Category Archives: Moments

Personality and Shift

I worked a social event at work this week, which is pretty hilarious for a few reasons; the main one being that I am not exactly known for being a bubbly, welcoming hostess. I’ve always admired people who are always “on,” who put others at ease right away and at least appear to be genuinely friendly and considerate. It’s kind of the same way that I admire people who are able to speak intelligently or stay poised when they are faced with a challenge. I want to be like those people. I’m learning as I get older that it takes practice to become the person you want to be, in the same way that you have to do your homework if you want to be smarter and more knowledgeable about something.

But, back to the event. It’s hard for me to encourage people to mingle with others whom they don’t know, or to motivate them to play along with icebreakers. It’s hard because I myself am not a great mingler, and I kind of hate icebreakers. The icebreaker at this particular event was to choose an animal from a sheet of animal stickers and pick one that reflected your personality or that you identified with.

Most of the crowd played along. Some asked if there was more to it (there wasn’t). Some picked immediately (“I AM A LION.”); others put a lot of thought into the animal they chose. Some people rolled their eyes; I quietly told them just to pick one. Others thought it was a lot of fun. For the record, I picked the brown bear, mostly because the black bear just looked kind of creepy but also because the tiger seemed too Asian, I didn’t like the lion’s big mane, the frog was cute but not suitable, I didn’t like the zebra’s ears, I don’t look like a giraffe, a monkey seemed offensive, a fox might make it seem like I’m trying to imply that I’m sly or foxy and… anyway, I picked the brown bear. My rationale: I look cute and I like sweet things like honey, but I will probably attack you if you threaten me. People seemed to back away from me after I shared my rationale. I wonder why?

Using a very serious tone, I told one of the participants that he would be judged based on the animal he chose, so he needed to choose carefully. Thankfully, he was clever and had a sense of humor, so he laughed heartily and proceeded to mention this article from The Onion, published a week ago. Please go read it. It’ll take 3 minutes.

I’ll admit that I spend way too much time thinking about what people are thinking about me before I snap out of it and remember that everyone is too busy worrying about themselves. It’s not like I’m a Kardashian. I just need to make sure I’m cool with who I am, and I have to remember that I am a work in progress. I’m not Miss Congeniality, but I have still come a looooong way in terms of social skills. Just ask anyone who knew me when I was a little kid. Wow, I’m really making myself sound like a socially retarded person. I’m not. I don’t think I am… am I? Ahem. Anyway.

It’s a fact of life that things change, people change, our relationships and faith and dependencies change. It’s not always easy for people to accept that or even believe that. It’s kind of funny that I still find myself surprised by changes in my own life while at the same time being very uncomfortable when I observe how some people and things have NOT changed. Anyway, I’m not telling you anything earth-shattering. My point is that I feel a shift in my own life right now. My personal priorities are being shifted, my personal and professional relationships are evolving and re-shaping, my attention toward strangers and new acquaintances is heightened (no doubt a side effect of the social event), and my confidence is high in some areas, creeping up in others, and yet plummeting in some regards.

There is one thing about me that hasn’t changed and won’t ever change, though: I want people to like me and respect me. I care a lot about that. I would have to say that the feeling that someone dislikes me or disrespects me is the worst feeling ever. I don’t see any weakness in being amiable as long as I’m also genuine and truthful. It does require me to keep my mouth shut and avoid people sometimes, lest I tell them that they are dumb poo poo heads in a rage of honesty. Because, really, telling someone they are a poo poo head doesn’t do anyone any good. (What might do some good is telling someone that you think they are charming and smart and interesting and handsome… right? I need affirmation, people.)

In conclusion, here is my note to myself and to anyone who cares: Progress. Progress. Be smarter. Do your homework. Practice. And take the risk. Take it, before the opportunity is gone and then you will feel like a poo poo head dummy with regrets.

Impression

I have been thinking a lot lately about first impressions, approaching strangers, small but memorable moments. There are vivid moments throughout my life that I remember. They lasted a minute, maybe less, but I remember everything about them.

I remember one day in high school, after lunch, I was walking in a crowded hallway. I was on the ground floor of the building, and I remember that I was wearing a skirt that day. I was a junior and he was a senior. We ended up walking next to each other. “Palpitate,” he said. I looked up at him; he was tall. “Palpitate. What does that mean? Our hearts can palpitate. Right?” He looked at me. We continued to walk side by side. “I think so,” I replied. He smiled. “Thanks,” he said, and then we parted ways.

I was on a plane with my Mom, flying back home from one of my music competitions. I was in the window seat, my Mom in the middle, and a man to her left, in the aisle seat. We got our drinks and our lunch. (Wow, remember when you would get lunch on a plane for free?) The box contained a sandwich and potato chips. The man handed the chips to my Mom. He had on headphones and he was reading a book. My Mom handed the chips to me. I looked at the man to thank him. He smiled and pointed at his book: The New Sugar Busters. I was happy to have an extra bag of chips.

I was young, maybe 10 or 11, walking back home from my Grandma’s house. It was summertime. My neighbor from across the street came out of his house and met me on the sidewalk in front of my house. He was skinny, wearing jeans and a white short sleeve undershirt. “Here you go, sweetie,” he said as he put a long cowry shell necklace around my neck. He had never really spoken to me before. I said, “Thank you.” He nodded and went back into his house. He passed away some months later. Cancer. I still have the necklace. It’s hanging on the mirror in my bedroom. I like to think that he would keep an eye on me during those summers that I was home alone.

Small moments. Lasting impressions. I can only dream that someone remembers a moment they shared with me, and that the memory brings a smile to their face.

Frosty the Poo Poo Man

My nieces (ages 6 and almost 3) are silly geese. Take, for example, their edit of a popular lyric from Frosty, the Snowman:

Thumpety poo poo, thumpety poo poo
Look at diarrhea go!
Thumpety poo p0o, thumpety poo poo
Over the hills of diarrheaaaaaaaaahhh!!

May your holidays be merry!

How to be nice

Scenario: You are at the airport security checkpoint. The person in line ahead of you forgot her car keys.

How to be rude:
1. Find lady.
2. Say loudly and with attitude, “You forgot your keys. Didn’t you notice? You better go back and get it!”

How to be nice:
1. Find lady.
2. Say, “Excuse me,” and tap her gently on shoulder if necessary. Keep in mind that some people don’t like to be touched so use your best judgement.
3. Say nicely, “You left your keys back there!”

How would you prefer to be approached if you had left your keys at security?

Swing Dancing and Kindred Spirits

As you may or may not already know, I was forced persuaded to take a swing dancing class when I visited uberfriend Janesse in Toronto over the summer. I was nervous about it for a handful of reasons: I’m an awful dancer, I was in a strange town, it was hot and humid, and I had no idea what to expect. Oh, and did I mention that I’m an awful dancer?

Janesse was gracious enough to say she would learn as a leader so that I wouldn’t be paired with a stranger. That blew up in our faces pretty quickly when it became clear that we would be rotating partners. How fun! Not only would I get to dance with a stranger, I would get to dance with ALL of the strangers!

The strangers came in many different varieties. Young, old, short, tall, different races and accents. They varied in dance experience. Some were very serious, others very carefree. One was a serious spaz—-I was selfishly grateful to dance with him. Anyway, what began as a simple intro to Swing Dancing turned into an interesting study of varying personalities in an instructive setting for an activity that requires partnership.

First, let’s talk about me: the girl who has a tendency to avoid situations like this, who worries about being a laughingstock when trying something new, who lets frustration get the best of her, who vows before she even begins something that she will not have a good time. Gosh, I guess (or hope) that that’s the old version of me. It must be, because I promised myself to try my best, connect with others in the class, laugh off my mistakes while working to correct them, and to have fun no matter what. I remained open, much like I did when I took that skiing class last New Years Eve: maybe taking this beginners class would unlock a natural talent that I hadn’t discovered yet. (I can officially report that I am neither a naturally gifted swing dancer nor skiier.)

Now, onto the guys in the class. Allow me to put them into three buckets:

  • Strictly (Serious) Ballroom!
  • Are You There, Dude? It’s Me, Melissa.
  • You Make Me Feel Like A Natural… Dancer

The Strictly (Serious) Ballroom! guys are exactly what you would expect. No smiles. Ready with a towel to wipe the sweat off their faces. No exchanging of pleasantries. This was clearly not their first dance class. But, it was my first dance class. So, imagine my disappointment when I missed a step—-with my second partner of the night (and we rotated about every two minutes)—-and was scolded for it. “You’re supposed to step on 4, not 5!” Geez, grandpa, excuse me for living! Another guy tried to physically force me into being in the correct position. What jackasses! It was a relief when I got to dance with…

…Are You There, Dude? It’s Me, Melissa. Most of the guys were polite. They would introduce themselves, ask how I was doing, wouldn’t give me a hard time if I messed up. They just went through the motions until our moment of dancing together was over. They were there and they were dancing. They were kind and forgiving. They just didn’t seem to be having any fun. They were probably dragged their by their girlfriends or whomever.

Finally, my favorite guys in the class: You Make Me Feel Like A Natural… Dancer! What separates this group of guys from the previous group is that they danced with a smile on their face, whether they were good at it or not. When one of us (usually me) would mess up, we would laugh and keep on dancing until we got back on track. They would change up the dance moves. They came up with creative ways to help me correct my mistakes. And they would thank me for dancing with them. How nice! The best thing about this group: they made eye contact. You guys! Eye contact! There were a lot of other people in the room, probably someone else that they had come to the class with. But when we were paired together, it was about ME. Sure, eye contact can be creepy, but in a setting like this, when everyone is (supposedly) a beginner who is there to have some fun, and your success depends on both your skill/attitude and that of your partner’s, eye contact is so important. Keep that in mind, fellas.

What’s my point here? Oh, yes. I was thinking about this dance class and how I got to get a glimpse into several strangers’ personalities simply by dancing with them for a short moment. Furthermore, I got some insight on myself. I don’t ever want to be around those strict guys ever again. I don’t particularly care about the guys who didn’t particularly care about getting to know me. But I would love to hang out with the guys with whom I found myself having a genuinely good time. Applied to everyday life, it makes sense. I want to be around people who want to be around me, who motivate me to be better, who make me smile. And I want to be that person for my friends. Even if the moments are few and far between, I know after making that connection with someone that I have found a kindred spirit.

I feel like the past couple of years have been an exercise in opening myself to people with whom I never thought I could be friends. I have done things that I never imagined I would do. It all comes down to a single idea: Seize the opportunity to become a smarter, more creative, and more interesting person. And, while I already knew this before the swing dancing class, this add-on to the idea was enforced: Surround yourself with people who want you to be smarter, more creative, and more interesting. Just don’t forget to be that person for your friends.

My Little Hero

I won’t pretend that finding motivation is easy. It’s not sexy to admit that I default to lazy mode, I procrastinate, I say I’m efficient when I put in the least amount of time and effort needed to complete a task. I always feel better when I push myself to be better. But I need that motivation.

Today, I found a great motivator in my niece, Jocelyn. She’s five years old and currently in kindergarten. Times have definitely changed since I was in kindergarten: she has a full day of classes and homework everyday. When Jocelyn gets home from school, she is eager to get started on her homework. I usually help her if I’m around. Her homework involved numbers today. There were some problems that were challenging for her, and while I tried my best to explain things to her, we both knew it was a hard concept for her to grasp.

I was relieved when we were finished with the work, and happy that we got through it without me having to give her the answers to problems that were challenging. I casually mentioned that it might be good to do some more problems, for practice. She was thrilled at the idea. So we had a snack and then got right back to work.

She could have given up. She could have begged for the answers. She could have cried, sulked, had a meltdown, or told me that I was being mean (all things that have happened during previous homework sessions). Instead, she took her time and kept at it, tried to think the problems through and avoided guessing random numbers, and actually wanted to do some more hard problems so that she could learn.

She’s five. Who knows how long she’ll be this way? I’m happy that she’s motivated to be smarter, though. I’m glad that she tries, that she wants to understand, and that she is willing to put her vulnerabilities on the table instead of pretending she knows what’s going on.

I see my niece do amazing things, and I like to think that I have gifted her with some of my better qualities. Nothing beats learning from her, though. She is my little hero.

Best Moment Christmas 2009

Jocie and her new camera

Oh. My. God. I needed this!!!

If only everyone had that reaction when they opened a present!

My 4-year-old niece loves taking pictures. She’s gotten some practice with regular digital cameras and my cell phone. When it came time to shop for Christmas presents, I knew right away that I wanted to get her her own camera.

My friend Maria (supermom and kiddie product guru) recommended the VTech Kidizoom Plus (pink version, of course). After doing about two minutes of research, I knew it was the camera for my niece.

I’m so happy that she loves the present I gave her. I hope she takes a lot of pictures with it. I’ll look out for interesting ones and post them!