Celebrities and privacy in the South

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 17, 2009 . 2:38PM

One of the most fantastic things about living in a big city in the South is that we have celebrities that live around us–and we don’t care. Truly, we don’t. They do their thing and we do ours. This isn’t like LA and we wouldn’t want it to be. They are people and they have their jobs. Sure, you are going to get people that clamor like leeches over famous people here, but, generally, they are people that haven’t lived here long or don’t plan to stay, because that’s just not how we treat people.

What triggered this was that I was driving on my usual route to work and saw signs at some of the places that I frequently browse for their beauty. First, I saw “crew parking,” then “extras,” then “set.” Anywhere else, you would have some Nosy Nellie’s all up in someone’s business trying to figure out what was going on. At the very least, you’d have some serious rubber necking going on. Not here. People weren’t even slowing down. It was the same on the way home.

My thought on this is that we are protective of our own and once these people move here, they’re ours. That means that we aren’t going to mess with them and neither are you. Frankly, if someone looks over my shoulder when I’m doing my thing, I’m going to get anxious and crabby, whether it’s at my job or when I’m in the ladies room (please, for the love of all things, leave me alone in there). Celebrities aren’t any different.

I have no idea what was being “shot” today in my fair city, but I still have a huge sense of pride where this place is concerned and I love living here. And I imagine the famous people that live here feel exactly the same way. They hang out at the YMCA, the same as me, eat at all the places I do, go to the same sporting events and children’s hang outs like the zoo that I do and, in general, mind their own business.

I can do the same.

Get over it, it’s all in the past: Relationship changes and how we adapt

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 13, 2009 . 10:17PM

As adults, we want to believe that we are able to move beyond the things that happened in our past and we very much choose to believe that we are able to forget the people that we have tied ourselves to during that time. We let go of them and “get on with our lives” and heal as much as we can. Something I’m discovering, in my own time of self-awareness and discovery, is that we never really let go of those people completely.

Our feelings do change for people and I’m not questioning that notion. However, I think most people I know would agree that the feelings they have for their first love are very different than the feelings they have for that night in college where the pizza guy looked really good or the girl in the short skirt in the corner appealed to you in a way that you didn’t think was possible. Don’t for a second think you didn’t give those people an emotional piece of yourself, because you did, no matter how small, because you still remember them. And, yet, you may not look upon that period with any kind of empathy, compassion, or wistfulness for them or yourself at that time.

These are not the instances that I’m addressing. I’m addressing the first loves, the best friends, the close friends, the soul mates, the people that you meet on the street that do a kindness for you. These are the people that allow you to have a piece of their heart and with that you, in turn, share a piece of yours with them like a puzzle only the two of you have any hope of completing.

When we give this part of ourselves away, we do so at a large cost. There really isn’t any going back from that point. I remember my first love quite fondly, as he was a good friend before he was anything else to me. He was sweet, funny and shy. We talk online now and then, but what strikes me so much is that it has been so long and our feelings have healed to the point where I genuinely want his happiness in a way that I wish for what he wishes for himself. I think of old friends that I haven’t seen in years and wish the best for them.

I think this is where the popularity of social networking sites such as Facebook and Myspace come in. Of course there are people that want to “stick it” to the people that hurt them so long ago, but, overwhelmingly, the feeling I get about these sites is that it is more about healing and caring than anything else. We want to know how these people are doing and if they are well. Our reason for that is not always because of them: It’s because of us. It’s because they hold onto a string attached to our emotions that we haven’t quite clipped.

I can think back to my first real crush and smile fondly. I can think of my first best friend and laugh at some of the things we’ve done in our lives. I can think of the first time someone hurt me beyond repair. There are many spots that aren’t healed and there are many that will never heal. It’s up to me to decide whether I’m going to allow those strings to continue to move me like a puppeteer or clip them and free the strings up for new events in our lives.

The man who held the door for me the other day…the old woman who smiled at me when I was stressed out about finals…the way my dogs know when I’m sad and will just lay silently next to me…the way my sister hugs me when she hasn’t seen me in a while…

A spoon full of sugar is what kindness is to us

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 7, 2009 . 2:13AM

One thing I’ve noticed is that we, as humans, understand abstract, but we want our proof in tangible form. When you ask people about God, they want to see Him/Her. When you ask people about love, they want you to prove it to them. When you stand accused, you must have a tangible alibi for why you are not guilty.

These things don’t change as we get older. When we hit about 12, Piaget, a development psychologist said that we begin to develop the capability for abstract thinking and moving beyond that concrete thought. I agree with Piaget because I have personally experienced this phenomenon and seen it with my eyes. I’ve taught it and shown it to my students and watched them be convinced of it’s truth. However, what I recognize is that the want and the need is still there to experience hands on proof for the things in life that comfort us.

If you feel attracted to someone, they want proof that you are attracted. How can I say this delicately? I don’t want you to walk up to me and show me your proof. Please don’t. You go to jail for those kinds of things. However, a comment as such is a good indicator of that unless it’s something like “Baby, dem clothes are looking mighty fine but dey be looking better on my floor.” I know you get my drift, here.

If you care for someone, they want proof that you care. A kind word or gesture is well received and I’m not talking a pep talk or false compliment. Something genuine that speaks to who they are as a person.

If someone feels insecure, they want to know that they can trust you. Trust is so hard because the question is, really, how do I give someone that in a tangible form? It’s so hard to earn because it’s a series of acts, rather than one act and a single act can negate all of the series.

My reason for bringing all of this up is due to my own feelings that came about after I received feedback from my students this semester. Finals were this week, May 5, and I had just given them an incredibly hard cumulative final. This was my first semester teaching undergraduates, which was daunting by itself, but I was also teaching Gen Psych. The thing about Gen Psych is that it is such a broad, diverse subject with so much material to cover that you never get everything in that you need to in a semester. Students often believe that you are an expert in the field when, in reality, I know alot about psychology, but I’m not an expert. I will be a lifelong learner.

Overall, my experience was astounding. I learned more from them than I believe they learned from me. I watched them grow and change in so many ways over the course of the semester. My worry about being a new instructor waned some as I drifted into my groove and learned more about my class. Every now and then, though, my doubts would come back to haunt me that maybe I wasn’t a good enough teacher and they would be better served by someone else. Just like everyone else, I needed that tangible proof that what I was doing was working and I was effective.

As I graded their papers, I hoped for strong grades and that they would all earn the final grade they wanted in the course. Overall, the majority of my students had As and Bs and I could not be more proud of them. My course was very, very challenging and I expected a lot from each and every one of them. They worked hard and they should be proud of themselves. After I finished my 4 hours of grading, I finally took time to savor my feedback. I was prepared for some nastiness after the final I’d just given them.

There was not a single bad comment about my teaching. There were some complaints about things that were beyond my control in the classroom setting, but overall, they rated me as “one of the best” teachers. There were so many edifying comments that, when I was finished reading, I was close to weeping. One said that he or she wished all of his/her teachers were just like me. Another said they would miss me, another loved the class, etc. There were more but I want to hold them in my heart. They feel too personal to share.

Yes, we all need something tangible, don’t we? I want to say that I’m so mature and comfortable in my own skin that I don’t need the reassurance, but it sure feels nice. Humans sure do respond well to kindness, don’t they?