Book, What an Odd Cover You Have
Book, why do you choose such an odd cover? People might misjudge you.
Exhibit A:
First let me say that I hate merging onto a freeway and I hate being in the mergee lane for other traffic merging. I have never been hit or in an accident on the freeway, but I still brace for a hit whenever someone gets a little close. So perhaps I'm a bit sensitive--granted.
Getting out of downtown after court is quite complicated and involves two or three freeways in a very short distance. Sometimes I have to get on the 101 to the 110 to the 5. The 110 is the worst and one time I was stuck and I couldn't get over to the 5 in time. The next 10 minutes felt like a lifetime of horror. I was trying to get off and turn around, so I was in the slow lane, but there were no promising exits only incredibly scary and insane merges from ridiculously short entrances with manics driving very fast. I was so frighted by that one experience that I have never traveled on that freeway since. I am tenaciously determined to get over to the 5 freeway at all costs.
Fast forward to the other morning. I leave court (routine hearing--utter waste of my best suit--judge changed a date on me which requires doing all the paperwork over--ridiculous) get on the 101, stay in my lane to get onto the 110 and I love this merge lane because it stays two lanes for a nice long time to allow simple merging. There is a car right at my place, so I slow down to go behind it. It slows down (I hate that). So I speed up. It speeds up. I'm running out of beautiful two lanes. I speed up more and more and barely edge that car out. What a jerk, I'm thinking in my head, expletive, expletive!! That car was also speeding up and is forced into the next lane, which luckily is clear, because that car didn't signal or even appear to look, but just seemed to be pushed over by me. I am fuming--what is that person thinking--they are insane. The car passes me.
It is being driven by a little old lady with white hair staring straight ahead and holding onto the steering wheel for dear life. From the brief glance I had of her, she appears to be completely oblivious of me. She passes me and gets back into the first lane. All my anger is dissipated and now I am almost protective of her, reviewing the other cars around her to make sure she is going to be OK.
I occurred to me that maybe she was like my grandmother who didn't learn to drive until she was 65 and was terrified every minute she was driving. One time we were on the freeway and she was driving. She was getting the hang of it and keeping up with traffic, almost relaxing. She happened to glance down at the speedometer and noticed that she was over the speed limit. SHE SLAMMED ON THE BRAKES. Scared the life out of me. She let me drive from then on whenever we went anywhere.
Then I thought, hey, I'm doing it again--judging a book by its cover. When that menacing blue car wouldn't let me merge, it was a macho guy staking out his territory and he was a mean dumb jerk. Then when it was a little old lady with gray hair, she was a frighted, inexperienced driver. Maybe this little old lady wanted that lane no matter what, the rest of the world had better just figure it out and leave her alone. Who knows--book, odd cover.
Exhibit B:
I lock my doors, always. I lock my car doors every time I get out of the car (unless I forget my keys in the car--but I digress). I am aware of my surroundings. Better safe than sorry.
Last week I was at a 7-11 in a not so great area. As I pulled into the crowded, dirty parking area (it was too small to be called a parking lot), I noticed a dischevelled, slovenly, kind of scary, big guy near the door just hanging around. I must have shown a distasteful cautious reaction. He went into the store and I was somewhat relived that I wasn't going to have to pass him. There was no one behind the counter. I got my water and went to the counter. The big guy was leaning on the magazine rack and said, "he's in the back--he'll be out in a few minutes." So I'm waiting, just standing there. Then the big guy says to me, is that a hybrid? referring to my car. Yes I said, a prius. How do you like it?, he says. Ah what a sweetheart--my favorite subject, my great gas mileage. I wax on for a few minutes and he makes the appropriate encouraging comments. I'm all smiles and graciousness. The clerk comes back and the big guy ducks his head and leaves the store. I feel like I've insulted him, but I don't know how to take back my initial knee jerk reaction. Such a nice guy to like my car.
Exhibit C:
I was in the grocery store a few weeks ago. I'm a little anal about potato chips--OK, a lot anal. Why buy something that the clerk has just crushed?? So I routinely snatch the bag of chips out of the hands of the clerk as soon as it is rung with little ceremony. I am a mean, protective, "choose your expletive noun" when it comes to protecting my chips at the check out counter. That cover of mine is not pretty or nice, to say the least. So I'm all attitude and the clerk becomes all attitude. Not my problem, I'm thinking--Just swipe the card and get out of here--when I hear a familiar voice say, hey, be nice to my favorite clerk. It's Joe from Kiwanis. He is a really nice guy--I just love him. Everybody loves Joe. My cover just comes right off and I immediately apologize to the clerk for being abrupt. I joke, any friend of Joe's is a friend of mine and try to lighten the clerk up. I kid Joe for a few minutes about his sports car and I escape.
How can I be two completely different people, because that b***h protecting her chips--that is all me. And that sweet, funny, friend of Joe's--that's all me too.
As humans we have to react to the cover, the information we take in and react according to our experiences for self preservation. I said something in a comment on another blog that everyone is going to heaven and that we are shuffling off our mortal coils on the way. Can you imagine all the books with no covers? Only human kindess and goodness; no fear; no competition; no crushed potato chips.
Exhibit A:
First let me say that I hate merging onto a freeway and I hate being in the mergee lane for other traffic merging. I have never been hit or in an accident on the freeway, but I still brace for a hit whenever someone gets a little close. So perhaps I'm a bit sensitive--granted.
Getting out of downtown after court is quite complicated and involves two or three freeways in a very short distance. Sometimes I have to get on the 101 to the 110 to the 5. The 110 is the worst and one time I was stuck and I couldn't get over to the 5 in time. The next 10 minutes felt like a lifetime of horror. I was trying to get off and turn around, so I was in the slow lane, but there were no promising exits only incredibly scary and insane merges from ridiculously short entrances with manics driving very fast. I was so frighted by that one experience that I have never traveled on that freeway since. I am tenaciously determined to get over to the 5 freeway at all costs.
Fast forward to the other morning. I leave court (routine hearing--utter waste of my best suit--judge changed a date on me which requires doing all the paperwork over--ridiculous) get on the 101, stay in my lane to get onto the 110 and I love this merge lane because it stays two lanes for a nice long time to allow simple merging. There is a car right at my place, so I slow down to go behind it. It slows down (I hate that). So I speed up. It speeds up. I'm running out of beautiful two lanes. I speed up more and more and barely edge that car out. What a jerk, I'm thinking in my head, expletive, expletive!! That car was also speeding up and is forced into the next lane, which luckily is clear, because that car didn't signal or even appear to look, but just seemed to be pushed over by me. I am fuming--what is that person thinking--they are insane. The car passes me.
It is being driven by a little old lady with white hair staring straight ahead and holding onto the steering wheel for dear life. From the brief glance I had of her, she appears to be completely oblivious of me. She passes me and gets back into the first lane. All my anger is dissipated and now I am almost protective of her, reviewing the other cars around her to make sure she is going to be OK.
I occurred to me that maybe she was like my grandmother who didn't learn to drive until she was 65 and was terrified every minute she was driving. One time we were on the freeway and she was driving. She was getting the hang of it and keeping up with traffic, almost relaxing. She happened to glance down at the speedometer and noticed that she was over the speed limit. SHE SLAMMED ON THE BRAKES. Scared the life out of me. She let me drive from then on whenever we went anywhere.
Then I thought, hey, I'm doing it again--judging a book by its cover. When that menacing blue car wouldn't let me merge, it was a macho guy staking out his territory and he was a mean dumb jerk. Then when it was a little old lady with gray hair, she was a frighted, inexperienced driver. Maybe this little old lady wanted that lane no matter what, the rest of the world had better just figure it out and leave her alone. Who knows--book, odd cover.
Exhibit B:
I lock my doors, always. I lock my car doors every time I get out of the car (unless I forget my keys in the car--but I digress). I am aware of my surroundings. Better safe than sorry.
Last week I was at a 7-11 in a not so great area. As I pulled into the crowded, dirty parking area (it was too small to be called a parking lot), I noticed a dischevelled, slovenly, kind of scary, big guy near the door just hanging around. I must have shown a distasteful cautious reaction. He went into the store and I was somewhat relived that I wasn't going to have to pass him. There was no one behind the counter. I got my water and went to the counter. The big guy was leaning on the magazine rack and said, "he's in the back--he'll be out in a few minutes." So I'm waiting, just standing there. Then the big guy says to me, is that a hybrid? referring to my car. Yes I said, a prius. How do you like it?, he says. Ah what a sweetheart--my favorite subject, my great gas mileage. I wax on for a few minutes and he makes the appropriate encouraging comments. I'm all smiles and graciousness. The clerk comes back and the big guy ducks his head and leaves the store. I feel like I've insulted him, but I don't know how to take back my initial knee jerk reaction. Such a nice guy to like my car.
Exhibit C:
I was in the grocery store a few weeks ago. I'm a little anal about potato chips--OK, a lot anal. Why buy something that the clerk has just crushed?? So I routinely snatch the bag of chips out of the hands of the clerk as soon as it is rung with little ceremony. I am a mean, protective, "choose your expletive noun" when it comes to protecting my chips at the check out counter. That cover of mine is not pretty or nice, to say the least. So I'm all attitude and the clerk becomes all attitude. Not my problem, I'm thinking--Just swipe the card and get out of here--when I hear a familiar voice say, hey, be nice to my favorite clerk. It's Joe from Kiwanis. He is a really nice guy--I just love him. Everybody loves Joe. My cover just comes right off and I immediately apologize to the clerk for being abrupt. I joke, any friend of Joe's is a friend of mine and try to lighten the clerk up. I kid Joe for a few minutes about his sports car and I escape.
How can I be two completely different people, because that b***h protecting her chips--that is all me. And that sweet, funny, friend of Joe's--that's all me too.
As humans we have to react to the cover, the information we take in and react according to our experiences for self preservation. I said something in a comment on another blog that everyone is going to heaven and that we are shuffling off our mortal coils on the way. Can you imagine all the books with no covers? Only human kindess and goodness; no fear; no competition; no crushed potato chips.
posted by KathrynVH @ 10:34 AM
3 Comments:
At August 5, 2009 at 5:00 PM,
John Beauregard said…
No diversity, no challenge, no life.
At August 8, 2009 at 5:11 AM,
EZ Travel said…
This is a great post. You are so right about every single one of us. We need to remember that about all of the nudges we meet in life.
At August 11, 2009 at 4:47 PM,
Marcel said…
I agree with Erika, what a great post, full of learning situations. Those experiences are similar to deprograming, a task that is necessary to perform for those children that have always been reminded to beware of strangers. The constant reminder makes them fearful of many with whom they come in contact. It is not real, most people are not harmful. That said, it is still good to be aware of any unusual situations in which you find yourself.
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