Putting Things in Perspective

     I was tasked with creating an exercise for my advanced literary non-fiction class, so I came to classed armed with two distinctive ideas. One dealt primarily with the use of imagination in non-fiction, while the other dealt with the use of perspective. The imagination exercise may have been a hard sell, and the one regarding memory and perspective fit perfectly into the day's class, as it was already an issue based on some of the pieces presented that day. So I forced the (my) class to put pen to paper and write out a memory, any memory. In order to examine the effect that perspective has on our work, I asked the class to rewrite the memory, only this time they had to shift their perspective. Instead of a factual recalling of events, I asked them to write this memory as if it was boring to them. And to take the experiment one step further, I also asked them to write the memory as if it was really exciting, or as if they were really amped about whatever memory they chose. The results were at least moderately successful.

     Most people employed some pretty similar tactics when it came to writing the really exciting version. I saw a lot of words in all caps, and a preponderance of exclamation points to really sell the excitement. The language became more colorful, and most of the writers took themselves out of the position of spectator, and into the position of participant. Many of the writers wrote their first version in some form of third person, and when the time came to amp it up, they switched to first to pack the piece with emotional language, and to up the tension.

     However, for the boring piece, there were about three different tactics. Number one was the drawn out response. To increase the boredom, the words and sentences were lengthened, and the whole paragraph became slow and drawn out. Some of the authors chose to shorten their pieces. They cut all the detail out and left just a shell of the former piece. And finally, some people just went out of their way to deflate the situation. They would just come out and say how boring it was.

     But regardless of how people did it, I'd say it was at least moderately successful in displaying just how we use perspective while writing our non-fiction pieces. Every adjective, or descriptive phrase, our tone and our point of view, our syntax and our diction are all based on perspective. To really drive the point home, I was going to ask the class to write the memory down for the fourth time, but this time, they'd be writing through the perspective of someone else involved. I wasn't sure how this would work with some people, since some people's memories didn't involve anyone else. The point of adding this was going to be to really highlight that our perspective determines how we write, but I think I achieved the same effect with the second and third paragraphs. If something is boring to us, we'll write about in a certain way, and if it is exciting, we'll write about it in a different way. I think understanding the biases we put into our own pieces can help us become better writers of non-fiction.

Righting the Ship, Sort Of...

     It seems like every post I read or everything I hear is just complaint after complaint. I'm guilty of this myself because it's like I said before, hypocrisy is every man's portion. But as a people, as a society, we can't be completely backsliding, right? I mean, we have to be turning some things around. So as a man who believes more in the power of observation than on any reliance to the often misleading world of statistics, I'll list off a few things that from what I've observed, we're getting better at.

     For starters, sticking our gum where it doesn't belong. Not the largest of social problems, but as a people, I'd argue from a purely observational standpoint that we're taking better care of our gum. If we're becoming more conscientious of where we put this formerly masticated treat when we're finished with it, imagine what else we can accomplish.

     Speaking of accomplishments, Pizza. Look at how far this formerly humble treat has risen. (Dough pun definitely intended.) It's gone from a saucy, dough-like snack for immigrant dock workers to a delectable staple of my questionable diet. Plus, how much more can they stack on these things? Pizza is everywhere, and we're throwing so much stuff on it or in it that quite frankly, I'm excited to see what comes next. Pretty soon we'll have pizzas that connect to our iPods, get netflix, or serve as a “short-term” 4G hot spot.

     If that's not enough for you, new flavors of Mountain Dew are coming out constantly, garage sales have taken to the internet, dating is as easy a few clicks, information is at our fingertips, Oscar worthy movies are being released in September, reality television allows the talentless to become rich, and the witless to become famous, bird leashes are a thing, microwavable bacon exists, advancements have allowed us to dream of getting fit from our rocking chairs, dollar menus, mars rovers, healthy dog foods, three dimensions, and so much more. While this world may not be ideal, and our society long past expecting equality or change, we are making some advancements. In the grand scheme of things, they don't really amount to much, but I don't live in the grand scheme of things, I live right now. And although our big problems are looming over us like a retractable awning, I say there's nothing wrong with taking a break from the pessimistic and the cynical and letting ourselves indulge in all the benefits of right now.

Elevator Etiquette (Workshop Essay)

     Up and down, in and out. If you're over eight years old, and you're not claustrophobic, you've almost certainly ridden in an elevator before. It's a fairly simple process of just standing there while you rise or drop in elevation; so what could possibly go wrong? I mean, what kind of person could conceivably commit an act so offensive in a span of a mere 20 seconds that I leave the elevator wishing I could fire a death beam of hate from my chest so powerful it would transport him or her from the realm of the living to a land where small, cat-like children devour them from the inside out? (Take a breath.) Fists clenched, head shaking, I find myself exiting elevators wondering when the first case of a human being so self-absorbed that he or she actually turns inside out will be reported. I assume it will start at the belly button, and will probably result in something that looks like a pair of rolled up socks, only more bloody. It turns out, based on some recent conversations with friends, that I'm not alone. I'm not the only one noticing how bad things are getting, or how unaware people can be. In light of these conversations, and this growing problem, I've decided to put together my own Ten Commandment list for elevator riders. And for all you secular readers screaming for the separation of Church and Blog, I'll subtitle it The Bill of Elevator Rights. (Of course, this list will be revealed at the conclusion of this essay and listed from 10 to 1 for increased dramatic effect.)

     Back in 1852, Elisha Otis designed the first safety elevator. This design is similar to the one still in use today. Before this, elevators were mainly used to lift “things” not people. I doubt that Otis ever dreamed that his simple invention would be, quite possibly, the most frequented form of public transportation per day across the globe. (Conjecture.) Think of all the buildings with elevators, and all the people who go up and down to work everyday. I'm sure that the history of elevators is as long as it is boring, so we won't dwell on it here. Instead, let's move on to specifics, an airing of grievances if you will.

     One chief issue that conjures up thoughts of my death beam is passenger blocking. I don't mean blocking someone's entrance, I mean you're location on the elevator. Imagine each person sized space in an elevator as a square on a grid. When you enter the elevator, pick a square strategically in a way that allows for maximum space. Ideally you'd go about as far back or to the side as you can go without hitting a wall, or entering another human's personal space. This seems like simple logistics to me, but either I'm a genius, (doubtful) or people just don't consider it. I see people standing right in the middle of the elevator, which blocks off several standing spots, and forces the other riders to take awkward positions when they get aboard. But stubborn standers aren't the only offenders to be called out here, because just as bad are the reckless roamers, who have no conception of personal space. These riders are some of the worst, as they squeeze you into a corner of an otherwise unoccupied elevator, or they ram into you with their oversized backpack. The next book-bag I take to the chest, or duffel bag to bump into my knee, may be ripped apart by me like an overzealous youngster with an uncooperative bag of M&M's.

     The list of offenders goes on to include the noise polluters, the most oblivious of all elevator miscreants. There is little to no noise produced by this machine save for the occasional jazzy tune to accompany your trip, and for 20 seconds, we all share this air space, and should learn to not abuse it. Some people feel the need to fill this small room with their own auditory waste. There are a couple different categories of offenders here. First up we have Dial M for Moron. Your phone call, which may be thrilling to you, is giving me a migraine. So to all the elevator operators who chat away on their journey to eighth floor or the like, all I have to say is hang up, or force me to buy one of those cell phone service blocker things. Which, if I have to buy one of those, I'll have to look it up first, and I hate unnecessary research. But don't think I've forgotten about two of the most inconsiderate groups of elevator fiends, the Boombox Betty's and Jukebox Jimmy's. I would put them into one category, but I'm an equal opportunity curmudgeon, and I can't think of a pithy way to scrunch them together. When you've entered the elevator, shut your iPod off, or turn it down at least. Is this such a difficult concept to grasp? This is probably the most common offense I've noticed on elevators. If I had three wishes, one of them would be spent on acquiring the power to turn headphones into thin white snakes that consume human brains from ear to ear.

     And finally, so as to not spoil my entire list, I'll list just a few offenders from a different category, which happens to be Lord of The Elevator (or LOTE). LOTE's manifest themselves in any number of ways, and some previous examples could certainly fit into this categories, but let's hit a few more specifics. We'll call this first group of LOTE's perma-pressers. The perma-pressers always hit a button, always. They walk on to the elevator, see that their intended floor is already hit, but then they hit the button again, as if the elevator wouldn't budge without their touch. These are the same people who then hammer on the “Door Close” button, even though the door is already closing. Don't be surprised to see these folks out at dawn doing their daily duty of bringing out the sun. Completely alien to these people is the thought that the world could, and does, go on without their say so. A close relative of the perma-presser is the door stopper. This is the guy or gal who places any number of body parts in front of the elevator door for so long that door begins to beep, all so that his or her straggler friend may hitch a ride on this or that elevator. But what about the people who are already on board? Don't we have a say? Don't we have a destination?

     But as I wind down here, I've omitted several groups from being specifically called out for the sake of time, since there are so many offenses committed daily on elevators. So, let me condense my thoughts into a simple list, a concise guide for my fellow travelers. Anyone who finds themselves committing an act on this list, simply cease your obstinate ways, and try to be civil. So, here it is:

                  The Ten Commandments of Elevator Riding

                                                       (The Bill of Elevator Rights)

10. Thou shall not call an elevator and walk away.

9. Thou shall not use an elevator to move one floor. (Unless thou cannot use the stairs.)

8. Thou shall not press the button of an unintended floor.

7. Thou shall not press a button that has already been pushed.

6. Thou shall not make lewd drawings on elevator walls.

5. Thou shall not restrict access to any part of the elevator.

4. Thou shall not invade personal space on the elevator.

3. Thou shall not play thine MP3 player at excessive volume levels on the elevator.

2. Thou shall not carry on personal phone calls on the elevator.

1. Thou shall not pass wind in any elevator under any circumstance.

     This list is by no means definitive, or exclusive, and is really just a crude list I've thrown together to address the issue. If I've left something out, feel free to add your own contributions to the list of elevator offenses.

New Post, New Look

     So, I decided to give this blog a little facelift. When first making the blog, it was sort of a matter of getting the thing done on time, deadlines and so on. But now that I've had some time to think about what direction I want this blog to go in, I've decided to implement some new ideas. One of which, and probably most notably, is the pseudonym. I was going to use it before, but just never got around to changing it. However, since I'm doing a little maintenance, may as well do it now. Also, I've decided to change up the title. The original title of the blog was designed to spark a topic sentence for me, which would lead into all of my blog posts. But for once, I'm feeling optimistic that I'll get the hang of this, and I don't think I'll need anything like that. If anything, the new title might give the blog more personality than it had before, and in the end, might leave me open for more idea opportunities than the previous title.

Write a Blog

     Then don't listen to me. Honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing, and the whole process just seems like mental masturbation to me. I mean, what, am I to believe that I have some secret knowledge about religion or politics that if they would just implement this, or they would just get rid of that, that I could solve something, for the reader or for the impoverished people in need of my somehow stellar advice? Or that my experiences on this Earth may somehow give respite to the weary sojourner scouring the internet for some answer on this or that thing that he's not sure how to ask? However, since a little bit of hypocrisy is every man's portion, here I am, quietly making my deposit to the “blogosphere.”

     To illustrate my point, I'd like to say that there's a reason why Jackie Robinson of Brooklyn Dodgers fame may have memoirs or biographies written about him, yet Jackie Robinson who works at the Target in Sandusky, Ohio does not. We all know that the first Robinson mentioned overcame tremendous amounts of hate and adversity just to achieve a simple human right, and that's what people are interested in. Most of us have never experienced anything like that. The latter Robinson however, my fictional Robinson, he doesn't play baseball, and nobody hates him just because he won't go away. No, he quietly achieved his Associates degree in business management at a nearby Tech school; he sometimes has a few beers with some old high school friends, and he's never faced more adversity than the time he tried and failed to eat the 74 oz. steak at a restaurant two towns over. My point being, I'm closer to the latter Robinson than the former.

     Another reason it seems like mental masturbation to me is the fact that if I wanted to talk about the things I've learned, or what I think, or how I feel, I would turn to a friend or some form of conversation partner. But when those partners are busy living productive lives or carrying on healthy adult relationships, the blogger (myself included) types quietly in the dark to some fantasy reader hoping to give this mystery person some sort of gratification, while actually getting most of it himself. Perhaps I fantasize about you (the reader) and my blog together on the beach, and you can't put it down. Or maybe I think about you and my blog in some dingy motel bedroom; the wrongness of it making it all the more gratifying. Or perhaps you and my blog are nuzzled together by the fireplace, keeping each other warm. But regardless of our motives, here it is, my quiet, and hypocritical entry into the world of blogging.