I Watch Sports, Therefore I Am

I would never try to rain on someone's parade in pursuing a hobby or interest. Take sports, for example. I'm a former high school athlete and can appreciate the many positive aspects of playing sports--exercise, camaraderie, cooperation or self-reliance, stress release, and fun of course (spandex almost made it on the list but we'll leave it off for now).

Now, there is also the "hobby" of watching sports. I feel that it's more appropriate to call this a "pastime" rather than "hobby." When I think of hobbies, an activity that's at least somewhat productive usually springs to mind. So what does one get out of watching sports? For one thing, entertainment. I get that. A few hours spent with friends or family participating in a shared bonding activity. How about enjoyment? Perhaps, unless your team happens to lose--then it ceases to become all that enjoyable (the ends usually determines the quality of the means). But at the end of the day, do professional sports actually matter? Yes and no (how's that for a noncommittal answer). Although in many societies sports wield a great deal of influence and impact many economies, in the grand scheme of things they don't hold the huge amount of significance that TV channels, news stations, and commercial enterprises would have you think. Let's face it, sports are business--while you're following the home team with baited breath, you're also lining someone's pockets. Alternatively, on a personal level athletics can potentially have a large impact on one's life and development, but to me that still doesn't include the pastime of watching games.

Talk to my husband and you'll receive a somewhat different analysis. The man has lived and breathed soccer his entire life. He loves watching games only second to playing in them. To say that watching pro sports, and soccer in particular, doesn't matter would be blasphemy. But even with that kind of lifelong passion for sports, even my husband can appreciate that there are higher priorities in life than watching sports.

I'll concede that sports touch people's lives in important and meaningful ways. Even though they have the power to divide people, create animosity, and have even been blamed for violence and murder (can you imagine people murdering each other or committing suicide over a soccer or baseball game?), sports also bring people together and teach valuable life lessons. This does not mean that memorizing mountains of statistics, fawning over and glorifying pro athletes (or even college athletes for that matter), and obsessing over teams or game results is a worthwhile use of time or even positive for our society as a whole. But as long as people can keep things in perspective--a tall order for some members of society--the things that really matter will always be at the top of the list where they belong.

The Little Things

Sometimes it's fun to revel in the little things during the course of a day. Often they get overlooked but it's usually the accumulation of lots of little things that compose a day.

Little things that I found pleasure in today: smelling a new scent of shampoo in my freshly washed hair, scratchy kisses on the nose from my kitty, a brand new haircut and the feeling of short bouncy hair, the exquisite flavor and nostalgia of cinnamon toast, giggling with my hubby watching "Everybody Loves Raymond", chatting with my charismatic British hairdresser with a fabulous dry sense of humor, writing about little things worth treasuring. And in the near future: 8 hours of glorious sleep.

Really, Arizona?

I still can't quite get over the new immigration bill recently signed in Arizona. Talk about two steps forward, five steps backward for this country. I enjoyed reading about Sen. McCain's lack of a backbone in his support of the law and quest for reelection. I also marvel at Gov. Brewer's blind faith, stating that “we have to trust our law enforcement.” Interesting. If you're trying to pass a law that essentially targets Hispanic immigrants over all others, at the end of the day how exactly do you plan on avoiding racial profiling, dear Gov. Brewer? Will you be stopping people indiscriminately of all races and backgrounds on the street, seeing as how technically anyone could look like an "immigrant"? And if not, there must be a reason why; for instance, because presumably the largest immigrant population in Arizona is Hispanic. Which then leads to the question of how to target "suspected illegal aliens." How else except for appearance, your biggest possible clue or "probable cause"? And does this not lead us to the appropriately coined term "racial profiling"? As my friend pointed out, profiling could even extend to what people are wearing--there's a very good chance there won't be cops clawing at your documents if you're dressed in a suit instead of work clothes or jeans. At any rate, fear not Australian, German, French, British, etc. immigrants in Arizona. This law wasn't written with you in mind.

I can only hope that Obama and the courts take a good look at this bill and tear it apart until there's not even a scrap of paper left to write on.

Research consulting vs. Government work

Today I had a rare opportunity to compare my current job at a research consulting company with a day working for the Feds. Here are some casual observations I made:

At my company, my office has no windows. This is sad. At my government office, my office has a window. However, it's covered with a semi-transparent dark screen over it. I was told this is either to keep birds from hitting the windows or to keep people from jumping out of them. Possibly both. This is an improvement over not having a window, but still somewhat pathetic.

My consulting job has pretty flexible hours. Unless I have a pressing engagement, meeting or deadline, I can pretty much create my own schedule on a given day. Today I discovered that at a government job, you must decide what hours you're going to be at work every day and they must be consistent day in and day out. Point for consulting.

At least at this particular branch of the government, you can decide whether you want to dress up or dress down (aka suits or shorts). In consulting, you only get to wear jeans on casual Friday. The government got it right on this one--freedom of choice is the way to go.

The government building is a bit more dingy, cluttered, and lackluster than the consulting building. Some serious interior decorating is needed. Perhaps one of the reasons morale is not as high as it could be. At any rate, not much of a shocker there.

People like to gossip at both my jobs. That's not much of a newsflash about the workplace, now is it?

There are very nice and friendly people at both workplaces, and also strange and somewhat annoying people. For instance, I was intrigued by my first impressions of folks at the government today. When I arrived and was looking around in what must have been a bewildered fashion, a nice man approached me and asked me if I needed directions. My government supervisor is very open, friendly, and patient (I hope she's like that all the time!). One of the women on one side of my office seems very sweet. However, there is also the token jaded employee who manages to always see the glass half empty, and the absolutely crazy chick next door who got into a verbal altercation via phone loud enough for me to hear (and about a personal situation, not even work-related!!), and proceeded to almost cry. This was before she chewed someone else out (also a personal call) about the collective amount of time they had spent to date deciding on the specs and what paper to use for a letter she's sending out. Amazing.

Both of my offices/divisions are filled to the brim with women, with hardly a male in sight (at least there are a few at my consulting job). Girls clubs can be fun. Sometimes I miss a good balance of testosterone in the workplace, though. I think I should be careful what I wish for.

A Different Kind of Memory

Have you ever had dreams that were so vivid, they made a permanent imprint on your brain? Do you have dreams that become integrated into your memory, as if you had really lived them?

One of my great-aunts had a dream in which her husband was not quite "behaving himself." I suppose the dream was extremely realistic because the following morning my great-aunt proceeded to sock my great-uncle on the arm. I'm sure he was left scratching his head about what he had done to deserve such punishment.

I had a similar dream last night in which my own husband snubbed me to spend a day with Shakira. When I woke up he asked me why I was in such a bad mood and when I told him, he couldn't help laughing at my ridiculous reason for being so cranky.

Although this most recent dream was of the more scandalous persuasion, other dreams that have stuck with me over time have been more benign. One involved climbing down a lush tree with stairs that wrapped around the trunk like a spiral staircase. The tree had rooms inside its trunk which I saw in passing from the outside as I descended. Then I found myself in either a Brazilian or African town with dry brown earth and a market in which I found myself among people with coffee-colored skin milling around in the marketplace and playing soccer.

This dream "clip" and its imagery, in addition to the feeling of adventure and joy that I had as I climbed down the tree stairs, have stayed with me for a long time. I imagine this dream floating in between the file cabinets in my brain labeled "Dreams" and "Memories" because it's really both. In composition it's a dream and as far as I know it never happened (unless it occurred in another reality!), but all the same I still consider it a fond memory.

Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel

We have a little family of squirrels that live in the tree in front of our apartment. Sometimes we see their little heads pop out of the hole that is their house. We still can't figure out whether it's just a squirrel couple or if they have any offspring tearing around the hole yet.

Yesterday we saw the two adults fully dedicated to the task of biting off tiny branches and carrying the bright green leaves back to the homestead. We speculated about the purpose of this endeavor. Was it to store the leaves in their home to have a moist, comfortable place to live next winter? Were they doing some interior decorating? Are they readying their home for the coming of Baby Squirrel? Perhaps they're leaf collectors, or even hoarders! Maybe their landlord The Tree has done them wrong and they're stickin' it to The Man, one itty bitty branch at a time.

Whatever they were doing, they only paused every so often to vigilantly watch the dogs passing by underneath them. Oh, to have that kind of work ethic...

All Eavesdroppers Please Stand Up

One of my favorite "pastimes": overhearing snippets of strangers' conversations. When it occurs en route somewhere, it's obviously harder to get a feel for the overall topic since all you're catching as you pass by are a few words floating on the breeze. For example, "...he's a good dog, he just has a lot of energy..." and the likes. The best conversations are when you're seated somewhere and the folks you're inadvertently spying on are, too. While waiting for the metro I recently heard a group of three young people going over all the gory details of their swine flu symptoms (they were speaking in past tense so I knew it was safe to continue listening), how they felt like they were dying, how other friends/family members thought they were faking, and the uncooperative boyfriend who wouldn't do exactly as he was told to make life easier for one particular invalid in the group. The worst chatting to listen in on are cell phone conversations. It's like reading every other page of a book, only more annoying.

The blog OverheardinNewYork.com would have you think that many conversational excerpts are hilarious or somehow even remotely interesting. The reality is there's much more of a mixed bag which does include some giggle-worthy snippets right along with the mundane, thought-provoking, insulting, shocking, and yawn-producing.

Although one might consider "public eavesdropping" shameful, I beg to differ. On the contrary, everyone has done it. It's almost always unintentional--the sound waves hit your ears whether you like it or not. Also, you're not exactly hearing a "private conversation" if all parties are in public, unless the conversation is being held at whispers. I like to think that public eavesdropping is natural social curiosity and a harmless form of entertainment for those otherwise unoccupied at that moment; which also makes me wonder, what conversational sound bytes have people gathered from me?

Every Little Bit Counts

Today's going to be a quickie since our power was out all evening.

Today's Earth Day, and I was feeling a bit bad as the day was winding down that I hadn't really done much to celebrate it (even though our power was out and it was like the environment's little joke on us, which was very appropriate). Then I saw two exposes related to animal cruelty and decided to take some late night action. I wrote a letter to the University of Utah to denounce their awful laboratory practices on animals. Tomorrow I'm calling and boycotting Petco and Petsmart for the foreseeable future because of the horrendous things their pet provider company engages in, in addition to mistreatment that the stores themselves participate in.

Some might say that my activities will have little or no bearing on any positive outcomes or improvements. I used to think that, and once in awhile the thought still crosses my mind, but now it's easier to believe the contrary. I remember in high school when I volunteered for Amnesty International writing letters to international governments on behalf of prisoners of conscience being held in different countries. I realized that there isn't always that huge, obvious payoff after you contribute your time and energy to something you believe in. Other times, there is. After I had written letters and gone on my merry way, I received a bulletin from Amnesty International detailing the first prisoner I had written about--he had been released. It dawned on me that my actions, no matter how "insignificant" I had felt they were at the time, had also potentially and probably contributed in some way to that man's liberation from prison.

Even if you don't get to see the big payoff in the end or the obvious successes, every action counts, no matter how big or small, even if it only means that you know you're being a better person.

Rainy days

Rainy days: love 'em or hate 'em? I hear a lot of people complain about them so it got me to wondering... Upon further reflection, I realized I have a sort of love-dissatisfaction relationship with rain (hate is such a strong word, and it certainly doesn't adequately describe how I feel about rain anyway).

Let's start with the bad: getting soaked on the walk to work. Going out in windy rainstorms that contort and wrench your umbrella until finally blowing it inside-out. Forgetting your umbrella at home. Thunder that cracks so loud your heart jumps into your throat or stops altogether for a beat or two. Dangerous driving conditions and subsequent accidents. Thoroughly drenched sneakers that slosh around with water and turn toes pruney. Icky earthworms unceremoniously unearthed. Being ungraciously splashed by cars when standing too close to the street. Lightning that strikes a bit too close for comfort. The awful number the 100% humidity does on wavy/curly hair.

Now for the good: a day of rest from blinding sunshine and stifling heat. Ethereal lightning bolts like a split-second message from the sky. The soothing soporific gray cloud cover and the absolutely exquisite sound of the rain, whether pitterpattering or pounding down. The slick shiny pavement, and kids playing in puddles (maybe even a few adults, too). Lush plants, viridian grass, satisfied flowers and contented trees. Deep booming thunder like a happy giant's laugh. Beads of water on leaves and streaks like small streams running down windowpanes. Participating in an almost timeless and essential transformation of terrestrial elements--without even having to lift a finger.

Rainy days: love 'em or hate 'em? Whatever your response, one thing's for sure: we wouldn't be around for very long without them.

Hey, you've put on weight!

Is it acceptable to comment on whether someone has gained weight to their face? What about if they've lost weight? Do you consider it proper to describe someone using their race as the primary descriptor? How about other aspects of their appearance, i.e. chest, butt, facial features, teeth, eyes, etc.

I'll never forget the casual weight-related comments thrown around in Ecuador by my husband's cousins, aunts and uncles, and even his mom. When we traveled to New York City two summers ago, one of the first things out of his cousin's mouth was, "You guys have gained weight!" My husband brushed off the comment as quickly as it had been dished out; meanwhile, I was trying to pick my jaw up off of the fountain we were standing next to while trying to recall if anyone had ever had the audacity to say that about me within earshot (the answer, incidentally, was "No").

What to my husband was a completely trivial comment was to me borderline insulting. How dare you say I've gained a single pound, even if it's true! I command you to tell me how fantastic I look, as is customary here! After spending the day with his cousin (who is actually a very lovely person), and after overhearing similar comments from other in-laws in Ecuador, I realized that I was the outlier when it came to my opinion of "fat comments." What made me entirely uncomfortable and potentially self-conscious, had the remarks been directed at me, was completely normal and not worth thinking about twice for members of Ecuadorian society, including women. What I found a grave affront was to all the rest just a frank observation about one's current state of appearance without a value judgment attached to it.

I'm still not sure that I can tease apart a comment about weight from the value judgment that I perceive to go hand in hand with it. Perhaps it's because I grew up and spent the majority of my life in the U.S., where girls and women are constantly told that "fat" (not to be confused with "curves") is not really something to aspire to. It's possible that I take issue with terminology--if someone were to tell me, "Hey, you've gotten a bit curvier since I last saw you," I could see taking that as a compliment. But "Hey, you've put on weight/gotten fatter since I last saw you," well, that just doesn't fly around here.

I can't recall hearing the word "fat" to describe a person without a negative connotation accompanying it. Even words like "large," "big," "heavy," and so on will not always be celebrated by the person on the receiving end. This then begs the question, is discussing someone's weight a complete taboo? It would seem that depending on the culture you're immersed in, the answer will vary. The rule doesn't exactly hold true even in the U.S., because it's actually complimentary to notice that someone has lost weight, illustrating our clearly skewed values when it comes to appearances.

It would be great if American society could evolve to a point where commenting on weight is irrelevant, or alternatively, just another bland but sometimes useful descriptor (like in Ecuador and probably many other countries, as well as when speaking American Sign Language (ASL)). Can you rise to the occasion?

"Up" Up and Away

We saw the movie "Up" today and speaking for myself, I adored it. Although upbeat in general, it definitely had poignant moments and good messages overall. It had me cracking up with its quirky jokes and one-liners, and I thought the graphics were also very well done. I have to admit that the more I watch Pixar movies, the more I feel like they're the wave of the future and that Disney cartoons have been straggling behind for some time now. I also find the story lines of Pixar movies quite creative, with characters that you really connect with, even if they do happen to be toys, fish, superheroes, a golden retriever, a strange bird, or a crotchety old man. It makes you realize that there are interesting adventures or stories occurring everywhere, and they don't just involve people.

My favorite character in "Up" was hands down Dug the golden retriever. I loved how he and the other dogs talked in awkward English phrases through their translator collars. I liked the little boy Russell's upbeat attitude and loyalty. I enjoyed the old man Carl's crankiness (maybe because sometimes I saw myself in him) and his good heart that always came through in the end. And although you might not believe it, I even secretly got a big kick out of the Doberman and his sometimes awkward helium voice and other times intimidating baritone intonation (I'm a sucker for deep--often menacing--voices in movies, like the voice of the Cave of Wonders in Disney's Aladdin: I even made Alejandro rewind that part of the movie once so I could listen to the cave's booming voice over again!).

After watching "Up", I felt satisfied because I had seen a high quality movie, something that seems to happen less and less frequently these days. Something tells me that any day now I'll be running out to the animal shelter to search for a golden retriever to bring home with me--or maybe even a Doberman...

It's All in the Eyes

For some reason I've always been surrounded by people with gorgeous eyes. An ex of mine had green eyes with flecks of red, something I have yet to see replicated on any other person. Even though when I was little I viewed my mom's eyes as something akin to "mud puddles," as I matured I came to realize that she has what I like to call "tiger eyes": light brown with slight yellow-topaz streaks, lending her gaze a bit of a feline quality. My dad, on the other hand, has deep forest green eyes--they remind me of what pastures in Ireland must look like. And probably the first thing I noticed about my husband was his eyes as well (I'm undoubtedly not alone in this category--I've read that many people notice this feature first in prospective boyfriends or girlfriends). He has deep blue eyes with a ring of brown around the pupil, which particularly stands out against his tan skin and black hair (lucky dog!). Even my cat, Penny, has an intriguing set of irises, sometimes almost overtaken by huge black pupils when she's "hunting" something (most likely my ankles), other times sparkly gold in the sunlight, her pupils barely visible.

My train of thought turned to eyes today as I recalled a magnetic pair I saw yesterday. They belonged to an inhabitant of the local Petsmart a few blocks away from our apartment. As we were examining the different pets on display--the hamsters, exotic birds, and beta fish--my own eyes were arrested by a bewitching set of peepers. They belonged to a whitish-peach gecko in a glass terrarium. It had started to crawl under a branch in its cage and there it crouched for some minutes while I watched it, transfixed. We both just stood there, immobile. If I was a cartoon character, I would have had those typical swirly spirals spinning in my head instead of eyes, and looking at that gecko I understood why people may have believed at one time that reptiles could hypnotize a person (a la "Jungle Book"). The gecko's pupils were but a mere slit of black, and around them danced an iridescent collage of sparkling green and gold, like dichroic glass jewelry found at an open marketplace. The iris' colors appeared to ooze and mix as if liquid mercury, as if constantly shifting with smooth ease.

My husband finally broke the spell, asking me, "What are you looking at?" With a little shake of my head I came back to reality, even though I had only been "mesmerized" for no more than a minute. After seeing the beady black eyes of the colorful birds not a moment before, like tiny black holes in space absorbing all the movements and information around them, I decided that no set of eyes is superior. All eyes are "windows into the soul," as is so often quoted. But those gecko eyes, I had to admit, were a work of art.

ANOTHER blog on the Internets, you say?

I know, I know, there are already enough blogs out there in the blogosphere to last us many lifetimes. What makes this one different?

1.) At least for the time being, this blog is a bit of an experiment. Being a psych major, I'm always fascinated by how the mind works. From what I've read, people have between 12,000 and 65,000 thoughts per day. Now we get to the juicy part: how many of those thoughts are repetitive or stale? How many are original? Funny? Boring? Intriguing? Offensive? Pointless? Sad? Beautiful? I could go on forever (but I won't). In part, this blog is to: a) provide insight into one person's mind, however labyrinthine or dull it may be, b) highlight common or unusual thought patterns that may emerge over time, c) provide a location to deposit some of the random things knocking around my brain, i.e. save me time and money by not having to visit a shrink, d) maybe even entertain you a bit.

2.) Although I'd love to say this blog is completely altruistic and purely dedicated to scientific inquiry and your enjoyment, I, too, will be getting something out of it. I've been meaning to flex the old writing muscles for some time, and it would seem that time is now. Writing is something that has always been fun and intellectually stimulating for me, and in my book, every excuse to write is a good one.

Two caveats about this blog: since things sometimes tend to "come up" in life, entries may be posted retroactively from time to time. C'est la vie! Second, once in awhile posts may contain more than one thought depending on how the day went, but always at least one. Now what exactly constitutes "a thought"? According to The American Heritage Dictionary, a thought is:

-The act or process of thinking; cogitation.
-A product of thinking (see idea)
-The faculty of thinking or reasoning.
-Consideration; attention.
-The intellectual activity or production of a particular time or group.
-Expectation or conception.
-Intention; purpose.

Good news: looks like I've got a lot of leeway here!

Now, for the final thought of the day: It's never too late to do what you really love.