When I was a kid, there was only one way to be heard in my family.
You had to yell.
Until the age of thirteen, I barely said a word, because the thought of yelling over my parents was...well, unthinkable actually.
Then the teen years rolled around and the unthinkable became VERY thinkable.
I learned to hold my own in the yelling arena, and ever since then, I've been a proud destroyer of silence and listening.
Obviously, with this project, I had to change that.
It's no big psychological mystery where yelling and cutting people off and talking over people comes from.
A feeling like you're not being heard or you're not going to be heard.
The trick is to realize--you are being heard, but most of the time, you're not hearing.
I am, without a doubt, one of the worst listeners I know.
I concentrate more on what I'm going to say than what people are saying to me, and it's a habit that has to go.
So is there a trick?
I've found one that works for me.
I repeat back the last thing that was said to me before I add something else.
That way I don't do that annoying thing people do--people being me--where someone says:
"My Mom has cancer."
And I say--
"Oh my God, did I tell you about what happened to me last night?"
I force myself to segue, and if I can't, it just means that what the person is telling me is more important than my night at karaoke.
And when I argue, I try not to raise my voice.
I find that when you raise your voice, you've lost the argument. You're allowing yourself to get angry and you signal to the other person--
"This is where I stop caring about your opinion on this."
So instead, I try to get quieter. Again, I repeat back--
"You're saying that what happened bothered you. Okay, I get that."
It's amazing how civil things can say when you let someone know they're actually being heard.
Staying calm keeps you from yelling which allows you to have a conversation rather than a shouting match.
We didn't have many conversations in my house growing up, but recently I managed to have one with my mom.
And you know what?
I think she actually enjoyed it.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Day #60: What Reality TV Teaches Us About Being Nice
It happens on a lot of shows.
Two or more teams face off, then appear in front of a judging panel to find out if they've won or lost whatever challenge they were given that week.
Inevitably, the judges ask--"How did it go?"
Now, at this point, the teams don't know whether or not they won the challenge, yet most of the time, they will take this opportunity to eviscerate one or more team members.
Why?
Why not wait until AFTER you've found out whether or not you won?
If you won, then whatever issues you had during the challenge don't matter, and you're fighting with people for no reason at all.
Sometimes life is like reality television.
(I know, theoretically, it should ALWAYS be like reality television, but let's keep things honest here.)
Sometimes in life, you're working on something with people and things get a little crazy. Maybe there's fighting. Maybe there's arguing. Maybe at some point you cried over your red hot candy pastry (if you want to get specific).
The point is, wait until you find out the result before you start arguing and finger-pointing. Everyone understands that in any process there can be turmoil, but you're supposed to wait until AFTER you find out the result before you start throwing punches.
See?
Television can be very educational.
Two or more teams face off, then appear in front of a judging panel to find out if they've won or lost whatever challenge they were given that week.
Inevitably, the judges ask--"How did it go?"
Now, at this point, the teams don't know whether or not they won the challenge, yet most of the time, they will take this opportunity to eviscerate one or more team members.
Why?
Why not wait until AFTER you've found out whether or not you won?
If you won, then whatever issues you had during the challenge don't matter, and you're fighting with people for no reason at all.
Sometimes life is like reality television.
(I know, theoretically, it should ALWAYS be like reality television, but let's keep things honest here.)
Sometimes in life, you're working on something with people and things get a little crazy. Maybe there's fighting. Maybe there's arguing. Maybe at some point you cried over your red hot candy pastry (if you want to get specific).
The point is, wait until you find out the result before you start arguing and finger-pointing. Everyone understands that in any process there can be turmoil, but you're supposed to wait until AFTER you find out the result before you start throwing punches.
See?
Television can be very educational.
Day #59: Stay In Touch
There was a particular goal I wanted to achieve as part of this project.
Staying in touch.
I find that if there's one big problem I have, it's that I focus on tasks more than people.
Once a project is in my line of sight, I zero in on it and tend to concentrate only on other people involved with it.
At times, this has made me look like a career-driven user, but then again, I suppose everybody who puts a career first comes across this way.
Still, it doesn't thrill me that there are friends I have who I rarely check in with, so that when I do, I'm constantly being caught up like a delinquent parent.
"Oh really? You got pregnant? And she's graduating high school next week? Wow...So what else is new?"
A lot of the time I find that I don't respond to people right away because I simply don't know what to say.
Sometimes people write personal messages or things they need to get off their chest, and I always feel like I'm at a loss to say anything other than "I'm sorry" or "That sucks" which sounds incredibly lame.
Only recently when I decided I was finally going to become the sort of person who is known for getting back to people right away did I realize that sometimes all that's needed is a "I'm sorry, and I'm here if you need me" or in cases where I'm being asked to do something I don't want to--"No."
"No" is something I'm always afraid to say, but strangely enough, learning to be nice has also meant learning to say "No."
But I smile while saying it, of course.
In the meantime, I answer messages as quickly as I can and try to save the personal ones until I have enough time to really respond with a thoughtful answer.
And yes, there are messages I don't answer, because frankly, sometimes they don't merit one.
Part of learning to stay in touch has been learning who I need to stay in touch with, and who takes up too much of my mental inbox.
Staying in touch.
I find that if there's one big problem I have, it's that I focus on tasks more than people.
Once a project is in my line of sight, I zero in on it and tend to concentrate only on other people involved with it.
At times, this has made me look like a career-driven user, but then again, I suppose everybody who puts a career first comes across this way.
Still, it doesn't thrill me that there are friends I have who I rarely check in with, so that when I do, I'm constantly being caught up like a delinquent parent.
"Oh really? You got pregnant? And she's graduating high school next week? Wow...So what else is new?"
A lot of the time I find that I don't respond to people right away because I simply don't know what to say.
Sometimes people write personal messages or things they need to get off their chest, and I always feel like I'm at a loss to say anything other than "I'm sorry" or "That sucks" which sounds incredibly lame.
Only recently when I decided I was finally going to become the sort of person who is known for getting back to people right away did I realize that sometimes all that's needed is a "I'm sorry, and I'm here if you need me" or in cases where I'm being asked to do something I don't want to--"No."
"No" is something I'm always afraid to say, but strangely enough, learning to be nice has also meant learning to say "No."
But I smile while saying it, of course.
In the meantime, I answer messages as quickly as I can and try to save the personal ones until I have enough time to really respond with a thoughtful answer.
And yes, there are messages I don't answer, because frankly, sometimes they don't merit one.
Part of learning to stay in touch has been learning who I need to stay in touch with, and who takes up too much of my mental inbox.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Day #58: That's Not My Problem
Even before I began the "nice" project, one particular phrase always drove me nuts.
"That's not my problem."
Do you ever notice that people only say this when they want to be freed from having any moral responsibility to do something they should do yet don't just want to come out and say "I'm a douchebag?"
Yeah, that's been my experience.
If there's one phrase we could eradicate to make the world a little bit nicer, I think it would be "That's not my problem."
After all, it's become an escape hatch.
Every time I say I'm for healthcare because I believe that we shouldn't live in a country where anybody dies because they can't afford treatment, I have someone counter with--
"What about the people who smoke and drink and eat too much?"
To which I counter with--"What about kids who die from cancer?"
Now, perhaps I shouldn't pull the cancer card, but it's not really a "card" when it's, you know, actually true.
The response I get back is usually "That's sad, but it's not my problem."
In America, we talk all the time about needing a cultural shift.
Maybe what we really need is a morality shift. Maybe we need to start saying that our problems are the only ones we can handle, and realize that when you help others with their problems your own will either seem less dire or take care of themselves as a result of good karma.
Maybe so many people in this country have trouble being nice because they're left alone with their problems for too long.
"That's not my problem."
The truth is I like the communal way of looking at things. One person's problem is everyone's problem.
And at the moment, my problem is I'm fifty-eight days into being nice and I still don't feel any "nicer."
Here's looking at you, Day #59.
"That's not my problem."
Do you ever notice that people only say this when they want to be freed from having any moral responsibility to do something they should do yet don't just want to come out and say "I'm a douchebag?"
Yeah, that's been my experience.
If there's one phrase we could eradicate to make the world a little bit nicer, I think it would be "That's not my problem."
After all, it's become an escape hatch.
Every time I say I'm for healthcare because I believe that we shouldn't live in a country where anybody dies because they can't afford treatment, I have someone counter with--
"What about the people who smoke and drink and eat too much?"
To which I counter with--"What about kids who die from cancer?"
Now, perhaps I shouldn't pull the cancer card, but it's not really a "card" when it's, you know, actually true.
The response I get back is usually "That's sad, but it's not my problem."
In America, we talk all the time about needing a cultural shift.
Maybe what we really need is a morality shift. Maybe we need to start saying that our problems are the only ones we can handle, and realize that when you help others with their problems your own will either seem less dire or take care of themselves as a result of good karma.
Maybe so many people in this country have trouble being nice because they're left alone with their problems for too long.
"That's not my problem."
The truth is I like the communal way of looking at things. One person's problem is everyone's problem.
And at the moment, my problem is I'm fifty-eight days into being nice and I still don't feel any "nicer."
Here's looking at you, Day #59.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Day #57: That Could Be You
I found a new trick to help keep me nice.
I call it "That Could Be You."
It's a little bit like Six Degrees to Kevin Bacon, except you play it with random strangers who are ticking you off.
Someone is rude to you at the supermarket.
You look at them and think--
"You fat white trash, bitch. Somebody should run you over while you're wearing that hideous purple sweater."
--Or instead, you play "That Could Be You."
"This woman probably had a lousy day because her husband left her for some skinny tramp that he met at a car convention and now he wants alimony. She's probably overweight because she has no self-esteem because her sister was the classically pretty one and her parents treated her poorly. She's probably wearing the ugly sweater because it's all that she could afford. But for being born when you were to who you were, that could be you."
Sometimes it's a hard game, but usually by the time you're done, you've calmed down.
So either way, it serves its purpose.
It's so easy for us to judge each other, but we forget that but for a simple change in location, education, or relation, we could be pretty much anyone.
Look at anyone and realized "That Could Be You."
And you'll find it's a lot easier to be nice.
I call it "That Could Be You."
It's a little bit like Six Degrees to Kevin Bacon, except you play it with random strangers who are ticking you off.
Someone is rude to you at the supermarket.
You look at them and think--
"You fat white trash, bitch. Somebody should run you over while you're wearing that hideous purple sweater."
--Or instead, you play "That Could Be You."
"This woman probably had a lousy day because her husband left her for some skinny tramp that he met at a car convention and now he wants alimony. She's probably overweight because she has no self-esteem because her sister was the classically pretty one and her parents treated her poorly. She's probably wearing the ugly sweater because it's all that she could afford. But for being born when you were to who you were, that could be you."
Sometimes it's a hard game, but usually by the time you're done, you've calmed down.
So either way, it serves its purpose.
It's so easy for us to judge each other, but we forget that but for a simple change in location, education, or relation, we could be pretty much anyone.
Look at anyone and realized "That Could Be You."
And you'll find it's a lot easier to be nice.
Day #56: When You Swim with Sharks
I went to school with a shark.
In junior high, there was a girl who made it a point to eviscerate everybody she didn't like, and the list of people she didn't like changed from hour-to-hour.
Like true pre-teens being terrorized by a single person who just happened to be sort of pretty, everybody at my school did the reasonable thing, and tried desperately to be friends with her in the hopes of avoiding her tyranny.
The problem is, when you swim with sharks, there's a very good chance the shark will eat you just by virtue of you being in their vicinity.
Yet even today, I see people who do it.
My last post was about being a bitch on a wall who stands by and makes comments about the people who are actually enjoying themselves.
It seems like the wall bitches always have a crowd around them. People think if they make friends with the shark, they won't get eaten.
Of course, it doesn't work that way.
It's funny how we associate being cruel or nasty with being strong. Somewhere along the way, "nice" became a weak word. A word to mean "vulnerable."
That's one of the parts of this process that I have so much trouble with--I hate feeling vulnerable.
But then I remind myself that there's no more vulnerable position than being next to a predator hoping they don't turn on you.
And I swim off in the other direction.
In junior high, there was a girl who made it a point to eviscerate everybody she didn't like, and the list of people she didn't like changed from hour-to-hour.
Like true pre-teens being terrorized by a single person who just happened to be sort of pretty, everybody at my school did the reasonable thing, and tried desperately to be friends with her in the hopes of avoiding her tyranny.
The problem is, when you swim with sharks, there's a very good chance the shark will eat you just by virtue of you being in their vicinity.
Yet even today, I see people who do it.
My last post was about being a bitch on a wall who stands by and makes comments about the people who are actually enjoying themselves.
It seems like the wall bitches always have a crowd around them. People think if they make friends with the shark, they won't get eaten.
Of course, it doesn't work that way.
It's funny how we associate being cruel or nasty with being strong. Somewhere along the way, "nice" became a weak word. A word to mean "vulnerable."
That's one of the parts of this process that I have so much trouble with--I hate feeling vulnerable.
But then I remind myself that there's no more vulnerable position than being next to a predator hoping they don't turn on you.
And I swim off in the other direction.
Day #55: The Bitch Against the Wall
More times than I'd like to admit, I've been the bitch against the wall.
You all know exactly the type of person I mean.
I don't mean a wallflower, more like a wall weed.
Someone who shows up to the club, bar, or party late, then gets a drink, and stands off to the side commenting on how lame everyone is--except for them of course.
This used to be my favorite past-time.
In Rhode Island, it can be tricky to be a bitch against a wall, because in some cases, everyone wants to be the bitch against the wall.
Sometimes the walls are more crowded than the dance floors, which is incredibly sad.
As Cher said in her Behind the Music, "nobody likes to be uncool." So I understand the urge to remain on the sidelines, avoiding any actual activity, that way nobody can comment on what you're doing.
The flip side of that is--one day, when I look back on my life, I doubt I'll ever go--"Remember when I used to stand against the wall and be a bitch to everyone? God, I miss those days."
So part of this project was to get myself off the wall.
(Somebody cue Kool and the Gang's "Get Down On It.")
All of my favorite memories start with me complaining "Nooo, I'll look stupid!" so maybe I need to shut up and dance more often?
FRIEND: Honey, I've seen you dance. I'd tape myself to the wall if I were you.
ME: I've seen you on the dance floor a few times.
FRIEND: Well, you have to get in the pool if you want to play polo.
ME: Is that a sexual euphemism?
FRIEND: I can't even tell anymore.
ME: Either way, I'm dancing more often. No more bitching from the sidelines.
FRIEND: That's wonderful.
ME: You mean you support it?
FRIEND: No, I just love that you gave me a new title for my autobiography: "Bitching from the Sidelines: A Life."
If you'll excuse me, it's time to rhumba.
You all know exactly the type of person I mean.
I don't mean a wallflower, more like a wall weed.
Someone who shows up to the club, bar, or party late, then gets a drink, and stands off to the side commenting on how lame everyone is--except for them of course.
This used to be my favorite past-time.
In Rhode Island, it can be tricky to be a bitch against a wall, because in some cases, everyone wants to be the bitch against the wall.
Sometimes the walls are more crowded than the dance floors, which is incredibly sad.
As Cher said in her Behind the Music, "nobody likes to be uncool." So I understand the urge to remain on the sidelines, avoiding any actual activity, that way nobody can comment on what you're doing.
The flip side of that is--one day, when I look back on my life, I doubt I'll ever go--"Remember when I used to stand against the wall and be a bitch to everyone? God, I miss those days."
So part of this project was to get myself off the wall.
(Somebody cue Kool and the Gang's "Get Down On It.")
All of my favorite memories start with me complaining "Nooo, I'll look stupid!" so maybe I need to shut up and dance more often?
FRIEND: Honey, I've seen you dance. I'd tape myself to the wall if I were you.
ME: I've seen you on the dance floor a few times.
FRIEND: Well, you have to get in the pool if you want to play polo.
ME: Is that a sexual euphemism?
FRIEND: I can't even tell anymore.
ME: Either way, I'm dancing more often. No more bitching from the sidelines.
FRIEND: That's wonderful.
ME: You mean you support it?
FRIEND: No, I just love that you gave me a new title for my autobiography: "Bitching from the Sidelines: A Life."
If you'll excuse me, it's time to rhumba.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Day #54: George Bailey
I was thinking about pop culture today.
How many "nice" people do we actually see on television, in the movies, or in books?
It's a little disconcerting to think that my entire generation has grown up believing that "mean girl" is a term of affection.
Just when I was about to give up, I remembered the perfect example of a "nice" character.
And it just so happens he's from my favorite movie:
George Bailey from "It's a Wonderful Life."
Think about it.
Here's a man who continually sacrifices so that the people he loves and the place he calls home can be better for it.
He's never rewarded with money or fame, and at the end of the movie, even when everybody comes to help him out, he's only breaking even.
Still, the movie teaches us that he's a wealthy man because if you're good to people, it'll come back to you someday.
To this day, I can't watch that movie without getting choked up as soon as Harry Bailey appears to toast his big brother.
Then again, I also get choked up in the beginning when everybody in town is praying for George.
I also get--
FRIEND: You're a mess.
ME: Don't you love that movie?
FRIEND: I was more of an 'Ernest Saves Christmas' fan.
ME: It's just nice to see a movie where the good guy comes out on top.
FRIEND: Honey, every good guy comes out on top.
ME: I was speaking metaphorically.
FRIEND: Call it whatever you want, sweetie. It's all the same to me.
One last part!
When Violet says--"George Bailey, I'm glad I know you."
C'mon, is there any better compliment than that?
How many "nice" people do we actually see on television, in the movies, or in books?
It's a little disconcerting to think that my entire generation has grown up believing that "mean girl" is a term of affection.
Just when I was about to give up, I remembered the perfect example of a "nice" character.
And it just so happens he's from my favorite movie:
George Bailey from "It's a Wonderful Life."
Think about it.
Here's a man who continually sacrifices so that the people he loves and the place he calls home can be better for it.
He's never rewarded with money or fame, and at the end of the movie, even when everybody comes to help him out, he's only breaking even.
Still, the movie teaches us that he's a wealthy man because if you're good to people, it'll come back to you someday.
To this day, I can't watch that movie without getting choked up as soon as Harry Bailey appears to toast his big brother.
Then again, I also get choked up in the beginning when everybody in town is praying for George.
I also get--
FRIEND: You're a mess.
ME: Don't you love that movie?
FRIEND: I was more of an 'Ernest Saves Christmas' fan.
ME: It's just nice to see a movie where the good guy comes out on top.
FRIEND: Honey, every good guy comes out on top.
ME: I was speaking metaphorically.
FRIEND: Call it whatever you want, sweetie. It's all the same to me.
One last part!
When Violet says--"George Bailey, I'm glad I know you."
C'mon, is there any better compliment than that?
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Day #53: Give Someone Permission to Change
I think it happens in any group of friends.
Somebody becomes the screw-up.
I remember when one of my friends started distancing himself from the group the two of us were in, and it looking back, I can see why.
Nobody was giving him permission to change.
When he tried to stop being a screw-up, it upset the dynamic of the group. Suddenly we didn't have our black sheep anymore, and we didn't react well.
There were times when I felt like we almost willed him to fail.
And when he did fail, you could tell we were all relieved.
None of us ever did anything to help him elevate himself. We would say--
"Well, we're his friends"
--Even though being his friends meant we were only keeping him exactly where he was.
Obviously, I don't think we did any of this consciously, but nevertheless, there were more than a few opportunities for us to break past the roles we'd established for each other.
Today I was thinking about that, and I also thought about all the times I felt like I was down and couldn't get up, and how lucky I was to have people say--
"What do you need? How can I help?"
Most of the time all I needed was to hear that I wasn't a failure--that I had done the wrong thing or said the wrong thing, but that I could make it right, and move on.
I needed permission to change who I was in that moment.
Maybe that's something we can all do--figure out who in our lives needs that permission and give it to them.
You never know what can give someone to boost they need to change.
Somebody becomes the screw-up.
I remember when one of my friends started distancing himself from the group the two of us were in, and it looking back, I can see why.
Nobody was giving him permission to change.
When he tried to stop being a screw-up, it upset the dynamic of the group. Suddenly we didn't have our black sheep anymore, and we didn't react well.
There were times when I felt like we almost willed him to fail.
And when he did fail, you could tell we were all relieved.
None of us ever did anything to help him elevate himself. We would say--
"Well, we're his friends"
--Even though being his friends meant we were only keeping him exactly where he was.
Obviously, I don't think we did any of this consciously, but nevertheless, there were more than a few opportunities for us to break past the roles we'd established for each other.
Today I was thinking about that, and I also thought about all the times I felt like I was down and couldn't get up, and how lucky I was to have people say--
"What do you need? How can I help?"
Most of the time all I needed was to hear that I wasn't a failure--that I had done the wrong thing or said the wrong thing, but that I could make it right, and move on.
I needed permission to change who I was in that moment.
Maybe that's something we can all do--figure out who in our lives needs that permission and give it to them.
You never know what can give someone to boost they need to change.
Day #52: You Don't Need to Say It
The title of this entry has become one of my newer mottos.
"You don't need to say it."
For some reason, I usually believe that whenever something is said that I disagree with, I need to be the one to provide an argument.
Now, I love being expressive and standing up for what I believe, but lately it's become clear to me that I don't always need to be the one leading the charge, especially when the war's over whether or not Nip/Tuck jumped the shark in season four or season five.
(Season five--clearly.)
See what I mean?
I always have to say my peace.
Ironic, considering my peace usually only incites total discord.
So tonight, when I was presented with an opportunity to join in on an argument that didn't involve me at all, I managed to resist the urge to put in my unasked for two cents.
You don't need to say it.
My new motto.
Maybe somebody needs to say it, but chances are if I don't, someone will.
It's great to fight the good fight, but the keyword there is "good."
There are definitely a few more fights I should sit on the sidelines for.
"You don't need to say it."
For some reason, I usually believe that whenever something is said that I disagree with, I need to be the one to provide an argument.
Now, I love being expressive and standing up for what I believe, but lately it's become clear to me that I don't always need to be the one leading the charge, especially when the war's over whether or not Nip/Tuck jumped the shark in season four or season five.
(Season five--clearly.)
See what I mean?
I always have to say my peace.
Ironic, considering my peace usually only incites total discord.
So tonight, when I was presented with an opportunity to join in on an argument that didn't involve me at all, I managed to resist the urge to put in my unasked for two cents.
You don't need to say it.
My new motto.
Maybe somebody needs to say it, but chances are if I don't, someone will.
It's great to fight the good fight, but the keyword there is "good."
There are definitely a few more fights I should sit on the sidelines for.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Day #51: Where Do You See Kindness?
One of the more interesting parts about this project revealed itself today.
I tried to find kindness.
I've been trying to project kindness up until now, but today I actually looked for it.
And did I find it?
Yup.
I found it in the text message exchange my Mom and I had--'Are you okay?' 'Yes, Mom.' 'Just checking.'
I found it every time I tried to call a friend and they answered and let me ramble on about whatever random topic I felt like discussing.
I found it at rehearsal where I'm blessed enough to get to do what I love.
I actually found more of it than I would have thought.
Yes, when I started this, I was experiencing lots of negativity. Everyone seemed to be in a bad mood.
But maybe I was just seeing more of it because there was so much negativity in me.
Maybe I was just looking through a half-full glass seeing only the sand that wasn't there.
Either way, I like what I'm seeing now a lot better.
I tried to find kindness.
I've been trying to project kindness up until now, but today I actually looked for it.
And did I find it?
Yup.
I found it in the text message exchange my Mom and I had--'Are you okay?' 'Yes, Mom.' 'Just checking.'
I found it every time I tried to call a friend and they answered and let me ramble on about whatever random topic I felt like discussing.
I found it at rehearsal where I'm blessed enough to get to do what I love.
I actually found more of it than I would have thought.
Yes, when I started this, I was experiencing lots of negativity. Everyone seemed to be in a bad mood.
But maybe I was just seeing more of it because there was so much negativity in me.
Maybe I was just looking through a half-full glass seeing only the sand that wasn't there.
Either way, I like what I'm seeing now a lot better.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Day #50: The Halfway Mark
What have I learned at the halfway mark?
- I've learned that screaming in my car really didn't make me feel better. I feel just as frustrated when I don't scream, and I look a lot less crazy to whomever is in the car next to me.
- I've learned that you have to shoot negative thoughts like asteroids in an 80's video game. They keep coming, you keep shooting, it seems futile, because you know at the end all you get are purple letters saying "You Won!!!" and you get to enter your high score and...where was I going with this?
- I'm rarely ever really mad. More often than not, I'm disappointed, hurt, or offended. I just feel dumb acknowledging those feelings. They make me feel weak. So instead I get angry, because with anger I feel powerful.
- Talking with a British accent makes you sound way more intimidating. That way you can be nice and still scare the s**t out of people at the same time.
- Tearing down is easy, building up is hard. Only one actually makes you feel good about yourself.
- It's okay to yell "F***************************k!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" at the top of your lungs as long as you're not yelling it AT someone.
- The best way to figure out if you're really upset about something is to give it twenty-four hours. Then, if you actually ARE upset, you'll be able to express yourself much better.
- If you see someone who doesn't like you at a party or something, walk up to them and say "Hi, how are you?" Sometimes it turns out they actually do like you, or they just thought you didn't like them. Either way, it never hurts to be the bigger person.
- Simply choosing not to respond to insanity? Priceless.
Finally, I'd like to report that "Bless Your Heart" really is the best way to let someone know you'd like to see them get hit in the face with a paint can.
I guess I'm 50% nice as of now.
(All right, maybe a little less...but I'm getting there.)
- I've learned that screaming in my car really didn't make me feel better. I feel just as frustrated when I don't scream, and I look a lot less crazy to whomever is in the car next to me.
- I've learned that you have to shoot negative thoughts like asteroids in an 80's video game. They keep coming, you keep shooting, it seems futile, because you know at the end all you get are purple letters saying "You Won!!!" and you get to enter your high score and...where was I going with this?
- I'm rarely ever really mad. More often than not, I'm disappointed, hurt, or offended. I just feel dumb acknowledging those feelings. They make me feel weak. So instead I get angry, because with anger I feel powerful.
- Talking with a British accent makes you sound way more intimidating. That way you can be nice and still scare the s**t out of people at the same time.
- Tearing down is easy, building up is hard. Only one actually makes you feel good about yourself.
- It's okay to yell "F***************************k!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" at the top of your lungs as long as you're not yelling it AT someone.
- The best way to figure out if you're really upset about something is to give it twenty-four hours. Then, if you actually ARE upset, you'll be able to express yourself much better.
- If you see someone who doesn't like you at a party or something, walk up to them and say "Hi, how are you?" Sometimes it turns out they actually do like you, or they just thought you didn't like them. Either way, it never hurts to be the bigger person.
- Simply choosing not to respond to insanity? Priceless.
Finally, I'd like to report that "Bless Your Heart" really is the best way to let someone know you'd like to see them get hit in the face with a paint can.
I guess I'm 50% nice as of now.
(All right, maybe a little less...but I'm getting there.)
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Day #49: The Friend of My Enemy
So here's a conundrum:
You're participating in a project where you're being nice for 100 days.
You're friends with two people.
One of them screws over the other.
Should you still be nice to the person who screwed over your friend? If you are nice, does that mean you're, in turn, not being nice to the person who was screwed over?
Difficult, right?
Well, I don't just throw around the word "conundrum" for nothing.
I decided the best route to take was just to stay out of it.
(Isn't that usually the best route? See? I'm learning.)
So I didn't say anything to the screwer, and of course, I got in trouble with the screw-ee.
SCREWEE: You went out to dinner with him?!?!
ME: No, a group of us went out to dinner. He was there.
SCREWEE: Funny that I wasn't invited.
ME: I did invite you!
SCREWEE: Well, obviously I wasn't going to go if he was there!
ME: It's not like I fed him cupcakes and stroked his cheek lovingly. He was just sitting at the same table as me!
SCREWEE: Were you mean to him?
ME: No, I can't be mean. Remember?
SCREWEE: Wow, you're such a great friend.
Click.
49 days ago, I should have moved into a bubble with a koala bear colony. This whole interacting-with-people-while-being-nice thing is getting hard.
FRIEND: I worked on a production of 'Mr. Koala's Magical Journey' once.
ME: I never heard of it.
FRIEND: I smelled like eucalyptus for months.
ME: Have you ever had to stay out of a fight between two friends?
FRIEND: I usually just encourage them to sleep with each other. Then they get over it.
ME: I'm not sure that'll work here. Actually, I'm not sure that should ever work.
FRIEND: Why don't you just let the person who was wrong know you feel they did the wrong thing.
ME: Because it just sounds like I'm King Solomon handing down a judgment.
FRIEND: You? Judgmental? You can't see it but I'm holding my hands over my mouth in a shocked manner.
ME: I'm hanging up now.
FRIEND: Let me get my fainting couch. I'm flummoxed here.
ME: Good-bye!
Boy, with friends like these...
I should stick to koala bears.
You're participating in a project where you're being nice for 100 days.
You're friends with two people.
One of them screws over the other.
Should you still be nice to the person who screwed over your friend? If you are nice, does that mean you're, in turn, not being nice to the person who was screwed over?
Difficult, right?
Well, I don't just throw around the word "conundrum" for nothing.
I decided the best route to take was just to stay out of it.
(Isn't that usually the best route? See? I'm learning.)
So I didn't say anything to the screwer, and of course, I got in trouble with the screw-ee.
SCREWEE: You went out to dinner with him?!?!
ME: No, a group of us went out to dinner. He was there.
SCREWEE: Funny that I wasn't invited.
ME: I did invite you!
SCREWEE: Well, obviously I wasn't going to go if he was there!
ME: It's not like I fed him cupcakes and stroked his cheek lovingly. He was just sitting at the same table as me!
SCREWEE: Were you mean to him?
ME: No, I can't be mean. Remember?
SCREWEE: Wow, you're such a great friend.
Click.
49 days ago, I should have moved into a bubble with a koala bear colony. This whole interacting-with-people-while-being-nice thing is getting hard.
FRIEND: I worked on a production of 'Mr. Koala's Magical Journey' once.
ME: I never heard of it.
FRIEND: I smelled like eucalyptus for months.
ME: Have you ever had to stay out of a fight between two friends?
FRIEND: I usually just encourage them to sleep with each other. Then they get over it.
ME: I'm not sure that'll work here. Actually, I'm not sure that should ever work.
FRIEND: Why don't you just let the person who was wrong know you feel they did the wrong thing.
ME: Because it just sounds like I'm King Solomon handing down a judgment.
FRIEND: You? Judgmental? You can't see it but I'm holding my hands over my mouth in a shocked manner.
ME: I'm hanging up now.
FRIEND: Let me get my fainting couch. I'm flummoxed here.
ME: Good-bye!
Boy, with friends like these...
I should stick to koala bears.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Day #48: The Non-Response
In one of the earlier posts on this blog, I asked what I should do when dealing with crazy people.
"Do you still have to be nice to crazy people?"
I was asking because I found that there were a few people in my life who were just completely incapable of handling the fact that I'm trying to exorcise negativity from my life.
Many people offered suggestions, but I ended up just taking the simplest approach.
I ignore the insanity.
Now, I take the approach that if someone brings gossip, foolishness, or any sort of junior high bulls**t to my door, I just don't open it.
At first, I thought maybe this was passive aggressive of me, but then I realized that by engaging in any sort of exchange with these people, all I was going to be doing was creating more theatrics and allowing them to disrespect what I'm trying to do.
I understand to some extent. Up until a few months ago, whenever I would get into a fight with someone, or there was awkwardness between us, I would hunt them down and nag them until the issue was resolved.
I refused to just let anything rest, and see if time could handle it.
It's fine to want to communicate and work things out, but some people just need distance at certain points, and I'm discovering I'm one of those people.
To give you an example of how bad I was:
A friend of mine had done a few shows together, and during the last show, a ton of petty little things happened between a large group of us, and we all just needed to take a break from each other.
I was the only one who didn't get that.
I mean, I knew that's what was needed, but I just didn't care.
I wouldn't have said that at the time, but looking back, I didn't care. It was about me wanting everything to be fine right away.
So I kept messaging people, e-mailing, calling, and pretty much driving everyone nuts until finally the friend I had messaged me letting me know he just needed a little time away from me and then everything would be fine.
An exchange occurred similar to the following--
ME: Just wanted to let you know I got your message. I'll back off for now.
FRIEND: Thanks. I appreciate it.
ME: Just wanted to make sure you know I'm here for you when you're ready for us to be friends again.
FRIEND: Thank you.
ME: Because you know I didn't start most of the problems that happened.
FRIEND: I'm aware. Thank you.
ME: Well good, I'm glad.
FRIEND: Me too.
ME: Also me lol but seriously, I'm glad.
After that, I sent six more messages letting him know I got the message.
Why?
Because I was determined to have the last word. To be the good guy. To be the "not crazy" one.
Why, instead, wasn't I determined to be the person who respects his friend's wishes?
Selfishness, and a bit of insanity.
Looking back, I understand that sometimes as much as you want to be nice, you can't give certain people an inch or they run a mile towards Crazy Town.
So now I just don't respond.
And I hope they get the message.
"Do you still have to be nice to crazy people?"
I was asking because I found that there were a few people in my life who were just completely incapable of handling the fact that I'm trying to exorcise negativity from my life.
Many people offered suggestions, but I ended up just taking the simplest approach.
I ignore the insanity.
Now, I take the approach that if someone brings gossip, foolishness, or any sort of junior high bulls**t to my door, I just don't open it.
At first, I thought maybe this was passive aggressive of me, but then I realized that by engaging in any sort of exchange with these people, all I was going to be doing was creating more theatrics and allowing them to disrespect what I'm trying to do.
I understand to some extent. Up until a few months ago, whenever I would get into a fight with someone, or there was awkwardness between us, I would hunt them down and nag them until the issue was resolved.
I refused to just let anything rest, and see if time could handle it.
It's fine to want to communicate and work things out, but some people just need distance at certain points, and I'm discovering I'm one of those people.
To give you an example of how bad I was:
A friend of mine had done a few shows together, and during the last show, a ton of petty little things happened between a large group of us, and we all just needed to take a break from each other.
I was the only one who didn't get that.
I mean, I knew that's what was needed, but I just didn't care.
I wouldn't have said that at the time, but looking back, I didn't care. It was about me wanting everything to be fine right away.
So I kept messaging people, e-mailing, calling, and pretty much driving everyone nuts until finally the friend I had messaged me letting me know he just needed a little time away from me and then everything would be fine.
An exchange occurred similar to the following--
ME: Just wanted to let you know I got your message. I'll back off for now.
FRIEND: Thanks. I appreciate it.
ME: Just wanted to make sure you know I'm here for you when you're ready for us to be friends again.
FRIEND: Thank you.
ME: Because you know I didn't start most of the problems that happened.
FRIEND: I'm aware. Thank you.
ME: Well good, I'm glad.
FRIEND: Me too.
ME: Also me lol but seriously, I'm glad.
After that, I sent six more messages letting him know I got the message.
Why?
Because I was determined to have the last word. To be the good guy. To be the "not crazy" one.
Why, instead, wasn't I determined to be the person who respects his friend's wishes?
Selfishness, and a bit of insanity.
Looking back, I understand that sometimes as much as you want to be nice, you can't give certain people an inch or they run a mile towards Crazy Town.
So now I just don't respond.
And I hope they get the message.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Day #47: Own the Word
Are you defined by who you like or who you don't like?
Think about that for a second.
What do your dislikes say about you?
I, for one, despise hypocrites.
That's not unusual--I don't really know anyone who likes hypocrites, but I REALLY don't like them.
But when I think about it, it's probably because I would say I'm hypocritical a lot of the time.
When you're involved with the arts, there's this subliminal message conveyed to you that it's okay to say one thing and do another, because you're an artist. You're allowed to be held to different standards.
In reality, I'm just a hypocrite.
I criticize someone for doing one thing in a show, then applaud it when someone else does it.
Hypocrisy.
I'm aware.
Part of this project has been dragging words out of my head and owning up to them.
Hypocrisy.
Pettiness.
Nastiness.
It's a little bit like standing naked in front of a crowd.
FRIEND: Been there, done that.
ME: I don't mean actually--you know what, never mind.
FRIEND: So what else do you not like?
ME: I dislike tomatoes.
FRIEND: So you're a tomato?
ME: No, I'm Broccoli.
FRIEND: I won't even justify that with a response.
I wonder what other words are still floating around in my head.
Fifty-three more days to find out...
Think about that for a second.
What do your dislikes say about you?
I, for one, despise hypocrites.
That's not unusual--I don't really know anyone who likes hypocrites, but I REALLY don't like them.
But when I think about it, it's probably because I would say I'm hypocritical a lot of the time.
When you're involved with the arts, there's this subliminal message conveyed to you that it's okay to say one thing and do another, because you're an artist. You're allowed to be held to different standards.
In reality, I'm just a hypocrite.
I criticize someone for doing one thing in a show, then applaud it when someone else does it.
Hypocrisy.
I'm aware.
Part of this project has been dragging words out of my head and owning up to them.
Hypocrisy.
Pettiness.
Nastiness.
It's a little bit like standing naked in front of a crowd.
FRIEND: Been there, done that.
ME: I don't mean actually--you know what, never mind.
FRIEND: So what else do you not like?
ME: I dislike tomatoes.
FRIEND: So you're a tomato?
ME: No, I'm Broccoli.
FRIEND: I won't even justify that with a response.
I wonder what other words are still floating around in my head.
Fifty-three more days to find out...
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Day #46: Just Don't Let It Stick
I have a problem with compliments.
A major problem with compliments.
Some of the people close to me already know this, but I was raised to believe that whenever anybody says anything to you stronger than "you did a good job" they're kissing your ass and you should back away from them slowly.
Now, I realize that isn't always true, but one thing I DO know to be true is that it's a short distance from humility to arrogance.
When I was in school, I saw people leap from one to the other after just one lead role.
So I do tend to take compliments poorly. Most of the time I just say 'thank you' and then disappear.
I'm sure it looks rude, and I've wanted to do something about it as part of this project.
One of the tactics I've tried is conversing rather than just being complimented.
I'll say--"Oh, you liked the show? Thank you. What did you think of--? I was a little unsure about that." or "Was there anything I could have done better?"
That tends to turn the compliments into constructive thought, and THAT I can take.
FRIEND: Just so we're clear, I never say nice things about you.
ME: And I appreciate it.
FRIEND: It's weird to shower your friends with compliments. They're your friends.
ME: But you don't think it's weird to shower with friends?
FRIEND: Honey, that's an egg for another basket.
The best trick I have is to remember not to let the compliments stick. I process them, appreciate them, then let them go.
After all, if you hang onto all your old compliments, how are you ever going to get new ones?
A major problem with compliments.
Some of the people close to me already know this, but I was raised to believe that whenever anybody says anything to you stronger than "you did a good job" they're kissing your ass and you should back away from them slowly.
Now, I realize that isn't always true, but one thing I DO know to be true is that it's a short distance from humility to arrogance.
When I was in school, I saw people leap from one to the other after just one lead role.
So I do tend to take compliments poorly. Most of the time I just say 'thank you' and then disappear.
I'm sure it looks rude, and I've wanted to do something about it as part of this project.
One of the tactics I've tried is conversing rather than just being complimented.
I'll say--"Oh, you liked the show? Thank you. What did you think of--? I was a little unsure about that." or "Was there anything I could have done better?"
That tends to turn the compliments into constructive thought, and THAT I can take.
FRIEND: Just so we're clear, I never say nice things about you.
ME: And I appreciate it.
FRIEND: It's weird to shower your friends with compliments. They're your friends.
ME: But you don't think it's weird to shower with friends?
FRIEND: Honey, that's an egg for another basket.
The best trick I have is to remember not to let the compliments stick. I process them, appreciate them, then let them go.
After all, if you hang onto all your old compliments, how are you ever going to get new ones?
Day #45: Another Person's Story
I've been working on a new solo show for awhile now entitled "The College Years."
(Yes, it's a throwback to Saved by the Bell's short-lived spin-off.)
The show was meant to be about my experience in college, and it included some...
Okay, I'll just come out and say it.
It included some trash-talking.
FRIEND: Well, that's not very nice, is it?
ME: You're just worried that you're in it, aren't you?
FRIEND: I've already texted my lawyers.
When I started this project, I went back and removed all the gossip-y stuff, but I found that although most of the stories end up making me look pretty bad, some other people don't exactly escape unscathed.
FRIEND: Then you can't do the show.
ME: But these are my experiences. And I'm being honest! I can't help it if my foolishness coincided with other people's foolishness.
FRIEND: That doesn't mean you have to turn it into a f**ked-up puppet show.
ME: Okay, first of all, how did you know about the puppets? Second of all, if I cut out everything that includes other people, I won't have a show, I'll just have a bunch of stories about me sitting in my room staring at a wall!
FRIEND: Now THAT sounds like your life story.
So what's the responsibility of a nice person when it comes to relaying events that happened in their life that might not make other people look all that great?
Is it enough to just tell the truth and say--
"Well, what happened happened?
Or, at the end of the day, is it still just dressed up gossip?
FRIEND: By the way, I want a producer credit on this.
Hmm, the show might not go on...
(Yes, it's a throwback to Saved by the Bell's short-lived spin-off.)
The show was meant to be about my experience in college, and it included some...
Okay, I'll just come out and say it.
It included some trash-talking.
FRIEND: Well, that's not very nice, is it?
ME: You're just worried that you're in it, aren't you?
FRIEND: I've already texted my lawyers.
When I started this project, I went back and removed all the gossip-y stuff, but I found that although most of the stories end up making me look pretty bad, some other people don't exactly escape unscathed.
FRIEND: Then you can't do the show.
ME: But these are my experiences. And I'm being honest! I can't help it if my foolishness coincided with other people's foolishness.
FRIEND: That doesn't mean you have to turn it into a f**ked-up puppet show.
ME: Okay, first of all, how did you know about the puppets? Second of all, if I cut out everything that includes other people, I won't have a show, I'll just have a bunch of stories about me sitting in my room staring at a wall!
FRIEND: Now THAT sounds like your life story.
So what's the responsibility of a nice person when it comes to relaying events that happened in their life that might not make other people look all that great?
Is it enough to just tell the truth and say--
"Well, what happened happened?
Or, at the end of the day, is it still just dressed up gossip?
FRIEND: By the way, I want a producer credit on this.
Hmm, the show might not go on...
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Day #44: Get Out of Your Head
There's a really interesting article in CNN about a woman with Cognitive Distortions. Without minimizing the issue, it deals with the voices in your head. The ones that take things too personally or make you feel terrible about yourself.
The title of the article really caught my eye--"I'm changing the voices in my head."
When I saw that, I realized that I haven't checked in with the voices in my own head for awhile.
At the beginning of this project, the majority of what I heard inside my head was negative. For the first few days, I found myself constantly catching negative thoughts and throwing them back at myself.
It became like wrestling with my own consciousness.
"See this?" I'd say "This is an awful thing to think!"
"Well, what the hell do you want me to do about it?" I'd fire back.
"Nothing, it just means you're a lousy person."
"Go f**k yourself!"
I wasn't getting anywhere.
So instead, I tried a new approach.
I twisted the thoughts around. I played the Pollyanna game.
For those of you unfamiliar with the fantastic Hayley Mills film, it's about a sunny little girl who transforms a Southern town by thinking positively.
(If it sounds hokey, it was a Disney movie. And back then, they knew how to make hokey work.)
My favorite moment of the movie is when everyone talks about how much they dislike Sundays. Someone challenges Pollyanna to find something good about Sundays, and she says--
"The good thing about Sundays is that they only come once a week."
Once I started playing the Pollyanna game, I found that I still had those negative thoughts every once in awhile, but at least now they don't linger for as long or have as much of an impact.
ME: Have you ever played that game?
FRIEND: Strip Candyland?
ME: No, the--Wait, what?
FRIEND: Personally, I wasn't into Pollyanna. Unless you're counting the fierce 80's remake with Mrs. Huxtable.
ME: You know, it wouldn't hurt for you to include a little more positive thinking in your own life.
FRIEND: I think nice things all the time! Cute boys are nice. Ponies are nice. This drink in my hand is nice.
ME: Which drink in which hand?
FRIEND: You bitch! ...Get out of my head.
Bingo.
The title of the article really caught my eye--"I'm changing the voices in my head."
When I saw that, I realized that I haven't checked in with the voices in my own head for awhile.
At the beginning of this project, the majority of what I heard inside my head was negative. For the first few days, I found myself constantly catching negative thoughts and throwing them back at myself.
It became like wrestling with my own consciousness.
"See this?" I'd say "This is an awful thing to think!"
"Well, what the hell do you want me to do about it?" I'd fire back.
"Nothing, it just means you're a lousy person."
"Go f**k yourself!"
I wasn't getting anywhere.
So instead, I tried a new approach.
I twisted the thoughts around. I played the Pollyanna game.
For those of you unfamiliar with the fantastic Hayley Mills film, it's about a sunny little girl who transforms a Southern town by thinking positively.
(If it sounds hokey, it was a Disney movie. And back then, they knew how to make hokey work.)
My favorite moment of the movie is when everyone talks about how much they dislike Sundays. Someone challenges Pollyanna to find something good about Sundays, and she says--
"The good thing about Sundays is that they only come once a week."
Once I started playing the Pollyanna game, I found that I still had those negative thoughts every once in awhile, but at least now they don't linger for as long or have as much of an impact.
ME: Have you ever played that game?
FRIEND: Strip Candyland?
ME: No, the--Wait, what?
FRIEND: Personally, I wasn't into Pollyanna. Unless you're counting the fierce 80's remake with Mrs. Huxtable.
ME: You know, it wouldn't hurt for you to include a little more positive thinking in your own life.
FRIEND: I think nice things all the time! Cute boys are nice. Ponies are nice. This drink in my hand is nice.
ME: Which drink in which hand?
FRIEND: You bitch! ...Get out of my head.
Bingo.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Day #43: My Great-Grandmother and the Shopgirl
My grandmother shared this story with me when I told her about my nice project.
It involves her mother, my great-grandmother, who died when I was three.
First, you have to understand that my great-grandmother has become a mythic figure in my family. She was the woman who made my mom go out and get a job while she offered t watch me because she didn't want my mother to be dependent on any man's income. She worked at a factory as soon as she was old enough to, and when she retired, they had to drag her out of the place like Norma Rae.
She was known to speak her mind and speak it loudly.
On top of all that, everyone says I was her favorite.
"I'm surprised she didn't build you a shrine,' my mother likes to say, 'Mothers love their kids. Grandmothers adore their grandkids. But your great-grandmother acted like you came down from a golden beam of light. It was something to see."
Every story involving my great-grandmother and her mixture of toughness and kindness is usually heavily exaggerated, but this is the one story where everyone seems to agree on the details.
One day my great-grandmother went into the food store where she normally shopped and noticed the shopgirl at the register on the verge of tears.
There was a line out the door. Everyone had some sort of problem. People were yelling and carrying on, and nobody seemed to care that this girl was about to suffer a nervous breakdown.
My grandmother was with my great-grandmother that day, and according to her--
"Your great-grandmother screamed 'EVERYBODY SHUT UP!' at the top of her lungs. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her, so you better believe they did. Then they all got out of her way so she could walk up to the register and talk to the shopgirl. She took her aside, they talked, and then the shopgirl walked right out of the store."
One of the men asked--"Where's she going?"
And my great-grandmother responded--"None of your business. Now what's your problem."
My great-grandmother, who had never worked in a store in her life, proceeded to spend the next hour working the register and dealing with the customers.
"When Mr. Williams, the owner, came out and saw your great-grandmother there, I thought he was going to explode. Before he could say anything, she said--'You work that girl too hard. She's got a lot going on at home and she gets no help here.'--Then she went right on checking people out. This was before credit cards and things like that so it wasn't exactly brain surgery. Mr. Williams went right back into his office and shut the door. That was that."
It turned out the shopgirl was a new mother and her husband had taken off. When she told my great-grandmother this, she told her to go home, eat, and get some rest. Then she went home and relayed the story to my great-grandfather when he asked where she had been when she was just supposed to be running to the store. My grandmother eavesdropped from her room and heard the whole thing.
"Your great-grandfather was used to her doing that sort of thing, and if he had a problem with it, she usually just slapped him upside the head and started cooking dinner."
My grandmother told me this story for a reason.
"Your great-grandmother believed that when someone's hungry, you feed them. When someone's in trouble, you help them. When someone's overwhelmed, you send them home and you work the cash register. She never once said 'It's not my problem.' She believed you help others and it'll come back around to you. When she died, she was eighty-seven, and the funeral was so packed people thought a celebrity had passed away. Being nice wasn't something she did once in awhile, it was her life. It was who she was."
Hopefully some of that trickled down to me.
Either way, it's a pretty damn good story.
It involves her mother, my great-grandmother, who died when I was three.
First, you have to understand that my great-grandmother has become a mythic figure in my family. She was the woman who made my mom go out and get a job while she offered t watch me because she didn't want my mother to be dependent on any man's income. She worked at a factory as soon as she was old enough to, and when she retired, they had to drag her out of the place like Norma Rae.
She was known to speak her mind and speak it loudly.
On top of all that, everyone says I was her favorite.
"I'm surprised she didn't build you a shrine,' my mother likes to say, 'Mothers love their kids. Grandmothers adore their grandkids. But your great-grandmother acted like you came down from a golden beam of light. It was something to see."
Every story involving my great-grandmother and her mixture of toughness and kindness is usually heavily exaggerated, but this is the one story where everyone seems to agree on the details.
One day my great-grandmother went into the food store where she normally shopped and noticed the shopgirl at the register on the verge of tears.
There was a line out the door. Everyone had some sort of problem. People were yelling and carrying on, and nobody seemed to care that this girl was about to suffer a nervous breakdown.
My grandmother was with my great-grandmother that day, and according to her--
"Your great-grandmother screamed 'EVERYBODY SHUT UP!' at the top of her lungs. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her, so you better believe they did. Then they all got out of her way so she could walk up to the register and talk to the shopgirl. She took her aside, they talked, and then the shopgirl walked right out of the store."
One of the men asked--"Where's she going?"
And my great-grandmother responded--"None of your business. Now what's your problem."
My great-grandmother, who had never worked in a store in her life, proceeded to spend the next hour working the register and dealing with the customers.
"When Mr. Williams, the owner, came out and saw your great-grandmother there, I thought he was going to explode. Before he could say anything, she said--'You work that girl too hard. She's got a lot going on at home and she gets no help here.'--Then she went right on checking people out. This was before credit cards and things like that so it wasn't exactly brain surgery. Mr. Williams went right back into his office and shut the door. That was that."
It turned out the shopgirl was a new mother and her husband had taken off. When she told my great-grandmother this, she told her to go home, eat, and get some rest. Then she went home and relayed the story to my great-grandfather when he asked where she had been when she was just supposed to be running to the store. My grandmother eavesdropped from her room and heard the whole thing.
"Your great-grandfather was used to her doing that sort of thing, and if he had a problem with it, she usually just slapped him upside the head and started cooking dinner."
My grandmother told me this story for a reason.
"Your great-grandmother believed that when someone's hungry, you feed them. When someone's in trouble, you help them. When someone's overwhelmed, you send them home and you work the cash register. She never once said 'It's not my problem.' She believed you help others and it'll come back around to you. When she died, she was eighty-seven, and the funeral was so packed people thought a celebrity had passed away. Being nice wasn't something she did once in awhile, it was her life. It was who she was."
Hopefully some of that trickled down to me.
Either way, it's a pretty damn good story.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Day #42: What We Should Remember
On September 11th, there are often a lot of messages regarding patriotism, the people who have passed away then and since, and the war on terror.
Unfortunately, one message never seems to come across--kindness.
The week after 9/11, the one thing I remember most is how kind everyone was.
We had all suffered this massive tragedy, and many people responded to it by opening themselves up to those around them. Stories came out of New York about strangers stopping each other on the street and asking "are you okay?"
I think it's a shame we don't remember that on 9/11 and make it a day of kindness in remembrance of those who were lost.
Instead, we've all grown a tough outer layer. I think as a result of knowing that we live in an unsafe world, we all hardened ourselves. That way, if there was another tragedy, we wouldn't feel as hurt and shocked.
There was an event going around on Facebook asking people to participate in a minute of silence in honor of those who died. I said I wasn't attending, because for me, silence isn't a way to honor those who've past.
For me, it's another example of doing nothing to living. I like to honor living by living.
Now people are trying to make September 11th a major holiday. I suppose this is so we can all sit at home one extra day a year and reflect.
I don't feel like that's the right message we should be sending.
What I remember about that day and the days that followed are moments like Mayor Giuliani appearing on SNL to say that New York was open for business. To me, that was incredibly moving--to say, we suffered through this and we're still going.
I wish we had kept that spirit of kindness and unity intact.
Instead, we did what we normally do--
Waited a year and then went back to tearing each other apart.
I'm posting this on my "nice" blog because it illustrates something I post about often--
Being nice is difficult. It truly is. It's a life adjustment, and it's even harder to do when you're often surrounded by cynicism and downright cruelty.
Still, we take a day every year to remember the past.
Why don't we try to take something from that awful day? Why didn't we all try to change for the better?
Wouldn't that be the ultimate tribute?
Unfortunately, one message never seems to come across--kindness.
The week after 9/11, the one thing I remember most is how kind everyone was.
We had all suffered this massive tragedy, and many people responded to it by opening themselves up to those around them. Stories came out of New York about strangers stopping each other on the street and asking "are you okay?"
I think it's a shame we don't remember that on 9/11 and make it a day of kindness in remembrance of those who were lost.
Instead, we've all grown a tough outer layer. I think as a result of knowing that we live in an unsafe world, we all hardened ourselves. That way, if there was another tragedy, we wouldn't feel as hurt and shocked.
There was an event going around on Facebook asking people to participate in a minute of silence in honor of those who died. I said I wasn't attending, because for me, silence isn't a way to honor those who've past.
For me, it's another example of doing nothing to living. I like to honor living by living.
Now people are trying to make September 11th a major holiday. I suppose this is so we can all sit at home one extra day a year and reflect.
I don't feel like that's the right message we should be sending.
What I remember about that day and the days that followed are moments like Mayor Giuliani appearing on SNL to say that New York was open for business. To me, that was incredibly moving--to say, we suffered through this and we're still going.
I wish we had kept that spirit of kindness and unity intact.
Instead, we did what we normally do--
Waited a year and then went back to tearing each other apart.
I'm posting this on my "nice" blog because it illustrates something I post about often--
Being nice is difficult. It truly is. It's a life adjustment, and it's even harder to do when you're often surrounded by cynicism and downright cruelty.
Still, we take a day every year to remember the past.
Why don't we try to take something from that awful day? Why didn't we all try to change for the better?
Wouldn't that be the ultimate tribute?
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Day #41: Mother's Love
Somehow I knew the biggest obstacle in my "nice" project was going to be not losing my temper with a certain person.
MOM: You're not eating enough.
Guess who?
MOM: Ryan, put on a new shirt.
My mother has a bad habit.
MOM: David, this is your mother. You were going too fast when you drove away from the house the other day. Slow down. And get a haircut.
She nags.
I decided that as part of my "nice" journey, perhaps I could get her to find a nicer way to try and improve our lives with her...unsolicited advice.
Her response?
MOM: This is your project. I'm a bitch. Now eat some more.
Of course I couldn't leave it at that.
RYAN: If you take this on, you're going to lose your temper.
ME: I'm almost halfway through the project. I think I know how to keep myself in check by now.
MOM: That shirt doesn't fit you.
ME: Actually Mom, it fits me fine.
MOM: It's too tight.
ME: Nooo, it fits. If it were bigger, it wouldn't fit.
MOM: It's tight.
ME: Tight means it fits.
MOM: Nooo, it means it's tight.
ME: Nooo, it means I refuse to look like M.C. Hammer.
RYAN: I can see the blood vessels starting to burst.
I had to remember to breathe.
ME: Mom, the nagging isn't helping.
MOM: Excuse me?
ME: The nagging. You nag. You have three boys--two of whom are legal adults--and you still talk to us as if we're going to do everything you say as soon as you say it and just because you say it.
RYAN: That's right. Remind her I'm the only one she has the right to control. Thanks.
My Mom smiled.
That means she's about to feed.
MOM: I nag because I'm your mother and I love you.
ME: You could say things nicely and still be our mother and love us.
MOM: But then you wouldn't listen.
ME: We don't listen now, so what's the difference?
MOM: The difference is I'm your mother. Not your friend.
ME: My friends aren't nice to me either!
Kidding, kidding!
MOM: I've been this way forever. This is just how I am.
ME: So you've decided that since you're in your late--
MOM: Mid!
ME: --Forties--you have decided that you're just set for life?
MOM: Pretty much.
ME: Wow, what a wonderful life lesson to teach your children. Make it to forty, then stop right where you are.
That was when my mother stormed off to her bedroom to look at photos of us as children back when we were all shorter than her.
So much for inspiring kindness.
RYAN: You could have solved that with one sentence.
ME: Oh yeah? What's the sentence?
RYAN: You're turning into Grandma.
Now why didn't I think of that?
MOM: You're not eating enough.
Guess who?
MOM: Ryan, put on a new shirt.
My mother has a bad habit.
MOM: David, this is your mother. You were going too fast when you drove away from the house the other day. Slow down. And get a haircut.
She nags.
I decided that as part of my "nice" journey, perhaps I could get her to find a nicer way to try and improve our lives with her...unsolicited advice.
Her response?
MOM: This is your project. I'm a bitch. Now eat some more.
Of course I couldn't leave it at that.
RYAN: If you take this on, you're going to lose your temper.
ME: I'm almost halfway through the project. I think I know how to keep myself in check by now.
MOM: That shirt doesn't fit you.
ME: Actually Mom, it fits me fine.
MOM: It's too tight.
ME: Nooo, it fits. If it were bigger, it wouldn't fit.
MOM: It's tight.
ME: Tight means it fits.
MOM: Nooo, it means it's tight.
ME: Nooo, it means I refuse to look like M.C. Hammer.
RYAN: I can see the blood vessels starting to burst.
I had to remember to breathe.
ME: Mom, the nagging isn't helping.
MOM: Excuse me?
ME: The nagging. You nag. You have three boys--two of whom are legal adults--and you still talk to us as if we're going to do everything you say as soon as you say it and just because you say it.
RYAN: That's right. Remind her I'm the only one she has the right to control. Thanks.
My Mom smiled.
That means she's about to feed.
MOM: I nag because I'm your mother and I love you.
ME: You could say things nicely and still be our mother and love us.
MOM: But then you wouldn't listen.
ME: We don't listen now, so what's the difference?
MOM: The difference is I'm your mother. Not your friend.
ME: My friends aren't nice to me either!
Kidding, kidding!
MOM: I've been this way forever. This is just how I am.
ME: So you've decided that since you're in your late--
MOM: Mid!
ME: --Forties--you have decided that you're just set for life?
MOM: Pretty much.
ME: Wow, what a wonderful life lesson to teach your children. Make it to forty, then stop right where you are.
That was when my mother stormed off to her bedroom to look at photos of us as children back when we were all shorter than her.
So much for inspiring kindness.
RYAN: You could have solved that with one sentence.
ME: Oh yeah? What's the sentence?
RYAN: You're turning into Grandma.
Now why didn't I think of that?
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Day #40: I'm Really Just Jealous
I have a saying--
Yup, that's right. My very own saying.
"Anger makes you dumb. Envy makes you smart."
What I mean by that is most of the time when we think we're angry, we're really just jealous.
When somebody hurts my feelings, I usually respond with "What the f**k were you thinking?"
I'm hurt.
I'm disappointed.
I'm offended.
Usually my response to these feelings isn't very intelligent, because I'm so hurt I can't formulate my thoughts.
When I'm envious on the other hand, my remarks are usually cutting and incredibly mean-spirited.
That's because when you're jealous, you're not really hurt. So you have plenty of time and emotional distance to come up with nasty comments.
I would say of everyone I know, my dad is the most jealous person I've ever met.
Considering I do theater and my dad doesn't, that's really saying something.
For the longest time, I just thought my dad was angry all the time. Then I realized it was envy.
And I realized that I probably inherited that sense of entitlement from him.
Why shouldn't I get whatever I want?
Why should other people be rewarded over me?
What about my acclaim?
Not exactly the questions you want swimming around in your head.
I remember seeing Tom Hanks on a talk show right when "American Beauty" came out. He was talking about how envious he was that he wasn't in the movie.
It was the first time I had ever heard anybody come right out and say--I'm pissed because I really wanted to be a part of that, but good for them anyway.
I've been thinking a lot about Mr. Hanks lately, because I think most of the time when I'm not being nice, it's because I'm being envious.
And what's the best way to cure envy?
'Fess up to it.
I find that when I come right out and say "I'm so jealous of you" it's a lot easier to then follow it up with "Congratulations."
I feel like envy relies on you not speaking of it, that's how it grows stronger.
Now when I cop to it, I can actually feel it deflate inside myself.
And I'm a lot nicer because of it.
Yup, that's right. My very own saying.
"Anger makes you dumb. Envy makes you smart."
What I mean by that is most of the time when we think we're angry, we're really just jealous.
When somebody hurts my feelings, I usually respond with "What the f**k were you thinking?"
I'm hurt.
I'm disappointed.
I'm offended.
Usually my response to these feelings isn't very intelligent, because I'm so hurt I can't formulate my thoughts.
When I'm envious on the other hand, my remarks are usually cutting and incredibly mean-spirited.
That's because when you're jealous, you're not really hurt. So you have plenty of time and emotional distance to come up with nasty comments.
I would say of everyone I know, my dad is the most jealous person I've ever met.
Considering I do theater and my dad doesn't, that's really saying something.
For the longest time, I just thought my dad was angry all the time. Then I realized it was envy.
And I realized that I probably inherited that sense of entitlement from him.
Why shouldn't I get whatever I want?
Why should other people be rewarded over me?
What about my acclaim?
Not exactly the questions you want swimming around in your head.
I remember seeing Tom Hanks on a talk show right when "American Beauty" came out. He was talking about how envious he was that he wasn't in the movie.
It was the first time I had ever heard anybody come right out and say--I'm pissed because I really wanted to be a part of that, but good for them anyway.
I've been thinking a lot about Mr. Hanks lately, because I think most of the time when I'm not being nice, it's because I'm being envious.
And what's the best way to cure envy?
'Fess up to it.
I find that when I come right out and say "I'm so jealous of you" it's a lot easier to then follow it up with "Congratulations."
I feel like envy relies on you not speaking of it, that's how it grows stronger.
Now when I cop to it, I can actually feel it deflate inside myself.
And I'm a lot nicer because of it.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Day #39: The Pillow Principle
When I was a kid, a teacher once told me that if I ever got mad at someone, I should go home and punch a pillow.
This is the first theory I ever remember recognizing as bullshit the second I heard it.
If someone got me angry, I didn't want to punch a pillow. I wanted to punch them. If anything, punching a pillow only made me angrier because nothing happened.
I remember realizing that the point was to drain the anger out of myself, when in reality, it just stirred it up.
Lately, having to bite my tongue when I want to say something nasty to someone in response to something they've said feels like the equivalent of punching the pillow.
Keeping it contained doesn't feel good, but I can't mouth off either or I'm in violation of my project.
So instead, I've decided to imagine what I would say to the person given the chance, write it down, and keep it in a steadily growing manila envelope.
Every once in awhile, I take out what I've written and marvel at how unbelievably ridiculous I can be sometimes. Lately, I've taken to writing down what my response was intended for, and it's amazing how often I blow things out of proportion.
Admittedly in the moment, writing down what I want to say still feels like punching the pillow, but it at least gets the words out of my head, and puts them somewhere where they can't hurt anybody's feelings.
Maybe when this is all over I'll burn the envelope and dance around the bonfire like Sandra Bullock and Betty White in The Proposal.
...Or maybe I'll just hang onto it.
If it gets any thicker, it's going to make a really nice pillow.
This is the first theory I ever remember recognizing as bullshit the second I heard it.
If someone got me angry, I didn't want to punch a pillow. I wanted to punch them. If anything, punching a pillow only made me angrier because nothing happened.
I remember realizing that the point was to drain the anger out of myself, when in reality, it just stirred it up.
Lately, having to bite my tongue when I want to say something nasty to someone in response to something they've said feels like the equivalent of punching the pillow.
Keeping it contained doesn't feel good, but I can't mouth off either or I'm in violation of my project.
So instead, I've decided to imagine what I would say to the person given the chance, write it down, and keep it in a steadily growing manila envelope.
Every once in awhile, I take out what I've written and marvel at how unbelievably ridiculous I can be sometimes. Lately, I've taken to writing down what my response was intended for, and it's amazing how often I blow things out of proportion.
Admittedly in the moment, writing down what I want to say still feels like punching the pillow, but it at least gets the words out of my head, and puts them somewhere where they can't hurt anybody's feelings.
Maybe when this is all over I'll burn the envelope and dance around the bonfire like Sandra Bullock and Betty White in The Proposal.
...Or maybe I'll just hang onto it.
If it gets any thicker, it's going to make a really nice pillow.
Day #38: My Therapists
When it comes to friends, everyone fulfills a need.
Trevor is the friend I call when I need to do a deep dissection of Buffy's sixth season.
Julienne is the friend I call when I need to hear a good story.
Andrew is the friend I call when I need to be told I'm acting like a fool.
Actually, almost all my friends are good for that last one.
Luckily for me, most of the people in my life are willing to play therapist.
I say 'luckily for me' because I'm not always sure it's lucky for them.
I try to spread out the bitching evenly throughout all of them, but some of them definitely hear more than their share.
My friend Leann has been woken up by me at 2am on many a night simply because I was still upset about something that had happened to me twelve hours earlier.
Sometimes my friend Fallon gets to hear me vent for fifteen minutes only to have me hang up immediately when I'm done because my break is over.
In other words, sometimes I can be a pretty lousy friend.
One of the things this project has done for me is to remind me that my friends are not there to be my therapists. Yes, they can be very therapeutic, and that's wonderful, but they have their own stuff to deal with, and if I'm not there for that, I can't ask them to be their for my nonsense.
Now of course, in a crisis, there might need to be more attention.
But let's be honest, how many disasters do all of us actually go through in a week?
When I was in college, I went through a phase where boys became more important than anything else. Now, I feel like theater has taken over that spot, and though it's definitely a more productive addiction, it certainly doesn't make it okay for me to demote my friends on the priority list.
So, I'm buying a planner and fitting friend time in--
--And not just fifteen minutes.
Trevor is the friend I call when I need to do a deep dissection of Buffy's sixth season.
Julienne is the friend I call when I need to hear a good story.
Andrew is the friend I call when I need to be told I'm acting like a fool.
Actually, almost all my friends are good for that last one.
Luckily for me, most of the people in my life are willing to play therapist.
I say 'luckily for me' because I'm not always sure it's lucky for them.
I try to spread out the bitching evenly throughout all of them, but some of them definitely hear more than their share.
My friend Leann has been woken up by me at 2am on many a night simply because I was still upset about something that had happened to me twelve hours earlier.
Sometimes my friend Fallon gets to hear me vent for fifteen minutes only to have me hang up immediately when I'm done because my break is over.
In other words, sometimes I can be a pretty lousy friend.
One of the things this project has done for me is to remind me that my friends are not there to be my therapists. Yes, they can be very therapeutic, and that's wonderful, but they have their own stuff to deal with, and if I'm not there for that, I can't ask them to be their for my nonsense.
Now of course, in a crisis, there might need to be more attention.
But let's be honest, how many disasters do all of us actually go through in a week?
When I was in college, I went through a phase where boys became more important than anything else. Now, I feel like theater has taken over that spot, and though it's definitely a more productive addiction, it certainly doesn't make it okay for me to demote my friends on the priority list.
So, I'm buying a planner and fitting friend time in--
--And not just fifteen minutes.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Day #37: The Grandma Smackdown
Leave it to my grandmother to put things in perspective.
GRANDMA: You're being a wimp.
And by put things in perspective, I mean, abuse me.
I thought I had found a way out of being nice in certain situations--basically, situations that deal with idiots.
It seemed to me that there was no reason why I should have to be nice to morons, even though my project is called the "nice" project. After all, kindness hardly benefits stupid people who terrorize my life with their ignorance, right?
GRANDMA: Wimp.
Grandma doesn't see it that way.
We were talking about the project, and when I told her my philosophy, she told me I was--
GRANDMA: --Full of crap.
Yup, that's my grandma.
GRANDMA: So you're only going to be nice to smart people? What's next? Only people who agree with everything you say and kiss your ass and think you're wonderful all the time?
ME: At least then I wouldn't have to be nice to family.
GRANDMA: This was supposed to be a challenge, right?
ME: Right.
GRANDMA: Then make it one. Find a way to be nice to the people who you don't want to be nice to. Nobody's saying you have to build them a house, but if you can't take five seconds--
ME: Sometimes hours--
GRANDMA: --Even five hours to show another human being a little kindness, then I didn't raise you right!
ME: Grandma, Mom raised me.
GRANDMA: Hmph, if you want to call it that.
ME: Oh God...
GRANDMA: I don't remember your mother taking you to Atlantic City for your sixteenth birthday.
ME: Yes, she also didn't teach me to play craps when I was still underage.
GRANDMA: Who can keep track of those age limits anyway?
My grandma was right--she usually is, except when it comes to cheating at Bingo.
GRANDMA: Can I help it that the numbers are all fuzzy on my card?
ME: You write them in after the numbers are called!
GRANDMA: I'm old! I get bewildered!
I guess I can't my have stupid clause anymore.
Time to start gritting my teeth again.
GRANDMA: You're being a wimp.
And by put things in perspective, I mean, abuse me.
I thought I had found a way out of being nice in certain situations--basically, situations that deal with idiots.
It seemed to me that there was no reason why I should have to be nice to morons, even though my project is called the "nice" project. After all, kindness hardly benefits stupid people who terrorize my life with their ignorance, right?
GRANDMA: Wimp.
Grandma doesn't see it that way.
We were talking about the project, and when I told her my philosophy, she told me I was--
GRANDMA: --Full of crap.
Yup, that's my grandma.
GRANDMA: So you're only going to be nice to smart people? What's next? Only people who agree with everything you say and kiss your ass and think you're wonderful all the time?
ME: At least then I wouldn't have to be nice to family.
GRANDMA: This was supposed to be a challenge, right?
ME: Right.
GRANDMA: Then make it one. Find a way to be nice to the people who you don't want to be nice to. Nobody's saying you have to build them a house, but if you can't take five seconds--
ME: Sometimes hours--
GRANDMA: --Even five hours to show another human being a little kindness, then I didn't raise you right!
ME: Grandma, Mom raised me.
GRANDMA: Hmph, if you want to call it that.
ME: Oh God...
GRANDMA: I don't remember your mother taking you to Atlantic City for your sixteenth birthday.
ME: Yes, she also didn't teach me to play craps when I was still underage.
GRANDMA: Who can keep track of those age limits anyway?
My grandma was right--she usually is, except when it comes to cheating at Bingo.
GRANDMA: Can I help it that the numbers are all fuzzy on my card?
ME: You write them in after the numbers are called!
GRANDMA: I'm old! I get bewildered!
I guess I can't my have stupid clause anymore.
Time to start gritting my teeth again.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Day #36: Let Them Complain
I recently saw a flyer for a program calling for the elimination of complaining.
No, I'm not making this up.
In fact, it gets better.
The organizers of this program want people to wear a bracelet on their hand, and every time you complain, they want you to switch the bracelet from one wrist to another.
They say if you do this for twenty-one days, you'll have broken the habit of complaining.
This project obviously made me draw parallels to my nice project.
The difference is, I never vowed that I would stop complaining.
If anything, I think sometimes people--especially people in New England--can bond over complaining.
Yes, you shouldn't whine. Yes, you should keep things in perspective.
Yes, wearing a bracelet can be fun and make you look like you belong in a Bangles cover band.
But there's nothing wrong with telling a friend you had a hard day. It invites others to share what they're going through with you.
Sometimes I have friends who call and ask if they can vent, and I tell them that part of me being their friend is them not even having to ask that.
They're not complaining, they're communicating what's bothering them.
I know we can probably all cut down on complaining, but it does serve a function.
So for now, I'll pass on the bracelet.
No, I'm not making this up.
In fact, it gets better.
The organizers of this program want people to wear a bracelet on their hand, and every time you complain, they want you to switch the bracelet from one wrist to another.
They say if you do this for twenty-one days, you'll have broken the habit of complaining.
This project obviously made me draw parallels to my nice project.
The difference is, I never vowed that I would stop complaining.
If anything, I think sometimes people--especially people in New England--can bond over complaining.
Yes, you shouldn't whine. Yes, you should keep things in perspective.
Yes, wearing a bracelet can be fun and make you look like you belong in a Bangles cover band.
But there's nothing wrong with telling a friend you had a hard day. It invites others to share what they're going through with you.
Sometimes I have friends who call and ask if they can vent, and I tell them that part of me being their friend is them not even having to ask that.
They're not complaining, they're communicating what's bothering them.
I know we can probably all cut down on complaining, but it does serve a function.
So for now, I'll pass on the bracelet.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Day #35: When You Say Hello
I'm guilty of doing the theater hello.
"Hiiiiiiiii, good to seeeeee you."
I'm not sure when you learn to do it, but somehow nearly everyone that does theater does.
It's not so much that we're fake, but the theater hello definitely sounds fake.
I think it's just a general greeting most of us developed so that we could say hi to a lot of people quickly and kindly without getting into long conversations thereby causing us to miss saying hello to other people.
...Or maybe some of us are just being fake.
I know when I do the theater hello, I sound beyond fake. I sound like Emily Post if she were a muppet.
So today I decided--no more theater hello.
But that meant I needed a new hello.
FRIEND: So what did you come up with?
ME: Well, I always liked that Bill Cosby's son used to greet people by saying "Hello Friend."
FRIEND: No way can you make that work.
ME: Yeah, I realized that. I sound like I'm going to offer candy from my van every time I say it.
FRIEND: So then what?
ME: Glad we meet again.
FRIEND: And?
ME: I sound like Captain Kirk.
FRIEND: Shatner or Pine?
ME: I'm not even going to dignify that with a response.
I figured out it isn't what you say, it's the way you say it.
Today I remembered to take that extra second saying hello to people, look them in the eye, and smile.
In other words, you'll get to everyone eventually, but in the meantime, be present with the person you're talking to so they feel like you're actually investing in them.
Oh, and add a 'really.'
"It's really good to see you."
That way they know you mean it.
"Hiiiiiiiii, good to seeeeee you."
I'm not sure when you learn to do it, but somehow nearly everyone that does theater does.
It's not so much that we're fake, but the theater hello definitely sounds fake.
I think it's just a general greeting most of us developed so that we could say hi to a lot of people quickly and kindly without getting into long conversations thereby causing us to miss saying hello to other people.
...Or maybe some of us are just being fake.
I know when I do the theater hello, I sound beyond fake. I sound like Emily Post if she were a muppet.
So today I decided--no more theater hello.
But that meant I needed a new hello.
FRIEND: So what did you come up with?
ME: Well, I always liked that Bill Cosby's son used to greet people by saying "Hello Friend."
FRIEND: No way can you make that work.
ME: Yeah, I realized that. I sound like I'm going to offer candy from my van every time I say it.
FRIEND: So then what?
ME: Glad we meet again.
FRIEND: And?
ME: I sound like Captain Kirk.
FRIEND: Shatner or Pine?
ME: I'm not even going to dignify that with a response.
I figured out it isn't what you say, it's the way you say it.
Today I remembered to take that extra second saying hello to people, look them in the eye, and smile.
In other words, you'll get to everyone eventually, but in the meantime, be present with the person you're talking to so they feel like you're actually investing in them.
Oh, and add a 'really.'
"It's really good to see you."
That way they know you mean it.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Day #34: The People That Count
Doing theater teaches you something.
It teaches you never to put a live lemur in your show regardless of how cute it is.
It also teaches you about counting people.
No, not people who count--like the Count, but rather, the value of people.
It's so easy when you have a small audience to feel downtrodden. I've performed in front of two people, and it's usually a big downer. You rehearse and rehearse for something, and when you're proud of it, you want it to be seen by millions.
Then four people show up.
So what do you do?
You treat those four people like four million people.
In the words of my idol, Miss Tina Turner--"They paid for the ticket, so you give 'em the full show."
Tina's lesson is a great lesson for the theater, but it's also a great life lesson.
The people that show up are the people that count, and you're doing those people a disservice by fretting over all the people who didn't show up.
I've always done that--not so much in theater, but in life.
I looked around and wondered who wasn't there. The first list I look at on a Facebook event I've created is the "Not Attending" list to see who I can get mad at.
What's the point in that?
Why not be glad there are wonderful, supportive people who love and appreciate me and forget about all the others?
It's sort of the social form of forbidden fruit.
We believe the parties we throw are so much better if the people who don't like us show up.
Does that make any sense?
Sadly, I think it does.
We forget to count the people that are there.
I always say that more than anything what we need from each other is presence. Someone needs to actually be there. The dangerous think about the age of disconnect and technology is that the value of presence is going down, down, down and nobody seems to notice.
Well, I'm going to notice.
I'm going to love the people that show up, and feel bad for the people who missed out.
But no animosity, only appreciation.
That's kindness that benefits everybody.
Hey, maybe I'm getting the hang of this nice project after all...
It teaches you never to put a live lemur in your show regardless of how cute it is.
It also teaches you about counting people.
No, not people who count--like the Count, but rather, the value of people.
It's so easy when you have a small audience to feel downtrodden. I've performed in front of two people, and it's usually a big downer. You rehearse and rehearse for something, and when you're proud of it, you want it to be seen by millions.
Then four people show up.
So what do you do?
You treat those four people like four million people.
In the words of my idol, Miss Tina Turner--"They paid for the ticket, so you give 'em the full show."
Tina's lesson is a great lesson for the theater, but it's also a great life lesson.
The people that show up are the people that count, and you're doing those people a disservice by fretting over all the people who didn't show up.
I've always done that--not so much in theater, but in life.
I looked around and wondered who wasn't there. The first list I look at on a Facebook event I've created is the "Not Attending" list to see who I can get mad at.
What's the point in that?
Why not be glad there are wonderful, supportive people who love and appreciate me and forget about all the others?
It's sort of the social form of forbidden fruit.
We believe the parties we throw are so much better if the people who don't like us show up.
Does that make any sense?
Sadly, I think it does.
We forget to count the people that are there.
I always say that more than anything what we need from each other is presence. Someone needs to actually be there. The dangerous think about the age of disconnect and technology is that the value of presence is going down, down, down and nobody seems to notice.
Well, I'm going to notice.
I'm going to love the people that show up, and feel bad for the people who missed out.
But no animosity, only appreciation.
That's kindness that benefits everybody.
Hey, maybe I'm getting the hang of this nice project after all...
Friday, September 3, 2010
Day #33: And Sometimes It's Easy
It's easy with kids
Especially fat babies
But all kids, really
Even loud, screaming, throwing-things kids
Because kids are kids
They give out love unconditionally
Imagine a life without conditions?
That would be amazing
It's easy with animals
It's easy with fat pugs especially
But all animals, really
It's easy with cats because they want to trust you first
And you can respect that
It's easy with dogs because they trust you immediately
And you adore that
It's easy because they're like eternal children
They depend on you forever
And you're glad they do
Because they make you feel like
You're capable of being nice to another living creature forever
It's easy with my mom...sometimes
It's easy with my grandmother always
It's easy with my brothers because I can be nice
And still tackle them to the ground
While keeping them in a chokehold
I can do this and still be the good big brother
It's expected of me
It's not unkind
I'm still being nice
It's easy when I'm doing theater
When I'm with people who love what I love
When I hear people speaking words I've written
When I'm sharing life experiences with someone
So we can collaborate on a piece together
When that's happening
It's easy
It's easy when I perspective check myself
And remind myself
That on my worst day
Someone somewhere has it worse
And it's okay to say 'I'm sad'
And own it
And that I have to own it
To move on from it
And keep myself in the right frame of mind
When I hear a woman I know with cancer
Tell me it was a good day
Because she didn't throw up--not once
Then for me--it's easy
No, being nice isn't always easy
And as I said in my last post
Sometimes it downright sucks
Sometimes I just want to scream
And be a baby
Throw a temper tantrum
Make someone cry
But you know what?
All the times I've mentioned
Being nice
Is easy
But it's rewarding
Even when it's not
Especially fat babies
But all kids, really
Even loud, screaming, throwing-things kids
Because kids are kids
They give out love unconditionally
Imagine a life without conditions?
That would be amazing
It's easy with animals
It's easy with fat pugs especially
But all animals, really
It's easy with cats because they want to trust you first
And you can respect that
It's easy with dogs because they trust you immediately
And you adore that
It's easy because they're like eternal children
They depend on you forever
And you're glad they do
Because they make you feel like
You're capable of being nice to another living creature forever
It's easy with my mom...sometimes
It's easy with my grandmother always
It's easy with my brothers because I can be nice
And still tackle them to the ground
While keeping them in a chokehold
I can do this and still be the good big brother
It's expected of me
It's not unkind
I'm still being nice
It's easy when I'm doing theater
When I'm with people who love what I love
When I hear people speaking words I've written
When I'm sharing life experiences with someone
So we can collaborate on a piece together
When that's happening
It's easy
It's easy when I perspective check myself
And remind myself
That on my worst day
Someone somewhere has it worse
And it's okay to say 'I'm sad'
And own it
And that I have to own it
To move on from it
And keep myself in the right frame of mind
When I hear a woman I know with cancer
Tell me it was a good day
Because she didn't throw up--not once
Then for me--it's easy
No, being nice isn't always easy
And as I said in my last post
Sometimes it downright sucks
Sometimes I just want to scream
And be a baby
Throw a temper tantrum
Make someone cry
But you know what?
All the times I've mentioned
Being nice
Is easy
But it's rewarding
Even when it's not
Day #32: A Rose Garden
It's not easy.
This is my admission on Day #32.
Being nice is not easy
Not for me anyway
For others? Maybe.
Me? Not so much.
I thought if I did it enough eventually it would just become second nature, but it is still a huge struggle.
I still feel this overwhelming urge to mumble under my breath, say nasty things, make catty remarks, and above all, gossip.
I still find that my first response is anger, and anger comes with everything I previously mentioned.
I still hear the word "doormat" every time I respond to a conflict with extra communication and kindness. It doesn't matter what anyone says, that word is burned into my brain.
But you know what?
What would have been the point in doing a project that got easy after thirty days?
What would the rest of the blog posts been about?
Day #73: Holding the Door--A Philosophical Dilemma?
I don't think so.
The struggle is what makes it interesting--for you and me. More so for you, I'm sure. But that's fine.
Nobody promised me a rose garden.
One of the most inspiring things I ever heard in my life was the President of my high school at graduation tell my class that though he was proud of the straight-A students who excelled in every class, he was just as proud of the kids who struggled, fell down, failed, and still finished the journey.
It's true what the Hallmark cards say--the journey is what counts.
And sometimes it's hard, and sometimes it sucks.
And it's not easy.
But that's what makes the ending so much sweeter.
This is my admission on Day #32.
Being nice is not easy
Not for me anyway
For others? Maybe.
Me? Not so much.
I thought if I did it enough eventually it would just become second nature, but it is still a huge struggle.
I still feel this overwhelming urge to mumble under my breath, say nasty things, make catty remarks, and above all, gossip.
I still find that my first response is anger, and anger comes with everything I previously mentioned.
I still hear the word "doormat" every time I respond to a conflict with extra communication and kindness. It doesn't matter what anyone says, that word is burned into my brain.
But you know what?
What would have been the point in doing a project that got easy after thirty days?
What would the rest of the blog posts been about?
Day #73: Holding the Door--A Philosophical Dilemma?
I don't think so.
The struggle is what makes it interesting--for you and me. More so for you, I'm sure. But that's fine.
Nobody promised me a rose garden.
One of the most inspiring things I ever heard in my life was the President of my high school at graduation tell my class that though he was proud of the straight-A students who excelled in every class, he was just as proud of the kids who struggled, fell down, failed, and still finished the journey.
It's true what the Hallmark cards say--the journey is what counts.
And sometimes it's hard, and sometimes it sucks.
And it's not easy.
But that's what makes the ending so much sweeter.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Day #31: Why Do They Get to Do It?
The hardest part about being nice is probably similar to the hardest thing about going on a diet or quitting smoking.
You have to watch everyone else NOT give it up.
Lately, I've been seeing people be bitchy left and right--seeing it more clearly, you might say.
Probably because I'm not able to do it anymore.
But it's got me wondering--
Why do we allow so much of it in our lives?
I worked with an actor once who was known for being a total jerk, yet he kept getting cast in things, and when anyone would bring up his poor behavior, someone would say--
"Oh, but he's so talented."
And from the way they said it, you would think that his talent CAME FROM his poor behavior.
The worst word ever invented is 'diva,' because now it allows talented people to think they can get away with murder as long as they can save the day with a high note or a great performance.
It's not just in the arts either.
Difficult people are allowed to be difficult because they often surround themselves with people who put up with them.
But WHY do those people put up with them?
I've always been blessed to have friends who tell me when I'm out of line. I know they would stand by me through a lot, but they wouldn't keep being friends with me if I was a full-time jerk--and I wouldn't expect them to be.
Why do we tolerate so much bad behavior? Why do we protect people who behave so poorly?
How come everybody else can say nasty things about the Lohans but I can't because I forgot to make them part of my celebrity loophole?
The angst rages on.
You have to watch everyone else NOT give it up.
Lately, I've been seeing people be bitchy left and right--seeing it more clearly, you might say.
Probably because I'm not able to do it anymore.
But it's got me wondering--
Why do we allow so much of it in our lives?
I worked with an actor once who was known for being a total jerk, yet he kept getting cast in things, and when anyone would bring up his poor behavior, someone would say--
"Oh, but he's so talented."
And from the way they said it, you would think that his talent CAME FROM his poor behavior.
The worst word ever invented is 'diva,' because now it allows talented people to think they can get away with murder as long as they can save the day with a high note or a great performance.
It's not just in the arts either.
Difficult people are allowed to be difficult because they often surround themselves with people who put up with them.
But WHY do those people put up with them?
I've always been blessed to have friends who tell me when I'm out of line. I know they would stand by me through a lot, but they wouldn't keep being friends with me if I was a full-time jerk--and I wouldn't expect them to be.
Why do we tolerate so much bad behavior? Why do we protect people who behave so poorly?
How come everybody else can say nasty things about the Lohans but I can't because I forgot to make them part of my celebrity loophole?
The angst rages on.
Day #30: Forgiveness
They say when you forgive someone, you're really doing it for yourself, and not them.
They say this in case you really don't want to forgive the person you're forgiving.
But if you follow up telling someone you forgive them by saying--
"Just so you know, I'm only doing this because my therapist says it will set me free."
--Then it sort of defeats the purpose.
Let's face it: Forgiveness is meant to make a person who's wronged you feel better. It means you're over it, and yes, it does set you free, but it also sets the other person free.
Whenever I think of that, I imagine someone hating someone else so much that the two of you are in the ocean, and the only way to drown the person you hate is to go down with them.
Strangely enough there have been times in my life when I would have gladly gone down with the person I was mad at just to make sure they sunk too.
Isn't that...ridiculous?
The dangerous thing about being mad at someone is that logic is the first thing to go. You lose all sense of reason, because if we're being honest, there's nothing logical about anger.
Oh sure, if someone kidnaps your wife and ties her to a train track, it's understandable that you would be upset.
But most of us get upset for...well, let's face it...pretty dumb reasons.
Then we hold onto that anger far longer than we should. Most of the time we're only holding on so tight, because after we realize how stupid we're being, we'd rather continue being stupid than admit we're being stupid.
Does that make sense?
Probably not.
Anyway, I realized today that part of the Nice Project would have to be forgiveness.
But who do I need to forgive?
Ohhh, I have a few people.
But what does forgiveness entail?
The people I'm angry at would never know if I forgave them, and, truth be told, they wouldn't care.
So I forgave them, and felt nothing.
Even I could tell that was a cop-out.
I felt like I should forgive someone who would actually care that I was forgiving them.
I ended up going with the only person I still have unfinished business with as of now. An ex who ended on a very, very bad note.
Ever since the break-up, we've had this tension between us, because we both know we screwed up, and I think it was easier to just pretend as if neither of us did, and go on with our tension-filled post-relationship fake-friendship acquaintance.
Well, I put a stop that.
TEXT FROM ME: Hey
TEXT FROM HIM: Hey
TEXT FROM ME: You know all that stuff that happened between us? The bad stuff?
TEXT FROM HIM: ...Yeah?
TEXT FROM ME: It's fine.
TEXT FROM HIM: It's fine?
TEXT FROM ME: Yeah, it's fine.
TEXT FROM HIM: Okay.
Ten minutes later.
TEXT FROM HIM: That's cool.
TEXT FROM ME: Yeah, it is.
TEXT FROM HIM: You're fine with me too.
TEXT FROM ME: Excellent.
TEXT FROM HIM: Yup.
TEXT FROM ME: PS I didn't need to be fine with you, jerkass.
I didn't actually send that last one.
Every once in awhile the bitch still rears its ugly head.
Work in progress, right?
They say this in case you really don't want to forgive the person you're forgiving.
But if you follow up telling someone you forgive them by saying--
"Just so you know, I'm only doing this because my therapist says it will set me free."
--Then it sort of defeats the purpose.
Let's face it: Forgiveness is meant to make a person who's wronged you feel better. It means you're over it, and yes, it does set you free, but it also sets the other person free.
Whenever I think of that, I imagine someone hating someone else so much that the two of you are in the ocean, and the only way to drown the person you hate is to go down with them.
Strangely enough there have been times in my life when I would have gladly gone down with the person I was mad at just to make sure they sunk too.
Isn't that...ridiculous?
The dangerous thing about being mad at someone is that logic is the first thing to go. You lose all sense of reason, because if we're being honest, there's nothing logical about anger.
Oh sure, if someone kidnaps your wife and ties her to a train track, it's understandable that you would be upset.
But most of us get upset for...well, let's face it...pretty dumb reasons.
Then we hold onto that anger far longer than we should. Most of the time we're only holding on so tight, because after we realize how stupid we're being, we'd rather continue being stupid than admit we're being stupid.
Does that make sense?
Probably not.
Anyway, I realized today that part of the Nice Project would have to be forgiveness.
But who do I need to forgive?
Ohhh, I have a few people.
But what does forgiveness entail?
The people I'm angry at would never know if I forgave them, and, truth be told, they wouldn't care.
So I forgave them, and felt nothing.
Even I could tell that was a cop-out.
I felt like I should forgive someone who would actually care that I was forgiving them.
I ended up going with the only person I still have unfinished business with as of now. An ex who ended on a very, very bad note.
Ever since the break-up, we've had this tension between us, because we both know we screwed up, and I think it was easier to just pretend as if neither of us did, and go on with our tension-filled post-relationship fake-friendship acquaintance.
Well, I put a stop that.
TEXT FROM ME: Hey
TEXT FROM HIM: Hey
TEXT FROM ME: You know all that stuff that happened between us? The bad stuff?
TEXT FROM HIM: ...Yeah?
TEXT FROM ME: It's fine.
TEXT FROM HIM: It's fine?
TEXT FROM ME: Yeah, it's fine.
TEXT FROM HIM: Okay.
Ten minutes later.
TEXT FROM HIM: That's cool.
TEXT FROM ME: Yeah, it is.
TEXT FROM HIM: You're fine with me too.
TEXT FROM ME: Excellent.
TEXT FROM HIM: Yup.
TEXT FROM ME: PS I didn't need to be fine with you, jerkass.
I didn't actually send that last one.
Every once in awhile the bitch still rears its ugly head.
Work in progress, right?
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Day #29: Do I Have to Be Nice to Crazy People?
Another day, another tricky question:
Do I have to be nice to crazy people?
Now, I'm not talking about the fun crazy people who wear a bread box for a hat and talk in accents for no reason.
Those people I love.
I'm talking about MEAN crazy people.
Often, I run into people who, at first, just seem to have a bad attitude. That I can deal with, because most of the time, it's like dealing with a polar bear. Just be nice, speak softly, and show that you mean them no harm.
Pretty soon, the attitude evaporates.
Mean crazy people are a little different. For one thing, the edge doesn't go away, and most of the time, the nicer you are to them, the meaner and crazier they become.
So what do you do?
Lately, I've been pulling the retail trick.
I smile while telling them there's no way they're getting what they want.
It infuriates them, but at the same time, they can't accuse you of doing anything to get them angrier.
Most of the time, it still ends with them screaming at you, but at that point, you go to your mantra--
"They're crazy. I'm not. They're crazy. I'm not. They're crazy. I'm not."
Maybe calling someone crazy isn't all that nice, but then again, you can't say calling a rabid koala bear a rabid koala bear isn't nice.
It ain't right, but it is what it is.
Do I have to be nice to crazy people?
Now, I'm not talking about the fun crazy people who wear a bread box for a hat and talk in accents for no reason.
Those people I love.
I'm talking about MEAN crazy people.
Often, I run into people who, at first, just seem to have a bad attitude. That I can deal with, because most of the time, it's like dealing with a polar bear. Just be nice, speak softly, and show that you mean them no harm.
Pretty soon, the attitude evaporates.
Mean crazy people are a little different. For one thing, the edge doesn't go away, and most of the time, the nicer you are to them, the meaner and crazier they become.
So what do you do?
Lately, I've been pulling the retail trick.
I smile while telling them there's no way they're getting what they want.
It infuriates them, but at the same time, they can't accuse you of doing anything to get them angrier.
Most of the time, it still ends with them screaming at you, but at that point, you go to your mantra--
"They're crazy. I'm not. They're crazy. I'm not. They're crazy. I'm not."
Maybe calling someone crazy isn't all that nice, but then again, you can't say calling a rabid koala bear a rabid koala bear isn't nice.
It ain't right, but it is what it is.
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