The bright side of a Moon
Scary.
Back when I lived in Texas I had my checking account with NationsBank. I’d link to it, but it’s no longer in existence; it was purchased by Bank of America.
Fast-forward a half-decade. I still have my checking account (plus a savings account and a credit card) through BofA, plus a loan through MBNA.
Well, looks like BofA is buying MBNA. Soon, all financial transactions will be through BofA. Or at least all of mine.
I stopped by the Anti-Wal-Mart protest today. Just chatted with Lauren and picked up a brochure.
They’ve only been working on this for the past two weeks. Trying to get a grass-roots movement going. There will be a meeting tomorrow night at the S.M.I.L.E. station (SE. 13th and Tacoma) at 7:00 PM, and I will be attending.
Damn, I should have taken pictures of their signs. They were getting a lot of honks from drivers passing by, too. I hope those were good honks.
I knew that I’ve been feeling a dark mood descend upon me and my home recently. Turns out there was a reason.
Wal-Mart is angling to put a store (excuse me, a “Superstore”) in my neighborhood.
I found out by spying one of these many flyers (pops in new window; downloads an Acrobat file) while walking home last night. Yes, turns out there is organized opposition to it already. Include me in.
I’ll be stopping by their picket line and pamphlet-handing-out at 4:00 PM this afternoon at the east end of the Sellwood Bridge to see how I can add my support.
My new favorite place for accessing the wireless internets: The Sellwood Public House, one flight up from SE 13th and Tenino. I walked up the stairs, following the smell of bread and garlic, and the music, which took me a moment to recognize.
Coolio. They’re playing the Pixies. I’m going to fit right in.
A cozy den, where they serve pizza made with dough they actually made themselves that very day right on the premises. I had the Don Giovanni calzone, which is made from the very same dough. Mmmm… Comes with a side of marinara for dipping.
Great beer menu, too, but that’s kind of a given in Portland. Lots of great beers to choose from, so it’s difficult to find a bar that doesn’t have a great selection. I tried the Roots Red and it was hoppy and delicious.
I read about it first in the Willy Week and made a point to try it. It’s in my neighborhood, after all. Walked by several times but hadn’t made it in until tonight.
I might have to make it a point to spend some time exploring the space…
It never fails to amaze me when I get an unreasonable response to a resonable request. Of course, being who I am, when I point out such disparities to the responder, it never seems to have an effect; they often only become more unresonable.
Often, the response is one of two things (or a combination of the two): first, to turn around and attack me, denigrate me for even bringing it up or calling attention to it, or second, to parse the language – the classic “that depends on what the definition of ‘is’ is.”
Among a group of friends, someone correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think it’s out of line to ask for an accommodation once in a while. And even then, it’s OK if the others decline. I’m fine with that. But what I don’t get is when I am blasted for even asking, like my asking was somehow so outrageous that I’m a selfish bastard for even bringing it up. In the most recent example of this the person chose the tactic of turning a discussion about this single event into a blanket statement for all time, ever, world without end amen. How is that reasonable?
It’s not that difficult to compromise, people. Here’s an example. My sister and her husband obviously enjoy different types of movies. Having two kids, they don’t get out to see movies all that often. If they had to agree on a movie that would satisfy them both every single time, they would end up arguing for so long that they would never get to the theater. So they have a compromise in place: they alternate choosing the movies. If they’re unsatisfied with the others’ choice, they know that next time they’ll get to choose. It works over the long run, and it’s based on trust. It works. Everybody gets a turn, everybody’s happy.
A key point in a compromise is mutuality: both sides have to concede something. When dealing with a single, one-time only event, then everyone would need to give up some ground. (BTW, if everyone agrees in the first place, it’s not a compromise; it’s a consensus, which is a different kettle of fish.) But when dealing with an ongoing series of events, then the concessions need to be looked at over the course of the series; for example, my example of my sister and her husband.
But back to the outrageous response to a reasonable request. How best to deal with people like that? I for one am flummoxed. If I’m right in principle and right in the facts, then I’m not going to back down. Being backed by the correct position and the prevailing facts should (I would hope) be enough to sway folks’ opinions. It’s not, though, and I have a difficult time comprehending why. And the more I look into this, the more I find that those who can’t be swayed by ethics or principle (which is, after all, the basis of negotiating a compromise) are, in fact, unreasonable and prone to all-or-nothing thinking. The kind of people who start to pick apart individual words and misread them in an attempt to make their point. Or the kind of people who look for others to side with them, hoping that by weight of opinions they can enforce a “majority view”. Or the kind of people who simply attack the other to provide cover for their outrageous actions.
My friends, those who trust me, know that I am capable of admitting I’ve made a mistake. I go out of my way to support my opinions and to make certain that I’m seeing and dealing with the world as it really exists, not as I wish it to be. I am self-correcting. And because of that, I’m OK with my friends pointing out when I’m wrong. It’s actually important for me, because I know that I’m automatically biased in favor of my own point of view, and often others can see things differently enough to point out what I’m missing.
But even when I’m wrong, I think I deserve a level of respect. I am often wearing my Easy-Going Guy Togs and go along with the prevailing view. However, when I request a change in plans, I would hope that my previous history of allowance would gain me some favor, some karma, some goodwill. Is that wrong? Do I set myself up for people to take advantage of my easy-going nature when I don’t speak up except once in a while? Perhaps I should consider that.
Because that’s what I feel like when this happens. I’ll go along, and go along, and go along, then make a request and suddenly I’m a heartless bastard. Gee, nobody complained when I was silent about doing things I wasn’t so enthused about; why complain now?
Damn, this is all about boundaries, isn’t it? The damn topic comes up too often. Is there a middle ground, where I can make it clear that a compromise is in force, so that later it seems less of a surprise when I ask for a change? Interpersonal communication is hard.
But, again, back to the outrageous responders: I recognize that I’m unable to change them, so for me, my typical response is to point out that they’re wrong and avoid them. I’ve got no particular compulsion to spend a lot of energy on them. Their mendacity is hugely draining. If there’s a better way to deal with them I will be happy to look for it but for the most part, I don’t need them and therefore don’t have any reason to give them more than I’m required by the social circumstances.
I would have sworn that I’d ranted about this before but I did a search and couldn’t find it. It must have been in private email. But I’ve been looking for stuff to post that isn’t about my running and when this topic came up in conversation today I realized I’d found something.
This is it in a nutshell:
There are too many kinds of soda!
Walk into any convenience market and go to the freezer section. Look in there. Start counting – Coke, Cherry Coke, Coke with Lime, Coke with Vanilla, Coke Zero, Pepsi, Cherry Pepsie, Pepsi with Lemon, Pepsi with Lime, Pepsi with Vanilla, Pepsi One… then all the diet versions of those… and now there’s the Splenda versions… then the lesser brands, like Mountain Dew, Sprite, 7-UP, Squirt… and multiple flavors of those… Dr. Pepper and all it’s incarnations… holy crap I can’t even list them all. Do not post in the comments that I missed your favorite flavor because I would be writing forever if I had to actually list them all.
And the sports drinks, like Gatorade and all the knock-offs. C’mon! The only real Gatorade is lemon-lime. That’s why they called it Gatorade — it was named after the Florida Gators! Hello? Has anybody seen a cherry alligator? A blue alligator? I didn’t think so. Alligators are green, motherfuckers. Live with it.
And how many “flavors” of bottled water do we really need? I swear, the next time someone claims to be able to tell the difference between Dasani and Aquafina I’m going to introduce them to Mr. Shotgun.
And that’s just for soft drinks!
There isn’t enough room in a typical mini-mart freezer for all of these. Is that the plan? Soda companies just keep proliferating soda flavors until they push out their competition.
Just 10 years ago, it was Coke, Pepsi, Dr. Pepper, 7-Up, and diet versions. Sure, they tried gimmicks like “clear” Pepsi or “New” Coke but they didn’t last. Those offshoots were flashes-in-the-pan and were laughed out of existence. But now, you can’t stop the new flavors coming out. Soon we’ll have Pepsi BBQ or Diet Coke with Cilantro or some shit.
It boils down to this: there are only two good flavors to add to a caffeinated beverage: Vanilla, and Lime. Everything else is crap and, frankly, just a waste. Stop, soda companies, just… stop. It’s over. You’re done. Don’t you know there’s a war on? Stop hurting America. Get some rest.
Just snapped a few quick pictures this morning. I caught him sleeping. I’m sure he’ll torment me later for these.
…and here’s some more!
My new favorite geek joke, from the thread over at Slashdot:
A Mathematician, a Biologist and a Physicist are sitting in a street cafe watching people going in and coming out of the house on the other side of the street. First they see two people going into the house. Time passes. After a while they notice three persons coming out of the house.
The Physicist: “The measurement wasn’t accurate.”
The Biologist: “They have reproduced.”
The Mathematician: “If now exactly one person enters the house then it will be empty again.”
Learned a new word yesterday. I love when that happens.
The word is: bespoke.
It means (in the context I heard it yesterday, at any rate) unique or individually-tailored clothing. Although different dictionaries don’t limit it to clothing (like the Merriam-Webster link I used above; note that you’ll have to click on the word “bespoke” because M-W won’t let me link directly to that version of the word).
So, for example, it’s probably safe to say that an A-list actress like Demi Moore will probably show up at ceremonies like the Academy Awards wearing bespoke dresses.
With the warm weather (well, we did officially pass into summer today, at 11:46 AM Pacific time, if I recall my friend’s comment correctly) coming, my allergies have kicked into high gear. And the Zyrtec I’ve been taking just isn’t cutting it. I’m up to two a day, twice the recommended dose, and I still have the sniffles and itchy eyes and throat.
Makes it difficult to run when I can’t breathe or see. Dammit.
I could have gone running in the gym today but once I got there, after work, even inside I could feel the effects of my allergies. So I went home to take another Zyrtec. After it kicked in, I went for a run. But seeing that, between the heat and my pulmonary distress, I knew it wouldn’t be a stellar run. So I decided I’d go really easy on myself.
I didn’t even bring my watch.
I’ll wait while the two or three readers out there register their shock and awe.
OK, done?
At any rate, it was nice to just be outside and enjoying the sun and the scenery without having to push myself to a countdown. Er, countup? Whatever. You know what I mean. I did, though, take my iPod shuffle, so, technically, by counting the songs, I could, if I wanted to, figure out approximately how long I took… but, um… I won’t.
I did a little more than 3 miles. I think I’ll do that “off the clock” thing on a regular basis.