Monday, January 15, 2019
About a week ago I was reminded of an even t that happened about a year ago: that crazy dog-lady who is actively trying to seduce Jex. She walks up my friend's driveway and then up a couple steps to the yard where Jex is tied out just to pet her and occasionally give her treats. One Christmas she even dropped a bag of treats on the front doorstep for her. I've bumped into her a couple times while out walking and she always stops and tries to pet her, and I always forget to tell her to not trespass on my friend's property so that she can pet Jex. This concerns me because this type of consistent behavior isn't.. well, I'm afraid that one day she'll steal my dog away. If Jex is ever missing one day, I'm going to be 100% suspicious of this lady.
But anyways, the reason I was reminded of this lady the other day is that I bumped into her while walking Jex. She had two friends or family members with her, and when she saw Jex she was like,
"Oh, is that Jacks?" And went to pet her. But this time I remembered to talk to her:
"Hey, how's it going. Hey, do you think you could not give her treats when you walk by? I'd just rather not have you doing that to my dog."
She replied, "What? I never give her treats. I haven't ever done that."
"Well, please don't go up and pet her when she's tied out then."
Here she sounded slightly offended: "But every dog needs love. She needs to be petted."
"Yes, but she's my dog and I'm asking you to just not pet her. I take good enough care of her."
At this point one of the guys with her recognized that this was an awkward conversation and told her that they should probably get going, but she began going off saying how Jex needs love and deserves to be petted and walked and so forth. Here I repeated, "Please don't pet her in the future. Thank you." And with that, I turned and walked away, leaving her with no option but to follow her friends' advice and to continue walking as well. And that was that.
How someone can make the accusation to the owner of a dog who is currently out walking her that that dog doesn't get enough love and isn't cared for properly is beyond me. Perhaps the fact that she is tied out in a yard during the day is sufficient evidence to levy claims of not-loving-your-dog? Bringing her inside at night isn't enough, little kids playing with her at random points in the day isn't enough, and me taking her on walks and adventures isn't enough, and so it is absolutely necessary that she pet Jex when she is tied out on someone else's private property. (And not just reaching over a fence to pet her, no, it's walking a car's length driveway and up two steps and to the open gateway to pet her. This can only be a very conscious decision.) That must be what she thinks at least. Perhaps she doesn't know all of that, but to assume it is nevertheless an overstep on her part, especially when she is saying this to my face... while I'm out on a walk with Jex. Curious.
Tuesday, January 15, 2019
Friday, November 30, 2018
Wednesday, October 31, 2018
Bounces
Wednesday, October 31st, 2018
Sometime last month I was cleaning off my nightstand and found a bouncyball. It was maybe an inch and a half in diameter, and it seemed to be in a sad state of non-bounce, probably due to the fact that it hadn't been bounced in a while. So I went out to my patio to try it out and was not at all disappointed at its bounciness. I threw it to the concrete, it bounced up and then off the side of the apartment and then back to my hands. It was a rather ethereal experience. But then, disaster. I put a little too much force on it, and the ball bounced up and onto the roof and didn't come back down! Sadness. So I climbed up and retrieved it, making a mental note not to bounce it that hard, since I didn't care to go through all the trouble of recovering it again. But then again.... something about the taste of a powerful bounce made me crave more. Not wanting to repeat the earlier incident, I ran out into the parking lot to give it a try. I threw it down with all my might and up, up, up it went, high enough to inspire naught but sheer delight in my innermost heart.
This was not a discovery of bliss I could keep to myself, so I ran back inside and told Froh, "Come outside Froh, I gotta show you something!" He asked what it was but I wouldn't tell him and simply chanted, "Come on, come on, come on!" He got up from the couch and followed me out, though not as fast as I'd've liked, and maybe there was a bit of disinterest there as well. I mean, he did have some reading to do. But all those thoughts vanished from his mind when he saw The Bounce. A look of sheer youthful delight broadened his face into a wide grinning smile as he saw the bouncyball soar high into the sky. He gave it a go and we both laughed at the sheer joy of it all. We spent several minutes out in the parking lot bouncing the ball insanely high to each other, until one misplaced bounce landed the ball at the road, and then it proceed on to roll to the other side the road. I ran across to get it and was instantly hit, not by a car, but an idea: I'd bounce it all the way back across the road! As I wound up for the bounce, a car crested the hill and made it's way towards us. I jumped up and threw the ball down, but unfortunately at a terrible angle. It's trajectory was less than optimal, and as it made it's way back down to earth it seemed like it wouldn't even make it across the road, let alone all the way to Froh. That car kept coming, the ball kept falling, and it almost looked as if... PLUNK! the bouncyball struck the roof of the car and then bounced off into the grass on the other side.
I let out a hearty laugh at the improbability of it, and the car got really offended and slowed WAY down, almost to a halt. It didn't quite know what had happened, but it was blaming me. I mocked the car (in my head, of course, and 5/8s in jest), saying that he was a cheap junker and the bouncyball couldn't possibly have left a dent anyways, and that he was just being silly for getting so offended. He wasn't quite convinced though and came to a full stop, and it looked like he would turn around and give me a piece of his mind, but then another car came up behind him and wondered why he was taking so long, and then they both moved on. Stupid car.... hahae, cars these days.. they don't make 'em how they used to.
Anyways, Froh and I bounced around a little longer before an even better idea struck me: how about bounce it over the apartments! I wound up for the shot, ran, jumped, and threw down. The bouncyball soared at a perfect trajectory, bounced off the top of the roof, then down off the other side out of view. Froh and I ran with glee to see how good the results were, and there, sitting innocently on our back patio, was the bouncyball. We congratulated ourselves on all the fun we had and then called it a day and went back to work.
Sometime last month I was cleaning off my nightstand and found a bouncyball. It was maybe an inch and a half in diameter, and it seemed to be in a sad state of non-bounce, probably due to the fact that it hadn't been bounced in a while. So I went out to my patio to try it out and was not at all disappointed at its bounciness. I threw it to the concrete, it bounced up and then off the side of the apartment and then back to my hands. It was a rather ethereal experience. But then, disaster. I put a little too much force on it, and the ball bounced up and onto the roof and didn't come back down! Sadness. So I climbed up and retrieved it, making a mental note not to bounce it that hard, since I didn't care to go through all the trouble of recovering it again. But then again.... something about the taste of a powerful bounce made me crave more. Not wanting to repeat the earlier incident, I ran out into the parking lot to give it a try. I threw it down with all my might and up, up, up it went, high enough to inspire naught but sheer delight in my innermost heart.
This was not a discovery of bliss I could keep to myself, so I ran back inside and told Froh, "Come outside Froh, I gotta show you something!" He asked what it was but I wouldn't tell him and simply chanted, "Come on, come on, come on!" He got up from the couch and followed me out, though not as fast as I'd've liked, and maybe there was a bit of disinterest there as well. I mean, he did have some reading to do. But all those thoughts vanished from his mind when he saw The Bounce. A look of sheer youthful delight broadened his face into a wide grinning smile as he saw the bouncyball soar high into the sky. He gave it a go and we both laughed at the sheer joy of it all. We spent several minutes out in the parking lot bouncing the ball insanely high to each other, until one misplaced bounce landed the ball at the road, and then it proceed on to roll to the other side the road. I ran across to get it and was instantly hit, not by a car, but an idea: I'd bounce it all the way back across the road! As I wound up for the bounce, a car crested the hill and made it's way towards us. I jumped up and threw the ball down, but unfortunately at a terrible angle. It's trajectory was less than optimal, and as it made it's way back down to earth it seemed like it wouldn't even make it across the road, let alone all the way to Froh. That car kept coming, the ball kept falling, and it almost looked as if... PLUNK! the bouncyball struck the roof of the car and then bounced off into the grass on the other side.
I let out a hearty laugh at the improbability of it, and the car got really offended and slowed WAY down, almost to a halt. It didn't quite know what had happened, but it was blaming me. I mocked the car (in my head, of course, and 5/8s in jest), saying that he was a cheap junker and the bouncyball couldn't possibly have left a dent anyways, and that he was just being silly for getting so offended. He wasn't quite convinced though and came to a full stop, and it looked like he would turn around and give me a piece of his mind, but then another car came up behind him and wondered why he was taking so long, and then they both moved on. Stupid car.... hahae, cars these days.. they don't make 'em how they used to.
Anyways, Froh and I bounced around a little longer before an even better idea struck me: how about bounce it over the apartments! I wound up for the shot, ran, jumped, and threw down. The bouncyball soared at a perfect trajectory, bounced off the top of the roof, then down off the other side out of view. Froh and I ran with glee to see how good the results were, and there, sitting innocently on our back patio, was the bouncyball. We congratulated ourselves on all the fun we had and then called it a day and went back to work.
Saturday, September 22, 2018
Pitchforkin' Away
Summer, 2012
I stood in the cool mid-morning breeze and looked at the labryinthine barn, pitchfork in hand. It was a series of sheds connected by other sheds, decades' worth of add-ons and additions. Who knew how far back it went, it was hard to tell. What I did know was that there was a large flock of goats who made their abode there, as well as an impressive amount of manure; and, as you may have guessed, that's why I was there. Upon entering, I discovered the extent of the need to get the manure mucked out: in some places it was a mere six inches deep, in others, a foot. I was getting paid by the job, which meant the quicker I got it done, the quicker I could get out of there, so I set to. It didn't smell too bad at first, but once you got all that straw mixed with months of goat urine and droppings thrown around a bit, the dust became oppressive and the smell repugnant. My trusty wheelbarrow didn't fail me though, and together we moved load after load to the large trailer hooked up to the tractor out front.
After a good while I made it to the largest area of the shed compilation. Besides an astounding amount of muck, this one particular stall also had a very oddly placed metal beam, about an eighth inch wide, connected the ceiling to the base of one of the walls. I wondered why in the world they decided to build it that way, but since the whole shed-upon-shed thing was already weird enough, I didn't think too much about this strange metal beam and set to work. I avoided the beam the whole time, which kind of got annoying since it cut straight through the stall and made it somewhat awkward to maneuver around, but hey, what could I do. After that I moved on to the next stall, and then the next and the next. Finally, some time later, as I was taking out another wheelbarrow load, I noticed something fishy: the metal beam wasn't in the same place, it had moved slightly! I set the wheelbarrow done and moved in for a closer inspection. I got real close to the beam and looked at it intently.... hmm. I positioned my hand to grab the beam, then brought it in to take hold of it.. except... MY HAND WENT STRAIGHT THROUGH THE LITTLE METAL BEAM!! I had no idea what had just happened, I was totally shocked. I passed my hand effortlessly through it time and again, completely consumed in awe. And then, it struck me. I looked up and sure enough, there was a little hole in the tin roof, and the little metal beam was actually just sunlight. The air was so dusty that the bright sunlight on the obscenely high concentration of dust particles made it appear to be a solid physical object!
Some time later I had finally filled up that huge trailer and gotten every scrap of manure out of the shed-barn-conglomeration. All that was left to do was drive the tractor over to the dumping spot and offload it all; I was almost done! Not only that, but I was in fresh air again and didn't have to struggle to breath anymore. That, along with the fact of being almost done, urged me on to greater things and I started forking out the manure faster than I'd ever gone before. This hastiness may have been the main contributor to my demise. All at once I made a simple mistake: I tried to scoop up some manure that, unfortunately, my foot was under. I felt an odd feeling in my left foot, at the same time as my pitchfork came to an abrupt stop. My smile fell. I slowly looked down at my left foot. One of the forks had gone straight through my leather boot, in one side and clean out the other. And it wasn't just through the a little bit of it either: it entered near the middle of my foot area and exited at an angle toward my toe. AND I DIDN'T FEEL A THING. I gulped. My foot was probably so messed up that my pain registers had shut down to help me not go into shock or something. I winced, then tried to wiggle my toes... then my whole foot.. it felt great! I breathed a huge sigh of relief as a nervous laugh echoed ominously, resonating from.. well, myself I guess. I gave the pitchfork a solid tug, and yanked it out of my boot. There was no blood, and then I really believed my foot was fine. I continued working after that, but slower this time. I immediately decided to say not a word of this to anyone for at least three or five years. And I didn't. Not a word. Sometimes it's better for stories of danger and near-misses to age a little bit before one tells one's mother, for the safety and sanity of all.
I stood in the cool mid-morning breeze and looked at the labryinthine barn, pitchfork in hand. It was a series of sheds connected by other sheds, decades' worth of add-ons and additions. Who knew how far back it went, it was hard to tell. What I did know was that there was a large flock of goats who made their abode there, as well as an impressive amount of manure; and, as you may have guessed, that's why I was there. Upon entering, I discovered the extent of the need to get the manure mucked out: in some places it was a mere six inches deep, in others, a foot. I was getting paid by the job, which meant the quicker I got it done, the quicker I could get out of there, so I set to. It didn't smell too bad at first, but once you got all that straw mixed with months of goat urine and droppings thrown around a bit, the dust became oppressive and the smell repugnant. My trusty wheelbarrow didn't fail me though, and together we moved load after load to the large trailer hooked up to the tractor out front.
After a good while I made it to the largest area of the shed compilation. Besides an astounding amount of muck, this one particular stall also had a very oddly placed metal beam, about an eighth inch wide, connected the ceiling to the base of one of the walls. I wondered why in the world they decided to build it that way, but since the whole shed-upon-shed thing was already weird enough, I didn't think too much about this strange metal beam and set to work. I avoided the beam the whole time, which kind of got annoying since it cut straight through the stall and made it somewhat awkward to maneuver around, but hey, what could I do. After that I moved on to the next stall, and then the next and the next. Finally, some time later, as I was taking out another wheelbarrow load, I noticed something fishy: the metal beam wasn't in the same place, it had moved slightly! I set the wheelbarrow done and moved in for a closer inspection. I got real close to the beam and looked at it intently.... hmm. I positioned my hand to grab the beam, then brought it in to take hold of it.. except... MY HAND WENT STRAIGHT THROUGH THE LITTLE METAL BEAM!! I had no idea what had just happened, I was totally shocked. I passed my hand effortlessly through it time and again, completely consumed in awe. And then, it struck me. I looked up and sure enough, there was a little hole in the tin roof, and the little metal beam was actually just sunlight. The air was so dusty that the bright sunlight on the obscenely high concentration of dust particles made it appear to be a solid physical object!
Some time later I had finally filled up that huge trailer and gotten every scrap of manure out of the shed-barn-conglomeration. All that was left to do was drive the tractor over to the dumping spot and offload it all; I was almost done! Not only that, but I was in fresh air again and didn't have to struggle to breath anymore. That, along with the fact of being almost done, urged me on to greater things and I started forking out the manure faster than I'd ever gone before. This hastiness may have been the main contributor to my demise. All at once I made a simple mistake: I tried to scoop up some manure that, unfortunately, my foot was under. I felt an odd feeling in my left foot, at the same time as my pitchfork came to an abrupt stop. My smile fell. I slowly looked down at my left foot. One of the forks had gone straight through my leather boot, in one side and clean out the other. And it wasn't just through the a little bit of it either: it entered near the middle of my foot area and exited at an angle toward my toe. AND I DIDN'T FEEL A THING. I gulped. My foot was probably so messed up that my pain registers had shut down to help me not go into shock or something. I winced, then tried to wiggle my toes... then my whole foot.. it felt great! I breathed a huge sigh of relief as a nervous laugh echoed ominously, resonating from.. well, myself I guess. I gave the pitchfork a solid tug, and yanked it out of my boot. There was no blood, and then I really believed my foot was fine. I continued working after that, but slower this time. I immediately decided to say not a word of this to anyone for at least three or five years. And I didn't. Not a word. Sometimes it's better for stories of danger and near-misses to age a little bit before one tells one's mother, for the safety and sanity of all.
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
Murphy's Law At Its Finest
On your average day, I'm one of those guys who really hates being stuck at a stoplight. I will go out of my way to avoid them, even if it means adding another minute or two to my drive. And for me, it's worth it. Today, however, was a different story. I turned left at a stop sign right after a copcar had done the same, except I had to wait for a few pedestrians to cross first. As such, he got to get to the redlight first and wait. I pulled up behind him a moment or two later. Immediately, I realized something was going wrong. There was a FedEx truck on the other side of the road, but he wasn't moving. He was stationary. Very stationary. I imagine he was busy delivering a package and that's why the truck was so stationary. Now, as scientific studies have shown, stationary vehicles are more than twice as likely to impede traffic flow when on roadways than their non-stationary peers. Now I, personally, can confirm that this study has at least some empirical evidence to back up its claims. There was a string of cars behind him waiting to get going, and then there was one car, the last one in line, who also tried to make the light and turn onto the clogged road. This didn't end so well. The light turned red and then traffic from the other direction had a fairly difficult time getting around this individual in the middle of the intersection. There were also two cars trying, and failing, to back out of their coffee shop parking spots. They couldn't accomplish their goal because myself, the copcar, and the car in front of him were stuck at the light. I also realized at that moment that had I noticed before pulling up behind the copcar that the FedEx truck was in fact stationary and there was a pile of cars behind him, I could've hugged the right side of the road so there'd be enough space for them to squeeze by and so solve the traffic problem that was developing. But unfortunately, I was not paying enough attention to notice this before a car pulled up behind me and locked me in position.
Well, it couldn't get much worse than this. At least the light was about to change. Finally, after what seemed like ages, we got the green. But you know what? The car in front of the copcar wanted to turn left, and guess who was still in the middle of the intersection blocking everything? You already know who it is. That Guy. So then the car who wanted to turn left did what any reasonable person would do under these circumstances: he gave up on going left and decided to go straight and slightly readjust his travel plans so that all the cars that had piled up behind me could get by. He took one for the team. Or at least, that what we all hoped he'd have done. In reality though, he decided he'd be better off if he just waited for the car to move so he could turn left like he wanted. Time passed. More cars piled up behind me and in the left turn lane of the other road. The light turned red. The cross-traffic painstakingly maneuvered themselves around That Guy in the intersection. Slowly. Finally, the cops in front of me had had enough. They threw open their doors and jumped out very determinedly. One headed for the car in front of them to tell them to go straight to alleviate traffic, while the other headed for the FedEx truck to get him to move ASAP. Now, I'd been laughing and chuckling to myself throughout this entire ordeal because it was just too much, but the cops actually getting out of their squad-car was the icing on the cake. Or was it? Just then the FedEx truck's engine roared to life and he started to lurch forward. The one cop, visibly frustrated, immediately turned around and called to his buddy, and they both hopped back in their car. As the line of cars finally drove on by, the cops honked angrily at That Guy who had managed to block the entire intersection. Soon enough the light changed again and everybody was stonefacedly going on their way, annoyed at the unnecessary stupidity and trafficjam. And then there was me, laughing my head off as I turned left and made it through just in time to hit the yellow light and make it up 6th street. Life is truly a joy, even with all its unforeseen roadblocks.
Still tho, don't be That Guy. Please.
Well, it couldn't get much worse than this. At least the light was about to change. Finally, after what seemed like ages, we got the green. But you know what? The car in front of the copcar wanted to turn left, and guess who was still in the middle of the intersection blocking everything? You already know who it is. That Guy. So then the car who wanted to turn left did what any reasonable person would do under these circumstances: he gave up on going left and decided to go straight and slightly readjust his travel plans so that all the cars that had piled up behind me could get by. He took one for the team. Or at least, that what we all hoped he'd have done. In reality though, he decided he'd be better off if he just waited for the car to move so he could turn left like he wanted. Time passed. More cars piled up behind me and in the left turn lane of the other road. The light turned red. The cross-traffic painstakingly maneuvered themselves around That Guy in the intersection. Slowly. Finally, the cops in front of me had had enough. They threw open their doors and jumped out very determinedly. One headed for the car in front of them to tell them to go straight to alleviate traffic, while the other headed for the FedEx truck to get him to move ASAP. Now, I'd been laughing and chuckling to myself throughout this entire ordeal because it was just too much, but the cops actually getting out of their squad-car was the icing on the cake. Or was it? Just then the FedEx truck's engine roared to life and he started to lurch forward. The one cop, visibly frustrated, immediately turned around and called to his buddy, and they both hopped back in their car. As the line of cars finally drove on by, the cops honked angrily at That Guy who had managed to block the entire intersection. Soon enough the light changed again and everybody was stonefacedly going on their way, annoyed at the unnecessary stupidity and trafficjam. And then there was me, laughing my head off as I turned left and made it through just in time to hit the yellow light and make it up 6th street. Life is truly a joy, even with all its unforeseen roadblocks.
Still tho, don't be That Guy. Please.
Friday, August 31, 2018
Article 4, Section 2c
I have recently received several notes from various peoples asking where they can access the 'Handbook for Definitions of Commonly Politicized Vocabulary,' but unfortunately this Handbook is as of yet unfinished and so remains unpublished. It is therefore not yet open to the public. However, out of the deep magnanimity of my soul, as well as for the beneficence, moral uplifting, and overall well-being of my truly inquisitive readers whose curiosity is insatiable, I have decided to bequeath to them the portion of said handbook referenced in a previous manuscript of mine, that they might discover for themselves the intent with which I as of late spoke, and also that they might be saved from hearing a less accurate representation of the definition of the term they seek were they to hear my humble attempt to describe the matter in its fullness to them, such potential inaccuracies being due, not to any irrationality or fallacy in my reasoning, but rather to the frailty and infirmity of the cognitive faculties to recall all that has transpired to bring one to a particular conclusion and to communicate clearly and precisely the meaning one is attempting to convey. And so, without further ado, here is that portion of the 'Handbook for Definitions of Commonly Politicized Vocabulary' under question. For context, the entirety of Section 2 has been included.
Article 4, Section 2a
'Lady', in its broadest definition, is simply another term for 'woman', 'female of the human species', 'girl', and other such words. It is a bit higher in register compared to the examples just given, which makes it a suitable word to use when one finds oneself in high society. For, in such situations, one does not simply say, "That woman gave me a glass of champagne." Rather, one should say, "That lady over there was so kind as to give me this glass of champagne." For reasons such as these, the term 'lady' can be used in this more general sense of the word.
Section 2b
However, sometimes 'lady' has a narrower definition. Used in this fashion, one needs to be more than simply a female human being to be called a 'lady'. The sort of woman who merits to be called this must possess, if not all, at least several, of the traits and/or qualities here to be mentioned: She must be kind, know the difference between right and wrong and act accordingly, and be mentally tough. A lady holds herself respectably and appropriately in regard to the situation at hand. (This in no way implies the necessity of having an eternal air of stoicism; for a more complete treatment of this topic, refer to Article 1, Section 3 of this handbook.) She is always willing to help wherever she can, and she pays attention to those around her and offers words of encouragement when needed. She is an example of moral living and treats others how she herself would like to be treated. These are some of the qualities of a lady.
Section 2c
The definition of 'lady' in the previous section is fairly strenuous, and is by far the most narrow definition. It requires more than a casual glance to tell if a woman is a lady or not. This third definition strikes a middle ground between the other two usages, in that it still carries some, but not all, of the implied virtue of the second usage, and yet applies almost, though not quite, as extensively as the first. Basically, you assume a woman is a lady until she demonstrates otherwise. What ramifications does this have then? Shall we treat women differently on the grounds of whether they're a lady or not? I am going to presume that the person reading is this is in fact a lady or gentleman, which means that, by definition, they will treat people as they would themselves like to be treated. So no, there shouldn't be too much of a difference. What about greeting people in the marketplace then? Did what we say about greeting various people based on whether they were this type of person, or that type of person, or a lady, mean anything at all? Well, yes and no. In effect, you will end up greeting women as if they were ladies, even if they aren't. This may seem to nullify the distinctions we made regarding various usages of the term 'lady', and maybe it does. Perhaps there is no discrepancy between 'lady' and 'woman' besides one being in a higher register. But I would like to posit that there is still a bit of truth behind my thinking. In the right context, calling someone a lady can be a high form of praise to their character, or, on the other hand, a simple gesture of goodwill in assuming the best of someone.
Section 2d
The attentive reader might then ask two questions: "What if I myself am a lady, how then should I greet other ladies?" To which I would reply that, not being a lady myself and not having done much thought on this angle of the discussion, I don't know. Go ask your mother or a person whose opinion you respect on the matter. And the second question they might ask is: "Why did we even bring up this whole discussion to begin with? Might it have been easier to just simply state "In the right context, calling someone a lady can be a high form of praise to their character, or, on the other hand, a simple gesture of goodwill in assuming the best of someone." from the get-go?" Yes. It would have been easier. But it would also have been much less profitable to everyone involved, myself included. It is a good thing to reason through why we do some of the things we do instead of simply just doing them. That way we can more fully understand what's actually going on, and sometimes even conclude that we're doing it wrong. Intuition is great, but when combined with reasoning to understand why it seems right, it's even better. Perhaps someone will point out an inaccuracy in my current way of thinking, and I'll have to come back and change or add to what I've written. And that's fine. It's part of the process of becoming wise. My hope is that this has been a good exercise in the cultivation of wisdom, and that we will sharpen our reasoning capabilities through thinking about why we do the things we do.
Article 4, Section 2a
'Lady', in its broadest definition, is simply another term for 'woman', 'female of the human species', 'girl', and other such words. It is a bit higher in register compared to the examples just given, which makes it a suitable word to use when one finds oneself in high society. For, in such situations, one does not simply say, "That woman gave me a glass of champagne." Rather, one should say, "That lady over there was so kind as to give me this glass of champagne." For reasons such as these, the term 'lady' can be used in this more general sense of the word.
Section 2b
However, sometimes 'lady' has a narrower definition. Used in this fashion, one needs to be more than simply a female human being to be called a 'lady'. The sort of woman who merits to be called this must possess, if not all, at least several, of the traits and/or qualities here to be mentioned: She must be kind, know the difference between right and wrong and act accordingly, and be mentally tough. A lady holds herself respectably and appropriately in regard to the situation at hand. (This in no way implies the necessity of having an eternal air of stoicism; for a more complete treatment of this topic, refer to Article 1, Section 3 of this handbook.) She is always willing to help wherever she can, and she pays attention to those around her and offers words of encouragement when needed. She is an example of moral living and treats others how she herself would like to be treated. These are some of the qualities of a lady.
Section 2c
The definition of 'lady' in the previous section is fairly strenuous, and is by far the most narrow definition. It requires more than a casual glance to tell if a woman is a lady or not. This third definition strikes a middle ground between the other two usages, in that it still carries some, but not all, of the implied virtue of the second usage, and yet applies almost, though not quite, as extensively as the first. Basically, you assume a woman is a lady until she demonstrates otherwise. What ramifications does this have then? Shall we treat women differently on the grounds of whether they're a lady or not? I am going to presume that the person reading is this is in fact a lady or gentleman, which means that, by definition, they will treat people as they would themselves like to be treated. So no, there shouldn't be too much of a difference. What about greeting people in the marketplace then? Did what we say about greeting various people based on whether they were this type of person, or that type of person, or a lady, mean anything at all? Well, yes and no. In effect, you will end up greeting women as if they were ladies, even if they aren't. This may seem to nullify the distinctions we made regarding various usages of the term 'lady', and maybe it does. Perhaps there is no discrepancy between 'lady' and 'woman' besides one being in a higher register. But I would like to posit that there is still a bit of truth behind my thinking. In the right context, calling someone a lady can be a high form of praise to their character, or, on the other hand, a simple gesture of goodwill in assuming the best of someone.
Section 2d
The attentive reader might then ask two questions: "What if I myself am a lady, how then should I greet other ladies?" To which I would reply that, not being a lady myself and not having done much thought on this angle of the discussion, I don't know. Go ask your mother or a person whose opinion you respect on the matter. And the second question they might ask is: "Why did we even bring up this whole discussion to begin with? Might it have been easier to just simply state "In the right context, calling someone a lady can be a high form of praise to their character, or, on the other hand, a simple gesture of goodwill in assuming the best of someone." from the get-go?" Yes. It would have been easier. But it would also have been much less profitable to everyone involved, myself included. It is a good thing to reason through why we do some of the things we do instead of simply just doing them. That way we can more fully understand what's actually going on, and sometimes even conclude that we're doing it wrong. Intuition is great, but when combined with reasoning to understand why it seems right, it's even better. Perhaps someone will point out an inaccuracy in my current way of thinking, and I'll have to come back and change or add to what I've written. And that's fine. It's part of the process of becoming wise. My hope is that this has been a good exercise in the cultivation of wisdom, and that we will sharpen our reasoning capabilities through thinking about why we do the things we do.
Wednesday, August 29, 2018
How To Greet People 101
It is not uncommon for two people to greet one other when they see each other in the marketplace, or around town, or anywhere for that matter. Especially if these two people know each other, and even more so if they deem each other friends. But what sort of greeting is appropriate for each scenario? Are there more situations that would require a different sort of greeting? Everybody has their own unique answers to these questions, even if they haven't considered them directly. Here, though, I will tell you my thoughts on the subject, and explain why I greet people the way I do.
1. Greeting Random People
First off, I'll mention that sometimes this is necessary (or at least called for). Perhaps you were looking at them somewhat more intently than usual because they looked like someone you know, but it turns out they were just some random person. And then they notice you staring at them. You might want to greet them in some form or fashion to avoid social awkwardness. This reason also applies for those times when you make eye contact with people as you walk by. All that to say, greeting random people can be justified. So, if I'm going to greet a stranger, I first ask myself a few questions before greeting them:
1. Are they by a significant margin my elder? = significant downward nod
2. Are they significantly younger than me? = slight upward nod
3. Are they a potential threat? = slight click of the mouth, no-nonsense facial expression
4. Are they my equal? = slight upward nod
5. Are they a lady? = significant downward nod
[PLEASE NOTE: 'Lady' is a specific term and is not synonymous with 'woman', 'girl', or 'person of the feminine gender'. Used in this particular context, it has an even narrower domain than how I usually use the term. For more details on my usage of this term in the context of this writing, please refer to Article 4, Section 2c of the 'Handbook for Definitions of Commonly Politicized Vocabulary,' or contact the author directly during standard business hours, 9am-5pm, Mon-Fri.]
2. Greeting People You Know
This category is much the same as greeting random people, but with a few exceptions:
1. Are they by a significant margin my elder or my superior? = significant downward nod, pleasant smile/grin if appropriate
2. Are they significantly younger than me or my inferior? = significant upward nod, smile of approbation
3. Are they a potential threat? = slight click of the mouth, no-nonsense facial expression
4. Are they my equal? = upward nod, smile/grin if appropriate
5. Are they a lady? = significant downward nod
3. Greeting Friends
If you happen to have any special greeting with a particular friend, this is the time to use it. Otherwise... give them a very exaggerated significant upward nod, and hold your head back for a brief moment. This is a sure sign of friendship, for by revealing your jugular veins you put yourself in a unique place of vulnerability and thus demonstrate the strong trust you have with that friend.
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