Friday, November 21, 2008

Terms of Endearment

These are equally as interesting as nicknames. Where do they come from? "Honey" and "sweetie" make sense, as both things are sweet and sweet things are pleasant to the palate. Still, it's funny how we base terms of endearment on sugar and the physical sensation of taste. Sure, we taste each other when we kiss, but if that were the only criterion on which we based our little pet names, we'd call each other "orange juice" and "hamburger" and "beer breath," too, wouldn't we? I mean, we don't always taste like honey or other sweet things. Where the hell did "pumpkin" come from? I mean, it's cute, but still, what's it mean? "I love you, pumpkin." Translation: "I love you, round orange vegetable" ? Not exactly number 1 on the list of most flattering things to be called. Now "pumpkin pie" tastes good, but we don't call each other that, do we? We call each other "cutie-pie," though. How is a pie cute? If it's small. So, basically, a nice way of saying "small-pie," or a delicious treat that won't make you gain too much weight. As opposed to "large pie" or "heavy pie" or "thick pie," all of which are tasty but you may regret eating a whole one. So where the hell does pumpkin come from? Why not apple? It's smaller, which is almost always something women want to be, it's sweeter than a pumpkin and it also makes a delicious pie! It's generally been my experience that apple pie is actually more popular than pumpkin. But I have never heard "apple" used as a term of endearment. I believe a celebrity whose name escapes me named his/her daughter "apple," but that's another story.

Nicknames

What's the deal with nicknames? They're funny, aren't they? Especially certain ones. How did "Chazz" become a nickname for Charles? How did "Chuck" become a nickname for Charles? Charley's the only real nickname I understand for Charles. Is it because Chazz rhymes with jazz and jazz is seen as smooth and cool? Maybe. Chuck I just don't get. Why would someone nickname someone else after a type of beef? I mean, I have a friend we call "Beef" but that's because it comes directly from his last name. But Chuck? Sure, it sounds manly, but is that only because of Chuck Norris? If not for him, would people laugh at the name Chuck as being silly? I doubt anyone would dare tell Chuck Norris it's silly, for fear of being fatally roundhouse-kicked in the cranium. I guess he's the protector of that nickname. What about "Hank" for Henry? Really? How did that one spring up? I mean, the two things that come to mind when I hear "Hank" are "yank" and "hankie" (short for handkerchief). Neither of these is anything I would want to be associated with, especially a hankie, which is a nice name for "mucus collector that you shove in your pocket for repeated use."

Friday, November 14, 2008

Restroom Noise

What is the deal with people breathing heavily and grunting in the stall next to mine in restrooms? I mean, c'mon! Is that really necessary? I try to be considerate of others by remaining quiet so as not to draw my neighbor's attention to the fact that there is another person relieving himself right next door. We try not to think about that. Or at least I do! But some people make that very difficult! I mean, have you no shame, people? It's not your own bathroom. Do what you will in the privacy of your own home, but try to be quiet and courteous when you're in the presence of others. No one wants to know you're there, sitting on the toilet, doing your business! And I can assure you, no one wants to know that you're having trouble with it! That is the last thing I want to know. I hope some of you read this. You know who you are.

"Obsessive-compulsive" behaviors

I wonder when a behavior qualifies as "obsessive-compulsive." At what point does it stop being normal and become a disorder? According to readings I've done in my psychology classes, a behavior is not defined as being obsessive-compulsive unless it interferes with one's daily life. So it must be the type of thing somebody has to do a great number of times each day, because if it's only a few times, it really can't be said to be impairing one's functioning. My friend, for example, is convinced she has a little bit of OCD because she "has" to check the knobs on her gas stove at least three times every night before going to sleep. Even if they're clearly turned to the "off" position, she still has to touch them and make sure they're really off. What's more is that if anyone touches them after her, she has to touch them again--even if the knobs are still obviously in the off position. I tested this one night before leaving her house. She went through her routine, checking each of the four knobs three times. I then touched one, without turning it. She immediately complained, "Stop! Now I have to do it all over again." And she proceeded to check each one again. I touched the knob again. This time, she hit me, then checked and touched each knob again. It was pretty funny, because I know she doesn't have OCD. It doesn't significantly affect her life. She doesn't waste more than a few seconds a night on her paranoia that her eyes are deceiving her, the knobs are actually "on," and the house will soon blow up. I think if her behavior qualified as OCD, a lot more people would have this disorder. I myself engage in somewhat compulsive behaviors sometimes. I check the lock on the door to my house usually about three times a night, turning the deadbolt and trying to pull the door open with the latch (it's an old door and thus knobless) to make sure it's secure. But I wouldn't call this OCD. Because I don't spend much time doing it, unless you added up all the seconds, in which case over the course of a hundred years I might lose a day. Okay, I just calculated it. Four days over a hundred years. Approximately. If I spend ten extra seconds a night checking the door. It's worth it to me to feel safe, in today's world. Please feel free to comment and share your "compulsive" behaviors with me!

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Yet More Strange People

This has quickly become a favorite topic of mine. They just keep on coming! And this time, I wasn’t even in NYC, which is where you expect to see some oddballs. I was in Connecticut, not ten minutes from my house. I had stopped to get gas in the morning on my way to work. As I was walking in the door to the “Mart” to pay before pumping, I saw an older gentleman behind me, so I held the door for him. He looked at me happily and said, “Thanks! I’ll call ya tomorrow!”
I just smiled, wondering what this guy was talking about, and let him in the door. I couldn’t tell whether he was joking or serious. Maybe he thought I was someone else. It almost sounded as though he were finishing a conversation with someone else—except that there was no one else around him and he was looking right at me (and he didn’t have a bluetooth in, either). Anyway, we went in, and I decided I would let this guy go ahead of me in line (I try to stay out of the way of the oddballs), but he insisted on letting me go first. “Go ahead, I’ll let my grandmother serve you first,” he said. The cashier, to whom he was presumably referring (but who knows?), was definitely a good ten years younger than him, at least. She glanced at him and the look on her face said, “Oh, great. He’s back.” And I still couldn’t tell whether he was just a jokester or was legitimately confused about the circumstances of his location and the people around him. My first impression was that he was joking, but what an odd thing to say, even as a joke. Usually a jokester isn’t quite so random. But he was funny, I’ll give him that.
I think I attract these people. I think I have a sign that is invisible to me but clearly visible to them, saying, “Calling all weirdos! Dispense your ramblings here!” For some reason or other, they feel they can trust me, or relate to me, or that I’m one of them. I’ve got my quirks, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not quite in that league yet.

I know I’m not the only one to whom this happens. My former college roommate told me a story while we were living together. He was in the dining hall eating lunch and trying to read his engineering textbook. He was a very busy young man, being an engineer as well as an R.O.T.C. officer, so his time was very valuable to him. So there he was, sitting in the dining hall, engrossed in his text, when who should sit down across from him but a total stranger. “Hi, I’m a freshman; I’m trying to meet people.”
He stared at her in disbelief, looking around at all the empty tables in the area. There were a hundred other places she could have sat down. He had not anticipated this.
“Well, that’s nice, but I’m trying to read,” he said, attempting to be polite.
“What are you reading?” she asked.
“Engineering.”
“What’s the topic?”
He hastily spat out some words.
“Oh, that’s interesting. Tell me more.”
“Look, do you really understand any of this?” he asked. “Is it really going to benefit you to hear me talk about it?”
“Well, no, I’m just trying to meet people.” She introduced herself and extended her hand. He shook it reluctantly and introduced himself.
She stayed at the table and talked to him until she had finished her lunch. He got no reading done.
Back at the room, after he had related the story to me, he said angrily, as though speaking to her, “How dare you presume to think you have the right to steal my time! That’s bullshit!”
Then he asked me rhetorically, “Do I just attract these people? Do I give off something that says, ‘Come talk to me! I’m looking to chat’?”
I was laughing so hard I was crying. Personally, I rather enjoy talking to strangers and observing their idiosyncrasies, but I think if I had been trying to squeeze some reading into a packed-solid schedule, and someone came up to me wanting to meet new people and wouldn’t take the hint and leave, I’d probably be a little irritated, too.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Interesting Sign

I saw an interesting sign today in--where else?--New york City. I love that place, I really do. It's never dull there, ever. Anyway, there was this guy standing on the sidewalk holding a cardboard sign (as many do in NYC)--but his sign did not bear the usual "Homeless and hungry" message; instead, he had written, in big black letters: "NEED MONEY FOR BEER, DRUGS AND HOOKER. AT LEAST I'M NOT BULLSHITTIN' YOU." I kid you not, this is what the sign said. Now let's analyze this. First off, I'd like to start by saying I appreciate his honesty. It's refreshing to see some truthfulness (not that there aren't more honest homeless people. I know some are truly hungry and just want a meal, don't get me wrong). But what the hell does he expect to get from anyone? Is anybody really going to give that man money so he can further wreck his life?
When I told my mom about the incident, she brought up a point I had overlooked: It could all be a set-up. Think of all the times you've seen something like this on television--"Candid Camera" being the most popular example, probably. He was most likely observing other people's powers of observation: Do they really look at people and signs before they donate their dollar or do they just drop it in the cup without making eye contact? What a great idea this man had, I now realize. This guy I thought was a mere honest idiot could really be quite clever. And come to think of it, looking back, he really didn't look all that dirty or down-and-out. Not that you can always tell just from a person's appearance, but all I'm saying is I could believe him as a man with a home and enough money to get by who wanted to make a point-and a few dollars doing it. Look before you give your dollar away, people. See where it's going.