0.40 seconds.
That's how long it takes a fastball to get from a pitcher's hand to the catcher's mitt.
Just for reference: the average reaction time of a human is .75 seconds, which means batters in the majors actually have to begin their swing before the pitcher has released the ball.
It turns out that's also the amount of time we have to form a first impression of someone.
If the people I was speaking to were fastballs, and I was the batter, I was batting 1.00 for the first 10 days of this experiment. As I started to get more comfortable with the process, I found myself becoming more enthused about meeting new people, swinging for the fences on every meeting.
In case you missed the quick update I gave earlier this week, I felt the first sting of failure on Monday on my way home from work. Standing in the bus on my way home, I suddenly realized I hadn't talked to anyone new yet. In a panic, I looked around for someone that I could have a quick chat with. I spotted a young lady reading an old book across the aisle from me, and before I had a chance to stop myself, I blurted out:
"What book are you reading?"
The girl didn't react at first, but then slowly looked up after glancing to both sides and asked "Are you speaking to me?"
"Yeah!---" I clamped my mouth shut right there, as I was on the verge of pointing out to her that she was the only person on the bus with a book in her hands. (TIP: Insulting someone within the first 5 seconds of meeting them isn't a good idea.)
She looked at the book, then at me cautiously, as if telling me the title of the book would somehow be detrimental to her health.
"Gone With The Wind" She informed me graciously.
I was taken aback, and could only blurt out: "OKAY. I wondered because it looks old. So. I wondered."
...
I didn't try to speak to anyone on the bus the next morning.
The next few days were littered with strikeouts, as I continued with blinding and unrelenting enthusiasm.
Why was everyone suddenly so mean?
It wasn't until last night that I realized what I was doing. You remember when I said it takes .40 seconds for a fastball to reach homeplate? Well, not every pitch is a fastball. A pitcher has about 4 or 5 pitches than he can use to mix up the batter. If he throws a changeup, a pitch typically 10-20 mph slower than a fastball, it can take closer to .7 seconds to reach the plate.
(Again, for reference: Imagine seeing two pitches in a row from a pitcher. The first one is a fastball, and you have to start swinging before he lets go of it in order to hit it. The next pitch is a changeup, and if you employ the same strategy as with the previous pitch, you're gonna be a good hour early on your swing.)
So there I was, swinging for the fences, assuming everyone was a blazing fastball ready to be knocked out of the park. I was making as much eye contact as possible, leaning in, showing these people that I thought they were the most interesting beings to grace this planet. And I was missing by a mile.
Some people are changeups. You need to slow down your swing with them. Don't pierce their souls with eye contact, give them plenty of space, be more interested in the wall behind them than their story. I'm serious. I feel like I'm about 23 years late on this revelation, but not everyone is comfortable with enthusiasm.
So now I'm working on reading the pitch. Within the first seconds of meeting someone, I'm learning to gauge their desire for enthusiasm, their need for space, and their level of comfort with others. Sure enough, since trying this tactic, I've actually been able to bring people out of their shells.
Sometimes, just trying to make contact with a pitch is all you need to do for good things to happen.
************************************************************************************
I now want to tell a slightly amusing story that happened last night.
Last night, after my revelation in social psychology that probably 99% of people on Earth already knew about, I decided to try out my new tactic. My roommate and I were at a bar, and we decided to make up a completely ridiculous story about ourselves.
"Hey, where does everyone go on these nights?" Landon asked two women that were dressed strikingly similarly.
"I'm sorry what?" Said one of the girls in a tone that would have made you think someone had just asked her what book she was reading.
"We aren't from here." I said, while looking out the window inquisitively. "We are from Orlando."
"Oh! What are you guys doing here??" Said one of the girls.
Landon decided to go with a story that would be as believable as possible, so he said "We are going to Montreal....Canada."
Naturally, the girls asked "Why?"
"Oh for some Rugby tournament." (This quote is very vague, as I was unable to hear anything over the dueling pianos on stage behind us.)
"Oh that's cool!" said one of the conversationally elite ladies.
Apparently having just road-tripped from Orlando, stopping off in a random bar for the night, and heading out for Montreal to play in a rugby tournament didn't give these girls enough material to talk about, so after a moment of silence, Landon and I went on.
"Yeah I lived in Australia for a year (This part is actually true) and played Rugby there." said Landon.
More nodding of heads...silence..
I chimed in: "Yeah I didn't go to Australia but after graduation I headed over to Europe to join the peace corps."
Landon and I let it sit for a moment.
There was plenty to ask about at this point. The girls thought deeply for a moment on what to go with. After a few seconds, the girls had reached their decision.
"So.....yeah this place really is the best bar to be at on a night like tonight."
"Yeah it's crazy you wound up here! Because nowhere else is good on these nights."
Australia? Don't care.
Europe? Stupid.
Rugby? Yawn.
Canada? Boring. (Well, okay I'll give them that one.)
You came to a random bar in Raleigh? OMG TELL ME MORE.
Landon and I then spent the next 5 minutes trying to learn about the college they went to, while repeatedly incorrectly saying "NCSU" as the two ladies tried desperately to teach us the correct acronym. (Variations we blurted out included csu, scnu, uscns, ncsucnsuns, UNC, and even Duke.)
So that was the 'conversation' I had last night.
I guess some people just don't play baseball.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
Day 9: Forget the Greek. Beware of Dutch Bearing Gifts
I spent 4 years surrounded by the Dutch at Dordt College.
I was prepared for this.
We were at a nice restaurant/bar downtown, and I was having a terrible time playing shufflepuck. The middle-aged woman who looked somewhat like Miss Cleo behind me found my struggles to be particularly amusing. After a third straight turn of sending the pucks soaring off the edge of the table, I turned to her and verbally affirmed what she was witnessing:
"Hey I'm really bad at this, huh??"
Her laughter-filled response was made no more understandable by her thick accent. My decision to talk to her was made in part because I wanted to figure out where she was from, but also because I was about as successful in getting the young girl I was playing against to talk to me as I was at keeping the puck from careening off the table. Social Darwinism won out.
I asked the colorfully dressed old woman for some tips and she told me to simply "Stop sucking"-- advice I always try to employ on a daily basis. Despite this brilliant bit of coaching, I still, in fact, was sucking. Jennifer (I learned her name while the mime I was playing against took her turn) agreed to come over and coach me. She was in her 50's, so she clearly had some wisdom about shufflepuck to share.
Her next bit of advice was both helpful and slightly demoralizing.
"Start with the puck directly in the middle!" She scolded.
When I told her that I was afraid to do so because for some reason the puck always slid far left, she told me "Well throw the puck straight! Stop bending left! You aren't gay are you?"
I guess sometimes you have to tear someone down before you can build them back up.
On my next turn, I scored on all four pucks. Apparently attacking the legitimacy of my heterosexuality is the best way to get favorable results from me.
Several high-fives, fist pounds, and epic shots later, I managed to come from behind and win the game. Jennifer was dancing around in circles, laughing and smiling like a proud mother.
Actually, it turned out she was a mother. As soon as the game ended, her 28 year old daughter came back from a different part of the restaurant and joined us at a table. I think her name was Dominique, but I'm really not sure.
The mother-daughter duo revealed to me that they were from the Netherlands-- Holland to be exact. I told them I went to a dutch school named after Dordtrecht, and they quickly reprimanded me for completely butchering the pronunciation. They then asked me if I knew even one word in Dutch. By some miracle, I was able to recall a sentence that some friends of mine used constantly while they were in Holland.
"Ver es dicht bizinder bahnk?" (I have no idea if I'm spelling it correctly)
Translated to English, I asked them "Do you know where the nearest bank is?"
Laughing at my horrible Dutch, they applauded me nonetheless. After spending some time speaking about differences in our cultures, I noticed that a friend of mine had come to the restaurant with two of her own friends. Doing what any logical person would do, I grabbed my new Dutch friends and joined up with my friend and the two other strangers.
So there I was, on a Thursday night, at a table with five ladies. Four of them I had just met that night, and the 5th one I had not spoken to for more than 15 minutes in a previous encounter. I felt a little out of place.
Upon learning that it was one of the girl's birthdays, Momma-Dutch-Lady-Jennifer kicked herself into party mode. She disappeared for a few minutes, and returned with a bottle of champagne and a shot for the birthday girl (and one for herself, just for good measure). We clinked glasses, cheered to a happy birthday, but were stopped short of drinking the champagne by Jennifer, who was now positioned a few feet from our table, holding her glass in the air.
"EXCUSE ME EVERYONE, CAN I PLEASE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION?" She yelled in her heavy dutch accent.
"TONIGHT IS THIS YOUNG LADY'S BIRTHDAY!!" She screamed, followed by her starting up the "happy birthday" song in an octave much too low.
When the entire restaurant concluded the singing of happy birthday to the girl at our table, we drank our champagne through fits of laughter.
The night continued in this way, with Jennifer making grand gestures of friendship, such as inviting us all out to Holland to stay at her house. She also read a few of the other girl's auras, and told them about the future of their love-lives and jobs.
We all chatted for a few hours until 1 am. After buying a few other drinks for the birthday girl, Jennifer declared it was time to go home. I told Jennifer and her daughter Dominique it was such a pleasure meeting them, and she gave her email address to me, swearing that I should contact her if I'm ever in Europe. And with that she was gone.
It was then that those of us remaining realized Jennifer hadn't paid her check.
Sneaky Dutch.
I was prepared for this.
We were at a nice restaurant/bar downtown, and I was having a terrible time playing shufflepuck. The middle-aged woman who looked somewhat like Miss Cleo behind me found my struggles to be particularly amusing. After a third straight turn of sending the pucks soaring off the edge of the table, I turned to her and verbally affirmed what she was witnessing:
"Hey I'm really bad at this, huh??"
Her laughter-filled response was made no more understandable by her thick accent. My decision to talk to her was made in part because I wanted to figure out where she was from, but also because I was about as successful in getting the young girl I was playing against to talk to me as I was at keeping the puck from careening off the table. Social Darwinism won out.
I asked the colorfully dressed old woman for some tips and she told me to simply "Stop sucking"-- advice I always try to employ on a daily basis. Despite this brilliant bit of coaching, I still, in fact, was sucking. Jennifer (I learned her name while the mime I was playing against took her turn) agreed to come over and coach me. She was in her 50's, so she clearly had some wisdom about shufflepuck to share.
Her next bit of advice was both helpful and slightly demoralizing.
"Start with the puck directly in the middle!" She scolded.
When I told her that I was afraid to do so because for some reason the puck always slid far left, she told me "Well throw the puck straight! Stop bending left! You aren't gay are you?"
I guess sometimes you have to tear someone down before you can build them back up.
On my next turn, I scored on all four pucks. Apparently attacking the legitimacy of my heterosexuality is the best way to get favorable results from me.
Several high-fives, fist pounds, and epic shots later, I managed to come from behind and win the game. Jennifer was dancing around in circles, laughing and smiling like a proud mother.
Actually, it turned out she was a mother. As soon as the game ended, her 28 year old daughter came back from a different part of the restaurant and joined us at a table. I think her name was Dominique, but I'm really not sure.
The mother-daughter duo revealed to me that they were from the Netherlands-- Holland to be exact. I told them I went to a dutch school named after Dordtrecht, and they quickly reprimanded me for completely butchering the pronunciation. They then asked me if I knew even one word in Dutch. By some miracle, I was able to recall a sentence that some friends of mine used constantly while they were in Holland.
"Ver es dicht bizinder bahnk?" (I have no idea if I'm spelling it correctly)
Translated to English, I asked them "Do you know where the nearest bank is?"
Laughing at my horrible Dutch, they applauded me nonetheless. After spending some time speaking about differences in our cultures, I noticed that a friend of mine had come to the restaurant with two of her own friends. Doing what any logical person would do, I grabbed my new Dutch friends and joined up with my friend and the two other strangers.
So there I was, on a Thursday night, at a table with five ladies. Four of them I had just met that night, and the 5th one I had not spoken to for more than 15 minutes in a previous encounter. I felt a little out of place.
Upon learning that it was one of the girl's birthdays, Momma-Dutch-Lady-Jennifer kicked herself into party mode. She disappeared for a few minutes, and returned with a bottle of champagne and a shot for the birthday girl (and one for herself, just for good measure). We clinked glasses, cheered to a happy birthday, but were stopped short of drinking the champagne by Jennifer, who was now positioned a few feet from our table, holding her glass in the air.
"EXCUSE ME EVERYONE, CAN I PLEASE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION?" She yelled in her heavy dutch accent.
"TONIGHT IS THIS YOUNG LADY'S BIRTHDAY!!" She screamed, followed by her starting up the "happy birthday" song in an octave much too low.
When the entire restaurant concluded the singing of happy birthday to the girl at our table, we drank our champagne through fits of laughter.
The night continued in this way, with Jennifer making grand gestures of friendship, such as inviting us all out to Holland to stay at her house. She also read a few of the other girl's auras, and told them about the future of their love-lives and jobs.
We all chatted for a few hours until 1 am. After buying a few other drinks for the birthday girl, Jennifer declared it was time to go home. I told Jennifer and her daughter Dominique it was such a pleasure meeting them, and she gave her email address to me, swearing that I should contact her if I'm ever in Europe. And with that she was gone.
It was then that those of us remaining realized Jennifer hadn't paid her check.
Sneaky Dutch.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Days 6, 7, 8: A New Norm
If you didn't know me in real life, and you're only source of knowledge about me is this blog, I bet you'd be either pretty worried or pretty happy for me. By the lack of posts, one could assume I've either died while trying to make friends with the wrong person, or have had such a good time, I simply forget all about reporting my results.
It's actually neither.
Writing a blog takes time, and with school, it's been a bit tough the last few days. I also haven't had quite the itch to write this week. But I owe you guys some results, so here they are. You'll note that I have skipped a day (Sunday). This is because I had a particularly interesting conversation with someone on that day, and I'd like to save the story for a time when I really feel like writing. I owe it to the story to give it all my attention.
That being said, here's a quick update of the last few days.
I'm still smiling at everyone I walk by. To those of you reading this from Iowa, it isn't a big deal. Iowan's smile and wave to everyone. Even when it's a completely inappropriate time to do so. Like when you're both in 2,000 lb vehicles, traveling at 40 mph in opposite directions. They call it the farmer wave: one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the edge of the open window. Depending on your location within Iowa, the farmer wave is either two, or three lifted fingers from the hand on the steering wheel. I miss that place.
But to my audience in North Carolina, this type of behavior seems a bit quirky. I see people reacting to my hearty and unnecessary greeting with confusion. They really don't know what to do. Today, a young man sitting by himself looked up, then away, then back at me with a half smile half grimace before quickly looking at his feet again. It was like when you run as fast as you can at a bunny (Something we should all strive to do at least once a day), and it doesn't know what to do, so it attempts to run in every direction at once before deciding the 'play dead' routine will work just fine. As if I didn't notice it clearly moving three seconds ago...Silly rabbits..
I have also gotten over the fear of striking conversation with people that don't look like they want to. I'm reminded of the importance of being interested, rather than trying to be interesting, when speaking to others. I'm also realizing that the key to making others comfortable around you, is by being comfortable with yourself. This means if you're an introvert, don't feel like you need to go out and speak to a bunch of people. Just be who you are. Others will subconsciously pick up on your air of confidence, even if silent, and enjoy your presence.
I'll end with a few encounters that I've had so far this week:
Last night I played flip cup with 2 teams of kickball people that I've never met. I'll probably be seeing some of them again someday in the not-to-distant future.
I went to the basketball court and played with some kids I've never met. Not a big deal, but it still counts!
I spoke with a woman on the phone while trying to get help with my bank account. She lives in Kansas City. I asked her if everyone was sad about KU losing, and she laughed, informing me that she was a huge Mizzou fan. Who would have thought I'd call a national 800 number and wind up speaking with a Mizzou fan.
That's one of the other things I'm learning in this experiment. Chances are, you're going to have something pretty big in common with almost every stranger you meet. When you meet that person, think of it as a game to find out what it is that you probably have in common! I think they call this establishing rapport. We do it on a subconscious level whenever becoming friends with someone. Finding connections between you and someone else increases the strength of the connection between you and that stranger. This increases the level of comfort between the two people, and before long, they won't be calling each other strangers.
That's it for now. Hopefully this weekend I can get around to the story from last Sunday. It's a good one, so be sure to check it out.
It's actually neither.
Writing a blog takes time, and with school, it's been a bit tough the last few days. I also haven't had quite the itch to write this week. But I owe you guys some results, so here they are. You'll note that I have skipped a day (Sunday). This is because I had a particularly interesting conversation with someone on that day, and I'd like to save the story for a time when I really feel like writing. I owe it to the story to give it all my attention.
That being said, here's a quick update of the last few days.
I'm still smiling at everyone I walk by. To those of you reading this from Iowa, it isn't a big deal. Iowan's smile and wave to everyone. Even when it's a completely inappropriate time to do so. Like when you're both in 2,000 lb vehicles, traveling at 40 mph in opposite directions. They call it the farmer wave: one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the edge of the open window. Depending on your location within Iowa, the farmer wave is either two, or three lifted fingers from the hand on the steering wheel. I miss that place.
But to my audience in North Carolina, this type of behavior seems a bit quirky. I see people reacting to my hearty and unnecessary greeting with confusion. They really don't know what to do. Today, a young man sitting by himself looked up, then away, then back at me with a half smile half grimace before quickly looking at his feet again. It was like when you run as fast as you can at a bunny (Something we should all strive to do at least once a day), and it doesn't know what to do, so it attempts to run in every direction at once before deciding the 'play dead' routine will work just fine. As if I didn't notice it clearly moving three seconds ago...Silly rabbits..
I have also gotten over the fear of striking conversation with people that don't look like they want to. I'm reminded of the importance of being interested, rather than trying to be interesting, when speaking to others. I'm also realizing that the key to making others comfortable around you, is by being comfortable with yourself. This means if you're an introvert, don't feel like you need to go out and speak to a bunch of people. Just be who you are. Others will subconsciously pick up on your air of confidence, even if silent, and enjoy your presence.
I'll end with a few encounters that I've had so far this week:
Last night I played flip cup with 2 teams of kickball people that I've never met. I'll probably be seeing some of them again someday in the not-to-distant future.
I went to the basketball court and played with some kids I've never met. Not a big deal, but it still counts!
I spoke with a woman on the phone while trying to get help with my bank account. She lives in Kansas City. I asked her if everyone was sad about KU losing, and she laughed, informing me that she was a huge Mizzou fan. Who would have thought I'd call a national 800 number and wind up speaking with a Mizzou fan.
That's one of the other things I'm learning in this experiment. Chances are, you're going to have something pretty big in common with almost every stranger you meet. When you meet that person, think of it as a game to find out what it is that you probably have in common! I think they call this establishing rapport. We do it on a subconscious level whenever becoming friends with someone. Finding connections between you and someone else increases the strength of the connection between you and that stranger. This increases the level of comfort between the two people, and before long, they won't be calling each other strangers.
That's it for now. Hopefully this weekend I can get around to the story from last Sunday. It's a good one, so be sure to check it out.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Days 3 and 4: Your Secret Weapon
I'm probably going to be merging Fridays and Saturdays since I usually don't spend much time at home on the weekends.
"If the brain were simple enough to understand, we wouldn't be smart enough to figure it out."
We humans are weird creatures. That grey lump of tissue in our skulls tells our bodies to react in certain ways without us even being aware of it. Play a song you like, and the hair on your neck will stand up. Watch a particularly emotional part of a movie, and your skin will rise with goosebumps. (This is called Frisson, by the way. There are internet forums where people share music and movie clips with the sole purpose of creating this feeling of frisson.)
Studies have shown that when listening to music, the brain emits huge amounts of dopamine, the chemical that makes us feel 'good.'
When we are speaking to someone we care about, our eyes naturally dilate. There are countless ways in which the body naturally and involuntarily reacts to outside stimuli. And while it is completely obvious, I'm going to share with you an important one that I have noticed in this experiment.
I spent a good deal of Friday walking around State's campus asking for signatures to get Ron Paul to come speak in Raleigh. During that time, I experimented with different ways of asking people.
I first tried the simple "Would you mind signing our petitions...etc etc." That worked well enough, but I wanted to see how other methods would go.
I next tried making the person feel as if I really needed them. To do so, I started off with "Hey, can you help me out real quick? We are trying to get signatures etc etc.." It's no secret that people like to feel like they are needed. This actually brought about much better results than the initial method, but also had the drawback of the person feeling like they might actually have to do something they didn't feel like doing.
Then I tried starting off with simply "Hey how are you today? Can you sign etc etc.." The key to this was sounding genuinely interested in that persons day. This took a bit too much time, and while effective, wasn't exactly ideal.
Then it finally hit me. Why had I been so scared to initiate conversation with people the past couple days? Because they didn't look friendly. They were focused on their own lives and that made them seem less open.
So I did exactly what I imagined someone would do if they were trying to seem open and friendly. I looked them right in the eyes and gave them a great big smile. I didn't even have to say anything, just the smile was enough to get the person to instantly be willing to listen to what I had to say.
What's even more cool is most of the time, the people also smiled back! They didn't have any reason for smiling, yet they did simply because I was. Now, as I said earlier, this isn't exactly a discovery worthy of the Nobel prize in science, but I definitely think it's something we overlook quite often.
Since I'm behind on this blog, I'm going to leave you with an except from the classic book, "How to Win Friends and Influence People" on the effectiveness of smiling:
"You must have a good time meeting people if you expect them to have a good time meeting you.
I have asked thousands of business people to smile at someone every hour of the day for a week and then come to class and talk about the results. How did it work? Let's see ... Here is a letter from William B. Steinhardt, a New York stockbroker. His case isn't isolated. In fact, it is typical of hundreds of cases.
"1 have been married for over eighteen years," wrote Mr. Steinhardt, "and in all that time I seldom smiled at my wife or spoke two dozen words to her from the time I got up until I was ready to leave for business. I was one of the worst grouches who ever walked down Broadway.
"When you asked me to make a talk about my experience with smiles, I thought I would try it for a week. So the next morning, while combing my hair, I looked at my glum mug in the mirror and said to myself, 'Bill, you are going to wipe the scowl off that sour puss of yours today. You are going to smile. And you are going to begin right now.' As I sat down to breakfast, I greeted my wife with a
'Good morning, my dear,' and smiled as I said it.
"You warned me that she might be surprised. Well, you underestimated her reaction. She was bewildered. She was shocked. I told her that in the future she could expect this as a regular occurrence, and I kept it up every morning.
"This changed attitude of mine brought more happiness into our home in the two months since I started than there was during the last year.
"As I leave for my office, I greet the elevator operator in the apartment house with a 'Good morning' and a smile, I greet the doorman with a smile. I smile at the cashier in the subway booth when I ask for change. As I stand on the floor of the Stock Exchange, I smile at people who until recently never saw me smile.
"I soon found that everybody was smiling back at me, I treat those who come to me with complaints or grievances in a cheerful manner,
I smile as I listen to them and I find that adjustments are accomplished much easier.
.....
You don't feel like smiling? Then what? Two things. First, force yourself to smile. If you are alone, force yourself to whistle or hum a tune or sing. Act as if you were already happy, and that will tend to make you happy. Here is the way the psychologist and philosopher William James put it:
"Action seems to follow feeling, but really action and feeling go together; and by regulating the action, which is under the more direct control of the will, we can indirectly regulate the feeling, which is not.
"Thus the sovereign voluntary path to cheerfulness, if our cheerfulness be lost, is to sit up cheerfully and to act and speak as if cheerfulness were already there. ..."
Every body in the world is seeking happiness - and there is one sure way to find it. That is by controlling your thoughts. Happiness doesn't depend on outward conditions. It depends on inner conditions.
It isn't what you have or who you are or where you are or what you are doing that makes you happy or unhappy. It is what you think about it."
Between the petition signing and going out on Saturday night, I met plenty of new people. I spoke with a man in his 40's about politics for some time, a young woman majoring in religious studies, a teacher, all of whom enriched my life and altered my thinking, even if in a small way, with only their words and ideas.
I want to leave you with some words from essayist Elbert Hubbard. Since having read them, I can honestly say that I ponder them in my head before I go out every morning:
"Whenever you go out-of-doors, draw the chin in, carry the crown of the head high, and fill the lungs to the utmost; drink in the sunshine; greet your friends with a smile, and put soul into every handclasp. Do not fear being misunderstood and do not waste a minute thinking about your enemies. Try to fix firmly in your mind what you would like to do; and then, without veering off direction, you will move straight to the goal. Keep your mind on the great and splendid things you would like to do, and then, as the days go gliding away, you will find yourself unconsciously seizing upon the opportunities that are required for the fulfillment of your desire, just as the coral insect
takes from the running tide the element it needs. Picture in your mind the able, earnest, useful person you desire to be, and the thought you hold is hourly transforming you into that particular individual.. . . Thought is supreme. Preserve a right mental attitude - the attitude of courage, frankness, and good cheer. To think rightly is to create. All things come through desire and every sincere prayer is answered. We become like that on which our hearts are fixed. Carry your chin in and the crown of your head high. We are gods in the chrysalis."
Now let's see your secret weapon.
"If the brain were simple enough to understand, we wouldn't be smart enough to figure it out."
We humans are weird creatures. That grey lump of tissue in our skulls tells our bodies to react in certain ways without us even being aware of it. Play a song you like, and the hair on your neck will stand up. Watch a particularly emotional part of a movie, and your skin will rise with goosebumps. (This is called Frisson, by the way. There are internet forums where people share music and movie clips with the sole purpose of creating this feeling of frisson.)
Studies have shown that when listening to music, the brain emits huge amounts of dopamine, the chemical that makes us feel 'good.'
When we are speaking to someone we care about, our eyes naturally dilate. There are countless ways in which the body naturally and involuntarily reacts to outside stimuli. And while it is completely obvious, I'm going to share with you an important one that I have noticed in this experiment.
I spent a good deal of Friday walking around State's campus asking for signatures to get Ron Paul to come speak in Raleigh. During that time, I experimented with different ways of asking people.
I first tried the simple "Would you mind signing our petitions...etc etc." That worked well enough, but I wanted to see how other methods would go.
I next tried making the person feel as if I really needed them. To do so, I started off with "Hey, can you help me out real quick? We are trying to get signatures etc etc.." It's no secret that people like to feel like they are needed. This actually brought about much better results than the initial method, but also had the drawback of the person feeling like they might actually have to do something they didn't feel like doing.
Then I tried starting off with simply "Hey how are you today? Can you sign etc etc.." The key to this was sounding genuinely interested in that persons day. This took a bit too much time, and while effective, wasn't exactly ideal.
Then it finally hit me. Why had I been so scared to initiate conversation with people the past couple days? Because they didn't look friendly. They were focused on their own lives and that made them seem less open.
So I did exactly what I imagined someone would do if they were trying to seem open and friendly. I looked them right in the eyes and gave them a great big smile. I didn't even have to say anything, just the smile was enough to get the person to instantly be willing to listen to what I had to say.
What's even more cool is most of the time, the people also smiled back! They didn't have any reason for smiling, yet they did simply because I was. Now, as I said earlier, this isn't exactly a discovery worthy of the Nobel prize in science, but I definitely think it's something we overlook quite often.
Since I'm behind on this blog, I'm going to leave you with an except from the classic book, "How to Win Friends and Influence People" on the effectiveness of smiling:
"You must have a good time meeting people if you expect them to have a good time meeting you.
I have asked thousands of business people to smile at someone every hour of the day for a week and then come to class and talk about the results. How did it work? Let's see ... Here is a letter from William B. Steinhardt, a New York stockbroker. His case isn't isolated. In fact, it is typical of hundreds of cases.
"1 have been married for over eighteen years," wrote Mr. Steinhardt, "and in all that time I seldom smiled at my wife or spoke two dozen words to her from the time I got up until I was ready to leave for business. I was one of the worst grouches who ever walked down Broadway.
"When you asked me to make a talk about my experience with smiles, I thought I would try it for a week. So the next morning, while combing my hair, I looked at my glum mug in the mirror and said to myself, 'Bill, you are going to wipe the scowl off that sour puss of yours today. You are going to smile. And you are going to begin right now.' As I sat down to breakfast, I greeted my wife with a
'Good morning, my dear,' and smiled as I said it.
"You warned me that she might be surprised. Well, you underestimated her reaction. She was bewildered. She was shocked. I told her that in the future she could expect this as a regular occurrence, and I kept it up every morning.
"This changed attitude of mine brought more happiness into our home in the two months since I started than there was during the last year.
"As I leave for my office, I greet the elevator operator in the apartment house with a 'Good morning' and a smile, I greet the doorman with a smile. I smile at the cashier in the subway booth when I ask for change. As I stand on the floor of the Stock Exchange, I smile at people who until recently never saw me smile.
"I soon found that everybody was smiling back at me, I treat those who come to me with complaints or grievances in a cheerful manner,
I smile as I listen to them and I find that adjustments are accomplished much easier.
.....
You don't feel like smiling? Then what? Two things. First, force yourself to smile. If you are alone, force yourself to whistle or hum a tune or sing. Act as if you were already happy, and that will tend to make you happy. Here is the way the psychologist and philosopher William James put it:
"Action seems to follow feeling, but really action and feeling go together; and by regulating the action, which is under the more direct control of the will, we can indirectly regulate the feeling, which is not.
"Thus the sovereign voluntary path to cheerfulness, if our cheerfulness be lost, is to sit up cheerfully and to act and speak as if cheerfulness were already there. ..."
Every body in the world is seeking happiness - and there is one sure way to find it. That is by controlling your thoughts. Happiness doesn't depend on outward conditions. It depends on inner conditions.
It isn't what you have or who you are or where you are or what you are doing that makes you happy or unhappy. It is what you think about it."
Between the petition signing and going out on Saturday night, I met plenty of new people. I spoke with a man in his 40's about politics for some time, a young woman majoring in religious studies, a teacher, all of whom enriched my life and altered my thinking, even if in a small way, with only their words and ideas.
I want to leave you with some words from essayist Elbert Hubbard. Since having read them, I can honestly say that I ponder them in my head before I go out every morning:
"Whenever you go out-of-doors, draw the chin in, carry the crown of the head high, and fill the lungs to the utmost; drink in the sunshine; greet your friends with a smile, and put soul into every handclasp. Do not fear being misunderstood and do not waste a minute thinking about your enemies. Try to fix firmly in your mind what you would like to do; and then, without veering off direction, you will move straight to the goal. Keep your mind on the great and splendid things you would like to do, and then, as the days go gliding away, you will find yourself unconsciously seizing upon the opportunities that are required for the fulfillment of your desire, just as the coral insect
takes from the running tide the element it needs. Picture in your mind the able, earnest, useful person you desire to be, and the thought you hold is hourly transforming you into that particular individual.. . . Thought is supreme. Preserve a right mental attitude - the attitude of courage, frankness, and good cheer. To think rightly is to create. All things come through desire and every sincere prayer is answered. We become like that on which our hearts are fixed. Carry your chin in and the crown of your head high. We are gods in the chrysalis."
Now let's see your secret weapon.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Day 2: The Real World
The funny thing about living life is that in the end, it's what kills you.
We get up at 7 am because our job is what provides us with the means to survive. We commute to work, taking the fastest route possible, cussing out the dumb blonde in her daddy's BMW because if we're late, that job we desperately cling to is gone. While at work we keep our heads down, tirelessly and methodically doing our various tasks until well after the workday has ended.
Coffee break? There's no time for interaction, that report needed to be done yesterday!
Then, when it's all said and done, we go home, much too tired to talk to anyone.
It's no secret that the American culture is one of unbridled individualism, but I never really noticed how ingrained it was until I decided trying to get out of my own world and into other people's.
You see, the problem is that people are like cars. Cars without brakes--going downhill--at 70 MPH--with their engines on fire. It takes every bit of concentration we have to keep our cars on the road, to see through the smoke blazing out from under our hood. The further we make it, the faster we go, and the more desperate our situation becomes. The last thing we need is someone in the passenger's seat asking us how our day went.
It's this kind of attitude I encountered on day 2.
For lunch I went to a small cafe near my house. I ordered their special "green eggs and ham" breakfast wrap, presumably in a sub-conscious effort to counteract yesterday's debacle of eating lunch for breakfast. The man behind the counter looked even more impatient than the gentleman at Breuggers from the day before. He asked me how I was doing, but two words into his own greeting he was already turned around looking towards the back for a co-worker that seemed to have gone AWOL. I'm no detective, but something told me he didn't actually care much about how my day was going. I can't blame him though. As I said before, life is hard! We don't have time for such pleasantry while at work.
As I walked outside to sit in the sun and enjoy my Dr. Seuss inspired concoction, I noticed that everyone around me was terribly isolated. There were probably 10 people on the patio eating lunch, all huddled at their own tiny tables. All of them were alone, one hand on their food and the other on their mouse, clicking away at their laptops.
While I sat in the sun quietly eating my lunch, I debated whether I was going to bother any of these people. They all just seemed so incredibly busy. Their faces were filled with such concentration, I wouldn't be surprised to learn they were actually disarming bombs strapped to all the restaurant's chairs. After inhaling my delicious green burrito, I sat there for a few minutes in a heap of social anxiety. A mental tennis match took place inside my head. Was I going to speak to any of these people or not? Here was a perfect opportunity to start a conversation with someone, yet everyone around me looked as though they were 10 miles deep, submerged in their own reality. I simply didn't have the heart to yank them out of it.
I stood up, threw my trash away, and silently headed back to my office.
Such is the way of the real world.
Several hours later, it was time to go home. The day was shaping up such that once again the bus ride would be my savior. Sure enough, when I reached the bench to wait for my ride, a young man sat down next to me. As with every stranger I had seen so far today, he was staring intently at an electronic device. Already discouraged by my failure at lunch, I quickly resigned to the fact that I wouldn't be speaking to this individual, either.
But then, as if the universe wasn't about to let me give up, my bus came featuring flashing orange letters on the front marquee: "Bus Full." The driver flew by my stop without even so much as a tap of the brakes. I'd be waiting for at least another 20 minutes. That was plenty of time to find a way to pull this kid out of his technological love affair.
After a few seconds of mental preparation, I blurted out the world's most obvious question: "Is that an Iphone?"
Brilliant.
The young man looked up as if he didn't know someone was sitting next to him and answered kindly that it was. I told him my phone was a piece of crap and that I desperately wanted one as well. He said they were nice, but unfortunately didn't support flash. As we talked more, I could tell he really didn't mind having this conversation, and was maybe even enjoying it a little bit. We got on the topic of Assassin's Creed, and he informed me he would be buying the game even though he doesn't own an XBOX. A bold move, indeed.
We chitchatted a bit more. He was a freshman, headed to an adviser meeting across campus. I got the feeling he wasn't all too excited about it which might explain why he looked so down when I first saw him. Eventually his bus came, and he hopped up quickly, uttered a short goodbye and was on his way.
I'm going to be completely honest. A simple act such as speaking to a stranger is deceptively challenging. It's not easy to talk to someone when they are in their own world. I can't help but feel like I'm bothering them. In fact, I probably am. Try it sometime. Look around you and see if the people nearby look like they want anything to do with you.
Everyone has their own problems. This kid really didn't want to go to his adviser meeting. The man behind the counter at the cafe probably really didn't want to be working, a fact made no less relevant by his slacking co-worker. The people eating lunch outside were probably feeling a bit guilty for taking time to enjoy the nice weather, so they brought their computers to get a little extra work done.
Such is the way of the real world.
I hope I brightened that young man's day just a little bit. He certainly smiled a couple times during the conversation, so it's not completely out of the question. Maybe he enjoyed having someone in his passenger seat for a few moments.
I leaned back as I sat in the shade, spread open my arms and rested them on the back of the bench. A slight breeze cooled me off, and I watched as endless amounts of busy people drove their cars up and down the hill. I couldn't help but imagine a little smoke coming from their engines.
We get up at 7 am because our job is what provides us with the means to survive. We commute to work, taking the fastest route possible, cussing out the dumb blonde in her daddy's BMW because if we're late, that job we desperately cling to is gone. While at work we keep our heads down, tirelessly and methodically doing our various tasks until well after the workday has ended.
Coffee break? There's no time for interaction, that report needed to be done yesterday!
Then, when it's all said and done, we go home, much too tired to talk to anyone.
It's no secret that the American culture is one of unbridled individualism, but I never really noticed how ingrained it was until I decided trying to get out of my own world and into other people's.
You see, the problem is that people are like cars. Cars without brakes--going downhill--at 70 MPH--with their engines on fire. It takes every bit of concentration we have to keep our cars on the road, to see through the smoke blazing out from under our hood. The further we make it, the faster we go, and the more desperate our situation becomes. The last thing we need is someone in the passenger's seat asking us how our day went.
It's this kind of attitude I encountered on day 2.
For lunch I went to a small cafe near my house. I ordered their special "green eggs and ham" breakfast wrap, presumably in a sub-conscious effort to counteract yesterday's debacle of eating lunch for breakfast. The man behind the counter looked even more impatient than the gentleman at Breuggers from the day before. He asked me how I was doing, but two words into his own greeting he was already turned around looking towards the back for a co-worker that seemed to have gone AWOL. I'm no detective, but something told me he didn't actually care much about how my day was going. I can't blame him though. As I said before, life is hard! We don't have time for such pleasantry while at work.
As I walked outside to sit in the sun and enjoy my Dr. Seuss inspired concoction, I noticed that everyone around me was terribly isolated. There were probably 10 people on the patio eating lunch, all huddled at their own tiny tables. All of them were alone, one hand on their food and the other on their mouse, clicking away at their laptops.
While I sat in the sun quietly eating my lunch, I debated whether I was going to bother any of these people. They all just seemed so incredibly busy. Their faces were filled with such concentration, I wouldn't be surprised to learn they were actually disarming bombs strapped to all the restaurant's chairs. After inhaling my delicious green burrito, I sat there for a few minutes in a heap of social anxiety. A mental tennis match took place inside my head. Was I going to speak to any of these people or not? Here was a perfect opportunity to start a conversation with someone, yet everyone around me looked as though they were 10 miles deep, submerged in their own reality. I simply didn't have the heart to yank them out of it.
I stood up, threw my trash away, and silently headed back to my office.
Such is the way of the real world.
Several hours later, it was time to go home. The day was shaping up such that once again the bus ride would be my savior. Sure enough, when I reached the bench to wait for my ride, a young man sat down next to me. As with every stranger I had seen so far today, he was staring intently at an electronic device. Already discouraged by my failure at lunch, I quickly resigned to the fact that I wouldn't be speaking to this individual, either.
But then, as if the universe wasn't about to let me give up, my bus came featuring flashing orange letters on the front marquee: "Bus Full." The driver flew by my stop without even so much as a tap of the brakes. I'd be waiting for at least another 20 minutes. That was plenty of time to find a way to pull this kid out of his technological love affair.
After a few seconds of mental preparation, I blurted out the world's most obvious question: "Is that an Iphone?"
Brilliant.
The young man looked up as if he didn't know someone was sitting next to him and answered kindly that it was. I told him my phone was a piece of crap and that I desperately wanted one as well. He said they were nice, but unfortunately didn't support flash. As we talked more, I could tell he really didn't mind having this conversation, and was maybe even enjoying it a little bit. We got on the topic of Assassin's Creed, and he informed me he would be buying the game even though he doesn't own an XBOX. A bold move, indeed.
We chitchatted a bit more. He was a freshman, headed to an adviser meeting across campus. I got the feeling he wasn't all too excited about it which might explain why he looked so down when I first saw him. Eventually his bus came, and he hopped up quickly, uttered a short goodbye and was on his way.
I'm going to be completely honest. A simple act such as speaking to a stranger is deceptively challenging. It's not easy to talk to someone when they are in their own world. I can't help but feel like I'm bothering them. In fact, I probably am. Try it sometime. Look around you and see if the people nearby look like they want anything to do with you.
Everyone has their own problems. This kid really didn't want to go to his adviser meeting. The man behind the counter at the cafe probably really didn't want to be working, a fact made no less relevant by his slacking co-worker. The people eating lunch outside were probably feeling a bit guilty for taking time to enjoy the nice weather, so they brought their computers to get a little extra work done.
Such is the way of the real world.
I hope I brightened that young man's day just a little bit. He certainly smiled a couple times during the conversation, so it's not completely out of the question. Maybe he enjoyed having someone in his passenger seat for a few moments.
I leaned back as I sat in the shade, spread open my arms and rested them on the back of the bench. A slight breeze cooled me off, and I watched as endless amounts of busy people drove their cars up and down the hill. I couldn't help but imagine a little smoke coming from their engines.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Day 1: It's All in the Cards
I'm not a betting man.
I once tried my luck at blackjack while vacationing in the Bahamas and lost 40 dollars on the first hand. For some reason after that I never really found the process to be very alluring. Go figure.
However, had I been forced to bet on how the first day of this little experiment would go, I would certainly not have placed my money on what wound up happening.
I started off my day planning to get the first conversation out of the way as soon as possible. After lifting, I went to Breugger's Bagels for some breakfast. It was here I figured I'd have my first opportunity, either with someone else in line or one of the sandwich makers. Standing in line, I found myself thinking more about what I was going to say rather than what I was going to eat. This led to an awkward moment when the impatient man behind the counter with a voice that projected surprisingly well asked in a monotone manner, "HEY WHAT CAN I GET YOU?"
I simply stood there for a moment and panicked, scanning the entire menu in one sweep. A thousand words flashed in front of my eyes at once. Instead of getting a normal breakfast sandwich or a bagel, I somehow defaulted to a chipotle turkey club. I don't think I'd ever even tasted chipotle in my life before this morning, and here I was ordering it at 8 am like some kind of barbarian with no regard for the rules of breakfast.
"WHAT KIND OF BREAD WOULD YOU LIKE IT ON?" asked the worker.
"Hmm..just normal..white..bread.." I stuttered, still pondering why the hell I was ordering a southwest styled turkey sandwich instead of going for a muffin like every other normal person on earth. The worker just stared at me for a moment, and grabbed the wheat bread. Apparently I ordered it wrong. It was at this point I decided I'd parlay my first conversation until the bus stop.
The sandwich was pretty good, though.
So far, my cards weren't looking all too well. I'd gotten a 2-7 offsuit and a terrible flop at Breuger's Bagels. I needed a good 'turn.'
It was at this point I figured I'd end up having a conversation with one of the Indian foreign exchange students in my apartment complex. Every morning I stand at the bus stop surrounded by Indians, like a white dot on a brown page. They always seem friendly enough to each other, so I assumed this would be pretty easy. I'd talk about how long the bus was taking, ask a few questions, and be done for the day!
Sure enough, as I was walking out to the bus stop, a young Indian man came running out of his apartment. As we were both crossing the street, I looked at him, preparing to ask him what his thoughts were on eating lunch food for breakfast, when I saw the 'turn.' He was wearing headphones.
Ouch.
I walked onto the bus, a bit disappointed that my brilliant bus-stop plan had failed so miserably. At this point, a poker player would fold his hand. He'd see he simply didn't have the cards to win, and would jump in on the next pot. I was certainly prepared to do that. Maybe try again with someone after work, when people are awake, not making sandwiches or listening to music.
But then I sat down on the bus and saw my card.
Correction, my cards fan.
Like a gift from above, somehow, for the first time since coming to North Carolina, a Cardinals fan was on my bus. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There, right across from me, a young man donning a shirt with those beautiful birds on the bats. Without hesitation I asked him if he was from St. Louis. He looked up, surprised that someone was speaking before 9 am, and probably guessed by my stupid overly-delighted smile that St. Louis was dear to me. "Sure am! I take it you're a cardinals fan?" he said.
"Of course!" I said "Are you excited for the season?"
"Yeah, but I'm going to a red hot chili peppers concert on opening day, so I'll have to tape it."
We chit-chatted about the upcoming season. How things look without Carpenter and Pujols. How we will probably win the division anyways, and how exciting it was to win the world series last year.
The conversation soon got silent, and I figured that was all I was going to get out of him. Then, to my surprise he asked "What brings you to Raleigh?"
I told him I was studying atmospheric science, and he told me he was getting his Phd in industrial engineering. Then he told me about how his really good friend was studying meteorology, and just got back from a year in Alaska.
It was at this moment that the bus had gotten to my stop. Caught up in my own excitement and full of incredulity at the fact that on the first day of my plan to talk to a new person for a month that I found a Cardinals fan with a best friend in meteorology, I uttered some kind of mix between "cyah around," "go cardinals, "and "good luck in IE school."
I think it came out something like "cyah Care-dinals yeah!"
So there you have it. On day one, I run into a Cardinals fan from St. Louis, with a close connection to meteorology.
At first I thought this was a one in a million type of situation. How many times could something like this happen?
But then I realized that this was also the first time that I'd even tried speaking to someone on the bus. Every other day I've simply sat there silently, like a poker player that folds his hand before the final card is shown. The one time I stayed in the game, and took a risk, I got a great result.
The next time you're around a group of people, don't fold your hand! Make that bet! Speak up and say "hello."
I'm guessing the cards will end up in your favor.
I once tried my luck at blackjack while vacationing in the Bahamas and lost 40 dollars on the first hand. For some reason after that I never really found the process to be very alluring. Go figure.
However, had I been forced to bet on how the first day of this little experiment would go, I would certainly not have placed my money on what wound up happening.
I started off my day planning to get the first conversation out of the way as soon as possible. After lifting, I went to Breugger's Bagels for some breakfast. It was here I figured I'd have my first opportunity, either with someone else in line or one of the sandwich makers. Standing in line, I found myself thinking more about what I was going to say rather than what I was going to eat. This led to an awkward moment when the impatient man behind the counter with a voice that projected surprisingly well asked in a monotone manner, "HEY WHAT CAN I GET YOU?"
I simply stood there for a moment and panicked, scanning the entire menu in one sweep. A thousand words flashed in front of my eyes at once. Instead of getting a normal breakfast sandwich or a bagel, I somehow defaulted to a chipotle turkey club. I don't think I'd ever even tasted chipotle in my life before this morning, and here I was ordering it at 8 am like some kind of barbarian with no regard for the rules of breakfast.
"WHAT KIND OF BREAD WOULD YOU LIKE IT ON?" asked the worker.
"Hmm..just normal..white..bread.." I stuttered, still pondering why the hell I was ordering a southwest styled turkey sandwich instead of going for a muffin like every other normal person on earth. The worker just stared at me for a moment, and grabbed the wheat bread. Apparently I ordered it wrong. It was at this point I decided I'd parlay my first conversation until the bus stop.
The sandwich was pretty good, though.
So far, my cards weren't looking all too well. I'd gotten a 2-7 offsuit and a terrible flop at Breuger's Bagels. I needed a good 'turn.'
It was at this point I figured I'd end up having a conversation with one of the Indian foreign exchange students in my apartment complex. Every morning I stand at the bus stop surrounded by Indians, like a white dot on a brown page. They always seem friendly enough to each other, so I assumed this would be pretty easy. I'd talk about how long the bus was taking, ask a few questions, and be done for the day!
Sure enough, as I was walking out to the bus stop, a young Indian man came running out of his apartment. As we were both crossing the street, I looked at him, preparing to ask him what his thoughts were on eating lunch food for breakfast, when I saw the 'turn.' He was wearing headphones.
Ouch.
I walked onto the bus, a bit disappointed that my brilliant bus-stop plan had failed so miserably. At this point, a poker player would fold his hand. He'd see he simply didn't have the cards to win, and would jump in on the next pot. I was certainly prepared to do that. Maybe try again with someone after work, when people are awake, not making sandwiches or listening to music.
But then I sat down on the bus and saw my card.
Correction, my cards fan.
Like a gift from above, somehow, for the first time since coming to North Carolina, a Cardinals fan was on my bus. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There, right across from me, a young man donning a shirt with those beautiful birds on the bats. Without hesitation I asked him if he was from St. Louis. He looked up, surprised that someone was speaking before 9 am, and probably guessed by my stupid overly-delighted smile that St. Louis was dear to me. "Sure am! I take it you're a cardinals fan?" he said.
"Of course!" I said "Are you excited for the season?"
"Yeah, but I'm going to a red hot chili peppers concert on opening day, so I'll have to tape it."
We chit-chatted about the upcoming season. How things look without Carpenter and Pujols. How we will probably win the division anyways, and how exciting it was to win the world series last year.
The conversation soon got silent, and I figured that was all I was going to get out of him. Then, to my surprise he asked "What brings you to Raleigh?"
I told him I was studying atmospheric science, and he told me he was getting his Phd in industrial engineering. Then he told me about how his really good friend was studying meteorology, and just got back from a year in Alaska.
It was at this moment that the bus had gotten to my stop. Caught up in my own excitement and full of incredulity at the fact that on the first day of my plan to talk to a new person for a month that I found a Cardinals fan with a best friend in meteorology, I uttered some kind of mix between "cyah around," "go cardinals, "and "good luck in IE school."
I think it came out something like "cyah Care-dinals yeah!"
So there you have it. On day one, I run into a Cardinals fan from St. Louis, with a close connection to meteorology.
At first I thought this was a one in a million type of situation. How many times could something like this happen?
But then I realized that this was also the first time that I'd even tried speaking to someone on the bus. Every other day I've simply sat there silently, like a poker player that folds his hand before the final card is shown. The one time I stayed in the game, and took a risk, I got a great result.
The next time you're around a group of people, don't fold your hand! Make that bet! Speak up and say "hello."
I'm guessing the cards will end up in your favor.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Day 0: Untapped Potential
6,840,507,003.
That was the Earth's population in back 2010. (According to World Bank. Leave it to the banks to know exactly how many people they can take money from.)
7.
That is the number of people I spoke to today. (Not including email, and facebook.) Four of those people I am virtually required to speak to as they are in my research group. That leaves my roommate, a classmate, and the terse Japanese lady that I buy chicken teriyaki from every Tuesday as the sources of my outside-world interaction.
Graduate school, and probably any aspect of "grown-up life" for that matter, leaves little time or energy for recreational socialization. The grind of the laborious workday starts early and ends late, lingering in our minds well after we have stumbled home to our quiet and empty households. Some Wheel of Fortune, a bit of primetime television (complete with laugh tracks to tell your burnt-out brain when to think something is funny), and one final check of the email (because maybe your boss just remembered he wants you to do something right away!) and it's off to bed. The monotony of such a life is what I believe drives us to find great pleasure is escapism. Take TV shows like Terra Nova and Lost or movies like Avatar and Inception. These larger than life stories are what take us out of the doldrums of our own lives and into the world where exciting things actually happen. Imagine that! A life that isn't the same thing over and over and over...
It's this same type of lifestyle that makes bars so appealing (we are leaving sex out of this right now) on the weekend. The alcohol helps shrug off the social ineptitude that has accumulated through 5 days of solitary confinement, and the congregation of people in one building makes us hopeful we'll find at least someone that's interesting.
I've never been a big fan of this sort repetitious "living." And yet I just realized recently that I've fallen victim to it. You wouldn't expect to learn an important life-lesson from a Will Ferrel movie, but I did just that when watching "Stepbrothers" the other day. Towards the end of the film, we see the two once unemployed grown-up-man-children, Brennan and Dale, suddenly suited up, straight laced, and working at their equally depressing jobs. At the sight of his two soulless sons, the father takes them both aside and tells an extremely strange but insightful story. To make a short story (46 seconds) even shorter, Dale and Brennan's father tells them that his father made him stop acting like a raptor, and while he planned on being a dinosaur again one day, he woke up and eventually realized he'd forgotten how.
(You can see the clip here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8gY0IT0CuA)
Put simply, the father is telling them that while being grown up and responsible is good, if you aren't careful, you'll wipe out your inner-youth.
So that's where this idea sprang from: I'm not going to lose my raptor.
Forget the stories on TV, there are currently close to 7 billion people on Earth waiting to share theirs. Forget the weekends, there are 5 other perfectly good days of the week to hear these stories.
This blog will highlight my attempt to meet a new person every day for the next 30 days.
I will share with you the entire situation, where I was, what I was thinking, what we talked about, and any thoughts afterwards. Obviously not every day will feature a thrilling conversation. Perhaps nobody will want to talk to me, so I'll only be able to tell you about the grocery store clerk that I was able to glean at least one bit of information from.
With that in mind, I've made some basic guidelines that I'd like to follow while doing this challenge:
After all, there are 6,840,507,003 stories out there. I'd say I should be able to find at least one.
That was the Earth's population in back 2010. (According to World Bank. Leave it to the banks to know exactly how many people they can take money from.)
7.
That is the number of people I spoke to today. (Not including email, and facebook.) Four of those people I am virtually required to speak to as they are in my research group. That leaves my roommate, a classmate, and the terse Japanese lady that I buy chicken teriyaki from every Tuesday as the sources of my outside-world interaction.
Graduate school, and probably any aspect of "grown-up life" for that matter, leaves little time or energy for recreational socialization. The grind of the laborious workday starts early and ends late, lingering in our minds well after we have stumbled home to our quiet and empty households. Some Wheel of Fortune, a bit of primetime television (complete with laugh tracks to tell your burnt-out brain when to think something is funny), and one final check of the email (because maybe your boss just remembered he wants you to do something right away!) and it's off to bed. The monotony of such a life is what I believe drives us to find great pleasure is escapism. Take TV shows like Terra Nova and Lost or movies like Avatar and Inception. These larger than life stories are what take us out of the doldrums of our own lives and into the world where exciting things actually happen. Imagine that! A life that isn't the same thing over and over and over...
It's this same type of lifestyle that makes bars so appealing (we are leaving sex out of this right now) on the weekend. The alcohol helps shrug off the social ineptitude that has accumulated through 5 days of solitary confinement, and the congregation of people in one building makes us hopeful we'll find at least someone that's interesting.
I've never been a big fan of this sort repetitious "living." And yet I just realized recently that I've fallen victim to it. You wouldn't expect to learn an important life-lesson from a Will Ferrel movie, but I did just that when watching "Stepbrothers" the other day. Towards the end of the film, we see the two once unemployed grown-up-man-children, Brennan and Dale, suddenly suited up, straight laced, and working at their equally depressing jobs. At the sight of his two soulless sons, the father takes them both aside and tells an extremely strange but insightful story. To make a short story (46 seconds) even shorter, Dale and Brennan's father tells them that his father made him stop acting like a raptor, and while he planned on being a dinosaur again one day, he woke up and eventually realized he'd forgotten how.
(You can see the clip here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8gY0IT0CuA)
Put simply, the father is telling them that while being grown up and responsible is good, if you aren't careful, you'll wipe out your inner-youth.
So that's where this idea sprang from: I'm not going to lose my raptor.
Forget the stories on TV, there are currently close to 7 billion people on Earth waiting to share theirs. Forget the weekends, there are 5 other perfectly good days of the week to hear these stories.
This blog will highlight my attempt to meet a new person every day for the next 30 days.
I will share with you the entire situation, where I was, what I was thinking, what we talked about, and any thoughts afterwards. Obviously not every day will feature a thrilling conversation. Perhaps nobody will want to talk to me, so I'll only be able to tell you about the grocery store clerk that I was able to glean at least one bit of information from.
With that in mind, I've made some basic guidelines that I'd like to follow while doing this challenge:
- I cannot tell anyone that I am speaking to that I'm only speaking to them because I want to fulfill my blog-promise.
- I have to speak to all types of people, not just attractive women. (Although we all know I wouldn't have the guts to do that anyways.) This includes people of all races, sexes, shapes, sizes, whatever.
- How I decide whether or not to talk to the person will be based on a few signs, including but not limited to: initial eye contact, we are both waiting for something, sitting on the bus, standing in the elevator, the person is doing something I find interesting.
- Every day I must speak to at least one person, and ask something about them. If I haven't asked them a personal question, the encounter is not counted as a conversation. I am looking for stories here, and the best way to start one is by setting the scene. For that reason, personal questions are both good background for when I blog, but also an invitation for them to tell me more.
- No feeling stupid or embarrassed for talking to people. I'm pretty sure at one point I didn't have this strange phenomena, but over the years I've become scared of speaking to people. I think a large part of it is due to my ability to give terrible first impressions. Whatever the reason may be, I'm going to have to get over it for this experiment to work.
After all, there are 6,840,507,003 stories out there. I'd say I should be able to find at least one.
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