when people find out i'm a vegetarian, especially if it's one of the first things they learn about me, they often think i'm some kind of healthy eater. the thing is, i just don't like the texture of meat. and last time i checked, french fries and ice cream aren't made of meat, and very few people would describe them as healthy.
my main vice, when it comes to vegetarian eating, is sweet baked goods.
i grew up the child of a baker, and so there was always something baked in our house. and i, the only son of my baker-mother, seemed to be the one who got the baking gene. not that my sisters can't bake, i just don't think they enjoy it as much as i do. when i bake, i'm at peace. i bake to relax - it's something i very much enjoy doing.
i'm by no means an awesome baker, but i would bake as a job, if it was offered to me. i'm the guy who spent a big part of his last trip to baltimore baking for a bake sale. i'm the guy who's biggest complaint about our current flat (which has bad floor boards, is way too cold, and sometimes gets an odd smell of grease and smoke in the hallway) is that the temperature knob on the oven is unreadable.
with that as background, it was very hard for me to do what i decided to do for the month of february - i decided to not take a single bite of any sweet, baked good. no cookies, no cakes, no pies (i did find some loopholes - pancakes and waffles are, technically, not baked). the month is coming to an end today.
i decided to do this because i thought it might affect my weight. i have been working out regularly since august and lost some weight, but then seemed to level off about 1-2kg above my goal weight. i thought giving up this vice of mine would do the trick.
on the last day of january, i had some digestive crackers, and then swore off baking for a month, and that was it.
i'm not the kind of person that has a hard time giving up stuff. i became fully vegetarian on a bet i made in 1999 - i gave up mammal in 1996. i gave up ice cream for the entire year in 2003, just because. this, however, was the toughest for me.
there was the office coffee break where someone brought in professionally made cupcakes and i had to just say no. there was the meeting i went to yesterday, where carrot cake was staring me down, but i stayed strong. there were those digestive crackers that look at me every time i opened the cabinet that has our plates and bowls, but i don't cave.
the month is now about to end. i think i lost about 1 kg, but i'm not the kind of person who keeps detailed track of my weight, so i might have lost it for other reasons, including that i have intensified some of my workouts.
as much as i may sound like the unhealthy guy, i think that extra 1 kg of weight is worth me eating baked goods; worth baking, which is when i feel most at peace. i've been losing sleep quite a bit over the past week - maybe baking will cure my insomnia.
i'm going back to eating baked goods tomorrow. in fact, as i'm writing this, i'm thinking of what to buy tonight, to bake tonight, to eat tomorrow.
in march, i've decided to give up movies. trying to see all the best picture nominees before sunday was a bit much.
29 February 2012
03 February 2012
'food for thought so get a buffet plate...
...the lyrics are so phat you might gain weight'
those are lines from digable planets' 'where i'm from'.
i've always liked that song, from the first time i heard it, back in the early ninties.
one of the reasons i like it, is because i can't really relate. i can't say that where i'm from we do this, or we do that, as the digable planets do in that song. there really isn't a 'we' in where i'm from; at least not a consistent 'we' that has been in the different places i've might say i'm from.
i think i get asked where i'm from at least once a week since being in this job, and it's such a tough question to answer, because i don't really think i'm from anywhere.
i'm most recently (sort of) from california. when i say that, people start talking about if i can handle the cold weather. then i have to say that i lived in michigan for seven years and the weather in edinburgh is not really that bad. this often leads to me going through where i've lived in the u.s. by saying i went to high school here, university there, worked there. then they ask 'but where were you born?'. when i tell people i was born in nigeria, that opens another can of worms, because i don't look, or sound, like a nigerian. at that point, i have to talk about where my parents are 'from', which is actually an easier question for me to answer.
all told, this leads to a multi-minute answer to a question that most people around here can answer in a word or two. throw in that i've been heavily influenced by my mother's culture, but have never lived in it, and the answer is even longer.
don't get me wrong, i actually like having this conversation with people, if they don't mind listening. i like talking about where i've lived, and i've liked everywhere i've lived, to some degree (De Kalb, IL isn't a place i'd recommend anyone go on vacation to), and brings back fond memories of those places.
in the end though, i feel like i never have answered their question because i'm not 'from' anywhere - i'm from everywhere.
maybe from now on, i should just say i'm from jeffersonia, then they'll think i'm some kind of nut.
those are lines from digable planets' 'where i'm from'.
i've always liked that song, from the first time i heard it, back in the early ninties.
one of the reasons i like it, is because i can't really relate. i can't say that where i'm from we do this, or we do that, as the digable planets do in that song. there really isn't a 'we' in where i'm from; at least not a consistent 'we' that has been in the different places i've might say i'm from.
i think i get asked where i'm from at least once a week since being in this job, and it's such a tough question to answer, because i don't really think i'm from anywhere.
i'm most recently (sort of) from california. when i say that, people start talking about if i can handle the cold weather. then i have to say that i lived in michigan for seven years and the weather in edinburgh is not really that bad. this often leads to me going through where i've lived in the u.s. by saying i went to high school here, university there, worked there. then they ask 'but where were you born?'. when i tell people i was born in nigeria, that opens another can of worms, because i don't look, or sound, like a nigerian. at that point, i have to talk about where my parents are 'from', which is actually an easier question for me to answer.
all told, this leads to a multi-minute answer to a question that most people around here can answer in a word or two. throw in that i've been heavily influenced by my mother's culture, but have never lived in it, and the answer is even longer.
don't get me wrong, i actually like having this conversation with people, if they don't mind listening. i like talking about where i've lived, and i've liked everywhere i've lived, to some degree (De Kalb, IL isn't a place i'd recommend anyone go on vacation to), and brings back fond memories of those places.
in the end though, i feel like i never have answered their question because i'm not 'from' anywhere - i'm from everywhere.
maybe from now on, i should just say i'm from jeffersonia, then they'll think i'm some kind of nut.
13 January 2012
both sides now
going into high school, i told my mother that i wanted to join the school's 9th grade choir. she told me (although she brought up several times after, that she never said this) that i couldn't sing. i never felt angry at my mother for saying this - when you have a son that is so incredibly shy that everyone worries about him, the thought of him standing in front of an audience, singing, doesn't sound too good.
i joined the choir, and i did well. in my second year, and for the rest of of high school, i was in the school's top choir, which was pretty highly regarded in maryland in the early 1990s. i got solos, was told by choir judges that i was a very good soloist; had the most embarrassing moment of my life when my voice cracked in the middle of the 'beauty and the beast' duet. to this day i feel that my duet partner held it against me for the rest of her high school career, because it made us both look a little bad.
someone in high school once said that the reason i never talked (and i really never talked) was because i was saving my voice to sing. i was in 3 musicals, and if you ask people from my high school what thing they would most associate me with, i would guess that most would say singing, if they remember me at all.
i probably would have minored in vocal performance, if i went to a smaller school. but i didn't. i went to a university that had a fairly good music reputation, and i ended up singing in the low-level choir at michigan state. even in that choir, there were guys who sounded (and looked) like opera singers. my singing career ended when i left college, and i haven't been in a choir since.
in an effort to get to know people in edinburgh, my office mate suggested rock choir. a choir that doesn't have very high expectations for its participants (no audition and you don't need to know how to read music). i thought it would be fun because i would not feel like i was competing with the person next to me, and rock/pop music is more fun to sing. never having sung in any kind of pop choir, that appealed to me, because i wanted to sing stuff i would actually want to listen to. i was hoping that by joining a choir, i would meet people who were different from most of the people i interact with at work; people from another side of life, i guess. i'm not really sure what i had in mind, just something different.
i signed up for a taster session and made my way there. we were going to be doing one song that night, 'both sides now', by joni mitchell. i thought this was an ironic song choice. i wanted to see a side different from the people i worked with. also, thing song always reminds me of my childhood because my dad had a judy collins version of the song that i heard many times as a boy. music from my childhood always reminds me of my mother, the woman who said i couldn't sing, but was also the person most proud of me when i did.
i sang with the choir, sitting behind some people who were so into it that they has sweatshirts that said 'www.rockchior.com'.
i decided not to go back.
it turns out that both sides were the same side - when i walked into the room after signing in, after committing to be there for the next hour and a half, i scanned the room, and scanned it again, not believing my eyes. there were about 50 members of this choir, and all of them were very similar to the people i interact with at work every day - they were all women, every single one of them. so i sat there, sang 'both sides now' as the sole male voice in the choir, the only one from that side of the gender divide, and decided that rock choir is not the choir for me.
i joined the choir, and i did well. in my second year, and for the rest of of high school, i was in the school's top choir, which was pretty highly regarded in maryland in the early 1990s. i got solos, was told by choir judges that i was a very good soloist; had the most embarrassing moment of my life when my voice cracked in the middle of the 'beauty and the beast' duet. to this day i feel that my duet partner held it against me for the rest of her high school career, because it made us both look a little bad.
someone in high school once said that the reason i never talked (and i really never talked) was because i was saving my voice to sing. i was in 3 musicals, and if you ask people from my high school what thing they would most associate me with, i would guess that most would say singing, if they remember me at all.
i probably would have minored in vocal performance, if i went to a smaller school. but i didn't. i went to a university that had a fairly good music reputation, and i ended up singing in the low-level choir at michigan state. even in that choir, there were guys who sounded (and looked) like opera singers. my singing career ended when i left college, and i haven't been in a choir since.
in an effort to get to know people in edinburgh, my office mate suggested rock choir. a choir that doesn't have very high expectations for its participants (no audition and you don't need to know how to read music). i thought it would be fun because i would not feel like i was competing with the person next to me, and rock/pop music is more fun to sing. never having sung in any kind of pop choir, that appealed to me, because i wanted to sing stuff i would actually want to listen to. i was hoping that by joining a choir, i would meet people who were different from most of the people i interact with at work; people from another side of life, i guess. i'm not really sure what i had in mind, just something different.
i signed up for a taster session and made my way there. we were going to be doing one song that night, 'both sides now', by joni mitchell. i thought this was an ironic song choice. i wanted to see a side different from the people i worked with. also, thing song always reminds me of my childhood because my dad had a judy collins version of the song that i heard many times as a boy. music from my childhood always reminds me of my mother, the woman who said i couldn't sing, but was also the person most proud of me when i did.
i sang with the choir, sitting behind some people who were so into it that they has sweatshirts that said 'www.rockchior.com'.
i decided not to go back.
it turns out that both sides were the same side - when i walked into the room after signing in, after committing to be there for the next hour and a half, i scanned the room, and scanned it again, not believing my eyes. there were about 50 members of this choir, and all of them were very similar to the people i interact with at work every day - they were all women, every single one of them. so i sat there, sang 'both sides now' as the sole male voice in the choir, the only one from that side of the gender divide, and decided that rock choir is not the choir for me.
20 December 2011
flatland
after work yesterday, i went to see 'hugo'. it was playing at the only theater within reasonable walking distance from my office and i'd heard good things about it. the movie didn't do much for me, but i appear to be in the minority, and this blog is not a review so i won't say much more. i was forced to see the movie in 3D because the theater gave me no other choice - it was only showing in 3D at that theater.
i don't like 3D movies (i may be in the minority about this too) and i don't understand what people get out of seeing a movie in 3D.
i've probably seen a dozen movies in 3D since the new 3D craze started, where every kids movie seems to have a 3D version. the thing is, i don't remember the 3D-ness of any of these movies.
i'm pretty sure i saw 'up' in 3D. that i have to say i'm 'pretty sure', tells me that the 3D-ness of the movie didn't stay with me. i know i saw 'avatar' in 3D, but i again don't remember the 3D-ness of the movie while i watched it, but the throbbing headache the 3D-ness gave me after, that lasted the rest of the day. in fact, for the most part, if i remember that i saw a movie in 3D, it is because i ended up getting a headache - yes, i'm one of those people who get headaches from 3D movies. i medicated myself before seeing 'hugo' because of this. if you have to take medication before you see a movie, it sucks when you walk out of it a little disappointed.
even without the headaches though, i don't think i've been blown away by anything i've seen in a 3D movie. am i missing something? the object that gets thrown at the camera gets old after the first time. the bubbles, or snow falling gets old - snow seemed to fall endlessly in 'hugo' (who knew it snows that much in paris? no one. because it doesn't). i find that kind of stuff a little annoying.
maybe i'm just a guy who doesn't like this (not-so) newfangled technology, or gets annoyed that i get headaches watching movies when people around me don't. maybe i'm behind the times, or don't want to spend that extra money to wear glasses that feel uncomfortable over my glasses, but i like my movies to look like what they are; images flashing on a flat screen.
13 December 2011
that cold and damp feeling
a few weeks ago, while i was in baltimore, i was listening to the men in blazers podcast. a listener had written in asking why it was, that in open air football stadiums in the u.k., spectators were usually under some kind of cover where in many u.s. open air stadiums, spectators have to deal with the elements.
the humorous answer the men gave was that in the u.s., you can go home and have a heater in your house that actually keeps your house well-heated, but in the u.k., people who get stuck in a cold rain have been known to be cold and damp, for months.
i've had conversations with people, both before and since moving here, about how hard it is to get warm and dry after getting cold and wet in the u.k. i first heard it from a co-worker at de anza when i told her i was moving here; lauren mentioned the other day how she feels like her nose is always running (as is mine). there is just this cold and dampness that seems to stay with you all winter. you get chilled to the bone and can't thaw out until spring.
when i tell people from scotland that i moved here from california, one of the first questions i get is 'how are you coping with the winter weather?' the weather itself is not that bad - michigan winters are far worse, and even baltimore winters are worse than the winter weather i've experienced in edinburgh over the past 2 winters.
the difference is, both in michigan and in baltimore, i could always get warm in those places. here, getting warm means going into our flat that rarely seems to get above 18C (65F) at it's warmest, and this is after running the fireplace for several hours. even in my office (the warmest room i'm ever in) it often takes the bulk of the workday for my feet to warm up from the walk to work that morning. i then have to head home when they get cold again and stay cold til i've been under the duvet for an hour, when i go to bed.
one of the problems with our flat is the high ceilings - they are about 12 feet high. when we moved into it in august, i would look up and think 'what awesome high ceilings'; now i look up and shake my fist, envying the heat that sits up there while we shiver feet below, wishing we didn't move into a place with such high ceilings. we are currently thinking of moving into a more permanent place and we've now put high ceilings as a immediate 'no', when we look at places.
our high ceilings in warmer times (photo by lauren hall-lew)thinking back to the men in blazers, the idea of going to an outdoor sporting event (even if it's to see hibs) at this time of year doesn't at all appeal to me. even going to a place like the 'winter wonderland' set up in the princes street gardens, for an hour, doesn't sound all that appealing, because i know i probably will not be able to warm up until some time after winter is over, after feeling cold and damp, for months.
winter wonderland in princes gardens
winter wonderland in princes gardens01 December 2011
get me through december
i got an email today about a secret santa thing people at work want to do. my first thought? please god no - there's no way i'm doing this. it was voluntary, thank goodness, so i will not be taking part.
i've never been a big fan of holidays; it throws off my routine, and everyone around me always seems so much more excited about them than me.
i see people get excited about thanksgiving, or 4th of july, while i think to myself what am i going to do with myself on that day? i've never liked doing the traditional holiday things, like eating, or seeing fireworks, or parades.
i feel like getting excited about holidays the same way i feel about eating meat - i don't care if you want to do it, i just don't want to.
because of this anti-holiday guy that i am, december can be rough to get through - traveling (which i don't particularly enjoy), gift-buying (which i don't particularly enjoy), socializing (which i don't particularly enjoy), and general merriment.
i'm a little grinchy, to be honest.
the thing that i actually grew to like a great deal, about the month of december, was the annual mom birthday-gift-buying battle, and the mom birthday-gift-giving that happened on her birthday.
my mother's birthday is on the 25th of december and as an adult, i've seen that date far more as being my mom's birthday, than christmas.
the battle would begin by her saying she wanted nothing for her birthday. i would ignore this, then spend weeks trying to find the gift for the person who wants nothing. i never really enjoyed this, but did enjoy the back and forth we would have on the phone as i would try and get something out of her that would give me a hint about what might be the gift to get her that year.
i also always liked watching my mother open her birthday presents, somewhat embarrassed, saying 'thank you, uncle don' to my uncle, her brother-in-law. i liked the way she reacted to everyone making a fuss about her birthday, because she really wished we hadn't - really.
this will be the second year where that battle doesn't happen; where i won't hear my mother say 'thank you, uncle don'.
so, while i hope everyone has the december they wish for, and wish nothing but the best for you and your family this month, the grinchy, anti-holiday guy, just wants to get me through december, so i can start again.
i've never been a big fan of holidays; it throws off my routine, and everyone around me always seems so much more excited about them than me.
i see people get excited about thanksgiving, or 4th of july, while i think to myself what am i going to do with myself on that day? i've never liked doing the traditional holiday things, like eating, or seeing fireworks, or parades.
i feel like getting excited about holidays the same way i feel about eating meat - i don't care if you want to do it, i just don't want to.
because of this anti-holiday guy that i am, december can be rough to get through - traveling (which i don't particularly enjoy), gift-buying (which i don't particularly enjoy), socializing (which i don't particularly enjoy), and general merriment.
i'm a little grinchy, to be honest.
the thing that i actually grew to like a great deal, about the month of december, was the annual mom birthday-gift-buying battle, and the mom birthday-gift-giving that happened on her birthday.
my mother's birthday is on the 25th of december and as an adult, i've seen that date far more as being my mom's birthday, than christmas.
the battle would begin by her saying she wanted nothing for her birthday. i would ignore this, then spend weeks trying to find the gift for the person who wants nothing. i never really enjoyed this, but did enjoy the back and forth we would have on the phone as i would try and get something out of her that would give me a hint about what might be the gift to get her that year.
i also always liked watching my mother open her birthday presents, somewhat embarrassed, saying 'thank you, uncle don' to my uncle, her brother-in-law. i liked the way she reacted to everyone making a fuss about her birthday, because she really wished we hadn't - really.
this will be the second year where that battle doesn't happen; where i won't hear my mother say 'thank you, uncle don'.
so, while i hope everyone has the december they wish for, and wish nothing but the best for you and your family this month, the grinchy, anti-holiday guy, just wants to get me through december, so i can start again.
23 November 2011
giving cheers
as a boy in nigeria, i was surrounded by friends who did not speak english at home; in fact, they spoke a variety of languages. that’s what happens when you live on university housing, with people from all over the country (that has over 500 languages), and the world.
because of my semi-multi-lingual background and my being married to a linguist, and thus becoming an acquaintance of more linguists than any normal person probably should, i think i think about language more than the average joe, or morag.
i grew up hearing words that didn’t quite have an english translation, that were used in certain situations. sadly, i can’t remember any of them at this writing.
now, in scotland, i’ve had to learn when and how to use new words and one of them in particular, i’ve had a hard time figuring out when exactly to use.
i can now say i know what ‘hogmanay’ is, and how to pronounce it somewhat properly. i know how to say the word ‘ceilidh’, as long as i don’t have to read it – every time i see it written it takes me a second or two to figure out what i’m reading. i know when to use ‘wee’, although i almost never use it. i know how it feels to be ‘chuffed’ or ‘gutted’. but ‘cheers’ still gets me – it’s a word i hear used more than the rest of these and i’m in the position to use a lot, but i’m still working on exactly when and how to use it.
in my view, ‘cheers’ is like ‘thank you’-lite. i think it's even lighter than 'thanks'. when someone holds a door for you (which is what got me thinking about writing this blog, at the gym last night) you could say ‘thanks’ or ‘cheers’. when you get your change and receipt from the grocery store teller, you could say ‘thanks’ or ‘cheers’. where i’m not so certain is where the line is drawn – the line where you don’t say ‘cheers’, but do say ‘thank you’.
i would guess that that if you get a really awesome gift from someone, something you really wanted, you wouldn’t say ‘cheers’; you would say ‘thank you’. you wouldn’t say ‘cheers’ to a doctor, or anyone, who saved your life, you would say ‘thank you’. the question for me is when is that point where ‘cheers’ just does not cut it? when you come off almost making light of the situation by saying ‘cheers’ where you should be saying ‘thank you’.
so during this holiday week in the united states, when you are spending time with your family (which i won’t be, unfortunately), give cheers for the year you’ve had, and the people you love, and have a happy cheersgiving.
because of my semi-multi-lingual background and my being married to a linguist, and thus becoming an acquaintance of more linguists than any normal person probably should, i think i think about language more than the average joe, or morag.
i grew up hearing words that didn’t quite have an english translation, that were used in certain situations. sadly, i can’t remember any of them at this writing.
now, in scotland, i’ve had to learn when and how to use new words and one of them in particular, i’ve had a hard time figuring out when exactly to use.
i can now say i know what ‘hogmanay’ is, and how to pronounce it somewhat properly. i know how to say the word ‘ceilidh’, as long as i don’t have to read it – every time i see it written it takes me a second or two to figure out what i’m reading. i know when to use ‘wee’, although i almost never use it. i know how it feels to be ‘chuffed’ or ‘gutted’. but ‘cheers’ still gets me – it’s a word i hear used more than the rest of these and i’m in the position to use a lot, but i’m still working on exactly when and how to use it.
in my view, ‘cheers’ is like ‘thank you’-lite. i think it's even lighter than 'thanks'. when someone holds a door for you (which is what got me thinking about writing this blog, at the gym last night) you could say ‘thanks’ or ‘cheers’. when you get your change and receipt from the grocery store teller, you could say ‘thanks’ or ‘cheers’. where i’m not so certain is where the line is drawn – the line where you don’t say ‘cheers’, but do say ‘thank you’.
i would guess that that if you get a really awesome gift from someone, something you really wanted, you wouldn’t say ‘cheers’; you would say ‘thank you’. you wouldn’t say ‘cheers’ to a doctor, or anyone, who saved your life, you would say ‘thank you’. the question for me is when is that point where ‘cheers’ just does not cut it? when you come off almost making light of the situation by saying ‘cheers’ where you should be saying ‘thank you’.
so during this holiday week in the united states, when you are spending time with your family (which i won’t be, unfortunately), give cheers for the year you’ve had, and the people you love, and have a happy cheersgiving.
14 October 2011
the envelope fairy
a little over a week ago, lauren and i were walking along a busy street when i saw 3 teenage kids running across the street. it looked like 2 of them were chasing the third. they caught up to him and started beating him up - punching and kicking him on the ground. i started walking faster toward them and saw another guy run across the street to get to them. by the time we got to him, his attackers were gone, so we helped him up and helped him gather his things.
i was really bothered by this, not just because of the beating, but because of where it happened. it was a few steps from a bus stop where at least 10 people stood, watched all this happen, and did nothing. i’ve been mugged before, and was not helped during the mugging. people who helped me up afterward told me they didn’t help during the mugging because they were worried the guys might have a knife and they didn’t want to put themselves in danger. i can understand that to some degree, but that all these people at the bus stop made no attempt to help the kid after the attackers had left, has really been gnawing at me - no one seemed to want to be the responsible person and help the kid out. they waited for the us, who were further away, to do anything.
over the last year, i’ve been struck by how much i’ve seen people wait for someone else to take care of some problem they have; to take responsibility.
i first noticed it with the snow. when it started snowing (and didn’t seem to stop) last november and december, i twice got into conversations with people where i mentioned that i was surprised nothing was being done to clear the snow, even as it was falling. both times i got a ‘what?!?’ kind of response. like, why would anyone want to do that? people were waiting for the snow to melt, for nature to take the responsibility of clearing the streets. of course, this didn’t happen and eventually, the transport minister stepped down because he wasn’t responsible enough to clear the snow.
at my job, i deal with people who are on the peripheries of my regular work. one of them once said ‘i don’t want to be responsible’ for something they were clearly supposed to be responsible for. there have been a number of back and forth issues i’ve noticed, that could have been done by someone, but didn’t, or got passed around so much until someone eventually took care of it, because no one wanted to be responsible.
i see my job as being a helper of students, which i very much enjoy. there have been so many times students have said i was the only person that had bothered to ask what their problem was before shooing them off, telling them ‘i can’t help’ without even hearing what they needed help with.
last week, a student came to my office because she had some questions about an area of the university i’m unable to deal with. i told her where she needed to go to deal with that kind of issue, and she was told they couldn’t help her. she came back to my office, so i called that office. they said they were the only office on campus that could help her, so she went back to the office and was able to get help the second time. why couldn’t she get help the first time? because someone in that office didn’t want to be responsible.
about 6 weeks ago i noticed an unopened envelope was in the hallway outside our flat. after it hadn’t moved for a week, i picked it up. it was addressed to our neighbor’s flat, but not to his name. i put it on his welcome mat, thinking he didn’t realize it was addressed to his flat. the next day, it was back to were it was in the hallway again - i put it back on his welcome mat. next day, hallway, then back to his welcome mat. he then put it on the edge of his welcome mat, where i felt it wasn’t blocking the way. it sat there for several weeks. it’s like he thought some envelope fairy would come and magically take away the envelope.
last week, i noticed the envelope was gone. the police knocked on our door that night. our neighbor’s flat had been broken into - ‘broken into’ is a strong phrase here because there was no forced entry. the cop said to me, ‘make sure your doors are locked when you leave home’. i’m guessing someone not responsible enough to deal with an envelope addressed to their flat is also not responsible enough to lock their door when they leave home. why a thief would also take an envelope is beyond me, but fairies might come in all shapes and sizes.
as i write this, there is another envelope on the ground floor of our flat, addressed to an address on the third floor. i’m too lazy to walk up an extra 2 flights of stairs, but i’ve seriously thought about putting it on that person’s welcome mat, to see what comes of it.
i can’t believe it’s a scottish thing, or a uk thing, because all the people i’ve worked closely with, and know on a personal level, are very responsible people. maybe i’m just becoming a bitter middle-aged man and maybe this has been happening around me for all of my life, and it’s just never bothered me before. or maybe, i’m one of the responsibility fairies - the people who say ‘someone’s got to do it, so it might as well be me.’
i was really bothered by this, not just because of the beating, but because of where it happened. it was a few steps from a bus stop where at least 10 people stood, watched all this happen, and did nothing. i’ve been mugged before, and was not helped during the mugging. people who helped me up afterward told me they didn’t help during the mugging because they were worried the guys might have a knife and they didn’t want to put themselves in danger. i can understand that to some degree, but that all these people at the bus stop made no attempt to help the kid after the attackers had left, has really been gnawing at me - no one seemed to want to be the responsible person and help the kid out. they waited for the us, who were further away, to do anything.
over the last year, i’ve been struck by how much i’ve seen people wait for someone else to take care of some problem they have; to take responsibility.
i first noticed it with the snow. when it started snowing (and didn’t seem to stop) last november and december, i twice got into conversations with people where i mentioned that i was surprised nothing was being done to clear the snow, even as it was falling. both times i got a ‘what?!?’ kind of response. like, why would anyone want to do that? people were waiting for the snow to melt, for nature to take the responsibility of clearing the streets. of course, this didn’t happen and eventually, the transport minister stepped down because he wasn’t responsible enough to clear the snow.
at my job, i deal with people who are on the peripheries of my regular work. one of them once said ‘i don’t want to be responsible’ for something they were clearly supposed to be responsible for. there have been a number of back and forth issues i’ve noticed, that could have been done by someone, but didn’t, or got passed around so much until someone eventually took care of it, because no one wanted to be responsible.
i see my job as being a helper of students, which i very much enjoy. there have been so many times students have said i was the only person that had bothered to ask what their problem was before shooing them off, telling them ‘i can’t help’ without even hearing what they needed help with.
last week, a student came to my office because she had some questions about an area of the university i’m unable to deal with. i told her where she needed to go to deal with that kind of issue, and she was told they couldn’t help her. she came back to my office, so i called that office. they said they were the only office on campus that could help her, so she went back to the office and was able to get help the second time. why couldn’t she get help the first time? because someone in that office didn’t want to be responsible.
about 6 weeks ago i noticed an unopened envelope was in the hallway outside our flat. after it hadn’t moved for a week, i picked it up. it was addressed to our neighbor’s flat, but not to his name. i put it on his welcome mat, thinking he didn’t realize it was addressed to his flat. the next day, it was back to were it was in the hallway again - i put it back on his welcome mat. next day, hallway, then back to his welcome mat. he then put it on the edge of his welcome mat, where i felt it wasn’t blocking the way. it sat there for several weeks. it’s like he thought some envelope fairy would come and magically take away the envelope.
last week, i noticed the envelope was gone. the police knocked on our door that night. our neighbor’s flat had been broken into - ‘broken into’ is a strong phrase here because there was no forced entry. the cop said to me, ‘make sure your doors are locked when you leave home’. i’m guessing someone not responsible enough to deal with an envelope addressed to their flat is also not responsible enough to lock their door when they leave home. why a thief would also take an envelope is beyond me, but fairies might come in all shapes and sizes.
as i write this, there is another envelope on the ground floor of our flat, addressed to an address on the third floor. i’m too lazy to walk up an extra 2 flights of stairs, but i’ve seriously thought about putting it on that person’s welcome mat, to see what comes of it.
i can’t believe it’s a scottish thing, or a uk thing, because all the people i’ve worked closely with, and know on a personal level, are very responsible people. maybe i’m just becoming a bitter middle-aged man and maybe this has been happening around me for all of my life, and it’s just never bothered me before. or maybe, i’m one of the responsibility fairies - the people who say ‘someone’s got to do it, so it might as well be me.’
27 September 2011
It doesn't rain as much as you'd think
At several points in the past few months I've posted pictures on facebook showing something I saw that caught my eye. On more than one occasion people have cracked a joke about how sunny it is in the picture.
I get the feeling that people in the US think it is gloomier in Edinburgh than it really is.
Over the past month, in an effort to not feel trapped in my office all day, I like to eat my lunch on a bench somewhere nearby. During this time, there have only been 2-3 days where I couldn't do this because of rain. Is balmy and warm when I sit outside? Not in the California sense of balmy and warm, but we are quite a bit further north than California, so it wouldn't be expected to be t-shirt weather in September (although it's supposed to be t-shirt weather tomorrow).
I found a chart that listed the number of rainy days in Edinburgh per month. It looks like it's about 1/2 the days, but there's rain and then there's rain. Most of the rain we get is not like a Baltimore thunderstorm on an August evening, or like the California winter rains that come in January or February. Most of the rain is more like a drizzle, or a light shower, that doesn't go on all day. There have been quite a few days where I've been walking around, on a sunny day, and have felt a drizzle, sometimes lasting 15-20 minutes. Days like that are great for rainbows, and I don't think most people would consider that a rainy day, but I'm sure it's listed as one.
Are there clouds in the sky in Edinburgh? Of course, but they are not gray all the time, as people may believe. We don't live in a gloomy, depressing city. I'm looking outside right now and I see white clouds, and a blue sky. Today is the kind of day people in East Lansing, Michigan look for on a football Saturday - a crisp day where it's cool enough to be jacket weather, but not cold enough to be coat weather; where it's warm enough to enjoy a football game, but not so warm that you want to leave after the first quarter.
Is the weather always like this? Of course not. You can't expect to have great weather all the time - no one can. We have bad days and good days; we have sunny days and rainy days; we have cold days and warm days (though never as warm or as cold as the mid-Atlantic states).
Edinburgh is probably not the city you think it is, weather wise; it doesn't rain as much as you'd think.
11 September 2011
10 years is a long time
I was watching the news today, talking about 9/11, and how people on United 93 called their family members. I only got my first mobile phone a few months before 9/11. At the time, I was surprised to learn that phones would be able to get a signal mid-flight. Ten years is long time.
I don't want to talk about what I did that day - everyone has their story, and I see no need to tell you mine. What I'm most struck by today, is just how different my life is now than it was then.
Ten years ago....
I hadn't started teaching at De Anza, I hadn't started the PhD I never finished, and I hadn't even thought of getting the MBA that I did finish.
I didn't have dreadlocks 10 years ago, and had no plans to grow them out again (I was in the 3-year hole between both rounds of dreads). I had no chickenpox scars, hadn't separated the shoulder that bothers me every time I go to the gym, had no idea how painful lower back pain could be, and I had only one tattoo.
I didn't know my wife existed ten years ago, much less that she would end up being from my father's home town. I didn't have any siblings-in-law ten years ago; two fewer people who called me 'uncle', one more person that called me 'grandson', and one more person who called me their son.
I wonder where life will take me in the next 10 years.
Fi with uncle Jeff (2002)
Maya with uncle Jeff (2008)
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