Five Things I Can Do to Make Someone's Day...

I'm sitting here at Starbucks listening to Landon Pigg's "Coffee Shop," studying before a little coffee-shop date (corny, I know... somethings never change).

The girl across from me is frantically cramming for a Monday morning exam, lost in algebra or grammatical permutations or cognates or something... Suddenly, she spazzes as if Shaggy just mentioned a Scooby Snack. She smells the sweet release of a nice tobacco - Marlboro's, no doubt. She needs a fix, too. (And it's out on the patio - so why not? [carcinogens notwithstanding])

She pats herself down like she's being self-searched for contraband. No lighter. Damn.

I should mention here the possibility of a future post, Stuff Southern People Like.com #58: Smoking. Yes. EVERYONE here looooves the tobacco. But I digress.

Now I don't smoke. Never have. Well, I did take two puffs once last fall - but that was a very bad night. But for some reason, I have a lighter in my bag. She has a need. I have what she needs. Sure, I'm contributing to her early death, but you only live once, right? I didn't mean that to sound quite so trite.

In any event, I give her the lighter and her face lights up like the fourth of July. Or like the Robinson's house from the day-after-Thanksgiving until January 2. Either metaphor works; she's happy. She thanks me from the bottom of her heart and starts to toss me back my lighter. "Nah - keep it. Looks like you'll be here a while. :)"

More brightness.

I take this moment to write down five things that I'm going to dry to do on a consistent basis in order to "make someone's day" each and every day. I figure since being kind to people gives me such a great feeling (usually), a single act of kindness can't help but benefit two people, right?

1. Go through a door, stay there a little longer than is necessary or normal, and hold it open for the next person. I'm a door holder usually, but sometimes I debate (quickly) in my head, after that all-too-familiar glance backward, if the person is close enough to the entrance to warrant my door holding or if I should let it swing shut. Usually, my own 2 seconds of freedom trumps theirs. The door swings. No more. I'm holding it open with a smile from now on.

2. (Since we're here...) Buying someone's Starbucks in the drive-up window. I've done this once, and I don't know why I don't do it more often. Probably because I rarely drive anymore, but in any event, it usually goes something like this: "Grande skinny cinnamon dolce latte, extra hot? that'll be $4.67" "What did the lady behind me order?" "Um... a tall caramel macchiato." "Great. Can you put that on my tab?" Now if the barista answers your inquiry with "25 venti white chocolate mochas for the whole office"... keep on drivin'.

3. Bring chewing gum for everyone during a very long lecture class and have it passed around the room. There are like 5-10 people in my classes, so this works well... but if you have one of those 500-person lectures... save your wallet and your reputation. "Who the heck brings a garbage bag full of bubble gum to class?!" Nobody wants to be that guy.

4. Smile and say "Hi. How are you doing today?" or "Pretty weather, today!" to a random person. Patch Adams inspired this part of me. You think you're going out on a limb. Until you see their reaction. It's... uplifting.

5. Always carry a lighter, Tylenol, an extra pen, and a Scantron sheet (if you attend UT). These are four of the top five most requested items filled in the blank for: "Excuse me, do you have ________?" Fifth was 'a problem.' Lord knows we've all got those. In that instance, keep yours to yourself, please.

That's it. Hold a door, buy someone coffee, pass out gum, greet a stranger, and carry an extra lighter.

So I continue to sit here, proud of myself for my list I've compiled - my resolve to try to make someone's day each and every day - and then, lo and behold...

Here's my chance. The guy beside me pats himself down, frantic for a light-up. Lucky him! I just happen to be a compassionate human being, just waiting to make TWO people's day in one hour! How lucky am I? It's my cue... I reach in my bag...

Absolutely nothing.

Dangit.

I glance up at the table where chain-smoking girly number one formerly sat. Empty.

Dangit again.

Edit: Keep two lighters on you at all times...

Heart for the Homeless

The last picture I added via LifeCast from my phone. Maybe you liked it, maybe you didn't. I did. None of that is the point, however.

The picture is taken on the Knoxville Downtown Trolley, which takes me from my home to campus (and back) each and every day (sometimes two, three times each day). The most interesting thing about my ride each day is not the historic sites I pass, the horizon reflected in the Sunsphere, or the sounds and comments made in busy traffic. It's my fellow riders.

Downtown Knoxville has a particularly stark division of wealth, like most inner-cities going under reconstruction. Old factories and warehouses are being converted into expensive lofts and condos by the multitude, bringing in the wealthy. The poor, however, who have always "littered the streets" (to quote verbatim one of my fellow upper-class passengers) have never left - they have no where else to go. There are these indiginous poor, and the sojourning wealthy. There is no middle class here.

Don't get me wrong. This isn't an attack on the homeless. It's just the opposite, actually. Stay with me.

Prior to the industrial revolution, all cities were based around their downtown area. It's where all the jobs were, so thus where all the commerce was. People lived where they worked. Think Downtown St. Louis, homies - Soulard. It was busy. It was noisy. It was bustling. And it was beautiful.

Then came the advent of modern, cheap transportation. And with it, the yearning to be alone. People (who could afford it) moved out of the cities, where it was quiet, quaint. They created their very own sub-cities: sub-divisions. They would commute into the inner-city to do their work among the normal people, but would live on the outskirts of town in order to get away. A little vacation everyday from 5pm-9am. It was the beginning of suburbia.

Following "the big move", capitalism got smart. Or so they say. Commerce wanted to be where the people are (think Ariel, the Little Mermaid - only suburbs and money, not land and attractive humans). It started with small convenience shops, then grocers, then strip malls, then shopping centers, then megamalls, then huge corporations. They all packed up and moved shop to the suburbs - where the people with the money lived (now). Someone (some company) would buy their old buildings and move their business to the heart of the city, right? Wrong.

What remains is the crusty sea-shell that once represented the sprawling sea-life that was the inner city; now dead and washed-up. And the homeless, without anyway out, have remained.

I think about this everyday on my ride to and from school. I'm not always so quick to defend the homeless as an entity - I know many of them have chosen that lifestyle and actually are better off having everything provided for them so that they don't have to lift a finger - just a metal cup to ask for change. I do know there are some, however - some that never would have chosen this lifestyle if presented to them. They're just graduates of the school of hard knocks, you could say. But they'll never defend themselves. They'll simply continue riding that red trolley to the Strip, and back to Downtown Knoxville. Back. And forth. Because there's nothing better to do.

Sometimes I think about their potential. Do they have it? Some of them, I'm sure. What would they be had they made (or not made) that one decision? A brilliant scientist? A professional musician? A struggling psychology doctoral student?

How many of them are me, bar one small choice?

One day, I'll get the courage to have a real conversation with them. To sit down, treat them to Starbucks, and ask the hows, whys, and whats. But, for now, I continue on my Orange Route, passing out cordial, surface conversations about the weather, Big Orange football, or the drugs kids are doing these days.

And somehow, I'll continue to feel guilty about the good choices I've made.
Or the luck I've fallen into.

Regardless, I am blessed. And I am thankful.

"It's getting cool out there. Prolly gonna rain."
"Phil Fulmer has GOT to make a change. Our secondary is amazing, but the offense is struggling."
"Yeah, bongs are back in style man. Trouble. I don't understand why kids would want to do that stuff either."
"How did you lose your last job?"
"Where's your family? Did they abandon you?"
"What's something you can do right now to make the future look better for you?"

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Stuff Southern People Like.Com #1

Welcome to Psychologist On the Verge. I dedicate my first post to the town to which I have just moved in August of 2008. It's been a whirlwind of a month, but it's beginning to feel like home.

A few years ago, a website was launched detailing the quite absurd things that white people, in general, do to make the rest of the world crazy. The result was published into a book, enlisted a following, and ultimately all but created a national (or at least ethnic) pasttime. The premise? White people are crazy. Perhaps I should have prefaced this with the fact that I am indeed caucasian. I also agree wholeheartedly with our race's insanity - stereotypes and all. What is this standard of racial funnies, you ask? StuffWhitePeopleLike.Com

In the same vein, I want to introduce my blog with one of my favorite new topics: The weird things people do her in my new home - the South.

Not being from "dixie" originally, I've found it quite a culture shock in my first month here. Some of the things people do (say, wear, eat... need I go on?) are expected - I was not immune to the stories of "the southland" back home farther north. Other actions, however, are unanticipated, obtuse, or even quite insane (and yes, as a psychotherapist, I am licensed to use that word at will).

For this reason, and for your enjoyment, I give you StuffSouthernPeopleLike.Com's #1 entry:

1. Croakies.

Never heard of them before? No surprise here. I for one, believe there's a reason for that. This elastic piece of 1980's fashion (just like the rubber compound it's made of, you pull it away from a generation and it just SNAPS back) is attached to the ends of sunglasses and worn around the back of the neck.

Now, I don't need to ask you if they're attractive. We know the answer is a resounding 'no.' I don't even need to ask you where these come from. Slogans from fundraisers, South Carolina's tree-and-moon logo, letters of Greek affiliation, and Hick-loved outdoor shops (read: Bass Pro) logos alike adorn the sides of these contraptions, shouting out a commercial to "buy my brand of Croakie!!!" right adjacent to some dude (or lady's) backhair (hey - it's not called the dirty south for nothing).

No, the answers to all these questions seem obvious to me. What I don't understand is the point of these "croakies". If you're having trouble with your glasses slipping of your face, then get them adjusted. These don't keep them snug, they just allow them to drop between your boobs (which can be, I imagine, quite awkward). If your reasoning for their utility is that it gives you somewhere to put your glasses when they're not being used, I don't believe it. One, that's why we have cases for our sunglasses. Two, you have a head. Sunglasses were basically designed to be worn on your crown when not being utilized. Thirdly and finally... as an observation, people don't do it. I've NEVER seen anyone with their glasses hanging around their neck. They either have their glasses on their face (with said croakies attached) or they're put away neatly in their bags - croakies or not. Something about this tells me wearers know for a fact they look stupid.

I should also not that, although in my time as a Fraternity Man (just last year) we, too, had our cult followings (i.e. Campus Bar and Grill, North Face jackets), we had much better taste than... sunglass rubber-bands (reduced in nomenclature for what they really are). Fraternity boys of the south, however, clearly missed that inter-house memorandum.

The croakies' official website [sic] labels its flagship product as "The Original Neoprene Eyewear Retainer." I would love to be so lucky to wear a retainer around my neck. Where did this name even come from? Croakies? One can only hope it is representative of the frog who was wearing them and, when kissed by a unsuspecting princess, was still alone because he was caught wearing eyewear retainers. That's my story, anyway.

So this is my shout out -- nay, by repulsive rant -- about something that looks so ridiculous and has no utilitarian value whatsoever. People of the south - unite against this monstrosity and fight for all that is good an holy. They can strap neoprene bands around our necks, they can advertise around our ears as much as they want; but THEY CANNOT TAKE OUR FREEEEEEDOM!

Which makes me wonder if croakies come in tartan plaid. And if so, would William Wallace have worn them?

That's to be explored in our next session. That will be a $195 co-pay for our fifty minute session and your insurance will be billed for the remainder. Please see Alecia, the receptionist, on your way out in order to schedule your next appointment. Until then...

-The Budding Psychotherapist