A Sweetie’s Guide to Managing Jim

By Thursday, September 25, 2014 6 5

I recently had to deal with a very strong personality.  When I say “deal with,” I mean I had to confront an aggressive man with a peacock complex and questionable respect for women and get him to do something he did not want to do.

This man, Jim, was doing work on our backyard and he was large in every way: height, presence, voice volume.  He filled your space, stole your authority, and everything went his way.  His words were fast and forceful, leaving you with nothing to say except: “Sounds good, Jim.”  We found ourselves agreeing to contract changes that we should not agree to and then we found ourselves with a problem.

I have to mention what irked me most about Jim was that he called me “sweetie.”  I hated him calling me that, it was condescending and it filled me with a useless rage.  Not to mention, Jim calling me sweetie made me feel like a sweetie, like a silly little girl who did not need to be taken seriously.  It was his way of subtly putting me in my place and it was annoyingly effective.

I knew our confrontation was coming for 24 hours, so I marinated WAY too long in the anticipation.  I practiced what I was going to say, I bounced ideas off my husband, I imagined push-back scenarios.  The only thing this marinating accomplished was that I became more and more nervous, which made me more and more insecure.  I let it saturate me and I came out all soggy dog.  What a lousy foundation from which to confront Jim.  I felt like such a sweetie.

Then on my drive home to meet Jim something interesting happened.  I started thinking about energy and how because his energy was more overt, mine was diluted.  I realized this only happened because I allowed him to dilute me, I allowed him be stronger than me, I gave him my permission.  A simple sentence came into my head and shifted everything.  The sentence was: “You are not stronger than me, Jim.”  It was utterly true.  He wasn’t more powerful, he just acted like it.  I wasn’t a sweetie, I just acted like it.

For the rest of my drive, each time I said that sentence, I believed it more completely.  I became calm and certain, and now looked forward to our confrontation.

This time when Jim walked in the door I felt taller than him.  This time when he called me sweetie it did not dilute me.  This time I was the bigger presence.  Using advanced ESP, I sent him my sentence: “You are not stronger than me, Jim.”  I let him and his voice volume talk at me for a bit, filling the space with blah blah blah.  I smiled as he talked, I was cooler than a stoned Snoop Dogg, y’all.  When he was satisfied with the blah blah blah, I said: “Jim, let’s go take a walk.”  I saw him visibly taken aback, he stumbled over some words and followed me outside.

We walked through the backyard and I pointed out the issues we had with his work.  I presented him with two options to fix them, and instantly he agreed to one.  I was not bitchy, I was not pushy, but I was not a sweetie.  I was stronger than Jim and he knew it.  It was that simple to confront him.

Jim left agreeing to a lower bill and doing more work for free, and we were not enemies.  But, he did not call me sweetie as he left, he used my name.

I found there was difference between Jim’s strength and mine.  His was aggressive, contrived, and turbulent.  Mine was serene, steady, and gentle.  I didn’t have to resort to aggression to tame his aggression, I just had to be a strong me.

I wonder now about all the times in my life that I played small, that I played the sweetie because that’s where I thought I belonged.  How many Jims have overtalked me and dictated what happens to me? I always thought that since I wasn’t a combative person, that equated to me being weaker.  But that’s not true at all.  Strength is a personal choice and you choose its form, so choose one that fits.  Sometimes strength is a calm, kind approach.  And sometimes sweeties are the strongest.

Things They Forgot to Mention:

When Jim comes to your door, channel Snoop D-O-double-G and know that he is only stronger when you allow him to be.

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No Work, All Play

By Thursday, September 18, 2014 0 3

Just settling back in from a trip to Alaska.  I learned many things including: there is nothing bluer than an iceberg; bears are delightfully pigeon-toed; and even though you believe with all your soul that you will work while on vacation, you won’t.  And you shouldn’t because the purpose of vacation is to dip yourself in new places and come back so fresh and so clean-clean.  That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.  So, bear with me (pun intended) while I get my bearings (another pun! nice!).  New, real post will come next week.

In the meantime, a little taste of Alaska:

Things They Forgot to Mention, blog, photo, Alaska

I mean, seriously Alaska? You think this a joke, Alaska? Calm down with all the beauty, Alaska…

Things They Forgot to Mention:

Vacation is for vacationing.  In other words: no work, all play.

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Javalina Girl

By Thursday, September 4, 2014 3 5

When I was 23, I spent a year at the Biosphere 2 Center outside Tucson, Arizona getting my masters.  The Biosphere is a huge greenhouse meant to simulate the Earth, think Pauly Shore in 1996‘s Biodome.  For cliff notes of our year there, just watch the first 25 seconds of this excerpt from the film.  I advise you to not watch more than that though, as it may cause brain damage:

Yup, it was pretty much exactly like that.  Life at the Biosphere deserves a story all its own, but that’s for another day.  Today I would like to discuss one particular person from that year.  Her name, as it came to be, was Javalina Girl.

Throughout the summer, groups of high school students stayed at the Biosphere for a month to do science things.  In one of these groups was a pretty, petite, loner girl with pigtails and a stuffed animal backpack.  She carried a notebook in which she scribbled aggressively.  By this time, us grad school students had already morphed into weird desert people, so we were intrigued by this girl.  We heard rumors about her and we sought them out.  We heard she had uncivilized breakdowns.  We heard she threw herself out of a moving van.  We heard she stole her housemate’s ice cream.  We were very intrigued indeed.

This girl would wander off alone into the remote desert surrounding the Biosphere.  She would carry her notebook and be gone for hours, oblivious to the panic her wandering caused the program counselors.  It was on one of these walks that she came across the javalina.

For those that don’t know, javalinas are boar-like animals found in Arizona.  They can be vicious with inch-long canines, and roam in territorial packs at night.  Here are some photos I stole from the internet:

Things They Forgot to Mention, blog, personal, javalina, Arizona, Biosphere 2

We had all come across javalinas at some point and quickly learned to show them respect.

Lucky for her, the girl came across a recently dead one and this is how she became Javalina Girl.  No one knows what thoughts went through her wild mind, but something convinced her to drag that sizable javalina over a mile back to her group house.  Once at the house, she proceeded to construct an outdoor cage for the carcass.  (This is where it gets a little graphic, so ladies, cover your eyes.)  Javalina Girl then took a small knife from her communal kitchen, carefully removed all of the javalina’s skin, and returned the knife to the utensil drawer.

Naturally, one of her housemates was a little freaked out by this, so the counselors were called to intervene.  They found Javalina Girl with the javalina, which was now fully skinned and enclosed in the chicken-wire chamber.  She was wearing her usual pigtails and stuffed animal backpack.  They asked her what she was doing and she explained she was conducting an experiment to see how long it took for a corpse to decompose, and the chicken-wire was to protect it from large scavengers.  She was going to record the observations in her notebook.

The counselors were stumped by this one.  Technically, Javalina Girl had done nothing wrong.  All she had done was take the initiative to create something her fellow students could learn from and “enjoy.”  As scientists themselves, the counselors felt maybe they should encourage independent scientific experiments.  But then again, there was bloody carcass in the front yard and they just could not let her get away with this behavior.  Just like that, Javalina Girl was sent home.

One thing the counselors were particularly confused by was where the javalina’s skin went.  Javalina Girl reported she threw it out, but they never found a trace.  A week or so later, us grad students began to notice the sweet smell of death in our classroom — you can see where this is going.  The odor started as faint, almost pleasant whiffs, but it matured into the overwhelming perfume of rot.  Maintenance came to find the source, and they found — drum roll, please — the javalina’s skin.  The skin, along with a few bones, was sealed in a cardboard box hidden in our classroom closet.  Javalina Girl’s name was handwritten on the box.

Needless to say, we were obsessed and dissected all we knew of Javalina Girl.  We constructed a cage around her made of assumptions and talked about her like she belonged in an institution.  We all agreed she had many screws loose.  The skin and bones, however, we could not come to consensus on.  It could be explained by multiple theories: (1) a mean gift because she hated our guts, (2) a nice gift because we were kindred explorers, or (3) left temporarily to get later for further analysis.

We never found out and we never heard of Javalina Girl again.  We talked about her all the time though, and I even dressed up as her for Halloween.  To this day, she remains one of my favorite stories to tell.  Something about Javalina Girl shook me up.

I’ll let you in on a secret: I don’t think Javalina Girl belonged in an institution at all.  I think she belonged in the desert.  I like to believe she was a brilliant, artistic mind.  I believe she was just curious about what happens in life…and in death.  She was a thinker, a pioneer, a lone wolf who wandered the desert.  She was also possibly batshit crazy but that isn’t always a bad thing.  Many of the biggest minds in history could have been called batshit crazy too and I think Javalina Girl walked among giants.

I hope I find her one day, to see who she turned into.  I hope her spark hasn’t been snuffed out by how she’s supposed to go about life.  I hope she still wanders and carries a notebook.  I will tell her that she changed my perception of batshit crazy and she taught me that being divergent can be preferred.  I know now that we all have some Javalina Girl in us and we should let it glow through.  Maybe not through a bloody carcass, but you know what I mean.

Things They Forgot to Mention:

Not all who are crazy belong in an institution, because many times crazy is an asset and possibly a compliment.

Things They Forgot to Mention, blog, personal, desert, Arizona, Biosphere 2

(To the Biospherians, if you know of corrections/missing facts from this story, let me know in the comments below)

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