So the Sox have made it to the World Series again. It's interesting that, not one to watch every game or lose sleep if the Boston team is doing poorly compared to a certain arch nemesis NY team, I actually was thrilled to come home, crack a micro and settle in to watch the three hour battle against the Colorado Rockies.
Some people say baseball is boring. Sure, there are lulls in the game, or if the opposing team goes down without so much as a run, or watching all 157 three hour games every year, yeah, the game is boring. But I've come to really enjoy the hidden intensity, especially in the pennant and world series. For example, a pitcher and a catcher have to have such a relationship that they almost know what the other is thinking. Almost like an old married couple. The pitcher and catcher also have to study hard to understand the other teams strengths and weaknesses, so they can out-pitch the batter. Likewise, the batter has to know what pitches the pitcher has up his sleeve and anticipate what's about to be thrown.
Double plays, bunts, pop-flies, sac-flies, runs batted in, errors, stealing, walk-off home runs, reading other players' subtlest of moves, catching every ball in your 25 square yard zone, AND being able to tell if a tiny ball flying at you at 98mph will be in your strike zone in less than 2 seconds.
Yeah, baseball, to me, is the least boring game of them all.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Working Girl
Almost as if I had known that working your way up the corporate ladder is more about who you know rather than what you know, I'm grateful that I developed my social skills more than my discipline to get to class on time, if at all. God, I say that like I never went to class. I did my penance. I took all my tests. I even suffered through multiple 8am math classes. Whose brilliant idea was it to learn how to prove mathematical equations and theories at 8am in the bloody morning? I can barely process what shirt I'm going to wear. I'm also not the most pleasant person to talk to in the morning, so finding a partner for group work was yet another nightmare. Why do they make school so completely different than the real world? Anyway, I digress.
I was about to say that while I did learn to become less socially awkward, I never learned how to be fake. Knowing I needed reinforcements, I actually picked up a few skills along the way. What i didn't know is that these skills would be practically void in the real world. And so I start in on my rant of why social skills are more important than brains in our messed up society. We know that women are capable of achieving celebrity status based solely on breast-size. If you don't agree, what did Pam Anderson ever do besides get the most ginormous breast implants ever? and maybe take off her clothes and show everyone these implants. Is she particularly smart? Who the hell knows? She's famous for her boobs. (Maybe the social status of her boobs supersede her own famosity, but that's a whole other topic called "Working Boobs.") We see celebrity drunk drivers skirt passed the law, pay a fine and go right back to the Hollywood party, only to get in their car after 10 too many. Do they not make enough to pay a chauffeur? a cabbie? Or are they super humans, fearless and elite, not touchable by these laws for the common civilian? A blank check ought to cover anything. But it doesn't stop at celebrities. Companies promote these sociable humans into upper management by the truckload. Who cares if they know what they are doing? They can charm the pants off of you. Let the peasants do the actual work. We'll just take credit for it. I'm the peasant though. And even if i was this grandiose socialite working my way up by schmoozing and faking this I-truly-do-care-about-you-but-let's-face-it-i'm-more-important-than-you attitude, I wouldn't feel right about it or my promotion.
Now, I start to question my ability as an employee to ever be promoted. Maybe I'm jealous of these promotees and maybe I really do lack the skills necessary to do their job. And this is why I'm not in their position. At what point, then, do I say, that's enough? When do I walk out and find something better? After all my confidence has been shattered by management's rejection? Until I'm humiliated and being escorted to the front door, carrying a box of my personal belongings? What can I do? I'm at the whim of my paycheck. It drives me, not the other way around. Unfortunately, just the smell of this stuff is enough to make people act with all sorts of bad behavior, pushing anyone and anything out of their way. Keep your eyes on the prize, as they say. My eyes just so happen to see the masses waiting patiently in line while this sucker committs a childish "cutsies."
I was about to say that while I did learn to become less socially awkward, I never learned how to be fake. Knowing I needed reinforcements, I actually picked up a few skills along the way. What i didn't know is that these skills would be practically void in the real world. And so I start in on my rant of why social skills are more important than brains in our messed up society. We know that women are capable of achieving celebrity status based solely on breast-size. If you don't agree, what did Pam Anderson ever do besides get the most ginormous breast implants ever? and maybe take off her clothes and show everyone these implants. Is she particularly smart? Who the hell knows? She's famous for her boobs. (Maybe the social status of her boobs supersede her own famosity, but that's a whole other topic called "Working Boobs.") We see celebrity drunk drivers skirt passed the law, pay a fine and go right back to the Hollywood party, only to get in their car after 10 too many. Do they not make enough to pay a chauffeur? a cabbie? Or are they super humans, fearless and elite, not touchable by these laws for the common civilian? A blank check ought to cover anything. But it doesn't stop at celebrities. Companies promote these sociable humans into upper management by the truckload. Who cares if they know what they are doing? They can charm the pants off of you. Let the peasants do the actual work. We'll just take credit for it. I'm the peasant though. And even if i was this grandiose socialite working my way up by schmoozing and faking this I-truly-do-care-about-you-but-let's-face-it-i'm-more-important-than-you attitude, I wouldn't feel right about it or my promotion.
Now, I start to question my ability as an employee to ever be promoted. Maybe I'm jealous of these promotees and maybe I really do lack the skills necessary to do their job. And this is why I'm not in their position. At what point, then, do I say, that's enough? When do I walk out and find something better? After all my confidence has been shattered by management's rejection? Until I'm humiliated and being escorted to the front door, carrying a box of my personal belongings? What can I do? I'm at the whim of my paycheck. It drives me, not the other way around. Unfortunately, just the smell of this stuff is enough to make people act with all sorts of bad behavior, pushing anyone and anything out of their way. Keep your eyes on the prize, as they say. My eyes just so happen to see the masses waiting patiently in line while this sucker committs a childish "cutsies."
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