Camouflage of Society

Camouflage. It hides us, concealing us from standing out amongst our background. It obscures us from an enemy or from our prey. It’s a concealer, used to deceive others, sometimes even to deceive ourselves. Camo is often considered to be the garb of military and hunters, but really, it is the mask of the colors that we all wear. It is an altered perception of our appearance to outsiders.

Personally, I wear it everyday - perhaps not Mossy Oak or Realtree - but the colors of society. Mind you, the colors I wear are muted, but they show nonetheless in some form or fashion. Don't we all cover parts of ourselves in it, really? We, the collective we, don't want to stand out from the background in which we try to fit in. Be it professional or personal, we fear the predation of bosses, co-workers, friends, strangers, and peers by not fitting into the folds set before us.

Most people don’t want to be known as “that” person, the one who waltzes into a crowded room dressed in the cloak of individuality. As a society, we fear the repercussions of breaking through the "rules of norm." The moment we step out of line, someone comes up and threatens to revoke our social membership. Oftentimes, we give in and step back into the footprints painted on the ground for us. Other times, we revel in the freedom, knowing that right now, for this moment, we are not one of the sheep tethered to the leash pulling us en masse.

So often we forget that we are individuals, born to be ourselves and designed to stand out with our strengths and uniqueness. Even more often, society forgets that same fact and judges us instead of supports us. While there are rules that keep us all on the productive tract, such as guidelines for the workplace, etc, we still need to remain proud of our own identities, no matter what they may be. We need to stand up and step out, while stripping ourselves of the camouflage designed to keep us drenched in anonymity.

So define yourself and be proud to be you. Who knows, maybe one day individuality will be the new norm.

Are those your keys?

Aug 6, 2014

My cousin J...I just adore her. Sometimes it's easy to forget that her common sense synapses don't always work quickly. Then there are times like these...

It's early morning when I see J's caller id flashing across my phone display. It's rare she calls in the morning so I was a bit concerned when I answered the phone. She tells me she was out drinking with some friends the night before and stayed at their house because she got fairly toasted. She now has to drive to work but her car won't unlock with the keyless entry remote. 

Me: "Do you have a key to unlock it?"

J: "Well, yeah, but it won't unlock."

Me: "You tried the actual metal key, too?"

J: "Not yet, but the remote won't work."

Me: "J, try the key."

J sighs to express how much of an idiot she think I am but tries the key anyways.

J: "I tried the key and it didn't unlock the door."

Me: "Are you sure you have the right keys?"

J: "I'm not that dumb. I know they are my keys. What is the number for AAA?"

I give her the number and she hangs up, telling me she will call me back. A few minutes later, My phone rings and we pass the time chatting while she waits for AAA. The driver arrives and she tells me to hang on while she explains the situation to him. After trying the keys himself, he said he will unlock the door for her so she can drive to work. J gets back on the line with me.                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

J: "I told you there was something wrong with my keys, even AAA at can't make it work. Oh, he got the door open. Hang on."

AAA driver talking to her: "Go ahead and start your car for me."

J: "Okay."

I am assuming at this point that she is attempting to do just that, because then I hear, "It isn't starting."

AAA Driver: "Can you pop the hood for me?"

J: "Maybe my battery died."

AAA Driver: "Try to start it again."

J: "Still not working."

AAA: "Can I get in there and try?"

I hear the keys being passed to him. Not a moment later, the driver says, "Can I have the car key?"

J: "That is the car key."

AAA: "This key doesn't go to this car. Are you sure these are your keys?"

Silence, then J laughs. I hear mumbles between her and the driver before she thanks him. Into the phone she tells me, "Don't say a word."

Me: "You had the wrong keys all this time? Does the keychain look like yours?"

J: "No."

Me: "And you didn't notice that until the AAA driver pointed it out to you?"

J: "Just shut up."

I love my cousin.

I believe this is yours...

Cousin J calls me and begins the conversation with, “You’ll never guess what I did.” Everybody knows that this is usually the beginning of a good story, but with my cousin, it usually means I’m about to really have a good laugh. You have to understand that J is sometimes the epitome of every blond joke that gets told. She is incredibly book smart, but when it comes to common sense, she sometimes forgets to access her knowledge bank.

Prepared for anything, I sit back and ask, “what did you do this time?” She giggles and sends me a picture of her car with a gas nozzle and hose hanging from the gas tank. The picture is similar to this one except it was legitimately her car parked on the side of the road.

 J: “I couldn’t figure out why everyone was honking at me so I would just wave at them as they passed me. Finally I thought I’d pull over because I thought maybe my tire was flat or something and I saw the hose. And here I thought everyone was just being really friendly.”
Me: “ummm....”
J: “I don’t know what to do with it. Should I return it?”
Me: “I guess you can do that.”
J: “Well, you’re the smart one, is that what you’re supposed to do you?”
Me: “I’ve never wanted to take one home so I am not really sure of the proper protocol here. So, you just drove off? I mean, really, how did you forget that your car was attached to a gas pump?”
J, giggling again: “I don’t really know. I’ve never forgotten before. You know what, I’m just going to take it back. Hang on, I’m turning around. Good thing I only went a few blocks up the road.”

At this point, I am on speaker phone and I hear her mumble “Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m taking it back, quit honking” which makes me wonder...

Me: “J?”
J: “Huh?” 
Me: “Did you at least remove the nozzle from your tank before you started driving again?”
J: “No, I’m taking it back to the gas station just like this so the guy doesn’t think I put it in my trunk to steal it.”
Me: “I see”
J: “Well, it’s true though, Cuz. I mean imagine how stupid I would look if I just pulled up, opened my trunk and pulled out the gas thing.”
Me: “Yeah, I’m sure you’d look pretty stupid...”

A few moments pass and she tells me to hang on while she talks to the gas attendant. Still on speaker phone, I hear this in the background. “Hey, umm, I believe this is yours” followed by some mumbling from what I assume is the attendant, then “yeah, I bet it happens all the time, huh? Oh, it really doesn’t? Oh. Well, I brought it back.” More undecipherable mumbling follows. I am pretty well into my laughter by the time she gets back into the car.

J: “Are you laughing at me?”
Me: "Yes, yes I am. What did the guy say?”
J: “I’m mad at him.”
Me: “Why are you mad at him?”
J: “Because he was rude and laughed at me.”
Me: “I see...”

Have you backed up your battery?

One day a few years back, I called my cousin, J, who lives several states away. She told me she would have to call me back because she just got her new cell phone upgrade delivered and she needs to get it set up so she can return her old one. We hung up with the understanding that after she transferred the information to her new cell, she would call me back. An hour passes by, so I sent her a text asking if things were okay. She immediately replied back with a “who is this?” Hesitantly, I responded back telling her who I was, thinking it was joke. Next thing I know my phone rings and this is what follows:

Me (answering the phone with a sarcastic tone): “Do you remember me now?”
J (giggling): “Sorry, cuz, I lost all of my contacts. Can you help me get them back?”
Me: “And how am I supposed to help you from 3,000 miles away?”
J: “I don’t know. I don’t understand what I did wrong. I pulled the phone out of the box and turned it on but my contacts were missing. Then I remembered I had to get them from my old phone, so I transferred them over but they are still missing.”
Me: “Are you sure you transferred them over?”
J: “Yes.”
Me: “Okay, how did you transfer them?”
J (sighing very deeply): “I took the battery out of my old phone and put it in my new phone then I restarted it but all of my stuff is still gone.”
Me: “Your battery?”
J: “Yes, my battery. I went into the settings and made sure I saved all my contacts and pictures, then I took the battery out and put it in my new phone. It didn’t work though. Now I don’t know what to do.”

At this point, J is starting to sound really desperate, but I was in a state of disbelief, thinking I was missing something.

Me: “Okay, J, just so I’m clear on this -- you saved your contacts in your old phone to your battery, then put that battery in your new phone?”
J: “Yes, that’s what I said.”
Me: “I see the problem. Do you always save things to batteries?”

J senses things have gone awry so she hesitates.

Me (trying really hard not to laugh): “Where is your old phone?”
J: “I packed it in the box and gave it to the mailman because I had to return it.”
Me: “So it’s gone already?”
J: “Yes, the mailman took it. It’s gone.”
Me: “Oh, J...okay. Did you see the little black plastic that was under the battery?”
J: “You mean the SIM card?”
Me (very excitedly, because I think we're getting somewhere): “Yes, yes, the SIM card, exactly. What did you do with it?”
J: “I didn’t want anyone to get my personal information that might be saved on there so I threw it in the shredder, why?”

Me: "You threw it in the shredder?"

J: "Yes, should I not have done that?"

Me, in total disbelief: “Well, dear cousin, because that is what you saved all your contacts and pictures to -- not your battery.”

After a full minute of silence, J responded with a “well, sh*t” at which point my laughter erupted out of me. To this day, I constantly ask her if she has backed her battery up. She promptly replies with a fairly nasty retort that never fails to make me laugh.

Most powerful word you can think of...

What is the most powerful word you can think of? Pause for just a few moments and consider it.

The one I think of is the word “goodbye.” Think about it. With goodbye comes a myriad of changes - some good, some bad, some neutral, but with one word, a life can change. It can bring sadness, it can bring empowerment, it can bring a new beginning or it can be an ending. One word brings all that. No matter the reason, goodbye brings change. It initiates a thought process that perhaps was not there moments before. 

Perhaps it evokes a new sense of freedom, goodbye to an old unfulfilling life. Maybe it brings on a tidal wave of sadness because it is someone near to you saying it. It may evoke despair because rather than being spoken out loud, it is only sensed and felt, like in the case of a dying loved one. 

Language is an incredible thing. It is amazing how one single word can provoke so much that was not considered prior to hearing it.

The song played on...

I write of this today because as I was having a bad mood moment while driving into work, my iPhone decided to play "My best days are ahead of me" by Danny Gokey and it made me reflect on why that song always made me think of my Bampa. Whenever I hear it, he pops into my mind -- his smile, with the crinkle in each corner of his eyes, floats through my memory and fills me with a sense of joy and peace long after the last note plays.

The song played on the radio at least once each time I drove to see my Bampa in the hospital. I made the drive every single day and without fail, this song would play on my commute to the hospital or from the hospital, sometimes both ways. In the beginning, I thought it was a promise of hope, like Mr. Gokey was letting me know every day that Bampa would recover and we would again enjoy another day together. I would sing loud and strong in my truck, confident that things were going to get better. Each time, he belted out the lines, "I've got sunsets to witness, dreams to dance with..." I gained confidence mentally absorbing the impact of the words and directing them with my with mind to Bampa.

Over the next few weeks, his health failed further. Still the song played, as if the DJ's at KFRG radio station were trying to remind me that today wasn't the end, even though the doctors said Bampa's days were limited. I recall driving and thinking about the irony of it all. Here I am listening to how the best days are still ahead while my Bampa is struggling to take his next breath. As the chorus would play I would sing quietly, guiltily, using it as a crutch for the hope that was evading me. No matter how much guilt I felt, the song still played.

My hope soon changed direction. Instead of hoping for a recovery, I was just hoping that his final days with us were pain-free. I hoped for his freedom and that it would be kind. I hoped my Grandma would be able to say goodbye and continue living her life. I hoped we would all be able to recover from the loss that was bound to leave a hole in our hearts and lives. I hoped that we would all be able to say goodbye when the time came. Still the song played, taunting me with a cheerfulness I could not feel.

When I got the call in the middle of Bampa’s final night, I raced down the mountain to meet my family at the hospital for a final goodbye. I would not turn the radio on for fear the song would play. It would have been words I simply could not have handled at the time. We left the hospital and drove to my Grandma's house in silence as I again refused to turn the radio on. After spending hours with loved ones recounting the joys of his life, I went on my way back up the mountain and I finally turned the radio on because my thoughts were too loud. Three songs in, the song played. I almost hit the power button, almost shut the voice off that was singing about there being beaches left to walk on and a whole world left to see. Just as my finger touched the power button, Gokey sang the line, "I don't get lost in the past or get stuck in some sad memory" and my entire perception changed. All of a sudden I began thinking about how my Bampa never lived in the past, always telling me that you can't change things so move on. And this time, when the chorus played, I listened and heard the song just a little differently. While my Bampa may no longer be walking the earth, he still had a world of things to see and do, albeit in a world different than ours. Best days ahead, indeed, because now he could walk every beach, see every mountaintop, enjoy every sunset, and now he can reach out and touch all of us in a manner he couldn't do while breathing our air. I let the song play.

Now, when the song comes on my radio, usually from my music collection as opposed to the radio DJ's, I hold my head up and I sing loudly. As Gokey bellows, "Life hasn't always been a party but mostly it's been good. There's only one or two things that I'd change if I could. I don't get lost in the past or get stuck in some sad memory, yeah. My best days are ahead of me," I immediately smile as the face of Bampa dances in my mind. It's amazing how a song from a person you don't know can change not only a mood but a perception.

My marriage is not a lesser marriage

I have had this rant building inside of me for months and it has reached a point where it must be purged. For those who don't know - on February 8, 2013, I got married to the most wonderful woman I have ever met. She is my inspiration and my best friend. That's just the type of person all of our hearts yearn for, isn't it? I have a set of friends and family members who are extremely accepting, supportive, and loving. This post is not about them (y'all know who ya are). 

Our wedding took place in a state where it was legal. Because it was out of state, no invitations were sent out. It was just a judge, us, two witnesses, and one great friend. When we returned home and got settled, we proudly spent time and money to create and send out wedding announcements to just about every family member and friend we knew. Doesn't every newlywed do that? As mentioned in the beginning, we have some very supportive friends and family members who were happy for us and were congratulatory (again, this isn't about them), whereas the majority of my family members have remained quiet. Not a whisper in my direction. Mind you, I wasn't expecting approval or even a congratulatory response, just a noncommittal reply that the announcement was received would have worked. Neither positive or negative. Understand that I am not seeking validation for myself or for my marriage. It is nice, however, to know if something you spent a lot of time and money on was at least received. Perhaps I am of the minority, but I don't think that is asking too much - especially from family.

It saddens me that this group of people I am tied to by blood are those same people I feel the most uncomfortable around. The sense of not belonging is difficult to process at times. These are not distant relatives - but cousins, aunts, uncles, siblings, grandparents, and even a parent. These are people I was close to growing up, people I see several times a year.

Now here's something funny. Since the wedding announcements went out to this "silent familial group," I have received from them invitations to a bridal shower, a baby shower, and a wedding. It makes me scratch my head in amazement that my marriage merits not a sound yet I am expected to celebrate their life events. Does this reflect the belief that mine is lesser in their eyes? That because I married a woman instead of a man mine is not equal? Not as important? Not even worth an acknowledgment? Sometimes silence is louder than words, isn't it?

In the midst of this frustration and disappointment, I do realize how lucky I am. I am very appreciative of the support we have been given. Especially by my mom - who has certainly been a rock in a sea of confusion. I am not angry at the silent familial group, but I am disappointed that they cannot acknowledge that I married my best friend. Isn't that what everyone wants?