I win!

I recently won an award! You may have voted for me.

"Worst Friend Ever"

It's a little like winning the title for Miss America, but without all the crying and thanking. Okay, maybe a little more crying. I will be representing bad friends everywhere for one full calendar year, or until I stop being such a lazy bum.

Thanks for voting.

For the record, there isn't actually an award for being a bad friend, but if there was, I'm pretty sure I could have won it. Not responding to emails, text messages, voicemails -- these are minor and common things that we all do from time to time, and not necessarily deeming qualities of a poor pal. Not doing these things for six months is what it takes to win the illustrious "Worst Friend" crown, which is, by the by, made of old Big Mac cartons from McDonald's. Man, have I been lousy about communicating. And eating.

To all those who voted for me, I'm sorry. Since I got back from Ireland I have been keeping busy, but not with anything terribly involving. The seasons are rapidly changing and all I can think is, "Crap. I really need to call ______." And then I'll do laundry, or download music, or watch several hours of "Law and Order." There must be a bazillion episodes of that show.

The point is, I WON'T call or write anyone when I know I ought to. I do this for two reasons: 1) I'm a lazy bum and have been since I got back to Chicago and 2) because I'm a lazy bum who doesn't do anything except chores and watch "Law and Order," I feel like I don't have anything interesting to report. I would call it a vicious cycle, but it's too lethargic to be called vicious. It's a sloth-y cycle.

There's a silver lining to this poop-cloud of a post, though. As the title-holder for "Worst Friend Ever" I am making a promise.

I promise to lose this title as soon as possible. I will return messages in a timely manner, with enthusiasm and joy. I will make and keep plans. I will start doing interesting things again. I will, in short, get off my lazy ass.

Right after this episode of "Law and Order."

(crossing) the fault line

The hot water has gone out again. I think it's funny to say that it's 'gone out.' Where did it go? Is it running errands or on a date?

"Have you seen the hot water, dear?"
"No. Not for some time now. I think it went out."
"Did it leave a note?"
"No, but it never does. You know how hot water is."

While I'm busy personifying things, I would also like to mention the Launderette. The name "Launderette" conjures an image of a sweet, petite lady, dressed in a pleasantly starched apron and bonnet. She clucks her tongue at me when I try to put too many clothes in the washing machine and reassures me that powdered detergent will be fine, although I still worry about the dandruff-like flakes that may not wash off.

Sweet as she is, she costs quite a bit for her services. I have to use tokens to do my laundry. It's approximately 5 euro per wash and semi-dry. 7.10 for one wash and two dryer tokens. In U.S. dollars, that's about... $9.00. Yikes.

"It has to be done, dear," she says to me.

And she's right. Since I've been here, I have tried to maintain my personal sense of style while being aware of youthful, Irish fashion. It's tough. I wasn't really prepared for the onslaught of dresses, tights, ballet flats, scarves, and jewelry that dominate a young lady's wardrobe. Despite packing a moderate amount of clothing, I find that I have too many clothes, yet too few options. Is it silly to worry about appearances? Sure, but I always have, and I'm not sure how to stop now. Oh, you didn't know? I'm superficial and a little vain.

So, for the sake of vanity, I do laundry once a week, and this particular week I did something I thought I would never do. I'm so sorry, but I had to use the dryer before they locked the doors.

"It has to be done, dear," Launderette said. She winked at me and clucked her tongue at you for leaving your things in the dryer for FOUR HOURS. I just want to apologize for handling your personal items, and I sincerely hope I don't have to do it again. You had some questionable attire.

Hey, Launderette? I have a few favors to ask of you. Next time you see some hot water, would you tell it to please come home? Thanks. You're great.

The Private Correspondence Between Us: Letter Three

Dear Ireland,

I was touched by your last letter, but why did you have to steal my bank card today? When will we learn to trust each other?

Flabbergasted,
Shama

The Private Correspondence Between Us: Letter Two

Dear Shama,

I am sorry for treating you unfairly. I was trying to be thoughtful when I made it snow here for the first time in years. I thought you missed your home, with all its snow and cold. I won't do that again. As far as your living conditions go, I am also deeply apologetic. I was a little hurt when you arrived and assumed that I was a drunk and uncouth. I suppose I did want to hurt you after I watched you spend your evenings at the pubs instead of with me. I have a lot of history, you know.

Have I been vindictive? Yes. But I'm trying to be better. You have a cozy home now, you have your computer back, and I will try to get that package delivered to you. I am also sorry for all that I've cost you this month. I just assumed you were another rich, ditzy American, looking for a good time.

Let's do start over.

Your friend,
Ireland

The Private Correspondence Between Us: Letter One

Dear Ireland,

Please give me a break. Looking back on this past month, I realize now that we had unrealistic expectations for each other. I wasn't very sensitive to you -- I looked at you and thought, "This is gonna be fun! She looks like she knows how to have a good time!" I know now that I was wrong to make those assumptions. You have much more to offer. I am so sorry.

Can we please start over? I really want us to be friends. I still think we have a good chance if we can start by trusting each other. What do you think? I'm hopeful. Please don't break my heart anymore.

Love,
Shama

women.

as a woman, i feel i have some authority on the subject, however, it appears that i do not. i think i may have been kicked out of the How To Be A Girl Club.

maybe i missed a few meetings. maybe i was never inducted. maybe i'm a woman out of circumstance -- chromosomes and such. i don't really know. what i DO know is that i don't seem to have many friends of the female persuasion, and it's not because i don't try.

i try very hard, in fact. i'm not saying that i sexually discriminate who i choose to be friends with -- i'm saying that i take careful note of who i want to be friends with, and if they happen to be female, i make a concerted effort toward that friendship. women can be great. they can be funny, successful, motivational, daring, and all other kinds of wonderful things. they can also be judgmental, discriminating, and manipulative. but men can be those things too, so i'm not focusing on that. i'm taking a careful look at how women behave with one another.

i'm going to list the "rules" of the How To Be A Girl Club, as far as my knowledge and experience lend.

1. You must be cute. Any form of cute is acceptable, but there is a hierarchy:
Dress: must be cute. the color pink is necessary, whether it is prominent or used as an accent color. PINK is cute. accessories should be up-to-date.
Actions: Must be cute. You must trot across streets. Walking is not permitted. If you trot, then you look like you are in a rush or posing for the next H&M ad, which will be sexy.
Oh, and don't forget to BE sexy. That's important.

2. You must be unapproachable. Being unapproachable means being visually judgmental or at least, being visually appealing. The more appealing you look directly corresponds with your unapproachability. Have YOU ever approached a supermodel? Nobody has. They're SUPERMODELS, for cryin' out loud! They don't EXIST on this planet except to make life for normal women Hell.

3. Be coy. Don't ever say too much. It keeps people curious. And uninformed.

gah. i don't really know what i'm talking about. this list could potentially go on forever. i know i'm writing this post out of anger and hurt, but damnit, there IS some truth to what i've written. i'm not sure what bothers me more: lashing out at women who have hurt my feelings, unnecessarily OR expecting women to behave in ways that hurt others.

the price of infa-ME

TIME: approximately 3:15p, Saturday
PLACE: my place of employment -- The Diner

The Characters:
ME: a twenty-something server/student
HIM: a forty-something customer
irrelevant young man (IYM): irrelevant

(the scene is set in a crowded diner, sounds of clattering plates, glasses, people eating. The scent of eggs is heavy in the air, during the tail-end of the brunch rush. ME strides over to HIM, business-like, but pleasant. HIM is seated with another young man, irrelevant to the scene. Lights focus on the two.)

ME: Hi there! How ya doin'?
HIM: Good, good! My friend and I were looking to grab a bite to eat and get drunk. Well, I'm going to get drunk because I'm a shitty human being who hates himself. I'm also a washed up actor who teaches acting to other people. My work has been produced. You've never heard of me? Well, no matter. (Gestures to the irrelevant young man). He'll start with a salad.
ME: Great! That salad he wants to order is delicious.
HIM: I'll order a bottle of wine.

(ME fetches the salad and bottle of wine. ME, HIM, and the IYM chat about the establishment and theatre in a jovial manner. HIM is particularly animated. ME is attentive, but professional.)

IYM: (finishing his salad) Do you know what time it is? I have to go very soon.
ME: Almost 3p. Will you be needing the check?
HIM: No, not yet. IYM will be leaving, but I plan to stay and order an expensive meal and another bottle of wine. After that, I will convince you that I am a decent human being, directly before I excuse myself to have a cigarette and then skip out on the $100 bill. You will be upset, possibly for hours, but I will remain the shitty human being I am, unaware of the repercussions and unconcerned with your feelings.
ME: Okay, sounds good. Let me know if you need anything else. I'll be back to check on you and make sure you've enjoyed your dining experience, because after having conversation with you, I am genuinely concerned with your comfort.
HIM: Thanks. I'm a piece of shit.
ME: Enjoy your dine-and-dash.

(END)

Analysis: ME is an average person, attempting to do their job, to the best of their ability. ME inherently trusts the structure of business and everyone that walks within that structure. HIM is dishonest. HIM believes that there are no consequences for their actions and successfully deceives ME. ME is left with a sense of neglected responsibility and spends several hours after the scene Googling every detail HIM mentioned during their conversation. ME is left with nothing but a series of lies and the possibility of losing their tips for the day, in order to pay for HIM's bill. ME is devastated, not over the money, but the idea that HIM would go to such great lengths to deceive ME. After a day or so, ME decides that every person they come into contact with is inherently deceitful, and treats them as budding criminals. ME begins to question everyone's intentions and becomes spiteful and vindicative, eventually turning into a person they never intended to become. HIM is gone, yet ME sees HIM everywhere.

What the heck is WRONG with people?

Serving and Receiving

This is a PSA. Be nice to your waiter or waitress. Be as nice as you can possibly be. These folks work extremely hard, but aside from that, you don't know what ELSE they do. That's right, folks. Servers are people, too.

From past experience as a long-time waitress and interactions with others, I can safely say that they're typically multi-faceted and multi-talented people, who hold titles like "Mom" or "student" or in the case of my neighborhood diner waitress, "HR Assistant to the State Representative, Greg Harris." She helps with scholarship options available through the 13th District, and boy, oh boy, did she make my day.

I was getting caffeinated at the diner while plodding through my transcripts. As I tried to make sense of my academic history to better plan for my academic future, she came along and asked what I was doing. I told her, and then proceeded to tell her of my worries over paying for summer classes, since my scholarship doesn't cover summer tuition. She wasn't just sympathetic, the way some servers might be, she was HELPFUL.

I'd rather not divulge details, but I will say that she offered me a way to pay for summer classes, and then offered her clout. I was amazed. I've been her 'regular' for more than a few years, and we've always maintained a friendly relationship without actually being friends. I had no idea that she held another job. I had no idea she held another job that could be so... USEFUL.

Well, I have an application to fill out, but I just wanted to tell you, dear Reader, that you should always be nice to your server. For that matter, you should always be nice to PEOPLE. You never know who else they might be.

postmodern/mortem

My birthday has come and gone. It was a delightful evening with many friends and many laughs. My favorite part of the night was the cake my dear friend, Evan, brought for me. It said "Happy Birthday (Sam) Shama" and it was delicious. I could go on and on about how much fun I had, or how wonderful it was to socialize with the many good folks in my life, or even about how reassuring it was to see my friends from different parts of my life getting along with each other, but anything I could describe would have to be punctuated with the annoying phrase, "You'd have to have been there."

It was a very nice birthday, indeed.

After I came home and settled myself into my latest year, I went back to my usual activities: household chores, homework, writing for the magazine, fretting over the other job, paying bills and playing Scrabble online. It was pleasant. I felt like 27 was going to be My Year. Then I read this and began the spiral of self-doubt and self-loathing.

I hate that I have such awful habits. I hate that I can't seem to kick those habits in the teeth and leave them for dead. I hate knowing that people I love and respect hate this part of me. And I hate that it is a part of me. I hate all the things that his post mentioned, but I hate them even more than non-smokers do, because I feel totally helpless to the addiction.

I should never have started smoking. I am an asshole. The worst part, is that I completely agree with him on many many levels. I just can't seem to totally quit. It's addiction. Addiction is serious. I don''t claim to be an expert on it, but I know it's serious enough that it can't be eradicated with rationale. I wish it could. I read and reread that journal entry everytime I want a smoke. If I can't read it, then I eat. if I eat, then I opt for chocolate. I'm replacing one addiction with another and I don't know if it's better to be fat and unhealthy or thin and unhealthy. sigh.

The question then becomes, "Whose got the worst vice?"

I believe that drinking, which is also an addiction, is far worse than smoking, yet alcohol will never be banned from airplanes or, hmph, BARS. Alcohol somehow rates higher on the tolerance scale than smoking, though it will inhibit a person to the point where they might end up doing something like this.

And then there is the notion that addiction can be replaced with something healthier, like religion (for the AA members out there). I don't even know where to start. So I won't.

I'm not arguing FOR smokers. I think it's a filthy, vile, disgusting habit. I'm arguing that smoking is just as bad as any addiction, but shouldn't be singled out unless others are willing to look at the larger problem -- addiction.

We're all junkies of one kind or another. We don't get past these habits by ourselves, and we don't beat the vices by use of guilt, bans or even sound arguments. We find and fix our faults through the support and understanding of our friends and loved ones.

"I'm sorry," she said, lowering her eyes. "This isn't easy."

Do Unto Others...

I have always been a fan of The Golden Rule, and enjoyed the simplicity of such a fundamental moral principle. I have, however, discovered that it needs to be amended. "Treat others as you would like to be treated," is all well and good, if you treat yourself well to begin with. If you don't, then maybe there's a need for a Silver Rule, or a Bronze Rule, in which one can begin to practice being good.

Maybe the Silver Rule should be, "Treat yourself as you would like to be treated." That's simple. Self-explanatory. Perhaps a bit self-indulgent, but what's the harm in doing something nice for yourself? I keep meeting people that just don't give themselves the credit they deserve for simply being alive. It's not easy. I'm not being pessimistic, but I do think that more people need to take a step backwards, give themselves a long, hard look and say, "Hey. I'm okay. In fact, I really like myself." And then they should get a hug. And maybe a medal.

As far as a Bronze Rule goes, that might be a little trickier. There are some problems with the Golden Rule, but the biggest problem might be the expectations of reciprocity. If I expected everyone to treat me the way that I try to treat them, I would probably end up pretty disappointed. Perhaps the Bronze Rule should go a little like this: "Be as good as you can possibly be." If everyone was as good as they allowed themselves to be, then they could treat themselves as well as they thought they deserved, hence, the Silver Rule.

this gets complicated, but only if you forget what "good" actually is.

it's hard to remember what's good, but i believe that we forget only because we get caught up in defining what's bad. there's an awful lot that's bad for us. in case you forgot, consult your Bible. or the Surgeon General. we're told that anything and everything is bad for us, whether it be ultra-violet rays, carbohydrates, pre-marital sex, talk radio, Europeans or chocolate. how bad can chocolate really be?

This post has gotten slightly convoluted. Here's the breakdown: "Be good. Then be good to yourself. THEN, go for the gold." Remember, you deserve it.