Can't We All Just Get Along (You Meatheads)?

Great article in the Deseret News today on civility in public discourse - the gist is that a few years ago a prominent conservative evangelical started to be disturbed over the way Mormons were treated during the 2008 presidential elections, particularly by evangelicals. (Just pause for a moment and take that in - I KNOW.) He decided to draw attention to the fact that most Americans actually want and believe in appropriate behavior in political settings, and came up with the Civility Pledge:

*  I will be civil in my public discourse and behavior.

*  I will be respectful of others whether or not I agree with them.

*  I will stand against incivility when I see it.

I would sign it. I'll think about it, remember it, and do my best to live by it. Sadly, when this man sent it out to members of Congress and governors only three people actually signed and returned it. THREE. Out of 585 requests that people be civil in their public and political discourse, three agreed to do it.

My state representatives were not on that list.

How embarrassing.

I think it's time to write a letter - a polite, intelligent, firm, calm, respectful letter to let my elected officials know that I expect better of them.

Coming into the beginning of campaign season, I think it's also time that this be one of the first questions asked in every discussion:  "What's your stance on civility? What do you plan to do about it?"

Once that's been established, we'll actually be able to talk productively about everything else. Wouldn't that be a nice change.

Celebrity Stand-by

Reason #48 Why I Don't Understand the English*:

The week before last, Doctor Who was on (on Saturday! Whaaa?) at 6:15. (Weird, but OK.)

Last week, Doctor Who was on at 6:30.

This week, Doctor Who will be broadcast at 6:45.

Now, I get that Brits don't interject nearly as many commercials. so you generally don't get a full hour of any given TV show. That leads to 10-12-minute "fillers", as represented in the past by, say, "Doctor Who Confidential" that, as far as I could tell, was broadcast just after the episode to round it out to an hour. All right. So WHY CAN'T THEY BUILD A CONSISTENT TV SCHEDULE? What in the world could possibly be the rationale behind bouncing a show all over the place? (Sometimes you'll find Doctor Who being broadcast on Fridays, sometimes Mondays. Who knows? IT ALL MAKES NO SENSE.) Are the TV stations (I'm looking at you, BBC) trying to a) get people to stay and watch more TV by changing up the times unexpectedly, so that they always have to be at home on their couches so they don't miss their shows, b) stimulate the population's social lives by juggling the programming schedule so that people can arrange other activities at different times and still not miss their favorites, or c) thumb their noses at the public and act out because they're so bitter that the Interwebs and DVR's are robbing them of any real control of their audience's viewing practices?

WON'T SOMEONE STOP THE MADNESS?!?   *Ahem.*

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Dear Networks:

Please set a schedule and stick to it for, like, two weeks. Just to see if it works. And think about how much less time you could be spending on your "creative programming" if you already knew when shows were going to be happening the following week! You could catch a (live) cricket match! Or go celebrity-stalk the Beckhams! Or have an extra 4 or 5 dozen cups of tea! You should try it.

Thanks,
Me

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Speaking of celebrity stalking, today I was at a relatively prominent London theatre to see one of my course-mates in a performance that was part of an experimental-theatre festival, and after picking up our tickets and moving outside another course-mate asked if the girl in line behind us, the tall one, was the chick from Doctor Who. Y'know, the red-haired one? Honestly,I thought I was way too old and blasé to be impressed by the appearance of, at best, a minor celebrity - and yet, I immediately went giddy and oh-so-casually strolled back into the building to figure out if it was really her.

I could totally be friends with that girl -
I, too, have the "why is the weird kid
staring at me?" look down pat!

And IT WAS. It was really KAREN GILLAN FROM DOCTOR WHO standing at the desk with all her hair tucked up in a hat (but I totally recognized her profile!), tall and skinny and super-pretty and I sound like I have a girl-crush, don't I? I went back out to confirm to my group that it was really her and I didn't say "Hi" or ask for a picture or anything and I really want to go back in and talk to her but that would be obnoxious and intrusive and I can't believe I was standing 6 feet away and by the time I decided that I would ask for a photo or an autograph but everybody would have to come in with me she was gone.

It's probably just as well - it might have taken me a few minutes to convince her I was a harmless American student, and not a crazy American tourist. I try to contain it, but sometimes the crazy gets away from me. (True story: My fangirly squee to my course-mates was "I wish I had my 'Doctor Who Experience' program with me so that she could sign it!" To their credit, the eye-rolling was pretty minimal.)

My first near-brush with (OK, regular) celebrity! About time, London! (Now where, pray tell, is Richard Armitage? He can't be spending ALL his time in New Zealand!)



* Just over a week ago we were informed that not all British people define themselves as "British"; most don't, in fact. They are Scottish, or Welsh, or ENGLISH, thankyouverymuch. (Irish are always and completely Irish. Period.)

Brief, and Positive - Ideal?

I generally enjoy Scott Adams' blogs - he always has something interesting to say. In the category of "Self- and Society-Help" I present:

Slowing the Decline in Your Personal Appeal

We humans start our lives at the peak of your popularity. Everyone loves babies. The trouble starts when we learn to speak. Talking is the process by which we transform from adorable to insufferable. The more we talk, the less appealing we become. 

No topic is safe. If things are going well for you, and you make the mistake of talking about it, others will think you're a self-absorbed bragger. If things are going poorly for you, and you talk about it, others will think you're a gloomy downer. If you talk about other people, you're a gossip. If you freely offer your opinion on the pros and cons of things, you'll be seen as too critical or too opinionated.

If you talk about politics, the people who disagree with you will see you as either an immoral ass hat or a superstitious simpleton. The people who share your viewpoint will see you as a bore because you're stating the obvious and probably taking too long to do it. 

The old saying is that it's better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt. It's unambiguously true that the more you talk, the higher your odds of saying something that is memorably stupid, cruel, selfish, or evil. 

Telling amusing stories is okay in small doses. But storytelling is a rare skill. And the people who know you well have heard all of your best stories. Every story you tell will lower your average.

One situation in which talking works well is when two analytical or academic people share opinions and information on topics of common interest.  That can be stimulating, especially if one or both people has a sense of humor. But if those two people spend much time together, they start running out of fresh topics. The more they talk, the less interesting they become to each other. 

The rules of conversation are a bit different for people who don't know each other well or don't see each other often. In those cases, a bit of extra chatter is useful to keep the awkwardness at bay. But as you spend more time with an individual, every word you utter makes you less desirable.

Lately I have been wondering if there's an antidote for the social decay caused by talking. One fix is to spend more time with strangers. But that would be exhausting and hollow. 

You could try doing more listening and less talking. People like that. But listening with empathy has the perverse effect of rewarding the talker for sharing his woes. That's a problem because if you cause someone to focus on his own misfortune, you make things worse for him. In time, the talker will associate you with all of his most unpleasant thoughts because that's the connection you keep reinforcing.

My best solution for the scourge of talking is this: Be brief and say something positive.

Brevity will slow the inevitable decline in your popularity caused by talking. And saying something positive as often as possible will be a mood booster to whoever is in the room with you. Humans are followers, and if you set a positive tone, it rubs off. 

You'll never regain the personal appeal you enjoyed as a baby. But if you say nice things, and don't say much, you might become relatively less unappealing than the people around you. And that's not nothing.


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Brief? Maybe. Positive? Sorta -yes? Either way, he makes a very good point. (Go try it!)

Read 'The Graveyard Book'*

Neil Gaiman's advice to any aspiring writer:

"Write.

Don't think about writing, don't plan to write, don't hope to write.

Just write."

 - from the behind-the-scenes 'Neil Gaiman on Writing for the Doctor' video, BBC

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This could mean you'll be seeing (a lot) more random blog posts from me. Just FYI.




* Seriously, it's amazing. And kind of what you'd think, only not really at all. (Just look at those reviews!)

Journeys Mental, Emotional, and Actual - Usually Short

First essay: word count - spot on. Writing - makes sense to me. Formatted - strictly according to Harvard and the School Handbook. Appendix (not the useless organ kind) - check, and full of quotes, anecdotes, and in-jokes. (Hey, gotta be me.) Turned in two hours early.

First presentation: an organized mess, a little bit like doing (British) dental work on cats. Included - clever, minimistically designed Power Point slideshow (with animation!); tactful strong-arming (i.e., "stage management"); last-minute unforeseen crisis navigated; and sacrificial falling-on-metaphorical-sword to make sure we didn't go over the time limit. It's so EXHAUSTING to be me, sometimes. ;-P

Second presentation: laid-back. Probably should have been more stressed. Odd combination of teamwork and every-man-for-himself masquerading as teamwork. (Interesting structure, that.) Accidental group outfit color coordination - check. (Done - now to actually work on putting up the show that was proposed.) 

Project proposal: technically three days late, but it's not being assessed (counted towards our grade) and even though the course leader obviously really wants the proposals TURNED IN RIGHT NOW he SAID there wasn't any rush. Working on that this afternoon (have actually been collecting angles, options, and contacts all along. *Pflggbtfft*).

Second essay: due in 2.5 weeks. Have slated full day tomorrow to work on it. (I've said it in public - IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN.)

* * * * *

In other news, I went running on Hampstead Heath yesterday (if by "running" you mean "walking briskly and occasionally accidentally breaking into a jog", which I do). I am both allowing my in-house chocolate supply to get low/run out, and planning to start running more often and on purpose (TOMORROW, before knuckling down to the second essay) and those things should mean I'll shortly have more clothes in my wardrobe I can wear without feeling like a sausage (an unfashionable sausage, natch). Once again - I've said it in public, it will be so.

* * * * *

I'm starting to feel a little Charlton Heston-esque as I write. I wouldn't have imagined my blog would ever acquire that much (imagined or otherwise) gravitas.

* * * * *

Speaking of walking briskly (it's there - go back and re-read), Saturday I took myself to the matinee of the Pulitzer Prize-winning play Clybourne Park. (Good production, funny and unsettling, but not the point of this story as, far from walking briskly, the entire second act happens with nearly every character sitting in a chair the whole time. That play's another post.) I arrived early to get my ticket and then wandered around Leicester (pronouned le-ster) Square. I stopped at a restaurant and got a cup of mango gelato and then, wonder of wonders, found myself doing the "London saunter".

The "London saunter" is a walking pace adopted by 95% of the population on any given street in the city at any given time - roughly, about the speed of a very determined early-stage toddler. You don't need to actually HAVE a toddler with you while you walk, but you are required to PRETEND that you do. It drives me nuts - millions of people who apparently don't have much of a need or desire to actually get to wherever they're going! I'm constantly snaking around other sidewalkers - I don't generally saunter, I usually "really need to scoot because I'm 10 minutes behind and 2 minutes away from being late and could you lazy people just MOVE!", but fortunately that's my feet talking, not my mouth. Anyway, I got my mango gelato (which wasn't Schwan's but wasn't bad at all) and decided to stroll down to Trafalgar Square (the home of the Lord Nelson statue, the Olympics countdown clock and many, many pigeons), as it was sunny and I hadn't realized it was so close. For the first time ever, I found myself falling into pace with the other walkers. I and London perambulated along, enjoying the weather and the downtime and the gelato (I was, anyway), and I realized that ice cream (or it's cousins, at least) makes all things possible. I, like much of the rest of London, hung out in the Square (seriously, you've never seen so many people just sitting around in public), took a few pictures, and headed back to the theatre.

That's Big Ben in the middle, way in the back...  Just look at all my new friends, chillaxin' and not going anywhere! I'm betting most of them are actually still there.

And you know what? The minute that gelato was gone and I had somewhere to go (even though I had plenty of time to get there) I took off like a shot. It was inadvertent - the saunter evaporated. Maybe it really was the treat - if there's no sweet frozen goodness on the trip, let's get through it in the hopes that there will be some at the end, right? And, after all, they DO sell ice cream at intermission in the theatres here. Next time I buy some, I will make sure I saunter back to my seat.

Sometimes Boys Think Too Much

Ah, the tales I could tell...   *grins*

Sunday Snip... (Er...)

You know it's not really Fast & Testimony meeting unless SOMEBODY is talking about a blocked catheter from the pulpit.

Ah, people.

*grin*