Meanness

I don't understand why people have the drive to be mean to each other. Granted one might feel an immediate gratification in the action, it is no match to what one feels after the fact. No one wins.

Tears in Music

This morning at church, I was brought to tears by Chopin’s Ballade in G minor. The man, whoever he was, played the music brilliantly. Now, I’m not a very emotional woman; in fact, I am more known for being rather emphatically callous. However, there is something about music that always moves me.

I mean, hello, I dated a guy in high school because I fell in love with his musical abilities. He played my heart with his music, so do speak. When that was over, I yet again, this time in college, gravitated towards a man who played his way into my heart. Though he went out of tune quickly, he led me to who I believe to be the main composer of my life, God. As a baby Christian, out of all the churches I could’ve walked into, I walked into Vineyard. Yeah. Let’s just say God serenaded his way and he never stopped. I mean, my mother-in-law is an opera singer for crying out loud. 

Part of me wishes I never stopped playing, but this morning, I was happy to just listen and allowed the music to take me wherever it wanted to.  There was something about the music that spoke security and peace in me.  The crescendo nailed in a deep anchor in my heart that was so incredibly self assuring.

Is it coincidental that we happen to finally settle in a church where music has been a vital part of their worship? I mean, Dr. Hanan Yaqub, who once stood alongside the legendary John Rutter, is the musical director. I also work in a University where the Music department is one of the best in the nation.  Hello! God knows what touches me.  No, not sappy chick flick movies, but a well composed, well played music.  (I once cried listening to David Gray)

I believe that god is composing my life in a perfect symphony. He is by any means nowhere close to finishing, but at least I know that the final product will be magnificent. Now, that’s worth the tears.

American Selfishness or Individualism

A few weeks ago, I agreed to stand in for a professor who had to miss his class, though refused to cancel, for personal reasons.  The class is American Culture with 17 Chinese business people visiting for 3 months.  The two hour class was mostly occupied by asking personal questions and photographing the visiting lecturer.  After interrogating me of my whereabouts the last 30 years, they asked a rather confounding question which I found more profound to summarize within an hour.

Question:  "After living in 5 different countries in 3 different continents, how would you describe what it is to be 'American'?"

Answer:  "To be American is to be an individual, one who emphasizes oneself over a family, a company, or a group."

Yes, I gave a grossly simplistic answer to a loaded question.

A few weeks afterwards, I was sitting down over a cup of coffee with a very good friend at Coffee Bean.  He is  a very philosophical man, with very profound ideas.  We talked about the differences between America and Europe, whilst figuring the difficulties my husband might have to hurdle in moving across the Atlantic.  I realized then how I've let myself down in answering the question above the way I did, though not completely wrong, but was rather misleading.  My friend and I defined the characteristics to be said as particularly American:

1.  I don't care as long as it doesn't affect me.

2.  Think what you wish so long as you don't shove it at my throat.

3.  As long as it makes me/you happy, why not do it?

The above statements do not convey individualism, but selfishness.  There's a big difference between being selfish and being an individualistic.  Let's face it, we are definitely not an individualistic culture.  Last I checked everyone is too busy trying to look like someone else (See previous post on Graffiti Art).

Yes, people, we are incredibly selfish culture.  I mean who says those things but selfish people?  The truth is, one's action is never an isolated thing.  Cause and effect.  What ever one does, it has an effect, not just on oneself, but on those surrounding the action.   

Let's take a married man who decides to get involved with a lot younger and hotter woman.  As long as he's happy, why not?  Well, what about his wife?  And his children?  And the woman?  All of them, the wife, the children, the woman, and probably the extended family and friends of the couple, are directly affected by this one, miniscule idiotic action.  Cause and effect - law of nature.

A drank person decides to drive back home after a few drinks.  Hey, he/she can do whatever he/she wants as long as it doesn't affect me, right?  Wrong.  The idiot will not only kill him/herself, but everyone else on the road, including me and you.  Now that's incredibly selfish.

The question is, who is more selfish, the offender or the one who stood around and did nothing to stop the offense.

A Stalker?

Yesterday, after coming back from our annual New Year's day hike, I received a rather curious phone call. The conversation went something like this.

Me - Hello?

Mr. X - Hello, is this (my name)?

Me - yes it is. Who is this?

Mr. X - this is Adrian (or was it Adam - he obviously did not impress me)

Me - Ah, yes. (At this point I thought he was a telemarketer)

Mr. X - I might have met you on myspace or friendster

Me - Okay, and...

Mr. X - 714 - Where is that anyway? Are you from LA?

...okay, at this point, my curious phone call just turned freaky. I answered his question and I absolutely have no idea why. I just remember being confused.

Me - Orange County.

Mr. X - Well, I just called to wish you a Happy New Year.

Me - Thanks, you too. Okay, goodbye.

Mr. X - Do you have a myspace?

Me - No, I've just closed that account.

...here's exactly why I closed that account. There are quite a few freaky people out there, and no matter how tight you set the privacy, they still get a hold of you. If this guy is one of the crazy e-mails I've gotten over the last 18 months (rather flattering e-mails mind but still freaky that they'd just write to a complete stranger) I've had that myspace account, then I'm now really freaked out because...HOW THE HELL DID HE GET MY NUMBER? Nowhere in there did I enter a phone number.

Mr. X - How old are you anyway?

Me - Ah, (long pause) 30.

Mr. X - Are you serious ? (based on his rather perplexed response, this guy must be about
24-27 years old). Wow, really?

Me - Yeah.

Mr. X - Well, I just wanted to wish you a Happy New year.

Me - Okay, you have a good one too. Bye.

I handled that phone call rather poorly. Beside me was my husband who was probably more curious than I was during the whole minute or two conversation. "Did he ask you how old you were?" Yeah, that was a mystery. My husband urged me next time should I get more strange phone calls of such, god forbid, to ask the questions and do the interrogating not them.

Here's the thing, WHERE THE HELL DID HE GET MY NUMBER? I never really gave it another thought, until this morning when I checked my e-mail. I wonder how much of this internet thing is safe and how much of it is just asking for trouble. I mean, bloody hell, how the hell did he get my name and my phone number?

Now come to think of it. I got another phone call on Christmas day from the same number- Unavailable - with a similar accent - Latino/Mexican accent - asking for someone else, claiming to have dialed the wrong number.

But why would anyone phone a person who doesn't know them? "Hello, this is Adam. You don't know me but I'd like to talk to you. Please talk to me." Whoever you are, Adam (or Adrian), and I don't mean to be a bitch here, but get a fucking life. Phone someone you know and lose my number forever.