I know it’s a little late for New Year’s resolutions. GUESS WHAT–this is not a post about my New Year’s resolutions. And let me tell you why not: I don’t believe in them. It’s partly because they’re only made to be broken, partly because I’m too lazy to think of anything, but mostly because I was raised Catholic.
Here’s the what: if I’m going to force myself to set an exercise goal, or cut out certain parts of my diet, or donate more time to charity or to be a nicer person (fat chance there), I need a little more motivation than, like, the fact that it’s time for a new Yoga Cats & Yoga Kittens wall calendar. What’s to stop me from quitting? My own willpower? That’s a lot of weight to rest on some pretty narrow shoulders. Narrow and a bit sloped, unless we’re playing piano–and then they’re nice and parallel to the floor because my Lithuanian piano teacher drilled it into my head that THAT IS HOW WE DO IT IN THE MOTHERLAND.
Do you know who does have the broad, beefy back strength combined with the capacity for soul-withering disappointment needed to help me commit to my promises? God does. Strong like bull. Jesus H. Christ will be there to keep me on the straight and narrow like that fat baby New Year never could. And there is no time during the year when God’s almighty guilt-trip is so strong as Lent, the period between Ash Wednesday (better known to you pagans as your wicked hangover the day after Mardi Gras) and Easter. Because during Lent, all good Catholics (and I think some other Christians?) are asked to make a Lenten Promise: either give up something or commit to do something that will probably make you a better person in the end and remind you of the great sacrifice Jesus made when he gave up his life for the sins of the world. You know, you give up potato chips so you can empathize with Jesus on that whole dying thing.
It’s also important to tell someone else about your Promise, because they can help keep you in check. If your finger twitches towards that Coke button at the vending machine and you don’t hear a sigh of disappointment from your inner God-conscience, hopefully you’ll have a good Catholic friend nearby to ask, “Really? Jesus was executed in front of a jeering audience and you can’t give up soda for 40 days?” Or, “Jesus was tempted by the devil himself on a hunger strike-induced hallucination fest in the desert and you can’t resist Dakota the Panera barista when he tells you you have a free pastry on your rewards card?”
And that’s why I don’t waste my time on New Year’s resolutions, because if I really want to get something done, I’ll wait for Lent when the crippling Catholic guilt that remains despite all attempts to become a Godless savage will ensure that I stick to my guns. “You’re not going for a run today? Well, Jesus carried his own instrument of torture up a hill, but I guess if you’re really too tired you should definitely just stay on the couch and watch the Ghost Hunters International marathon.”
I recently had a Twitterversation about when one can call oneself a true Bloomington townie. And then it launched into a bigger Twitterversation, which was really awesome. As one who has lived here all of my life (give or take six months abroad), I feel rather qualified to put forth a few suggestions, but first some great contributions:
I'd categorize this as super-townie, I haven't even heard of this!
Here are a few of mine, what did we miss?
You are a townie if…
you have lived here for at least three years while not attending IU
you know when Christmas and Spring Breaks are even though you aren’t a student (because it means you can FINALLY go out to dinner)
you hate the students. God. Damn. Them.
you know where to find the Porthole (hint: it’s not on a boat)
you know that “Cutter” is not really a thing. Hollywood creative license.
you root for the Cutters at Little 5 anyway
you’d rather do ANYTHING than go to Sports
you’ve played Sink the Biz at Nick’s
you get simultaneously excited and nervous when you can easily find a parking spot downtown (What’s happening? Where is everyone? Is it the apocalypse yet?)
you know the abbreviation is B-town, not B-ton.C’mon people!
you have purchased enough wine at Oliver Winery to get a quantity discount
you know which high school will forever be known as being awesome at basketball and which is known as the (super lame and stupid) football school
you’ve thought on more than one occasion, “Wouldn’t it be great if there were a train from Bloomington to Indy?”
you’ve said on more than one occasion, “It’s so much easier to get to the new airport.”
you know what car Ken Nunn is driving these days…
Super townie bonus points for…
being AT a Little 5 race that the Cutters won
singing Karaoke at the Office Lounge
being born at Bloomington Hospital (or whatever it’s called now)
remembering the downtown McDonalds
seeing John Mellencamp in person and being like, “Meh.”
But really, you know you’re a townie if you feel like a townie. Deep in your heart.
Sometimes I ask myself, what is it that I can give back to the world? Some people endeavor to pass on their gift of optimism, seeing the good in everything. Some people share their sense of style and evangelize confidence while staying true to yourself. But me? What am I good at, that people need to learn?
Bambi the good angel bears gifts
Many times I have heard people talk about a situation in which they felt used or abused and have said aloud, “I need to learn how to be more mean.” And I emphatically agree. EMPHATICALLY. There is a time and a place when you need to lay down the law and serve up some cold hard bitch on a silver platter. And this is what I can teach the world: how to be the appropriate amount of mean at the appropriate time. In fact I spent a good portion of my grade school years practicing my particular brand of polite cruelty with a thin shellac of condescension (sorry again, grade school friends).
The key is to really take emotions out of it. Be just veiled enough that if the receiver relays your message to someone else, they’d be unable to really find fault with you. Stay above it all by avoiding curse words and cheap shots. Instead of saying, “Eat shit and die,” it’s much more effective to just hint that perhaps a useless pile of trash would be a better use of the space you occupy on this planet.
Who doesn’t like a good case analysis to illustrate a point? Here we go.
Case 1: CFC.
CFC was the property management company of my very first apartment. They were pretty retarded. They messed up my account balance royally, and I had to literally do the math with them, on a piece of paper, to straighten my account out. Then I got some bullshit notice about how I was receiving a discount that I wasn’t qualified for and I needed to pay my balance. I had wasted enough time on these idiots at this point, so it was time for a response that included this…
I understand that you are not frequently in the office as I’ve had a difficult time reaching you by phone when trying to resolve past issues, so I hope you are able to respond promptly via email, since my job does require me to work at least a 40-hour week. I suppose that if I treated my customers with the same level of professionalism and lack of consideration for their time as seems to be the precedent at CFC, I might have the time to walk you through these confusing account issues again at your leisure. However, I would prefer to resolve this matter quickly and focus my working time in keeping my customer’s business, which includes paying attention to all communications I make and double-checking my facts before accusing them of not paying what they should when they should.
… It would be greatly beneficial to me if you would have someone look at my account who has a better grasp of these matters before contacting me again with any issues. Thank you.
Maybe not as delicate as it could have been, but it felt pretty good after trudging through what seemed like a heaping amount of ridiculous crap with them.
Montezuma beach was actually kinda pretty, if full of hippies
Item 2: Horizontes de Montezuma
This one time I was in Costa Rica with fiance and a friend, and after having had great luck with all of our hotels we ran into a horrible one near Montezuma (yes, that Montezuma). They were very German and very rude and I couldn’t wait to write a bad review on Trip Advisor. Promptly…10 months later…I wrote it (it was totally appropriate and not that mean, see for yourself. Oh! The lovely German proprietress posted a response. Nice.). Well when I initially wrote the review, someone sent me this private message.
Sorry, but who are you anonymous person? Your review is full of mistakes and lies. The hotel rooms have ceiling fans and were never offered with air conditioning because it is ecofriendly and up the hill with refreshing breezes most of the time. Montezuma beach and village is exactly 4 min from the hotel by car and also our high-quality breakfast was never announced to be included in the room rates nor is it expensive compared to most restaurants in the village. Maybe next time you read the description of the rooms and location on the website before you book a hotel?!?
So I responded…
Hello friend,
I am simply a world-weary traveler whose stay at Horizontes de Montezuma (your hotel, I presume), was so disappointing that I signed up for a TripAdvisor account for the sole purpose of writing a negative review of it.
Perhaps I did exaggerate on the distance from the hotel to the beach, but in my exhausted mind it certainly felt like 20 mins. If you read closely, you’ll note that I did not state that I expected a free breakfast or air-conditioning (which, admittedly, is a rare treat in Latin America). However I was disappointed that Horizontes was the only hotel/hostel I stayed in during my Costa Rica trip that did not include a complimentary breakfast.
I see that you did not take issue with my complaints of being ill-treated, which, again–if you read closely, you’ll understand was my real problem with the hotel. All else would have been forgiven if I and my travel companions were treated with a little respect and compassion.
It might behoove you to remember that this is the hospitality industry, and while pleasant experiences are often overlooked, intolerable experiences will spread like the swine flu. I felt it was my duty to warn other travelers that they may have a similar experience if they choose to stay at Horizontes. As your other reviews are overwhelmingly positive, I wonder why you took the time to message me and insult my intelligence?
I suggest that you stop harassing TripAdvisor members and go back to harassing your guests. Or maybe your time would be better spent paying attention to your patrons, offering them the service they are accustomed to, and maybe go the extra mile to make them feel welcomed in a foreign country.
I hope I addressed your questions adequately and that this was enlightening. Have a nice day.
Note that I did not say what I actually thought (…Nazis), that they did not want us there because we were not German. At any rate, I didn’t get a direct response. Maybe they didn’t understand me. MAYBE NEXT TIME I SHOULD SHOUT IN GERMAN!
Item 3: he-who-shall-not-be-named
Lastly there’s that guy who won’t finish the project I wasted a year of my life on. I’ve been harping on him throughout the summer and especially since August, the second deadline he missed (or maybe the third? I just don’t know anymore.) This was after I tried to connect him to someone who might help speed up the very process that he claimed was causing the stupendous six-month delay. I found out that he hadn’t responded to that someone who offered to help, therefore he received this:
So…I guess you haven’t talked with [someone] in over three weeks? You know, when I reach out to people to try and help you finish this project and you flake out, it reflects poorly on me because I’m the one who initiated the contact. So what I’m learning from these repeated experiences is that I shouldn’t waste my time and risk my reputation to help you finish something that you claimed was really important to you.
It would really save [everyone] a lot of time if you could just tell us if you don’t plan on finishing the [project] so we can get our grades for the class and move on with our lives.
To which he responded with some bullshit about driving across the country (a permanent move) without Internet access and that he was totally not flaking out for serious. He also made a point when finally responding to that [someone] mentioned above that he was working off his iPhone. Then I was all…
Have you been without internet for a month? Traveling this past week without your desktop doesn’t really explain why you haven’t responded in the past three weeks.
Just a tip if you happen to find yourself in a professional position where you work with a team of people: if you know you’re going to be unable to communicate by email for an extended period of time, you should let the team know in advance, and if possible give them an alternate way to contact you. It would also be helpful to let them know that you’re permanently moving out of the state.
The only way people can judge your work is by your actions, so that is why I said it seems like you’re flaking. You said this [project] would be finished at the beginning of May, and that didn’t happen. Then you said it would be finished a few weeks later, and that didn’t happen. It apparently wasn’t touched for a couple of months over the summer, and then you said it would be finished at the end of August…and here we are halfway through October still without a [project].
Please let me know what day you expect to reach [your destination] and be set up to continue working on this project, I will check in with you again then. I appreciate that you used what resources you had available to respond to [someone].
These make me sound kind of like a conniving jerkface, but I will stand my ground and say that sometimes it’s warranted. In fact, sometimes the other party leaves you no choice–if kindness and reason, bribery and mild threats have not solved a problem for you, I hereby give you permission to drop the big ol’ bitch bomb. If you would like one-on-one training on how to be mean, please let me know. I am happy to share this one gift that I have, for the greater good. Merry freakin’ Christmas.
I guess I didn’t have much to say in November…that’s a bad blogger. Here’s one last post before December hits us like a sack of coal, to get you in the mood for the holidays!
I drew this just for you.
I think this perfectly captures my feelings towards the holidays this year. Thanksgiving’s over, bring on the Christmas. We’ll all get there together if we just put one talon in front of the other, keep our heads firmly attached by whatever means necessary, and keep a stiff upper snood.
I was wondering, after this year’s round of Halloween parties and subsequent photos, how many years of Halloween pictures could I collect?
19. 19 years out of 27…but some years included more than one costume, so there are in fact 21 different costumes represented. THAT’S SO MANY! You could tell a story with that many pictures…
When I was a fresh-faced young undergrad, I was still quite shy and a little sketchy–not that I was creepin’ around, giving people the stink-eye–but I mean that I hadn’t fully figured out who I was yet. I’m sure I haven’t fully figured that out even now, but I can safely say I feel more colored in and I’m more or less ok with who I am now (AND YOU ARE TOO, RIGHT?).
Over the course of those four formative years in college, I noticed a sort of curious phenomenon taking place: as I became less self-conscious I started waving to people more explicitly. When I was quite shy, I was not sure people would notice or remember me, so I was hesitant to put myself out there with a big brassy wave. And as became more confident that I was the kind of person that would be well-remembered, I got bolder in trying to get someone’s attention. Sort of curious, no? It goes like this:
Freshman year
Things are different! So many people around! I’m not quite sure who I am, so I don’t expect you to know either. If I see someone I think I know across the way, I will barely move my hand just at the wrist and keep a-walking. And so, if they happen to see that fluttery hand movement and simultaneously happen to remember that I exist, they can reciprocate easily; but if they don’t, people around me will not be sad that I’m the kind of person who cannot get a wave returned. “Poor little mouse, she must not be very memorable.” While maybe that’s what I thought, I did not want anyone else to think it.
Sophomore year
Well, this isn’t so new anymore. I think I can get the hang of this. I am still not sure where I fit in–those Kelley (business school) douches that I have so many classes with are really bumming me out. I will, however, venture an elbow-wave to someone I think I know across the way. A little harder to miss, and a little harder to recover from if the wave is not acknowledged.
Junior year
Alright then, I’ve been around the block more than once–if you know what I mean (note: I do not know what I mean). I’m preparing to go live in freakin’ France all by myself for a few months, so, yeah. I feel a bit more colored in, but in fact I am fairly terrified of leaving the country and meeting new people. However, most of those Kelley douches have not been accepted to the business school and are now safely tucked away in SPEA (that is the School of Public and Environmental Affairs. Sorry, SPEA). I’m feeling brave, so when I see someone across that way, I will move MY ENTIRE ARM. But I’m not actually going to make a waving motion, I think I’ll just more or less lift my whole arm up and–HEIL! Ooops…well…yes then.
Senior year
Am now owner of stamped passport, internationally-renowned and ready for the world. This is almost real life, and it’s time to step up to the plate. “Hey! I see you there, across the way. I am going to WAVE to you and you are going to LIKE IT.” I am up to a full-armed, wave-like gesture. That’s right. I am definitely waving to a person. That person is totally going to see me and wave back. I’m ready for this.
Fast forward to…
Present day
It’s on now. I am kind of a big deal, notorious to many circles both high and low. Shit, I have a blog. I must be pretty awesome, and you must be pretty grateful to know me. Or maybe I’m grateful to know you, and I want EVERYONE TO KNOW THAT. I will make a fool of myself to get your attention. If the royal wave will not cut it…
…then I will do something like this.
So the lesson here, I guess, is that if you see me across that way, do us both a favor and acknowledge me. You don’t want some crazy lady who’s forgotten how to wave like a human making motions at you in front of everyone.
I have an overwhelming need to rant about this article that I’ve seen all over the social medias this past week, and I’ve discovered that I have a blog , and that’s probably where I’m allowed to rant.
Basically, this article is saying that men are idiots and women are taking over the world. And while I have NO PROBLEM with that statement, almost every piece of evidence this author uses in support of this argument is patently ridiculous.
First he says that women are outstripping men in college degrees. In 1970, the split was 60/40 to men, and now it’s 40/60. Well, how does that compare with the overall population? If the number of women and men in the population is even, then yeah, that’s a valid point, but maybe it’s just proportional.
Then he says women’s earnings in real dollars grew 44% from 1970-2007 while men’s grew only 6%. How much of that is just catching up to equality?
“In 1950, 5% of men at the prime working age were unemployed. As of last year, 20% were not working, the highest ever recorded.” I don’t know if you heard, but there’s this whole recession thing people are talking about. There are more unemployed people than ever, both men and women.
He goes on to say some weird stuff about babies with no baby daddies, and then this gem: “Man’s response has been pathetic. Today, 18-to- 34-year-old men spend more time playing video games a day than 12-to- 17-year-old boys. While women are graduating college and finding good jobs, too many men are not going to work, not getting married and not raising families.” So many amazing points here….
I would guess that men in college and in their early career, pre-family just have more free time and more freedom to fill their time than any other men.
I didn’t know that playing video games and holding down a job were mutually exclusive. Shit.
I understand how “going to work” can be a measure of your value in society, but what does getting married and raising a family have to do with it, old man?
No!! You're ruining him!! If only he had a father figure in his life...
RIGHT after that he says “Women are beginning to take the place of men in many ways.” (my emphasis) Girls: you can get jobs and become the head of your household, but we will never let you forget how you’ve upset the natural order.
Then he says some enlightening things about how boys are sorrily influenced by the media that solely portrays them as shallow man-children who treat women like tissues (my gross metaphor, not his). Poor dumb men, what are you to do when this is your only reference on how to act. Nevermind all the movies and TV shows that paint women as insecure empty vessels whose one-track minds can only be distracted from their all-consuming need to find a man for the occasional shopping spree.
Oh God, this is all wrong. What are you doing, woman??
This final paragraph really sells me on the whole thing, though.
“The Founding Fathers believed, and the evidence still shows, that industriousness, marriage and religion are a very important basis for male empowerment and achievement. We may need to say to a number of our twenty-something men, ‘Get off the video games five hours a day, get yourself together, get a challenging job and get married.’ It’s time for men to man up.”
SOLD. So you boys, get to work and make some cash money. Get married to anything that says yes. (As long as it’s a woman.) Go to church, goddammit. Make some babies, and then maybe you’ll be useful to society.
Creative pursuits? Philanthropic efforts? Shut up. Didn’t you hear that women make almost as much as you now in real jobs?
Love? Committed partnerships regardless of legally binding contracts? Don’t worry about it. It don’t mean a thing if you ain’t got that ring.
And if you don’t show up in church every Sunday, well, how will we know that you…went to church. Spirituality? Actual belief in something that you can’t explain? Not really worth it unless you can show everyone else. Firm belief in only the coldest, hardest facts of science? WITCH. Have fun burning in Hell for all of eternity. I’ll be laughing at you with my rich wife and 18 children from a cloud. You and the devil can compete for high score in a never-ending game of Shaq-Fu (no, really).
This is why women don't play video games. Can't figure out how to hold that controller. "Where's the shopping button?"
So you’ve tried explaining why you need someone to do their job. You’ve tried bribing them with treats. You’ve tried threatening them with the consequences of their actions and STILL you’re on the ass end of missing your project’s deadlines.
It is now time to rain down the pain. It’s time to make good on your threats, or find someone who can. Listen, a lot of creative projects are extremely time-sensitive, and every missed deadline puts you farther down the road to Craptown where nothing gets finished and everyone is mad at you and no one ever hires your team again and your kids join a rag-ma-tag group of children beggars to support your family. You, as the ringmaster in charge of the circus, have to make sure the project is completed on time and in budget. Which is kinda frustrating, because all of the components of the project are coming from other people–you can’t just buckle down and do it yourself. If I knew how to model or animate, you can believe I’d be in there trying to finish that animated trailer myself. But I can’t, so I have to do whatever is in my power to get the creative contributors to do their parts.
If you miss a meeting that I needed you to be at, I will tell you that this is the last time I’m covering for your ass. No more Mr. Nice Guy, guy. And so the next time you miss a meeting (let’s say the meeting we rescheduled for because you missed the first one. The one that was scheduled for the very next day. The second one in as many days that you missed without any apology or explanation), I will follow through on my threat. I’m taking this issue to the boss, and outlining all the ways you’ve failed to do your part despite my best efforts. I will make sure we finish this one thing while no longer respecting your privacy or sanity, probably by harassing you in every way I can think of: emails, phone calls, texts, Facebook messages, blog posts, flyers in the hall, home visits, calling your mom, taking out an ad on Craigslist, tracking you down at concerts, skywriting, or singing telegrams, to name a few.
Or I will find a way to get myself detached from you, and see how well your project goes without me. Good luck, little buddy.
I apologize if this offended anyone, I promise if you’re reading this I’m not talking about you. A lot of these stories are anecdotal but highly exaggerated. I’m also sorry for running off on a rant there at the end…I just really hate being taken for granted. But look, it’s ok–here’s a video about cats and a printer and British accents that gets me every time:
Maybe ‘threats’ is a strong word. Maybe I could call it the sterner side of reasoning. But that would be less interesting, probably. Sometimes playing nice will get you nowhere, sometimes being kind and reasonable and nurturing and food-giving leads people to think you’re a pushover.
Well guess what, people. I’m not.
It is now time for me to outline what will happen if you do not do your work, to lay out for you the severe consequences of you douching around instead of getting ‘er done.
At this point, do not say: Hey buddy, it’d be really great if you could go ahead and make this last round of changes. If I could get it before you decide to take a 45 minute smoke break that would just be so super.
Do say: Listen, you need to make these changes and give them to me before 4pm or it won’t get to the printer today. And then we’ll miss our delivery date and the client will be REALLY BULLSHIT and take it out on me and then I’ll take it out on you.
You’ve got to show your team not only why they need to do things, but what happens when they miss deadlines or fall below expectations. If you need someone to show up to a meeting and they flake out on you–give them another chance, but make it painfully clear what will happen if they let you down again. Some people only respond when there are negative consequences to not responding. It doesn’t make any sense to me, but there you have it.
And if threats are not enough to get the job done, then I have one last alternative to offer: all-out destruction. If you tell someone on your team that you are taking their bad behavior to the big cheese if they don’t shape up–and then they don’t shape up–you’ve got to put your money where your mouth is. Right in the big cheese. Don’t let them be right when they call your bluff.
It's possible, pig, I might be bluffing. It's conceivable, you miserable vomitous mass, I'm only lying here because I lack the strength to stand. Then again, perhaps I have the strength afterall.*
*This is not 100% accurate, but I did just type it from memory and I’m pretty proud of that. Maybe I watched this almost everyday after summer school one year. Maybe I have owned three different copies of this movie. Maybe I at one point printed out the script just for funsies. Deal with it.
Holy mackerel, the lovely Aubrey has passed her blog award on to me! Thanks Aubrey! Check out her awesomely entertaining blog, Adventures in Aubreyland–which is kind of like Wonderland, but with more pop culture, TV commentary, baking and kitties. And less weird talking caterpillar, which I think we can all agree is a good thing.
As my acceptance, I have to tell you seven random things about myself…
I have way too many playlists. Like, there are 21 that I’ve transferred to my phone, but there are probably more in my iTunes. Some choice titles include: Bah humbug, Get yo’ ass on the dance flo’, Grassy (which is Bluegrass), Indie cocktail (which is a working list for cocktail hour at the wedding), Mixed tape, and Pow-hair ballads (which are those songs you love belting out in the privacy of your car from bands like Journey, Heart, and Queen)
I have more than once flown through the air with the greatest of ease on a trapeze. I did a knee-hang and everything.
I once had a Beta fish named Albert (pronounced Al-bear), and I believe he was poisoned when my conservative aunt and uncle fish sat him one week. They didn’t appreciate his French heritage.
I might be addicted to nail polish.
I don’t know why so many of my friends are some part Asian.
I wish I had time to start or join a singing group right now.
Very few of my friends IRL write blogs…so can I give this award back to Aubrey? Or maybe I’ll just send you back to Aubrey’s blog, where she’s giving away one of three really neat books: The New Complete Guide to Sewing, Cupcakes: From the Cake Mix Doctor, and What I Wore: Four Seasons, One Closet, Endless Recipes for Personal Style. Enter by October 9!
