Chevron Freddy Tried to Make It Hot 2Nite

Well, it doesn't happen that often, but somehow I managed to win the affection of a complete stranger in one of the most idyllic locales a sentimental gal like me could ever dream of--the gas station. Yes, plain ole unassuming me--glasses and ponytail in tow--stumbled upon being the apple of someone's eye while innocently pumping gas at the Chevron earlier this evening. Never mind he seemed borderline homeless and one or two 40-ounces shy of devolving into Fast Freddy. I managed to snag the heart of my purported Prince Charming, and for that I'm--well, disturbed.

It's a rare and peculiar occasion whenever I turn a head or two because I don't exactly go out of my way to draw attention to myself. If Drake's definition of fancy is getting your "nails done, hair done, everything did," then I guess I ain't fancy. I refuse to spend my money or time on that high-maintenance type of lifestyle, and my attire at the Chevron station couldn't have reflected this more plainly. I was as homely as it gets--complete with my "grandma sweater" and sneakers--going about my business in my usual meek-mannered way, getting my hands smelly and dirty from pumping gas into my eleven-year-old Civic. In short, the catch of all catches. (*?!?!?!*) I can't fathom what aspect of my dowdy appearance inspired him to try to hook up with me. But inspired he was, and try he did.

First he offered to pump my gas for me. When I politely declined, he then asked, "well can I have your number then?" How in God's name he made that leap in logic, I'll never know. But once he got onto that "7-digits" track, he just wouldn't let up. First he wanted my phone number. Then he wondered why I wouldn't give him my number and asked if it was because I had a boyfriend or husband. Then he said he'd give me his number. Then he said he'd give me the number of all his family members. Then he recited his number out loud for me and promised to answer his phone if I called. I swear with all this talk of phone numbers, I thought I'd temporarily wandered onto a New Edition video where this Chevron dude was singing all of Ricky Bell's lines.

He then moved on to a series of pick-up lines. In one, he asked for a quarter then yammered on about a song lyric or some "adage" his uncle used to say about what to do with a quarter when you saw the girl you love. (I know. I didn't get it either.) When he saw how unimpressed I was, he then upped the ante with the following: "If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put 'u' and 'i' ('you and I') together." Amusing (somewhat), but I couldn't help but notice the grammatical incorrectness of that quote/unquote joke.

Hm. I wonder if that marmish-type of response is the reason I don't attract very many men. Oh well. Since the "Chevron Freddies" of the world are the only men I seem capable of attracting, I'll keep "clapping my hands" with Cameo and "putting my hands up" with Beyonce. I'll be ah-ight.

That'll Do, Shills. That'll Do.

So education has really been making the headlines over the last six months, eh?

Last fall we were introduced to the "Waiting for Superman" documentary where charter school reformers were essentially lionized while teachers and their unions were demonized. In the midst of it all, we learned about Michelle Rhee, a Korean-American educator who was and still is championed as a savior of sorts, spreading the gospel of school and teacher reform from sea to shining sea. Heightening the fears of a failing public education system (as well as the belief in Asians' ability to get desired academic results), we were made aware of China's dominance on the PISA test scores, which only added fuel to the fire.

But then...

Soon afterwards, we started hearing lamentations in the media about how students are too stressed out and how we need to rise against the cultural tide of high-stakes competition and anxiety-riddled students as we witnessed the release of a documentary called "Race to Nowhere." And this "race to nowhere" zeitgeist wasn't a monopoly of American sensibilities. Apparently, even the over-achieving Chinese were expressing doubts about the limits of standardized testing (further evidenced by their glowing reception of the Indian version of "Race to Nowhere.")

But then...

Just when Americans seemed galvanized in a collective campaign to reduce stress and rally against high-stakes testing and competition in secondary education by participating in nationwide screenings of "Race to Nowhere" (even at Harvard), out of nowhere prowls this self-proclaimed "Tiger Mom," stirring up more confusion as she gloated about the superiority of Chinese parenting methods--methods that are completely antithetical to the ethos of the "Race to Nowhere" phenomenon yet seemingly justified by the Chinese students' PISA scores.

And now after several spins around the revolving door of public sentiment, I'm getting quite bored with the transparency and predictability of the PTB's formula. The elites must be having a field day, paying their media shills to unleash their strategically-timed, contradictory, and sensationalized news stories whose only purpose is to direct us (the profane) into adopting the herd behavior they've programmed for us. They command their "reporter collies" to steer us in one direction, nip at our heels to make us change course, then drive us into other uncharted territories, over again and over again, until we're finally fenced in right where they want us: dazed, confused, and hopeless.

The question is, where exactly do they want us? Do they want us to remain in this growing state of frenzy where we react to their strategic synchronizing of Asian faces with worrisome statistics so that we'll embrace charter schools, teaching-to-the-test, and slave-driving disguised as "tiger parenting?" Are we supposed to be herded into blaming teachers and parents for our students' mediocre academic performance, while ratcheting up the rote memorization practices that will produce androids and followers rather than the creative thinkers and leaders that will challenge the PTB and foil their plans for world domination? Or do the elites want the other extreme where we give up on pushing our students to excel and instead coddle to them, implementing ridiculous policies that obviate their need to think (critically and be leaders so that they can challenge the PTB, etc., etc.? Either way, the elites win and we drone.)

Which side of the pendulum swing are we supposed to be on? Or is the goal to not have us settle on any one solution, but to have those who've already taken sides dig their heels deeper into their polarized stances, while the rest of us undulate wildly back and forth, never finding a solution and never getting a clue? Yeah, I know. All of the above. Well, none for me thanks. I know the real answer lies somewhere in the middle and not at the extremes that they constantly herd us into choosing. I refuse to play the part of "unwitting pawn" in their game of Hegelian dialectic as they instruct their media "heelers" to "cast" and "come-bye" to the rest of our detriment.

Now if only enough of us would invoke our inner Farmer Hoggetts and tell these reporters to "stop working and return to handler," we might have a fighting chance at fixing this mess of a world we live in. Some may call me a dreamer but hey, it's apparently my nature to dream in my "imaginary world of happy people and happy endings." So I'll just keep following N'Dea's and Steve's advice and make it do what it do. Smoochez!

Musings of a Hungry, but Patient Luddite

If patience is a virtue, then virtue overflows in the interim of replacing an out-of-order microwave with a newer one. During this interval, the 15-20 minute anticipation of retrieving heated food from the oven can seem agonizing, yet edifying.

Patience builds character. So does hunger. It heightens the level of appreciation when the desired outcome is finally experienced. The subdued flavors and inferior textures of food heated at rapid-fire speed in the microwave become more vibrant and have a superior consistency when heated more slowly in the oven. The loquacious sizzle of the savory steak, the subtle crispness of the macaroni's surface, the broccoli's "al dente" that necessitates thorough mastication yet easily gives way to the fork's tines. All of this makes for a livelier experience with food. And because the food is more "alive," so is the person consuming it.

These thoughts traverse my mind as I witness yet another worrisome news story about smart devices. As the latest announcement cheerfully informs smart phone owners about Starbucks' and other businesses' new pay-by-phone option, I'm befuddled at how willing people are to trust strangers to scan the contents of their phones. It astounds me how little privacy is valued in this society; for these same smart devices can reveal the geographic location of a person taking pictures. I worry and wonder why we make it easy for Big Brother to track our behavior, no matter what the circumstance may be. But I guess all of this worry over privacy is moot when the single-minded pursuit of everyone seems to be convenience at all costs.

Not that I'm above the desire for convenience. Many times I've narrowly escaped the captivity of temptation set out by the corporatocracy as it launches its envoys of gleaming technological trinkets boasting all the latest bells and whistles. It's no small feat avoiding the peer pressure as I witness everyone and their mom surf the Web at any given time or place. The allure is strongest during conferences--which, for me, amounts to 3-4 times a year--where navigating unknown neighborhoods and meeting up with colleagues is increasingly encumbered by my "less-than-smart" phone.

But speed and convenience have a price. In the case of the microwave, the price is missing out on food's fullest gustatory potential. With technology the price, I fear, is far greater. And as the platoon of smart phones forges on, I grow alarmed at the bombardment of problems that seem to surface with these devices. Yet, I feel alone in my worry as I witness everyone else clamor for the latest features, upgrades, and applications. It's doubtful that any warnings about the permanent loss of privacy being an irreversible consequence of this smart technology--or any technology for that matter--will be heeded.

So at this point, I don't anticipate many people protesting when being watched by one's aps becomes a common occurrence. Not even if it evolves to the level of Kinect's face- and voice-recognition capabilities or if it feeds into the federally-mandated monitoring of private citizens--if it hasn't already. Nor do I expect an uproar from the citizenry when technology perfects the weaving of espionage capabilities with medicine. And sadly, I feel that people's laziness will not only preempt them from shunning mind-reading computers, it will drive them to pay top-dollar for pre-orders of these "technological advances" before they even hit the market.

My growing concern about privacy is compounded by a mounting awareness of the geopolitical consequences of our plowing through a never-ending succession of smart phone upgrades, including its contribution to the widening U.S. trade imbalance with China, its role in an increasing number of conflicts within the developing world, and the dirty reality of how smart devices are recycled.

I've always found the sound of sizzling grease to be appealing. Yet as I retrieve the crackling steak from the oven, I handle it with caution lest the overly-excited meat sends projectiles of oil onto my vulnerable, barenaked hands. Likewise, as others charge toward the crossfire of technology with its onslaught of consequences and marvel at the latest milestone in Apple aps, I'll take a cue from Thoreau and retreat to the enclave of more simplified living. Because when all is said and done, patience may be our only redemption from the blitzkrieg emanating from smart technology. And simplicity may the key to that deliverance.

Eye Contact with Crazy

I was waiting for the bus on the way home from school one day, and a woman--obviously off her rocker--walked in my general direction. I knew I shouldn't have looked her in the eye, but I went against my better judgment and did it anyway. I don't remember what my facial expression was exactly, but it must have worried her because the next thing I knew, her palms were on my forehead as she feverishly prayed to God to rebuke the Devil from me.

I was only a teenager at the time and was quite passive, so I kind of just stood there and took it, hoping the bus would hurry up and whisk me away from the line of sight of anyone who'd witnessed the incident. From then on, I made a vow never again to make eye contact with crazy because you just never know what kind of predicament you might land in as a result.

I've since extended this philosophy to other areas in my life, particularly when it comes to my professional development, and leadership has always topped that list of activities to avoid. Leadership is its own brand of crazy, placing the brave and willing in contact with some of the most extreme personalities known to man. A team leader trying to bring their project to fruition has to grapple with their team members' laziness, insecurities, testiness, and other B.S. In short, taking on leadership is a messy proposition. But so is dealing with the aftermath of someone else's slipshod leadership. Unfortunately, I've developed an interest in getting in on the decision-making process to right the many, many wrongs I've witnessed from other people's lapses in leadership.

In spite of my misgivings about leadership, I've somehow managed to stumble across a few leadership opportunities--which basically means I reluctantly agreed to take them on after lots of arm-twisting. To my surprise, those opportunities have largely been rewarding. There's no feeling like knowing of an unmet need and realizing you're in the position to meet it. I've felt so frustrated at not having the power to change things for the better and I know the only way to do anything about it is to lead in the effort.

Part of what has held me back from actively taking on leadership roles was that aforementioned passive disposition that let a complete stranger exorcize alleged demons from my forehead uninterrupted. I've since grown out of that passivity and have become quite vocal about my convictions. (Ahem. Hence the blog.) :)

Another thing that has held me back was self-doubt, believing I was too inadequate or incompetent to lead. But I've come to realize that a lot of leaders have MANY moments of inadequacy and incompetence. While not necessarily a detriment, it can be problematic if leaders don't realize or acknowledge their shortcomings or have any inclination to improve themselves. I know enough to know that a good leader should be aware not only of her strengths, but her weaknesses. I'm VERY aware of my weaknesses, so I just need some additional leadership experiences to turn those weaknesses into strengths.

A third reason for my hesitance to lead was my self-consciousness and my proclivity to feeling guilt at any perceived special treatment on my behalf. I've already had to prove (repeatedly) that I'm more than an affirmative action quota or a mere benefactor of someone else's favoritism. Yet the perception of my under-qualification still persists--at least, that's has been my hunch of late. I've let this self-consciousness get the better of me so much so that I passed up the opportunity to serve in a supervisory capacity. While I don't regret forfeiting the specific set of responsibilities of that position, I do regret letting the mere potential of someone's negative reaction prevent me from spreading my wings.

Well not anymore. I've already experienced the fulfillment of making positive changes and I can no longer let my insecurities and those of others hold me back. I'm even finding inspiration in some of the least likely places---whipping my hair while singing, "Don't let haters keep off my grind. Keep my head up I know I'll be fine. Keep fighting until I get there. When I'm down and I feel like giving up, I'll think again." Out of the mouth of babes and undeniably trite, yet truer words have never resonated so strongly with me. So, like Fantasia and I'm gonna start doin' me and letting people think what they want to think. (Love that song BTW.)

Not that the road ahead will be a cakewalk. There's a lot of work to do with little reward and few people willing to pitch in on the nitty gritty stuff. But if I'm to gain future opportunities to effect even greater change, I have to be willing to put in the elbow grease right now. Sure there will be moments when my inner E-40 compels me to snap at them, growling "money costs too much and I ain't got a dime; you need to pay me, or pay me no never mind. Trick!" But I'm sure my altruistic nature will overpower and suppress such undesirable outbursts. It will all work out fine (I hope).

So as I sit at the start of a new year and ponder the responsibilities I'll soon be taking on--roles like "Training Coordinator" and "Mentoring Committee Chair"--I look forward to the challenges that lie ahead and the opportunities to make a lasting change that will hopefully take my organization to the next level. And with this newfound willingness to look crazy in the eye--in the figurative sense at least--perhaps my inner demons of self-consciousness and self-doubt will eventually be exorcized once and for all.

Happy New Year and best wishes to anyone aiming to make their own "eye contact with crazy" in their neck of the woods!