Month: October 2015

Explain Yourself

Bailey GunnLeave a comment

No one likes to be misunderstood. Even though every teen movie would have you believe that.

You know, it’s cool to be misunderstood in films. You’re moody and frustrated, but at least you have moody and frustrated friends. And you can always get a makeover and be everyone’s dream date to the prom in the end. You’re an outsider, but you’re fixable (after they’ve moved through enough of your plot.)

In the real world? Unexplained is the enemy of progress. We have to understand everything to do anything. And anything we don’t understand is met with fear. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Unless we forget the very simple fact that everyone just loves an explanation. Everyone is always excited to understand. The human soul is a question that begs to be answered.

I mean, even as adults, we’re all little students in class again, raising our hand, hoping to be the one to put the puzzle pieces together. And how did the bullies in your class try to manipulate you? They created inside jokes that you “wouldn’t”understand. The only line drawn between children and adults were things that you understood and things that you wouldn’t until you were older.

It’s simple: everyone just wants to understand, no matter the cost. The only trick is making sure that you help someone to do just that. Because so often we don’t. We gloss over things and assume, assume, assume that someone knows what we’re talking about. Why of course you’ve kept up with every television show ever, so you know what I’m talking about. And math comes naturally to me, so you must know pi to the 150th number, and what do you mean you don’t know how to navigate a city you’ve never been to before? 

So, please take a moment to make sure the person you’re talking to understands. Instead of watching question marks pop over their head, try illuminating their light bulb.

No Thank You

Bailey Gunn1 Comment

Today I learned a lesson that all of my college professors, my parents, and any old wise man on top of a mountain could tell me.

Don’t expect anything. Don’t expect anything good to happen or anything bad to happen. Just don’t expect anything. It’s easier that way.

Take today. I am one of the million cheerful people who take public transportation. Ah yes, the dank stairwells, the finicky ticket machines, and don’t forget, the other 999,999 people traveling with me. If anything, it is an experience. And we’ll leave it at that.

And speaking to that last point (because I couldn’t leave it at that) about all of those people, it can definitely be tough. They don’t always move out of your way, and they don’t always slide across the seat to let you sit. My strategy is to find someone who is pretty much doing what I will be doing (reading, listening to music, etc.) so that I won’t bother them by sitting next to them. We’re sort of like two friends hanging out, doing the same activity.

But as soon as I sat down today, I saw an older couple looking around for a seat. The woman sat directly in front of me, while the man was unable to find a seat near her. It was an easy choice. I quickly got up and told him to sat down. He might have muttered something, but I didn’t hear it.

And do you know what else I didn’t hear? A thank you! Seriously? I know it’s common courtesy to let someone sit down that should have a seat over you, but you couldn’t say thank you? It’s like when people don’t give that little wave while driving when you let them out into traffic. It takes two seconds and it makes the world of difference!

So, I got up fuming, a little. I knew my heart was in the right place, but I felt all wrong. And then it dawned on me: I was doing something for the results. I was expecting something very specific to happen. I genuinely thought that the man should be sitting down, but I was also waiting for him to acknowledge me, to thank me, when I should have just moved out of my seat with no expectations of receiving anything for having manners.

But this story has a twist ending. The guy that was sitting next to me actually got up when I got up to let the elderly couple sit next to each other. He then came over to me and asked if I wanted to sit down in another seat. I certainly wasn’t expecting him to do that, but I was incredibly touched by the gesture. Anybody else might have watched the exchange and let it happen. And this time? I hadn’t expected him to do that. I hadn’t expected anything.

So, in the end, expectations are really just pleas and wishes for the world to work like we want it to. And when life doesn’t work out how we want to, sometimes, it is just preparing you for something better. When you don’t have expectations, you may find that you’ll be pleasantly surprised anyway.

If Life Was Like Wood Shop Class

Bailey GunnLeave a comment

Remember in high school when you had math class, and English class, and chemistry? Okay, now that I’ve brought up those painful memories, I’m going to bring up some more. Remember art class? Home Ec (which is now referred to as something more politically correct)? And finally, wood shop? Bring up anything in the way of fuzzy feelings?

I didn’t think so.

Wood shop was especially torturous for me. Creating things with my hands was just beyond my physical and mental faculties. I was all, how am I supposed to shape this amorphous block into a fine, handcrafted clock? And really, what high school student could? It wasn’t like anyone was sitting with their father or mother, or even legal guardian, on the weekends in the garage, carving a totem pole while they listened to the oldies on the radio. And even if some people were, could that really translate into an acute skill that would allow you to make a wood craft after six weeks of being in the class? Heck, we learned how to sand things for two weeks!

But the fact that I was unable to do many of the things I was asked to do was completely lost on my wood shop teacher. Sure, there were some young ladies in my class who simply were afraid of the great big scary machines, which meant that my teacher had to step in and do the work for them. Drill the holes and sand it down, while they watched.

And then, there were people like me who simply wanted the final product to look good, so I allowed my teacher to think I was afraid of the big scary machines, and he would do it for me. And whatever I (he) made, came out looking great.

Right now, I wish life was like wood shop class.

I wish there was someone to step in when things seem scary. I wish there was someone I could call on when I’m not quite sure how to proceed. And especially, I wish there was someone to take over to make things look perfect and good. (Instead of the crazy mess I sometimes leave when trying to figure out my life.)

But no matter how much I still have painful flashbacks about the class, life isn’t like wood shop. There’s no one to help you to get it right and even less people when you get it wrong.

And besides, life has never been about creating something perfect. You just have to trust yourself to create something beautiful and hope that you don’t cut your finger off in the process. And you gotta do it all by yourself. Because in the end, you’ll be prouder of the things you tried to do than the things you actually accomplished with someone else’s help.