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Tag Archives: behavior

That girl

words and images Posted on December 21, 2009 by dlschirfJanuary 18, 2019

I’m on the Pennsylvanian. As a result of being among the last one-third to board, I found myself next to a young woman who is one of those nervous, self-centered pieces of work you don’t want to find yourself next to. The train was clearly going to be full; by the time I got on, there were few empty seats left. She had all her bags piled onto the seat next to her and had settled in comfortably with earbuds in when I disturbed her peace by rudely tapping her to get her attention when she missed my initial hail.

“WHAT?” she exclaimed.

“Is anyone sitting here?” I repeated.

Instead of replying, she huffed and sighed heavily, collected her bags, and flung them disgustedly onto the upper rack across the way. Clearly, she had expected to have the only empty seat on the train to herself. Meanwhile, I smiled beatifically at the people in the line behind me, who of course were waiting for her and me to get out of their way so they could find seats, too. I had spared them from my newly discovered Center of the Universe.

I took my coat off and sat on it. Apparently, a cord must have been nearly touching her through her layered clothing, akin to the pea bothering the princess through many mattresses, because she abruptly suggested that, if I weren’t going to actually wear it, I put it overhead. “It’s . . .” within an inch of her person!

When the conductor came through to collect tickets, she seemed taken by surprise. As she rummaged frantically through her bag searching for tickets and ID, she jabbed me a dozen times or more with her flailing elbow, which, oddly, didn’t bother her given her sensitivity to touch and wasn’t supposed to bother me. Later, as she read and tossing her hair, it was all I could do not to say to her in the same nervously fussy tone she’d used on me, “Would you mind not shaking your head like that? Your dandruff and vermin are, like, you know . . .” Eventually, after I’d dozed off, she woke me up to trounce off somewhere, which gave me the opportunity to plug in my iPhone, which gave her the opportunity to harumph when she demanded her seat back. After that, I left her with her space and mine all to herself.

My Christmas wish for her: The maturity and the wisdom to understand that she is no more significant than the 7 billion other humans with whom she shares Planet Earth. And the few dozen with whom she shares an Amtrak car.

I’m not holding my breath.

Posted in Adventure, Blog, Life | Tagged behavior, train, travel | Leave a reply

Snippets from life

words and images Posted on May 2, 2009 by dlschirfJanuary 4, 2019

Capitalists in the making

College female 1: . . . a concept for class. That’s how Jamba Juice was created.
College female 2: Oh, wow.

When reviewers need editors

This is a book that every single parent needs to read.

Book review

[That’s single as in every parent, not as in every unmarried parent.]

Something old, something new

DUDE, WE WERE ON FIRE!

Chicago History Museum headline

Poetry in transit

My love for you is like a shiny heart-shaped metaphor about the sea.

Metra sign

Phone sex?

Take it off vibrate. I don’t pay for that.

Women speaking into her mobile phone

Capitalism redux

We have swine flu masks! We have Hallmark cards for Mom!

Electronic sign at Walgreens

College doesn’t equal smart

Some students purge or starve so they can binge drink.

RedEye

For when video games can’t keep them entertained

Offered by the Illinois Tollway at oases: The popular Captain Tollway coloring book

Whatever happened to “Billy” and “Susie”?

Willow! Montana!

Dad calling his children

When your marriage is as comfy as an old shoe

Elderly couple at the bus stop discussing the man’s choice of gym shoes:

Woman: Is there any reason you made that weird decision?
Man: If it aggravates you, that’s reason enough.

Taking the high road to higher education with no pit stops

Dedicated to the enlightenment of the human spirit
NO PUBLIC RESTROOMS

Window sign at Roosevelt University

Capitalist dreams, part III

If I major in econ. and work on Wall Street, I could be your sugar mama!

College student on mobile phone in elevator
Posted in Blog, Quotations | Tagged behavior, humor, life, quotation, words | 2 Replies

Multitasking makes you stupid, or it is stupid

words and images Posted on February 28, 2009 by dlschirfAugust 3, 2013

One day a co-worker told me, “Multitasking makes you stupid.” It turned out that this was not a personal commentary directed at me. She had recently read an article to that effect and decided to share its wisdom. I’m keen on neither multitasking or stupidity.

I thought of all this when I read about the motorist who was reported by a fellow driver for talking on her mobile phone and breast-feeding whilst driving. I feel confident asserting that this form of multitasking falls into the “stupid” category, although not as cause and effect.

I’ve often wondered why people feel compelled to answer their cell phones, no matter where they are or what they are doing. J. is guilty, and he’s never been able to give me a good answer when I ask why he never fails to pick up calls. It’s one thing to expect a call. But, whether he’s driving, dining out or watching television with me, or otherwise engaged, he always answers his phone, as do people on the bus, in restaurants, and even in bathroom stalls. Most of the conversations that follow hint of their urgency: “Hey, what’s up? I’m on the bus. Yeah, long week. Yeah. Yeah.” or “Hi! Nah, we got out of the house for dinner. Did you get to the sale?” And so I wonder what was so important that this driver had to make or pick up this particular call while juggling the operation of a moving vehicle and breast-feeding. Is she one of those souls who think accidents happen only to other people? (The answer, as it turns out, is “yes.”)

I don’t drive, so I suspect this makes me less empathetic than I would be if I did. Many drivers flout speed limits and other traffic laws as their assertion of independence and as though they have some secret knowledge that moving in and out of expressway traffic at 75 miles per hour really isn’t that dangerous. Laws are just a nuisance, an intrusion by government, and/or an excuse for the authorities to collect revenue through tickets. The car has become the new mobile home and office. A man’s home is his castle, and so is his car. When you spend so much time in your car, it may seem reasonable to eat, drink, chat on the phone, apply makeup, and even watch TV (to say nothing of engaging in sexual activities) while motoring along. And now (although I’m certain this can’t be the first-ever incident), we can add breast-feeding baby to the list.

The driver in question, Genine Compton of Kettering, Ohio, “was given a ticket and a summons, and has been charged with a first-degree misdemeanor of child endangering and minor misdemeanor for unlawfully restraining (in other words, not restraining) her child, who, by law, should have been in a car seat.” She remains unrepentant, however. According to the New York Times, “Her children need to eat when they need to eat, she said, explaining, ‘If my child’s hungry, I’m going to feed it.’ She also said she would do the same again.”

Allow me to point out that the child who was apparently in such immediate danger of starvation or dehydration is two years old. Isn’t that old enough to wait a few minutes until Mommy can pull over and dig out some crackers or a breast? And doesn’t a two-year-old child deserve a more specific pronoun than “it”?

“‘Walking down the street can be dangerous,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to say that this one incident was just going to put us in harm’s way.’”

You’re not going to say it, but allow me. You put yourself, your children, and other drivers around you in harm’s way. You’re fortunate your little “it” didn’t become a human airbag.

The issue in this case was child endangerment, but public breast-feeding is another, if minor, controversy (minor because no one risks an accident or death over it, one hopes). Many breast-feeding mothers have become almost militant about their right to breast-feed in public; I’ve learned they call themselves “lactivists.” This doesn’t seem that unreasonable — less repressed peoples who live in tight-knit villages breast-feed openly and naturally without challenge, and it’s hard to find anything wrong with that. I would like to say that I’m unreservedly open-minded about it. But I can’t.

Long ago, when I was about 21 or so, a friend and I went to a local restaurant for lunch — a rare treat for financially strapped young people. The place has a typical setup; there’s a long bench against a wall, tables next to each other, and a row of chairs on the other side. In that situation, you can’t miss what your neighbors are up to.

I think I was on the bench, and my friend was on the chair across from me. Two women were sitting at the table next to us, although we were talking and barely noticed them at first.

Until they began breast-feeding their babies.

Almost simultaneously my friend and I started to send eye signals to each other. She had noticed the woman next to me, and I had noticed the woman next to her. When we saw each other’s rolling eyeballs, it hit us that both women were similarly engaged. I think we were more surprised than disturbed, but I vaguely recall that we didn’t appreciate it entirely, either. Perhaps it seemed too much like performing a bodily function in an inappropriate setting and was unappetizing, too.

I’m not sure how my friend feels about it now, and I vacillate. As a mother, she became more sensitive about better restaurants and other public places that aren’t family friendly, while I as a childless woman perceive a world in which many children seem left by doting parents to run amok. It made me realize, not for the first time, that most strongly held opinions are a matter of perception and that a mother and a childless woman see the world from different viewpoints. The same is true for a breast-feeding woman and everyone else.

I said that I waver about public breast-feeding, although I would never complain about it — it doesn’t bother me that much, if at all. But I don’t like self-righteousness or blindness to courtesy and common sense. In a perfect community, breast-feeding would be no more remarkable than eating or drinking in public, something that one does and sees without a thought. But we have not perfected our society, which is fragmented into many cultures. The perceived right to breast-feed should be tempered by respect for the wishes of others who have nothing against motherhood, but who don’t want to observe its intimacies while, say, dining. After all, even the most assertive mother wouldn’t change a diaper at a restaurant table — another necessary and natural function.

Then again, I wouldn’t have imagined breast-feeding while tooling down the highway . . . and talking on a cell phone.

Posted in Blog | Tagged behavior, current events | 1 Reply

Hibernation

words and images Posted on December 8, 2008 by dlschirfMarch 28, 2020

With snow on the ground, the holidays around the corner, and only seven working days left in the year, I should be in a yee-haw! mood.

And I’m not.

For at least a week, I’ve had PMS or PMS-like symptoms — my breasts are tender, and my whole torso aches with tension. On Wednesday and Thursday I was near tears with frustration. I wonder when — or if — relief will come.

It was a boon to all that I was off on Friday.

Then, with the temperatures in the single digits, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything or go anywhere — not even to read something fun.

Saturday would have been more of the same except I did manage to drag myself to the stores, and J. came over before heading to work and took me to dinner. He arrived bearing gifts — a blue Egyptian cotton comforter set and skirt. Between it and the Vellux blanket, I can’t complain about the cold — in fact, I haven’t even had to turn on the radiators.

Sunday was mostly more of the same. I gave into the mood and slept half the day away, having weird dreams about stairwell traps and Trickster. Finally, I had driven myself stir crazy and made a trip to the store and Bonjour. Not unusually for me, I’m regretting that I didn’t  have it in me to do anything until it was almost Monday — and too late.

How irrational is my mood? Earlier in the week, the wind knocked over two of the lighted wire deer in the garden, and seeing these mere contraptions lying there helpless until the maintenance people set them right upset me almost as much as if they had been living creatures felled by the storm. On Sunday, I was startled and disturbed to see the lobsters at Treasure Island in a different and more prominent place where I couldn’t miss them. I wish Treasure Island would follow the lead of Whole Foods and stop selling live lobsters.

Yes, I’m upset about seeing fallen wire deer and trapped, doomed lobsters.

As I was walking home and reflecting on how self-absorbed all of this is, it occurred to me that this is one of the effects of the colder weather on me. I get out and see people less and turn inward more. It’s not the shortness and gloominess of the days that depress me; it’s the sense of being confined, alone, and lonely. Social activities aren’t always accessible, affordable, or practical. I crave intellectual stimulation, but want mostly to eat carbohydrates, sleep, and wait out the four or more long months until the warmer weather arrives, and once again I feel human.

At least for a while.

Posted in Blog, Life | Tagged behavior, mood | Leave a reply

There goes the sun

words and images Posted on August 29, 2008 by dlschirfJanuary 29, 2021

For me summer ends not on Labor Day but with the autumn equinox. I’ve been in a fall mood for the past couple of weeks, though. It’s more than the unusually cool weather and the early sunsets (now occurring shortly after 7:30 p.m.). It’s the retreat of the sun into the southern sky, imperceptible at first, but now impossible to miss. The angled light is somehow softer — still bright, but not as harsh to the eyes.

Today I realized that my current seat in the garden, which just a couple of weeks ago would be flooded with light by 1 p.m. as the sun rose above the trees and their shadows withdrew, is still in the shade; the sun is low enough in the sky to be behind the Flamingo.

Autumn may be one of my favorite seasons (spring is the other), but behind it lies the bitter, dreary Chicago winter, the winter that just a short time ago I longed to be over.

Posted in Blog, Life | Tagged behavior, mood, weather | 1 Reply

“The Birthmark,” or be good to your grandchildren

words and images Posted on September 24, 2005 by dlschirfJanuary 11, 2019

I’m reading this story by Nathaniel Hawthorne, which is a dark tale of man’s dissatisfaction with the “imperfections” of Nature. Looking for it online, I found a page that references how Leon Kass, who’d been named to head the president’s committee on bioethics, recommended “The Birthmark” to the committee.

The writer of this page works himself into a near-hysterical frenzy over how soon, thanks to birth control, etc., there will be a handful of young people supporting hoards of elderly, there will be competition among men for the declining number of women in places like China, etc. Of course, this is the fault of all non-right thinking people, people like Aylmer of “The Birthmark,” which story really has little relationship to birth control, managing populations, or anything like that, but is focused on a more Frankensteinish horror. (It’s quite a stretch to apply this story’s moral to what this writer is trying to get it to fit.)

Then he says something about leftists and libertarians “chattering” about women’s rights. “Chattering.” What a fashionable, in way to belittle your opposition without having to actually address their issues — use a word that implies they are mindless little twitterers. Of course, I could say this writer drools his way through his argument. But I’ll stick to “near-hysterical.” It has its ironies with reference to his argument.

I can’t help but think the only way to address the issues is to take them seriously. This habit of avoiding the issues by demeaning the opposition ain’t it.

Posted in Blog, Rumination | Tagged behavior | 1 Reply

Why I’m a bad date

words and images Posted on August 7, 2005 by dlschirfJanuary 10, 2019

I make a lousy date, I realised the other night. First, I hate noisy, smoky bars; the loud music and the loud clash of hundreds of discordant voices vying to be heard, all those things that are supposed to give a place energy, sap much of the little I have and make me want to find a respite of quiet, or of sounds that make me feel — wind rustling leaves, lake water slapping the limestone, cardinals calling — anything but the chaotic din of human voices shouting over the chaotic din of blaring TV sets and blaring stereos.

There are many people who seek this out, of course (hence the din).

When I’m in such a place and I don’t feel up to fighting it, my only other way of coping with it is to become an observer, looking at the people surrounding me as though they are members of another species under my observation, a species with which I struggle to find a common bond, like a human might struggle to find something familiar about a salamander. I always fail.

This night one particular woman caught my attention. She wore a small black top with spaghetti straps and very short denim shorts that she struggled to pull down when she stood up. She was very tanned, a little taller than average, of average build. Physically, her best feature were her legs. Her hair was long, brown, highlighted and permed into ringlets. Her eyes were somewhat too far apart and gave her face a look that was too horsey to be beautiful or even pretty. She was with another woman of about the same age (early 30s), a young man, and an older man with grey hair. They were all chain smoking, a ritual of bar life I don’t understand; its symbolism and meaning elude me, probably because I find it more foolish and conformist than sexy or appealing.

I couldn’t tell what the relationship of each of these people was to each other. Were they two existing couples? (If so, who was with whom?) A group of friends? Two women/two men who hang out with one another who struck up conversation? Four complete strangers?

What were they talking about? They rarely smiled or laughed. There was no touching, not even in a friendly way, and no overt indications of flirting. Do they go to this place every night or every Friday night? What do they do during the day? Where did they come from originally (Chicago or elsewhere)? What goes through their minds before they end up here? What do they do when they’re not hanging out in bars or working? Do they work? Why do they remind me of everyone I see at these places? Why do they seem so two-dimensional to me?

But I thought about this big-eyed, somewhat horse-faced woman and marveled how she, with her imperfect features, flat chest, and — who knows? — featureless mind, could dress and carry herself easily and carelessly as though she were the sexiest, most desirable woman in the place she graced. If we ever met, she would look down at my weight, my haircut, my clothes, my shoes, my lack of style and sophistication, and my geekiness and treat me accordingly. She would not understand my still collegiate apartment, bare of practical furniture but filled with remembrances from childhood. I couldn’t see her being interested in any of the books, but perhaps in the bar downstairs, although it is quiet and mostly uncrowded. I would bore her as much as she would bore me. She would have hundreds of friends much like her; i would have only a few.

We would be like salamanders to each other.

Except she never saw or noticed me or my friend.

We are the invisible people.

Posted in Blog, Rumination | Tagged behavior, Chicago | Leave a reply

Got plans?

words and images Posted on July 23, 2004 by dlschirfJanuary 4, 2019

I live for today.

I’m realising this only at age 43, although it should have been evident decades ago. The first clear sign was my entire college career.

Most of my peers probably had some inkling of what they wanted to do — if they didn’t know they wanted to be an engineer, they at least knew they would study mathematics. If they didn’t know what they would study, they usually had an inkling of the type of career they wanted, that is, business, technical, artistic, academic.

I went to college because that’s what people with my interests and goals did, and because my father thought it was the only way for women to have the opportunities he had never had.

I had no goal.

How did I choose the university I attended? Did I select an academic major and seek out the top schools in that field, like an aspiring engineer might look at MIT? Did I pick a university based on its location, so I would have the opportunity to enjoy four years in a bucolic setting?

Essentially, I stuck a pin in a directory.

My interests were varied and unfocused, as they remain today. I began by thinking I would like to pursue Native American studies, not understanding what this meant or where it would lead. I later concluded that Natives didn’t need another European-American like me to “help” them.

Then, still in idealist mode, I decided the U.S. Foreign Service was for me. Everything about the Middle East fascinated me — that’s how little I knew. I attended a Model United Nations conference where I was supposed to represent Oman. I knew next to nothing about Oman (25 years ago, you couldn’t simply go to the CIA fact sheets online, or online at all). At one point, a question arose in committee about the U.S. and oil, and when I gained the floor I gave a speech off the top of my head for which I received a long ovation. It was probably not something a representative of Oman would have said.

I worked hard, but my application to the Georgetown University School of Foreign Service was summarily rejected. My dad had taken me to Buffalo for an interview with a Georgetown alumna. I had never been in such a wealthy neighbourhood, in such a richly furnished house, or in conversation with such a sophisticated person. She undoubtedly saw through me immediately. and it was an uncomfortable interview.

In the meantime, for my other three choices I considered the solicitations I’d received, including one for a great books college and another for an upper-crust women’s college where attractive girls were shown riding horses in the verdant and hilly countryside. Maybe that’s the life I wanted, but it wasn’t me. I researched the prestige factors of some others, finally selecting two universities in New York. I also applied to the University of Chicago based on its reputation, as described in the guides, without regard to location or program.

All three accepted me, so I was off to the University of Chicago as the college farthest from home and from my experience.

The University of Chicago did not require students to commit to a major until after completion of the Core. I thought that I might pursue a degree in political science or even, after encouragement by a 4th-year student, Islamic studies.

After a year’s struggle through the Core, especially math, physics, and chemistry, I began to realise that my strengths also did not lie in the social sciences.

That left . . . English language and literature.

Fortunately, I was able to take other literature courses as well, including Latin American and Russian literature. Happily, too, a course on the Anglo-Saxons counted as literature, and I was also able to take a couple of courses in English and American history. (History! Why didn’t I think of history as a major? I think I did, but it required too much reading, and I has become a slow reader.)

So I’d landed on English language and literature. It wasn’t easy and required more reading than I could handle (especially 18th and 19th century novels), but most of the time I understood the subject. My morale and grades improved. One year, I even appeared on the dean’s list.

Fast forward to graduation day, June 11, 1983. Two friends from New York and my roommate attended. I laughed at the president’s speech and pretentious manner, collected the diploma, drank some champagne, felt a little lost on Sunday, and woke up Monday . . .

Without a job. With nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no money.

While my classmates had spent the previous year (or more) applying to graduate schools and to businesses, pursuing internships, and in other productive activities, I’d done nothing. The idea of a post-college career apparently never occurred to me.

My dad now tactfully suggested I get a job. If I couldn’t within a few months, I would have to return to New York.

Just as these suggestions were rightly about to become a command, I found a jo selling tickets for the Chicago City Ballet. Then, within a couple of months, I’d obtained a job. Not a career, although it would last as long as a career without offering any of the emotional, moral, or even financial rewards.

For a while, I considered going to law school. I convinced myself, however, that the mentality does not suit me. In reality, I don’t have the mental, physical, or emotional discipline required.

I’ve also thought about a master of liberal arts degree. This would do nothing for career planning, but it might round out what I believe to be an inadequate academic background.

Another possibility was psychology or social work. Although I didn’t fare well in behavioral psychology or general classes in these areas 25 years ago, maybe life experience has better prepared me for them. Yet, in their way, they require a scientific and statistical way of thinking that has always eluded me.

Now, I’m wondering if I should to become accredited as a business communicator. I have no formal training in communications, just a lot of observational experience and intuition. If I succeed, I don’t know what I will gain as I don’t think it will change anything, and I am not sure that I feel that this is a meaningful objective. If I fail, I have a deep-seated fear there is nothing left.

I live for today. Yesterday is fraught with unplanned joy and pain, and tomorrow bears the promise of more.

Posted in Blog, Rumination | Tagged behavior, psychology | Leave a reply

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