It wasn’t until recently that I noticed my last full week off was over Thanksgiving week of last year. Yes so even 2 of those days were paid holidays. I only took 3 days off for Spring Break, and the most I’ve had is a long weekend here or there, and even those were usually to comp time for six day work weeks. It isn’t that my place of employment doesn’t give me TONS of time off to use. Really, I accrue over half a day per pay period. I actually max out my accrual every couple months.

The problem is, there is never a “good” time to take it. We can’t take time during peak registration periods, and other times. My office is understaffed, and I feel guilty taking time when I know we already have coverage issues. So, I rarely take time off. I know my part timer doesn’t like working Saturdays, and coverage during the day is always a challenge. Of course this place can run just fine without me. I do not think I am that all important. I just know how it can be rough if we are down a person.

I know I’m not alone. We all have different reasons for not using our vacation time. Things are too busy, I can’t afford to go anywhere, and the list goes on and on. Sadly we all discover (as I am right now) a painful side effect of this: BURNOUT. We work too hard. We rarely take a day off. “Me” time is something we kind of/sort of remember. The wear and tear is take a toll on our minds, bodies and spirits. Even if your job is decent, you can start resenting it and your co-workers. Stress manifests itself in weight gain, hives, weight loss, insomnia, headaches and other aliments. It can put a strain on your relationships. The backlash isn’t just work related, it seeps into every aspect of your life.

How did we get like this? I’m not sure. I blame my parents. You can blame mine too if you would like…no but seriously maybe it is a learned behavior. Maybe it is a result of our current job market, or our drive to get ahead. I’m at a loss there. The thing is I hate it. I mean I love to travel, and do not want to end up like my parents who put their careers first. This is where I took a clue from my boss. She takes time off regularly. If she doesn’t feel guilty about taking the time, why should I? She knows she needs the time off for her family and for herself. I need to change my behavior now. If I don’t, it will just follow me from job to job. Yes, a “better” job will not make this any less of a problem. It is mind set that needs amended. I need to stop being th victim in this situaiton, put my big girl panties on and just request the time I need.

A long weekend isn’t going to fix this. My upcoming week off will be nice, but I will be doing a “staycation.” I’m to the point where even a trip home for the holidays…or to help my parents clean up from their house fire won’t be enough. I need a trip where unless I want to pay hellacious roaming charges my Blackberry is a pretty paper weight and my laptop only works when I want it to.

So it has happened again. You waited until the last minute to do something. Now it is crunch time and you are rushing to make your deadline. The question is how are you going to proceed? About six years ago, I walked through the front doors of the community college I work for. Actually, I fought my way through the door. There was a line all the way thought the lobby and down the front hallway. Security thought I was a student, and they initially wouldn’t let me through the door. The triage desk (the people in the lobby who made sure you were in the right line) made the same mistake.

By the time I made it to my office, I was at least 5 minutes late…and I had planned on being 15 minutes early. When I asked my one new co-worker what was going on, her response was: “Oh it’s just late registration. You’ll get used to it eventually.” What she didn’t tell me (probably to not totally scare me off) was that every year it would get worse as our student population grew. I never have gotten used to it. I just know to expect it.

It is that time of year again, and of course chaos on the loose. Over the years, I have discovered our students fall into categories. 1) Students who know they screwed up. They know that we have been registering since March. They know there will be long lines. Not all the services the want access to will be available. Oh, and the classes they want may in fact be full. They don’t like the mess they are in, but it is what they have to deal with. 2) Students who just don’t get why they are faced with long lines, overwhelmed employees, not all the services want are available, and their classes are full.

The second group just baffles me. I’m not sure what the issue is. I usually put a lot of blame on my friend “the entitlement monster.” People think that it is our job to make up for their poor planning. They are loud, rude and insult the people they expect to bend over backwards to accommodate their requests. In their minds, the rules shouldn’t apply to them. They just don’t why the transfer advisor isn’t available for appointments. Well that is because the transfer advisor is running the returning student registration room.

Testing is walk in, but we might not have a seat for you when you arrive because it is first come first served. If you want to see an advisor, you will have to wait. I know you can’t register with out a Program Chair signature, but it is Faculty Break. None of them are on campus. Of course, this is all *our* fault for being bad employees and knowing nothing about customer service. Right?

Don’t get me wrong, people in the first group can have their moments too. Yes sometimes the stress they have created comes back and bites them in the behind. It happens, but in the end they take full responsibility for their own choices and the consequences.

This isn’t just a “student” issue. Procrastinators usually just own up to it, or they do not take responsibility. Of course people fall somewhere in between the two extremes, but there usually is a reaction that they favor. Think about the people in your life. No wait, actually think about you. How do you behave when your procrastination has caught up with you? Do you take ownership of it? Do you blame everyone else, including the people trying to help you?

It can be a tough question for some of us. Personally, I’m admittedly a control freak. I hate waiting until last minute. Writer’s Block sometimes forces my hand though. When it happens, I will do everything in my power to make my deadline. I’ll stay up all night, cancel my plans, work over my lunch breaks and anything else I have to do to make it work. Of course I have my moments. I get ugly, and is unacceptable. In the end, I have to own up to my flaws and apologize.

]]> http://www.culturefeast.com/being-a-gracious-procrastinator/feed/ http://www.culturefeast.com/the-power-of-advertising/ http://www.culturefeast.com/the-power-of-advertising/#comments Sat, 16 Aug 2008 11:29:07 +0000 Chastidy Craig http://www.culturefeast.com/?p=1273 Until very recently, I never had television. I didn’t get any reception whatsoever, and I always had a boyfriend or something else to keep me busy and out of the house so that I never really watched anything that wasn’t on a TV or a computer. Fortunately, I have a job that keeps me rather well informed of current events and things, and I also used to have this amazing phone that kept the world at my fingertips. Alas, the phone came to it’s demise, and I got a roommate who is in love with her cable.

In the beginning, it was so wierd to have so many different channels within my reach. I felt like this supreme television goddess and I would just sit and watch random things for hours on end. I could tell it when to record, what to show….It was more entertainment than what I’d previously been accustomed to. Now I’m a huge fan of many shows- Dexter, Californication, Swingtown (I’m so blogging about that show soon), Project Runway and Diary of a Call Girl are my favorites.  I’ve fallen victim to and now worship the big box in the living room. Never mind that currently the living room is also my bedroom (another story for another time), I’m hooked. I can’t imagine life without TV.

However, all of this television watching has really brought to my attention the amount of advertising that gets pumped into our brains on a daily basis, and to be quite frank- I’m uncomfortable with it. There are at least eight commercials in a commercial break, and they’re all selling something. They’re all just there to make you feel like you need something else. You need this lotion or gym membership to be attractive. If you advertise on this dating website you’ll find the man you’re going to marry. It’s sickening.

What if I have better things to worry about than whether or not I’m attractive? What if I just broke up with my fiance and you’re making me feel like crap? And it may seem like I’m making a big deal out of nothing, but each and every one of those ads is just another drop in the bucket about what I’m “supposed” to be. While I do worship the big box, I refuse to take orders from it. That’s just me.

It’s all just too 1982 for me. It gives me the same hives as when my mother tells me not to laugh when my two year old niece farts because she wants her to be a “lady”. Ladies don’t fart? Yeah- and they also don’t go poop. My mother also complains because my niece likes to play with trucks and that’s not a “girl” toy. People are who they are, and I think advertising and certain social norms tend to squash creativity and adventuresome-ness.

Advertising creates these norms, defines what the ideal is in a society, and these are organizations that are trying to sell a product. They don’t care about you, your children or your financial well being. All they care about is making money. People complain about the oil companies, but the thing is this- they made you think you needed them, and kept on inventing new products to get you hooked on it. Now, we can’t quit even though it’s costing us everything. It’s too ingrained, and there is some fat cat sitting there with his millions- no, billions- of dollars.

I am being a bit dramatic, but it’s the same point. I don’t think it’s wrong to buy popular products (although I think the 3G iPhone is the epitome of overrated and don’t get me started on the iPod), I just think it’s important to know who’s selling them.

I wrote my first book when I was 8 (Glasses for Shelly…really it should be a children’s bestseller, but my illustrations need some help), and from that moment on writing has held a special place in my heart. I’ve been a writer for 21 years, and I have loved every minute of it. I like doing it, I like to think I am somewhat good at it, and someday I want to be a writer full time. I’m still working on this goal. Sometimes it goes well. Other times I feel like I’m just spinning my tires.

When those rough times hit, it is very tempting to just give up. I think about just walking away and forcing myself to be content with my regular 8-5 job. Then I remember I gave up once before. I wasn’t nearly as established as I am now, but I decided to just focus on my career in the education sector and move on. That only lasted a few years. Soon I was ready to resurrect my writing career from the ashes.

I took that plunge about two and a half years ago. After being discourage, distracted and nearly derailed by an abusive relationship, I was able to get my freelance and novel writing career back on track. Things have been progressing nicely, but it has been slow coming. Really, I had made a good deal of progress considering I was working full time, teaching part time, beginning to work for my friend’s karaoke business on top of my writing career.

This past summer, I did not teach evening classes. This opened up my schedule quite a bit, and I was able to use that time for my career. By mid summer I had many paid gigs and networking and exposure gigs. My book sales were starting to pick up. Plus I had just landed my first webmaster gig, and it was looking like I had another one on deck. Things were looking up, but now I had a decision to make. Did I want to start teaching again? I debated it through most of July, and I still didn’t have a clue. I love being in the classroom, but going back meant putting my writing back on hold. If I didn’t teach, I had to make sure to have enough paying gigs to make up for the income.

In late July, my writing work slowed. I had spent so much time working a my new website job, I had hardly any time to focus on paid work . I didn’t want to close the door on that part of my life. Plus, if things didn’t start picking up again, I could really be shooting myself in the foot. Yes, my writing career is doing well, but was I good enough to make it work? My friends don’t really get what I do, or how much I have to work to keep it all going. Going to them for advice wasn’t my best plan. I was starting to think maybe I should just keep my writing as some hobby and stick to the “real” jobs.

I was just about to send off the e-mail to my program chair, when another e-mail came through. It was from one of the websites I write a monthly editorial for. The editorial is about moving on after an abusive relationship. I love writing it because it is therapeutic for me, and really I hope that someone reads it and realizes they aren’t alone. It gets a decent amount of traffic, but until today I had only received comments or feedback from my friends. The e-mail notified me I had a new comment on my site, so I went to the page to check it out.

The comment was from a woman who recently escaped from an abusive relationship. She was having a really bad day, so she was searching the internet for something to affirm her decision to leave her abuser. That is when she ran across my editorial. My words struck a chord with her. She was able to gain sight from my lessons learned. She thanked me for my editorial and encouraged me to keep writing.

I know it is just one compliment from a stranger. I know she has not read any of my other work, and she really isn’t a good judge of my career. However, she encouraged me. Sometimes we just need someone to believe in us AND tell us they believe in us. I needed to hear that. This stranger thanked me for making a difference in her life, but she will never know the difference she made in mine.

I did send an email to my program chair. Instead of asking for an assignment, I asked to make an appointment. I want to take one more semester off, but I don’t want to close the door on my teaching completely. Hopefully, I will have a better sense of what the future holds by the end of Fall Term.

Remember, use your words wisely. You never know who is listening and how it will impact his or her life.

Real ID is on the way in a year or two. Wire tapping is already allowed on national security threat "suspects". American citizens are systematically losing one small freedom after another, and more power is being handed over to security, intelligence, and military organizations. Why?

Because there are threats. Because we can't guarantee the safety of our borders and citizens unless we are free to violate citizens' rights to locate the bad seeds. Because the preservation of existence has outranked the preservation of liberty.

I'm pretty sure that the writers of the Constitution had no idea what would befall our world in this day and age. War was war, simple and straightforward. If you had an unresolvable issue, you declared war. You waged war out in the open. Thousands were killed from this illogical method of combat, but it was simple, straightforward, and mostly honorable. 

Terrorism brings a new age of combat. An age of intelligence gathering, secrecy, spying, and government monitoring. From a purely military perspective, there is no end to this war. You never stop terrorism. You slay one generation of extremists and their children cry out for vengeance. You kill off their children and their neighbors cry out for justice. No one can bear the sight of a slaughter. It is unbearable to think of children destroyed for the sins of their parents.

Terrorism is a battle of ideals. Two sides see the world differently. One side feels oppressed by the other's worldview and/or destined to spread their worldview around the world. It is violent evangelism. "Turn our way or die." 

Fear of people willing to kill and die for what they believe in. Fear of not understanding why they hate us so much. Fear of who and where might be the next victim. Fear of living a normal life and one day exploding. Or breathing an invisible toxin. Or drinking contaminated water. Whatever it is. It is fear of what might happen. Not what is, or what was. But what could be. 

In the end, our government has failed to address what caused these people to hate Americans/westerners so much that they are willing to take their own lives to kill their enemies. Until we get to the bottom of their violent hatred, this "war against terror" will NEVER end. Mark my words. There is no end to a war of ideals except for these very limited options:

1. Wipe the opposing people off the face of the earth.

2. Discuss and find a way to resolve the past.

3. Compromise on issues of present day conflict.

I see none of these happening. And I obviously don't condone genocide. I think #2 is the only path. The compromise mentioned in #3 doesn't resolve anything, really. It just means that everyone loses a piece of what they hold dear. 

I would have infinite more respect for a George Bush or a Barack Obama, if there was a legitimate acknowledgment that the war on terror will never end until grievances are addressed and resolved. Perhaps they cannot be resolved, but retaliation upon retaliation never resolves a conflict. Someone must attempt to bridge the gap. Someone must at least be willing to hear out their opponent with an attitude of respect. Vilifying an entire group of people only feeds the sentiment of justified war. 

We should NOT settle for living the rest of our lives and our children's lives in fear.  

This is what I can't figure out. The student was told several times by me and by the testing directions that her phone should be turned completely off. She either chose to ignore me, or she just didn't pay attention. Now if I were taking a college entrance exam, I would be darn sure to listen and pay attention. Wouldn't you? The student should have known about the rule, but she still thought it was okay to tell the Advisor she left it on and that is why she did poorly. Just by admitting that she broke one of the labs biggest rules, put her in jeopardy of never being able to take classes with us.

If we had chosen to, we could have pursued a cheating claim and had we been successful, she would be not allowed to enroll. Still, that was the excuse she gave. What kills me even more is that the Admissions Advisor (who's job it is to know the testing policies) bought her story and came down to plead her case. What made her think it was a good idea. I seriously do not think she saw it was a mistake until I reminded her that the student should not have had her phone on at all per our policy. Her mother's texts should not have been an issue.  The student still thinks we are unfair, and the Advisor should have known better. Really, a little common sense could have saved us all from this scenario.
 
It all boils down to one thing: where is the common sense? Yes, there are clueless people in this world. However, there seem to be more and more of them these days. It is like personal responsibility, knowing right from wrong, and just plain being aware are rare traits. Being oblivious happens. When it happens chronically, it is annoying. When it happens because you don't think the rules apply to you, or you can't be bothered to listen or pay attention, it is a major problem. I see more and more of this every day and I am starting to worry.

It seems like common sense has been replaced by self absorption. If it isn't all about us, what we want and how we want it, we aren't interested. It doesn't even register to us. We want immediate gratification. God Forbid we wait a few seconds to have access to that perfectly good garbage can, lets throw the almost close and empty Sprite bottle over that girls head into what we assume is a trash can…but isn't. This really worries me.
 
Sometimes I feel bad. I don't want to seem like I think I am better than others. I make mistakes, and I have my share of less than classic moments. Still this wide spread loss of common sense just kills me sometimes! I see it in all age groups, but it seems to be most prevalent in the under thirty crowd. There are times where I can't tell if it is really abandoning common sense, being totally self absorbed or mix of the two. I've blamed the "entitlement monster."

Yes, the quickly spiraling out of control villain that has young people used to having everything done for them and given to them. Maybe if they would have learned personal responsibility, they wouldn't be as clueless.  I don't know, and really I'm not trying to play the blame game. I just want to know how we got here so we can try and make it stop.

Suddenly I am faced with people/students that are a little bit younger, and in some ways are so different than I am…and sometimes the same.  Generation Y is known for their television viewing habits, their love of technology, naively optimistic outlooks, and an over all lack of responsibility.  I find myself getting frustrated with their (in my mind) glaring shortcomings. I just don't my students who can't be bothered to read the syllabus and expect me to spoon feed them each week' s assignments. It annoys me that I have to lock their computers or I will be fighting MySpace and Facebook for their attention.  

Don't get me wrong. I'm all about multitasking, and I love to MySpace and Facebook a much a the next person.  However, would it kill them to listen for an hour and a half? The same goes for cell phones. Holy Geez….STOP TEXTING…or refusing to turn off their phone in the testing lab. You know it won't kill you to turn the phone off. Oh…you have a baby? Oh that changes the….wait no, centuries of parents lived without cell phones, you can live with out yours for  a few hours. If you are given a form, even if no one tells you to fill out your personal information, complete it.  

Seriously, if it says: NAME ________________ put your name on it. It isn't that hard. It kills my that their helicopter parents are so afraid of them failing that the parents make all the decisions. This is to the point of them not being able to make a decision without their parents.  Somewhere along the line personal responsibility just takes a header out the window. I just don't get it. Maybe I'm just getting old.
 
At the same time, I am a technology geek. I love social networking.  Facebook, MySpace, LinkedIn, Friend Feed, Twitter  and many more sites can call me a user. I get information and answers from the mobile service Cha Cha. I love my I-pod.   I suffer from the Sesame Street and MTV induced short attention span many of Generation Y face.  In some ways I see that Generation X's apathy and cynicism will not get you what you want. Yes I am a realist. I'm not a fan of people I don't know, but you have to have a certain level of optimism.  Being a whiney self loathing slug isn't the way to make progress.   
 
So, I'm not fully on board with Generation X, but I'm not exactly Generation Y material. Where does that leave me? This sort of gives generation gap a whole new meaning. I know I can't be alone. There are many of us floating somewhere between the generations. We have characteristics of both. I'm not saying it is a bad thing. Maybe we have the best of both worlds.

Lesson 1   
Life happens. Had you told me a year ago this would be my life, I would not have believed you. I thought I had my life all figured out. I had a plan and goals. However, things didn’t turn out quite as I expected. My plans didn’t exactly pan out, but that path led me to meeting a Karaoke DJ and his girlfriend. After some prodding, I started singing a song or two at his Wednesday night shows. Then we started going to his Thursday night show.  I’m not  great singer, but I’m not tone deaf. If I have the right song I sound pretty decent.  I began to meet a few other people at the shows, but I was still so wrapped up in my life I really only still knew the DJ and his girl friend beyond just their names. Initially, I only thought they liked me because of the guy I was spending my time with. However, when that gentleman left me behind, they were true friends to me. What started off as just going to one or two karaoke shows a week because I had no where else to go, became my nightlife Thursday-Saturday.  Soon I had  all these new friends, and I was even helping out in the DJ booth. Now I can’t imagine my life with out these people.      

Lesson 2
Not judging a book by it’s cover has a whole new meaning. I was never all about  pegging people by what they look like, but his just hit that whole idea home.  If you were to look at us, I’m sure this friend group wouldn’t make sense. We run the gambit from quiet and reserved perfectionist (me), to redneck, to just plain wild and crazy extrovert. I know that is human nature to connect with people more like us, but honestly I think our diversity is part of what makes us work. Where one person has a weakness, another has strength. If you were to look at us individually.        

Lesson 3
Guard your friendship circle closely. No matter who you are, there are going to be people who want to be your friend or get close to your friends for all the wrong reasons. In my case it is usually people trying to get close to the DJs. These may be girls who think they are rock stars, and want their attention. They may be people who don’t sing, but like the attention they get from being up front. They want in the inner circle for all the wrong reasons. This cracks me up because really, of you big goal is to be well known in some bar in the Northern Indianapolis Suburbs…you have more issues than I’m going to get into. I have actually had girls ask me how I “got in.” Um…well even I’m not sure. I’m nice to people. The DJs had me sit up there a few times so I didn’t have to sit alone, and while I was up there I learned how to run the software.  The rest just happened.  Friendships are things you should not have to work your way into, they should just happen without underlying intentions.   

Lesson 4    
Don’t let what other people say bother you. People will get jealous from time to time. I’m not exactly sure anyone would be jealous of me, but I have heard some interesting rumors and been accused of laughable things. These are things that anyone who really knows me would know it is garbage. At first I was offended, now I just ignore it or at least get a laugh out of it. Once again attacking me because I get to be a DJ or sit in the DJ booth with my friends is just a little sad and petty. I get to DJ because I learned to help out in the booth and now I am one of the people who work in the booth at times. Sometimes I get to sit up front with my friends.  It is usually because there is no one else for me to sit with at the moment. Really, there is no scandal there.        

Lesson 5
Just being yourself works! If the people are really worth your time and energy, they will see and appreciate the real you. If you have to change or not be yourself to impress people, it isn’t worth it. Once again, I’m not sure why my friends love me like they do. I’m not sure how I fell into this friendship. It just happened, and I am very glad it did. Yes it will still hurt when you are rejected by people, but if they don’t get you then they don’t deserve you.

Tonight will be another Karaoke night. I will hang out with my friends, laugh, and have fun. At the end of the night I’ll be sitting at Steak-n-Shake with a diet vanilla coke, I’ll be thankful that I have this new family to call my own.

The drive to the conservation area did not look any different from what we were used to seeing back home in the city. Pizzerias, brand name grocery stores, McDonalds, you name it, and we drove past it.

Right outside the conservation area, there was a convenience store. When people forgot something at home, or just wanted a slushy, a bunch of us would go jump in our cars and drive over to the store or into town to get what we needed for the weekend. This was quickly termed “Fake Camping.”  

Year after year, our “camping” got worse. Because we all had been so often, we knew what the conservation area offered and where and what the best sites were: radio zones, group sites and flushing toilets. Yes, this was a group of 30 plus teenagers and 20-somethings all acting like divas, and sadly, I was one of them.

The ladies needed the flushing toilets because there were sinks so we all could wash our faces, put on our makeup, wash our hair and just have the luxury of a not using an outhouse.

Instead of swimming in a lake or river, we swam in a swimming pool, regulated with chlorine and even offered us a diving board, where many of the boys showed off their high diving skills.

In no way could our three-day camping excursion even be considered real camping. We were city kids, and our idea of roughing it was to bring a mini barbeque, air mattresses for our tents, and all the toiletries you can think of. Anything to make our time away from the luxuries of home was welcomed.

I think the idea of authentic camping scared the crap out of us. We could barely manage dealing with dousing ourselves in bug spray, being bitten by bugs in spite of our DEET baths, huddling around the campfire only to complain about how cold it was outside, or freaking out when a spider found its way into a tent. Who knows what would have happened if we actually took a real excursion to Algonquin Park and roughed it in the bush (Susanna Moodie, anyone?).  

It must be my generation. We are so used to living in the laps of luxury that our idea of camping is driving out to a conservation area in the Boonies. Forget hunting for food, we have hamburgers and veggie dogs to cook on our portable grill. We don’t need to chop wood to make a fire; the employees at the site already have some pre-packaged bags ready to be sold. And what are the most threatening things we encounter? Not bears or snakes, but mosquitoes and other creepy crawlies.

The idea of roughing it in the bush is almost like a fantasy, something idealistic. Perhaps one day I will be brave enough to venture into the wild like my Canadian ancestors before me. I don’t know how long a vegetarian like me would last out in the wild, so maybe my adventure would have to be cut short to just one weekend.

I also try to be an involved parent and as a freelancer, I’m blessed with having a flexible schedule which makes me available for school festivities. When I do venture out of my office and go to these activities, it sometimes puts me in contact with other moms and that’s when I get an education and realize just how isolated and out of step I am with normal moms.

Now, before I give you the impression that I’m a recluse loser who is completely, socially inept, I proudly tell you that I do have a few friends outside of my critique group. These girlfriends are other moms who know me, know what I do, and lovingly accept me for who I am. They are willing to put up with my persistent questions about everything and overlook my cock-eyed views and penchant for stating the obvious, sometimes without care or tact.

Recently, I was at an informal, get-to-know you meeting at a beautiful home with a group of other moms from my son’s school. At this get-together, I stood in a circle with women who talked incessantly of re-painting, re-furnishing, re-wallpapering or otherwise re-doing their houses. The whole time I was thinking that I just can’t fathom why someone would put themselves through such torture. Don’t get me wrong. I envy women who have the decorating knack. I’m jealous of women who do such things. But I simply don’t have the patience, taste or inclination for that particular area of “normal mom stuff.”

For example, I once told another writer friend of mind that if I had the money, I’d replicate every room in my house to look like photo layouts from a Pottery Barn catalog. The paint, the furniture, the knick-knacks, everything. And I would just leave it like that. My friend replied, “Oh my God, me too!” That was when I knew we were kindred spirits.

While the women at this party were standing around, talking about decorating, I listened politely and nodded my head, trying to be agreeable and fit in since I didn’t have anything to add to the subject. However, when the conversation changed to something about the news or politics, or some story that was buried on page eight of the local newspaper, I was all over it and got excited that I could actually contribute to what was being said.

At that point, the moms asked me what I do and I told them I write. There was a time in my career when saying that made me feel shameful for not having a “real job”. Guilt would plague me and I felt dirty, almost like I just admitted that I cook up meth in my kitchen or do drugs. However, as I’ve become more confident, I just throw “I’m a writer” out there and deal with the consequences. In the past, some moms acted condescending and have said something like, “OOOOhhh. A writer.” Other times, moms have told me, “You know, I’d like to write a book.” And they say this in an offhanded way that lets me know they don’t know anything about writing. But occasionally, I find that one mom whose reaction is, “That’s really cool.” And that is the person I know I can call a friend.

My husband and I have been avid Sex in the City fans since the comfort stage of our relationship. You know the one, six months after the first sleep over when you no longer purposely match your underwear to earn "best girlfriend ever" points. My husband, who we'll call "Jay" to protect his identity, was the first to alert me of the movie rumors. His level of eagerness to be my movie date was a little shocking. I didn't expect Jay to kick and scream about the event but I didn't expect him to be so excited about it either.

We made plans to attend the first showing after work to avoid both lines of people and lines of potential witnesses. I could have done without the occasional "you GO girl" but overall, the movie itself was great. It was exactly what you would have expected from a typical chick-flick: a happy start, slight drama to deter you from happiness overload, a major dramatic conflict, some friendship/lovey dovie crap, mending, and low and behold, your happy ending.

I started thinking about the heat Jay was going to get for happily being my SITC galpal. The only thing poor Jay would be able to cover that Friday night over beer and guitar talk with the menfolk was how Charlotte finally got pregnant after all this time. As the guilt of my indulgence started kicking in, I couldn't help but wonder: are men the new 18th century women?

If a woman who enjoys baseball is sexy, than what is so wrong with a man who enjoys a good chick flick? Is it time for men to start a feminist movement of their own? Have we become so preoccupied by our own fight against the stereotypical female that we failed to notice the metamorphosis of the common man? Sure we caught and tagged the common metrosexual for further observation but this new breed seems to have slid by us unnoticed. Metrosexuals are groomed and pruned to be aesthetically pleasing to the naked female eye where as it would appear this new behavior is tailored to suit the more emotional side of a woman. The big question would be, are we ready for this guy to be among us ladies? And gentlemen, would you feel threatened by "this guy"?

It would appear I have a lot more to learn about this new breed of man. Until then, I am simply grateful to have a husband who I can share my love of super cheesy chick-flicks with and who is probably going to read this, share my chuckles and not make me sleep on the couch tonight.

They live beyond the civilized suburbs of mainstream.  Under a jungle of judgment and misunderstanding, behind leafy discretion, they dig themselves into the underground of local communities.  They create their own language, form families of the like minded, adhere to different social courtesies, and obey different laws of men.  A completely different culture in your own backyard. 

If you are content with the familiar, or uncomfortable with the bizarre, perhaps its best the door stays closed to you.  You can hardly be blamed for wanting to protect your sense of self.  But if you find yourself biting your lip when you look at that closed curtain and wondering what experiences lay on the other side – on the side of the Others – perhaps you could set down your reservations, and quiet your fears by listening to a voice from the underground.  

Placed in a display all to themselves were historical figures, but not just any historical figures, Canadian historical figures. John A. Macdonald, Sir Isaac Brock and Sir Wilfred Laurier packaged up and being sold as action figures under the Canadian Legends line. 

I was completely intrigued by these Canadian heroes, so I decided to Google the product to try to find more information. I found the site, Legends Action Figures (www.legendsactionfigures.com) that offers a lot of information about each figures and everything each one comes with (a 20-page colour bilingual booklet detailing the life of the figure, a display base and accessories).

I am not overly convinced that these Canadian Legends action figures are such a great learning tool. I mean, how much can one person learn in the span of 20 pages? It is just enough to wet one’s whistle to go and learn more and bone up on their Canadian history. But why would any child want Sir Isaac Brock when he or she could have Wolverine, The Hulk, or even Buffy the Vampire Slayer?

As a Canadian, I could not be less interested in purchasing these products. I think the only circumstance would be as a joke to my friend who attended Brock, the same Alma Mater as I, so we could have a good chuckle at the expense of Canadian history. Does that make me a bad Canadian because I am not interested in my history, probably not, but it is open for debate.  

To me, these Canadian Legends action figures (and I do use that term loosely) are purely for the history nuts and those who collect everything under the sun. Just like any other collectable, it would stay fresh in the box, never to see the light of day or come out to play with all the other super heroes and action figures. I don’t know how much action these figures would get in the home of a child, but I would wager my money on not much.

I have written countless articles on the subject, but no one has seen them or heard of them. I look them over, considering submission, and using my journalistic hat, I review them to ensure they are free of any racial bias, only to discard them. In the end—I put them away—stored in a place where they can’t be found. I do it because I’m scared of what people might say if they read my words.

Remember, I am a fiction writer—a creative sort—not a journalist, but a blogger with a necessity to write on a daily basis. I have my own opinions and prejudices, as we all do, naturally, whether we choose to acknowledge that truth or not. It’s reality. But something happened to my daughter recently that triggered my earnest desire to touch on the topic—regardless of the outcome. And where better to address the topic of racism with regards to a changing culture, than right here on CultureFeast.com, where all topics related to our society are fair game.

I can’t say who said what to who and why because the persons involved are minors, girls under the age of 13 and obviously ignorant. But like the basis of the word ignorant—lack of knowledge and understanding—it stems from high up on the family tree; I believe racial prejudice is learned, and like a garden it is instilled at birth and nourished over time and the fruit borne is an exact replica of the caretaker. We mimic our surroundings; that is the natural order of mankind. And over time in my life, I have experienced prejudice from both sides of the border—right here in my own backyard.

“I wish Mexicans would go back where they came from.” That was the statement implied directly to my daughter’s friend. No, it wasn’t said directly at her and because of that (and I toot my own horn here) my daughter said nothing. The comment wasn’t made towards her directly, therefore; it wasn’t worth arguing about. Stupid people say stupid things—that is what I’ve always told her. When people are too busy watching you and worrying about what you do or say, or what you look like or what you don’t own in this world—they obviously have nothing better to do with their lives than watch what you do. Those people are like the pathetic cronies who sit and watch washed-up actors and over-privileged people crying about how miserable the world is when the local coffee shop runs out of Espresso. In all actuality, they have nothing better to do with their lives.

I told my daughter not to worry about what was said, because in the end, the person who said it obviously wasn’t smart enough to discover truths for themselves. What this girl said was a direct response to what has been relayed in her home. No doubt the girl’s parents have a problem with Mexicans which is probably a direct response for the “Illegal Immigrant” issues we now face in America. Face it, people are mad and the fact they keep their feelings bottled in, proves we are on the cusp of great anger and hatred as a people in whole. Now, knowing this, I have deducted the girl’s parents are either THAT prejudice that they lump all people of Hispanic/Mexican-American heritage into the same basket of hate or they are that ignorant they can’t tell the difference between the two cultures. And yes, there are two entirely different cultures of Meskin’ in America.

The people who were born in Mexico and either came here legally, or found alternate means make up the first culture now occupying a vast majority of this country. The second culture is the one closest to my own heritage—people of Mexican-American background—those born in America (once, twice or three-times removed) whose origins date back to a time when Texas was part of Mexico. My great-grandfather was born in what is still Mexico, just across from Eagle-Pass, Texas (which was Mexico at the time). He migrated with his five sons and one daughter and settled in Karnes City, Texas. From there the children each in turn settled in Fort Worth, Texas where my father was born—and now—his five children and grand/great-grand children. I am a second-generation United States Marine, following in my father’s footsteps, and more than American, I am a Texan—born and bred.

Growing up I faced the same prejudices but from two-sides of the fence. As a child of Mexican-American parents, we (and those like me) were considered “coconuts” or “Oreo’s” because we were dark on the outside and light (or white) on the inside. We were taught to speak English properly to compete in a predominately white world and thereby allowed most of our Meskin’ roots to linger for the sake of careers and future advancements. To people born of Mexico, we were nothing more than a darker shade of white; we were no different than the Anglo-American race. To white people however, we were the same—Mexican. As far as they knew, we didn’t speak English and because of that, probably weren’t smart, as if the lack in ability to speak another language somehow dummies down your own natural born intelligence??? I find that ironic because as a writer I hear countless people (born in America) tell me, “I can’t write…I didn’t do good in English class.” I feel like asking them now: You didn’t? Why not? What country are you from?

I told my daughter to ignore the girl who made the comment. I told her she was as dumb as the parents who are instilling the hatred towards another race. I mean, come on, I’m American. I want EVERYONE in this country to be documented, stamped, screwed, blued and tattooed. But I’m also a smart man and I know this. We can kick the Mexican’s out of America and hopefully, when we do (if we ever did), we send everyone else who can’t prove they were born in the US right back to wherever they came from. Then, we can disregard welfare, since hundreds of thousands of jobs will open up to us tried-and-true red-blooded Americans who aren’t afraid or too proud to wash dishes in restaurants we can’t afford, wash the cars we won’t ever drive and cut the grass and build the homes we will never own. And when prices go up for general lawncare, from minimum wage (and less), that will get rid of Homeowners Associations because I’ll be darned if tried-and-true American’s will do anything themselves for less than $15 bucks/hour which means we will all have to cut our own grass and I think we know that isn’t going to happen. But hey, kick them out. I’m an American. I’m an athlete and a former US Marine. I’m not scared to work and get my hands dirty because I know where I came from…