta movies the same. After all, Shay and I know what it's like to be from the streets, y'all.
Sincerely,
h.
The last couple of days are a kind of blur, thanks to pain and pain killers. But there are a few happenings that I would like to share with you that I've experienced on my little vacation from reality.
First off, the St. Alphonsus surgery center is pretty high class. You get your own pre-surgery room, complete with glass doors, a shared bathroom, a small HDTV with DirectTV, and a few ceiling panels featuring photos of the tops of pine trees next to blue sky. Please note that the panels did not correspond, and had regular white panels scattered around them. I told my mom it was so you would be forced to use your imagination...a cruel trick in the hospital.
For some reason, they had me show up for my surgery at 11:00am. They didn't wheel me under the knife until 3:30pm. So with a lot of time to kill, I made friends with my nurse, Lucy, and watched a lot of tv. Lucy was from Uganda. She hummed and made quiet little jokes and was careful to tuck my prewarmed blanket all around me. Next to my mother, she's the closest I've ever come to encountering a saint.
As for television viewing, it was strange how many of the shows on featured food. Please note that I had not eaten since 9:00pm the previous night, so this was a horrible way to treat a hungry Badger girl. None the less, I still got some enjoyment out of watching a show on the Travel Channel about sandwiches. It really grossed my mom and I out, watching people gorge themselves on ridiculously huge piles of meat in between two measly pieces of bread. My favorite featured sandwich was a BLT that had 20 strips (or 2 lbs) of bacon on it. I love bacon as much as the next guy, but is two pounds in a meal really necessary? The restaurant owner when asked about it just chuckled and said, "I like my customers to leave full and happy.". It almost seems like a form of assisted suicide to me.
My other experience I'd like to share was my viewing of "Boyz in da Hood". Shay and I came across this title last night as we worked our way through our Netflix options. We both remember this Cuba Gooding Jr./Ice Cube flick as being extremely badass and hardcore. The sad truth of the matter was that it reminded us both of an after school special about black people. The violence was minimal, the drug use was non existent, and the action was best displayed at a barbecue scene where one of the girls insists on being called something other than a "ho". It made Compton look like a subdivision in Meridian. I guess after watching "The Wire" we'll never look at gangsta movies the same. After all, Shay and I know what it's like to be from the streets, y'all.
Sincerely,
h.
2.01.2010
Lessons in Shopping
Dear Readers,
I went to the hobby store with Shay and Lucas yesterday. By hobby store, I mean the market place for the socially awkward and slightly eccentric.
When you enter the store, it seems relatively harmless. Different painting projects and small toys greet you. But as you head into the heart of the store, you find yourself surrounded by dragon figurines, model trains, very realistic looking toy guns, and model remote control planes from the very small to the ridiculously large soar overhead. They have aisles dedicated to Dungeons and Dragons, model glue, and really strange and unheard of boardgames. Did you know that you can create your own miniature universe with miniature Star Wars figures? I didn't, until Hobby Town U.S.A. told me differently.
The most intriguing part of Hobby Town were the people. It gave me a whole new understanding of geekhood. You have the model train geeks, usually middle aged divorced men that wear t-shirts that say things about their ex-wives. Next in line are the real looking toy gun boys, who wear camo and reminded me a lot of Dwight from The Office. The model airplane guys take life too seriously. The board game guys aren't too bad, but you'll never see them at a hip club. But the D&D and other roleplaying geeks are in their own world...speaking with stereotypical nerdy voices, wearing taped glasses, and using correct enunciation of elven languages.
I should, at this point, let you know that I was the only female in the place. Just my very presence seemed to make the entire store nervous. Being married to Shay and surrounded by my sweet nerdy friends I've learned to speak in geek terms, but my attempts to communicate with the Hobby Town natives just made them anxious. No eye contact was made, nor friendships for that matter.
Earlier in the day we went to Costco. I can break that crowd down too; there are the jerks, the pushy people, the people who have too many kids and can't control them, the people who will run you down to get a giant pumpkin pie even though there are still 50 left, the people who don't know how to go with the cart flow, and the people sitting in the food court eating hot dogs as fast as they can. There are a few normal people here and there, and a few niceties are passed along. For the most part, it's a store full of anxiety and stress.
After thinking about the experiences I had in both stores, I've realized that my inner Costco shopper has crushed my inner Hobby Town shopper, and it made me feel a little sad. Why must I fight my way through the crowds in a walk in vegetable cooler when I could take my sweet time picking the perfect color to paint my model train engine? Perhaps we high anxiety types could learn a lesson or two from our nerdly counterparts. Maybe we should take time to stop and smell the model glue.
Sincerely,
h.
I went to the hobby store with Shay and Lucas yesterday. By hobby store, I mean the market place for the socially awkward and slightly eccentric.
When you enter the store, it seems relatively harmless. Different painting projects and small toys greet you. But as you head into the heart of the store, you find yourself surrounded by dragon figurines, model trains, very realistic looking toy guns, and model remote control planes from the very small to the ridiculously large soar overhead. They have aisles dedicated to Dungeons and Dragons, model glue, and really strange and unheard of boardgames. Did you know that you can create your own miniature universe with miniature Star Wars figures? I didn't, until Hobby Town U.S.A. told me differently.
The most intriguing part of Hobby Town were the people. It gave me a whole new understanding of geekhood. You have the model train geeks, usually middle aged divorced men that wear t-shirts that say things about their ex-wives. Next in line are the real looking toy gun boys, who wear camo and reminded me a lot of Dwight from The Office. The model airplane guys take life too seriously. The board game guys aren't too bad, but you'll never see them at a hip club. But the D&D and other roleplaying geeks are in their own world...speaking with stereotypical nerdy voices, wearing taped glasses, and using correct enunciation of elven languages.
I should, at this point, let you know that I was the only female in the place. Just my very presence seemed to make the entire store nervous. Being married to Shay and surrounded by my sweet nerdy friends I've learned to speak in geek terms, but my attempts to communicate with the Hobby Town natives just made them anxious. No eye contact was made, nor friendships for that matter.
Earlier in the day we went to Costco. I can break that crowd down too; there are the jerks, the pushy people, the people who have too many kids and can't control them, the people who will run you down to get a giant pumpkin pie even though there are still 50 left, the people who don't know how to go with the cart flow, and the people sitting in the food court eating hot dogs as fast as they can. There are a few normal people here and there, and a few niceties are passed along. For the most part, it's a store full of anxiety and stress.
After thinking about the experiences I had in both stores, I've realized that my inner Costco shopper has crushed my inner Hobby Town shopper, and it made me feel a little sad. Why must I fight my way through the crowds in a walk in vegetable cooler when I could take my sweet time picking the perfect color to paint my model train engine? Perhaps we high anxiety types could learn a lesson or two from our nerdly counterparts. Maybe we should take time to stop and smell the model glue.
Sincerely,
h.
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