Day #1: A Southern Gentleman

I failed first at midnight.

There I was at the gas station fueling up when I heard a voice behind me.

"Nice night, ain't it?"

When I turned around, there was a jolly, bald Southern man about to fuel up his Cadillac.

My response?

"Que?"

Or something to that effect.

I guess there are going to be a lot of admissions over the course of the next hundred days, so this is the first--

Sometimes when a random stranger tries to talk to me, or when I'm passing the kids collecting money for their little league team outside the supermarket, or when my grandfather calls...

...I pretend not to speak English.

I'm Portuguese and Italian. One of the perks of that mix is that if you don't shave for three days you look like you just snuck across the border.

When the man at the gas station heard my "Que" and saw me shake my head, he went back to fueling without saying another word. Then I realized that it was August 1st, and within the first hour of my project I was already falling behind.

For the next three and a half months, I'm supposed to be polite, nice, and even sweet.

Clearly this was going to be tougher than I thought.

I realized I had to make amends with the Southern gent. The problem was that I couldn't just suddenly speak semi-decent English.

So, with a slight Mexican accent that came across as half-Russian, I said--

'Is nice night, yes yes.'

The gentleman looked at me kind of funny, then drove off muttering something about Ellis Island.

What an auspicious start, huh?

. . . . .

I went into this project with one big fear.

When I was kid, I was barely ever allowed to talk. When I turned fourteen and subsequently turned into Damien from The Omen, I never stopped talking.

Still, my biggest fear is not being able to express my opinion, speak my mind, or have my voice heard.

Basically, I'm terrified of being a doormat.

Somehow that fear translated into me becoming a giant, gossiping, catty bitch.

Oh sure, to many people I'm a selfless sweetheart...most of them being named Mom, but I've never been Mr. Nice Guy.

A part of me really wants to know what it's like to be the universally-liked one, but there's another part of me that worries that means being the quiet one.

When I tell people that, they tell me that it's possible to be nice AND firm.

My problem is that every time someone is firm with me I walk away calling them a jerk in my head.

I don't just want to be nice and firm. I want to be firm and still have people think I'm awesome.

There's a way to do that...

...Right?

. . . . .

My first day presented a big challenge.

Theater.

Let me explain what a normal theater outing entails for me:

Before the show, I make assumptions about who or what I'm going to hate about it.

When I get to the show, I look around to see who I can gossip with at intermission.

During the show, I pick one or two things I don't hate so I can say something nice to the people in the show. Then I proceed to pick out the weakest link, the worst elements, and any other rough spots.

About ten seconds after the show is over, I'm on the phone cackling with a friend as I give my thumbs down review.

It ain't pretty, kids, but I promised to be honest, right?

Why do I do all this?

Normally it's because anytime I see a great show, I'm usually jealous that I wasn't in it. The quickest way for me to make myself feel better about it is to tear it down.

Now luckily, today I was seeing a show that I already love, and it was being put on by people I think are fantastic. Even so, once I got there, I felt myself itching to pick the thing apart.

I started biting my nails, tapping my feet, and bobbing my head like Rain Man.

Who knew quitting a bitchy attitude could actually bring about a physical withdrawal?

Then the show started, and I actually felt...relieved.

It was so nice to watch a show knowing I wasn't allowed to do anything but enjoy it. When I thought about how I normally behave when I see theater, it started to seem so appalling.

As the day went on, I realized that the hardest part of this project might be realizing how often I'm unkind and how infrequently I smile or compliment people or behave like a good person.

On top of all that, more and more questions were pouring into my head--

Am I allowed to do imitations of people?

Decision: Yes, as long as they know I do it.

Am I allowed to say nasty things about celebrities?

Decision: Not if I can help it. (Thank God I wrote my anti-Liev Schrieber post before the challenge began.) It's still putting negativity out into the world, so I should avoid doing it.

Am I allowed to scream curse words in my car when I'm stuck behind someone going ten miles an hour?

Decision: Yes, but I'm going to try not to. Instead I'll sing Stevie Wonder and take deep breaths.

No, I can't help thinking bad thoughts, but I can certainly control my words and actions.

I already have a new catchphrase.

Rather than say "F**k off," I will now be saying "Bless your heart."

I'm sure the Southern gentleman would approve.