Monday, March 29, 2004
"The Outlet Poacher,"
It's 5:30 a.m. and Carla is in full Manhattan mode. No eye contact, no exchanging pleasantries, just up on the treadmill to grind out her 30 minutes of cardio. When it comes to working out in the morning, Carla doesn't have time for small talk or smiles to morning gym goers because she's in a race, you see. She's in a race to beat HER. To dust her. To leave her so far behind that Carla can finally have some peace. Carla's in a rush to beat: The Outlet Poacher!
Every society, from the beginning of time has set up some sort of bonding rules. The rules build community. The rules, though they restrict freedoms, do eliminate chaos.
Some societies had draconian rules.
The Mayas would lay the old, sick or very young across a plank and while they were still alive pierce their breastplates and yank out the still beating hearts and place them on a golden bowl sitting in the outstretched hand of a statue. The did this each year during the spring as a sacrifice to the Gods to make for a good harvest.
Other socieites rule with the iron hand of benevolence. Buddhism adheres to the rules of conrolling your mind and body to avoid harming others as a way to peace and harmony.
Whoever the rulemakers were, be they Genghas Khan or James Madison, they made the rules to avoid chaos, anarchy and the destruction of the very society upon which they governed.
Sometimes the rules were written down and sometimes they were just passed down. But the rules do not have to be written to be understood.
It is by this structure of rulemaking that Carla lives her life. If she's in a shopping mall parking lot and she sees a car with a turn signal waiting for that Hummer to exit, she doesn't zoom in there to take the open space. That would be against the rules. If she's on the highway and a car tries to merge into her lane and she has room, she doesn't speed up. That would be against the rules.
But in the gym there's one offender that Carlas just can't figure out. Every morning, after she's done her workout Carla goes and takes a shower. Now the gym is usually filled with women getting ready for work. It's a ballet of eye makeup application, hair drying, teeth brushing and eyebrow plucking. But the women move adroitly and in synchronization, one finishing drying her hair just as another walksing hair dripping, waiting to plug her hair dryer into an outlet.
This morning dance, this perfectly timeed ritual only works if everyone adheres to the rules. You shower first, towel off and then take your curling irons, hair dryer and whatever else you need to the outlet and plug in. If you do it before you shower, your stuff is plugged in too long and another woman has missed her chance to join the dance. If you do it after you've gotten dressed then your hair drips all over your work clothes and you look like Sponge Bob.
But there's one woman who ceases to play ball. Each morning she leaves the weight room, saunters to her lockers takes out her electric rollers and, in full dress before her shower, PLUGS THEM IN! It's outrageous, practically sacriligious to Carla. How could she? How rude!
But this morning Carla would make her pay. With determination rarely seen Carla zooms through her 30 min run, skips the bike, cuts her sit-ups short and races to the bathroom. With the quickness of a cheetah she strips naked, grabs a towel, conditioner and shampoo and rushes to the stall. The outlaw is closing in. She's just finished and is walking toward her locker. In a split second Carla is in and out of the shower. Toweled off and ready for battle she grabs her curling iron, hair dryer, electric rollers and outlet operated toothbrush. She takes each item and plugs them in every outlet. When she's finished there are no outlets opened.
Victory is almost hers. Like a spy behind enemy lines Carla slinks to the back of the women's locker room, behind the scale out of sight. She watches with glee as the outlet poucher strolls into the bathroom, fully dressed of course, with her electric hair rollers. Carla stiffles a laugh at the look of horror on Outlet Poucher's face. There's no room at the inn.
The poucher turns on her heels. Carla slides from behind the scale and peeks around the corner. The poucher undresses, towels up and walks to the shower stalls. She hops in. She leaves the electric curlers alone on the locker bench abandoned. Carla quickly unplugs everything except for her own curling iron. She looks at the clock. She's going to be 30 minutes late for work. But she doessn't care.
Order has been restored. The rules have been followed. Anarchy has been avoided.
It is good to be civilized!
It's 5:30 a.m. and Carla is in full Manhattan mode. No eye contact, no exchanging pleasantries, just up on the treadmill to grind out her 30 minutes of cardio. When it comes to working out in the morning, Carla doesn't have time for small talk or smiles to morning gym goers because she's in a race, you see. She's in a race to beat HER. To dust her. To leave her so far behind that Carla can finally have some peace. Carla's in a rush to beat: The Outlet Poacher!
Every society, from the beginning of time has set up some sort of bonding rules. The rules build community. The rules, though they restrict freedoms, do eliminate chaos.
Some societies had draconian rules.
The Mayas would lay the old, sick or very young across a plank and while they were still alive pierce their breastplates and yank out the still beating hearts and place them on a golden bowl sitting in the outstretched hand of a statue. The did this each year during the spring as a sacrifice to the Gods to make for a good harvest.
Other socieites rule with the iron hand of benevolence. Buddhism adheres to the rules of conrolling your mind and body to avoid harming others as a way to peace and harmony.
Whoever the rulemakers were, be they Genghas Khan or James Madison, they made the rules to avoid chaos, anarchy and the destruction of the very society upon which they governed.
Sometimes the rules were written down and sometimes they were just passed down. But the rules do not have to be written to be understood.
It is by this structure of rulemaking that Carla lives her life. If she's in a shopping mall parking lot and she sees a car with a turn signal waiting for that Hummer to exit, she doesn't zoom in there to take the open space. That would be against the rules. If she's on the highway and a car tries to merge into her lane and she has room, she doesn't speed up. That would be against the rules.
But in the gym there's one offender that Carlas just can't figure out. Every morning, after she's done her workout Carla goes and takes a shower. Now the gym is usually filled with women getting ready for work. It's a ballet of eye makeup application, hair drying, teeth brushing and eyebrow plucking. But the women move adroitly and in synchronization, one finishing drying her hair just as another walksing hair dripping, waiting to plug her hair dryer into an outlet.
This morning dance, this perfectly timeed ritual only works if everyone adheres to the rules. You shower first, towel off and then take your curling irons, hair dryer and whatever else you need to the outlet and plug in. If you do it before you shower, your stuff is plugged in too long and another woman has missed her chance to join the dance. If you do it after you've gotten dressed then your hair drips all over your work clothes and you look like Sponge Bob.
But there's one woman who ceases to play ball. Each morning she leaves the weight room, saunters to her lockers takes out her electric rollers and, in full dress before her shower, PLUGS THEM IN! It's outrageous, practically sacriligious to Carla. How could she? How rude!
But this morning Carla would make her pay. With determination rarely seen Carla zooms through her 30 min run, skips the bike, cuts her sit-ups short and races to the bathroom. With the quickness of a cheetah she strips naked, grabs a towel, conditioner and shampoo and rushes to the stall. The outlaw is closing in. She's just finished and is walking toward her locker. In a split second Carla is in and out of the shower. Toweled off and ready for battle she grabs her curling iron, hair dryer, electric rollers and outlet operated toothbrush. She takes each item and plugs them in every outlet. When she's finished there are no outlets opened.
Victory is almost hers. Like a spy behind enemy lines Carla slinks to the back of the women's locker room, behind the scale out of sight. She watches with glee as the outlet poucher strolls into the bathroom, fully dressed of course, with her electric hair rollers. Carla stiffles a laugh at the look of horror on Outlet Poucher's face. There's no room at the inn.
The poucher turns on her heels. Carla slides from behind the scale and peeks around the corner. The poucher undresses, towels up and walks to the shower stalls. She hops in. She leaves the electric curlers alone on the locker bench abandoned. Carla quickly unplugs everything except for her own curling iron. She looks at the clock. She's going to be 30 minutes late for work. But she doessn't care.
Order has been restored. The rules have been followed. Anarchy has been avoided.
It is good to be civilized!
Friday, March 19, 2004
Well, howdy everyone! This is my first official blog about anything I want. I'm hoping I will use this to get some creative juices flowing out of the vacuous, floating object above my neck. I've been a professional writer for more than 15 years and got burned out. Now I'm an editor and seeing a lot of bad writing has instilled a desire to get back into the cotton fields. I have no idea if anyone will read these blogs - God I hope not! - but I think they will provide with the outlet that I'm looking for.
