TRAVELING – the fun we can find

I have always liked traveling; always liked visiting different parts of the world, experiencing it all: the countries, the cities, the people, the sounds & smells, cultures, food and so on. We never have to look far to find fun stuff and new experiences while “out there”; such a big part of dragging a suitcase around. Here are a few examples from a recent trip I made.

I visit my Mother in Denmark at least once every year. She’s 92 and in a home. She has dementia and is not that mobile; with the use of a walker she can slowly move around in her room and still function without a lot of help from the staff. For longer “excursions”, somebody will roll her around in a wheelchair.

I had invited my Mother and some friends of hers to lunch at a local restaurant. To get her there, I had to stuff her into a wheelchair, roll her to my car in the parking lot and (gently) get her into the passenger seat – piece of cake.

Without incidents I parked her in the chair next to my car. To make room for her I had to move stuff from the passenger seat to the rear seat; didn’t take more than perhaps 15 seconds. After I was done I turned and was shocked to find my Mother gone. Now acknowledge that she could not have disappeared by her own strength. So I quickly looked around and there she was, powered by gravity, rolling backwards towards the other end of the parking lot, while quietly saying: “I’m afraid” (in Danish, of course).

I immediately sprang into action by laughing hysterically as I stormed after her. I tell you, I found it so hilarious, though my Mother stated several times that she did not think it was. All went well and due to her dementia, she had forgotten it within minutes. But I had learned a very important lesson: Wheelchairs have brakes – now, how convenient is that?

I stay with my childhood friend Claus and his wife Kirsten when I visit Copenhagen. Claus wanted me to see some new, architecturally unique buildings that he likes. We needed to take the METRO to do so. I had never used this subway system in Copenhagen, so that would be cool to try. Claus was eager to show me how fantastically well it worked.

Taking the escalators deep into the ground was rather awesome; the design, the platforms and a lot of people. Claus proudly talked about how perfect the system had been from the beginning; perhaps with a bit of bragging in his voice?

But now we found the platforms packed with people like sardines. Claus’ face showed surprise and a bit of horror. “What the heck is going on?” he said in Danish. This otherwise perfect METRO system was failing him, just as he wanted to show me how grand it was.

We quickly found out that some of the lines had been closed due to signal failure. Claus was stunned and his pride nicked a bit. But he hesitantly switched to plan B – the Copenhagen bus system that you can always rely on 100%; though taken the METRO would have been a lot cooler.

Considering that about 35% of all the people working in Copenhagen bike to and from work in any weather, the bus system carries the vast majority of the rest. With gasoline at approximate $9.00 per gallon, cars are not you major mode of transportation; and we whine about $4.00? So we waited for bus number 2A, which arrived moments later.

The busses in Copenhagen are really fabulous; clean, on time and very efficient. So off we went. I have always enjoyed riding the busses, safely sitting there watching people and all the stuff passing by outside; so we were rolling along, chatting away and now laughing about the non-functional METRO.

But after about 15 minutes, a huge bolt of the bus, glass shattering and the extreme crashing sounds you only experience when a large moving bus hits a much smaller van (or what now used to be a van). And then the bus came to a stop and all went quiet.

Now, what you would expect would be passengers running around trying to find out if everybody was okay. But it seemed like all were well. The doors swung open and then everybody quietly got out and headed for the next bus stop which was about 50 meters ahead. Nobody went over to the smashed van, perhaps because they saw the driver, seemingly alive, walking towards the bus. No, they were all focused on continuing their journey, getting on the next number 2A bus.

At this point Claus was shaking his head, so for safety reasons we decided to walk the rest of the day; kind of funny, though, as nobody had been hurt other than perhaps a bit of Claus’ pride.

As the METRO had failed and the bus had crashed, we decided to comfort ourselves with a mid-morning beer. This is actually a Danish concept, making it legal and in some cases advisable (like after this morning’s events), to drink a nice, big and cold glass of beer

We quickly decided to do so at Hvid’s Vinstue, which is a pub/tavern that opened in 1723, therefore much older than the USA, by the way. After involving two waiters in fun conversation, drinking the aforementioned beers, we were off on our somewhat adjusted quest – while having a grand time; Claus and I always do.

We went down the pedestrian street Stroeget and quickly ran into the marching Royal Guard. They march through Copenhagen to Amalienborg, where the Queen lives. I assume they guard her from evil things, huh?

They are kind of cute with their big, furry hats and are a charming part of life in Copenhagen. Claus and I stood there and admired them, while they were waiting at a stop-light (yeah, they actually stop for red lights – go figure). Suddenly we were grabbed by three policemen plus two real soldiers and pulled to the side; we quickly found out that we had been standing where the guards were going. In retrospect I did think it weird that there was so much room. What else could go wrong? Actually the rest of the day went well and was very enjoyable.

(The soldier stepping on the white line, was shot the next day)

(ONLY KIDDING)

Flying long distances are not fun for me anymore. I get kind of bored, no matter the entertainment I try to occupy myself with. But things were a bit different on American Airlines flight 1711 from Chicago to San Francisco Sept. 19, being the connecting flight that would finally bring me home. After 9 hours from Copenhagen, that was what I needed.

I sat in row 24, which is economy. If you ever fly economy, I highly suggest that you do NOT bring your legs along, okay? Anyway, two flight attendants rolled the drink-cart down the aisle from the rear to the front of the plane. With 24 rows of 6 seats to serve before getting to me, I figured I’d be home in bed by the time it was my turn to get a drink. But then J.P. flew in on the scene.

J.P. must have worked her magic on the rows behind me before I noticed what was happening. Suddenly she was there, smiling and all. “What do you want to drink?” She asked. “Two gin and tonic, please,” I answered. She asked other passengers around me, and as fast as she had shown up, as fast she disappeared – and as fast she got back with all the drink orders. I was so totally taken by the way she worked the aisle, getting the drink-orders, serving the drinks – back and forth – full speed.

If I’m not totally off, she single-handedly served half the plane. It was fascinating to see how she worked in her own zone, no doubt. It all happened in such a blurry speed and efficiency – and smiling was a big part of it. I really like watching people being effective about whatever they do; J.P. was way beyond that. Next time I fly, I’m making sure it’s a flight J.P. is working – I can highly recommend it (of course, I’m not sure that’s her real name).

When we go with the flow the opportunities traveling constantly serve us, we can find fun in so many unexpected places. I do believe that I get the most out of my trips, no matter how boring some aspects are (flying; except with J.P.) But I am also very fortunate, because as much as I like traveling, as much I am looking forward to return home. That’s a combination that is hard to beat; don’t you think?

Till next Monday: Bon Voyage…

CHEATING – not a nice thing to do

 “If you stray, you will pay (eventually)”, is the realistic consequence if we get involved in unfaithfulness of a sexual kind. We rather casually call this infidelity: cheating.  If a cheater believes he or she can cheat without being noticed (aka: getting caught), wouldn’t you consider that person ignorant? When we look at cheating not just being a sexual encounter or sexual relationship with somebody who is not our significant other, we find it is way beyond just breaking sexual trust. Overall, cheating is not a very nice thing to do; don’t you agree?

Of course it was the French who came up with the term cheating; perhaps they really needed it? It popped up in the late 14. Century, but was more so used as a trade term. If you are taking notes, cheating is from Old French. But today we consider cheating a rather different animal.

So Bob (not his real name), has been married 12 years, two kids (one of each), cable TV, life insurance, trampoline in the back yard, as well as a couple of neutered pets and bowling every Wednesday. If you ask Bob, it’s a comfortable life – rolling along.

On one of Bob’s business trips, he ends up sitting next to a hot number from Kentucky. She is going to Chicago for a few nights – just like Bob. During the three hour flight, several small bottles of wine, gin and tonics, lots of chatter, laughs and (yes) innocent flirtation, they exchange hotel information and cell phone numbers as they pick up their luggage.

In retrospect, Bob would have been happy leaving it at that, though he did think about her energy and freshness, packed in a hubba hubba body. He giggled a bit intoxicated as he grabbed his suitcase; and then Bob moved on – after all “I’m married”, he more so assured himself.

After a full day of meetings, Bob ended up in the hotel’s bar. It was lively and loud and full of fun. As he was chatting with a colleague through several drinks, his cell vibrated and it was her. She was in the neighborhood, so could he buy her a goodnight drink. In all fairness to Bob, he did hesitate a second (though only a second), but slurred: “Come on down”; and she sure did.

As I consider all my readers top-notch intelligent with grand imaginations to boot (how could you?) let’s save time and cut to the next morning.

 Bob’s hotel room looked like it had been the center of a wild and hot night (notch notch). She was still sleeping as he quietly did the shower and getting dressed thing real fast. She opened her eyes and smiled, and Bob smiled back, but not his true Bob-smile. He actually felt terrible and not just from the alcohol, but from massive guilt. He was fully aware that he had strayed and now it would be time to pay.

She had to pay as well, by dealing with her husband back in Kentucky. As Bob, she had no idea what to do, because as Bob, this had been the very first time she had physically cheated beyond heavy flirting; she realized, as did Bob, that the next step was not going to be fun. They both thought: Oh my God, but smiled bravely. I hope this does not ring any bells with you out there, huh?

Linda (not her real name either) and Bob all of a sudden acknowledged, that getting to the sex part had been easy as they had been physically attracted to each other within the environment and under the circumstances they had met. Waking up the proverbial morning after was so totally different and filled with guilt and many: “Why did I let this happen?” and not related to how great or not the sex had been. You see, the sex part of the cheating is of course the sole reason for the massive complications that one moment of lust creates. I think that if we (actually) thought about those consequences BEFORE hopping into bed with someone other than our significant other, cheating would become a rarity – I fully trust it would; perhaps a bit naïve? And don’t give me the “but I was drunk” bit – it doesn’t count.

What Linda and Bob had done was breaking a trust they used to have with their respective spouses. The core of any relationship is trust; if it’s in a marriage or union or partnership, girlfriend/boyfriend, and any other “agreement” that includes “just the two of us” and that “till death do us part” thing (or I kill you, cheater - perhaps?) To me, a broken trust is extremely tough to repair.

It’s not just that Linda and Bob momentarily were (miss)-guided by organs other than their common sense, but if they had thought about it for a few moments, alcohol or no alcohol, they would have seen the havoc and complications a night of selfish frolic would cause their lives and not just THEIR lives, but so many lives (and neutered pets) around them. But they did stray and now they realized it was time to pay –oh my, oh my.

The ones being cheated are basically getting screwed even more; okay not the same way Linda and Bob went about it, but you know what I mean. Besides broken trust, the believability of Bob has gone; his blatant disrespect for his wife Carole (actually her real name), is hurtful and seriously makes her wonder: “His first time? Will this continue as a (cheating) affair?” As an otherwise role-model father, how could he even fathom that his inconsiderate ways of showing lack of responsibility concerning his children would ever be forgiven? So you see it’s not just the moment of the roll-in-the-hay, but much more the aftermath that must and should make us think: “Is this really going to be worth it?”

Bob keeps pleading with his wife, asking forgiveness and expressing in tears how sorry he is – how much he loves her and confess he is a moronic idiot (which Carole fully agree with). Though we can more so easily forgive, we can never as easily forget – that’s the tricky bit; and that is precisely the core of the future rocky days in Carole and Bob’s marriage, which used to be close to perfect. So Bob, was it worth it?

Of course situations vary. Some cheating is expanded upon, referred to as affairs, lasting longer than the one-night-stand. Cheaters have thousands of “excuses” why they cheated or cheat; for them valid reasons, for others pathetic irresponsibility. But the why will not negate the eventual day they have to fess up and pay, while acknowledging the collateral damage, if they are not too ignorant.

Apropos these days: Especially cheating politicians are pathetic; is it because they feel they have some kind of “power” immunity? Or do they float above the (stupid?) voters feeling nothing can touch them and they will be forgiven when their infidelities are bared? How about they start realizing that they are also screwing their voters? It’s pathetic and so utterly ignorant. But as most cheaters, they are more so guided by egotism and genitals, when they should follow common sense, decency and brains. So if they can’t figure that out, how about asking Bob?

Handy Footnote: Linda was devastated. As Bob, she could not hide her indiscretion and confessed to her husband as she returned home. Though he was shattered, as he loved her so dearly, they found a way to move on. Linda now realized her husband to be even more the man she had been in love with all those years. (Gee, I’m such a sucker for happy endings; aren’t you?)

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BEING SHY – but being in control

As a young boy I became aware of how extremely uncomfortable I felt in the proximity of other people and how I suffered in unfamiliar situations. The label SHY was quickly stamped on my forehead, and that was pretty much how shyness was treated back then; other then: “you’ll grow out of it – eventually”. Of course being teased or ignored by your peers were just added parts that effectively helped remove self-esteem and eliminated whatever scraps of confidence you had left. Ah, those were the days, huh?

As you continue reading, please acknowledge that I am not an educated expert concerning shyness or treatment of same; nor do I claim to be one. I am only expressing opinions and thoughts, based on my experiences concerning my conditions and my solutions. So legally, this statement should cover my butt – don’t you think?

Shyness is explained as being somewhat genetic and can stem from many things: abuse, lack of family, a dominant family member and so forth. Personally, I am not sure if we fully know where shyness comes from.

I grew up with a loving mother, a father and an older brother. As I was born in 1946 (Denmark), my developing years were in the 1950’s; innocent times, really. Not a fertile breeding ground for shyness, huh?

According to social psychology, shyness as a condition is when we are overwhelmed by apprehension, the lack of comfort, awkwardness (mentally and/or physically), insecurities, self-consciousness and anxieties – just to name a few.

For the most part, shyness is brushed under the rug by those who are not shy. But for those who are shy, it is not that easy to ignore, if at all. It is overwhelming for some and it can devastatingly interfere with an otherwise well balanced life, especially in a shy person’s younger years.

If the above garden-variety shyness evolves into extreme shyness, which includes depression, social anxieties, social phobia and other nasty things, professional help is warranted – and the sooner the better.   

I never suffered from extreme shyness, but it was most certainly enough to make my life very uncomfortable and painfully so, in too many situations. I didn’t function well socially and school was agonizing in the early years. At family gatherings I clung to my Mother. My childhood buddy Claus, was the only friend I felt comfortable with. I would also experience depressions – and never figured out why I was depressed; and then one day…

I must have been around 13; now my shyness was getting in the way of meeting girls. Oh my; that pushed me over the edge. At this point, my Mother was all done and very angry watching my constant pouting, moping around, all sour and so sorry for myself, as in heavy duty self-pity. So Mother’s proverbial foot came down and hard.

“Are you going to stay boring, dull, inactive and pathetic the rest of your life or are you going to change into the person I know you can be?” Then she turned around and left me sitting there – absorbing and sobbing: “But I thought you loved me…” I whimpered; later on I realized how much she did.

I did not want to feel shy any longer. Obviously the: “you’ll grow out of it…” didn’t hold water, so waiting and hoping it would go away, was a waste of time.  As I assumed that shyness was not an illness that could be cured by a magic pill, but that it was something I would have to deal with for the rest of my life, I had to find a way to make it insignificant.

I knew my shyness was controlling me; didn’t take a genius (like me) to figure out. When something is controlling us, we can either continue to be controlled or we can get off our butts and at least make an effort switching it around. I decided to get off my butt; now it was MY turn to be in control. And that became my master-plan.

I wrote down every situation I could remember being controlled and bothered by shyness; every WHERE, WHEN and HOW much I was handicapped by it. The list was long and horrific. Then I went back and wrote down HOW I would have liked to function in those scenarios. It was an extremely sobering and eye-opening experience; then I wrote down how I felt I could change it in the future.

I quickly found that the most essential point, and biggest challenge, was the urgent need to get connected with myself. I had to face my insecurities, anxieties, awkwardness and the extremely warped self-consciousness of me, me and me. The need to acknowledge and deal with that thick and tall wall in front of me was crucial concerning any hope of breaking through to control any part of my shyness.

It was a rather interesting trip, really. I dealt with a lot of unknown emotions and factors; on the way, evil doubt showed up a bit too often. But I approached it by doing the easier parts first and built from there on. I practiced more than I theorized – there was no other way around to success; at least I thought so. Was it painful? It was the hardest and most difficult thing I have ever done in my life – seriously. Becoming more and more stubborn sure helped me along – and the prize was right.

Approaching and communicating with girls? No big deal (he tells you while his nose is growing). I wrote and rewrote and edited and spoke out in front of mirrors for hours on end. I smiled the most shaky and nervous smile ever, and gave up millions of times. And when I thought I was ready, I practiced a million times more – until the first practice run – oh, my…

She was finally alone in the schoolyard; cute as ever. I was sweating waterfalls, and if it had not been for the obvious physical shaking and the feeling that at any moment I would projectile puke, I was fine – thank you. My legs refused to move, my tongue was wrapped around my tonsils, but I was finally standing in front of her – kind of. My world exploded as she looked at me and smiled with a giggle.

“What took you so long?” she said.

“ghouedkbaobhielo” I mumbled.

“You have been staring at me for so long.” She was still smiling while I gasped for air – any air. I finally had some of my prepared script at the tip of my tongue – but not in the correct order.

“I really like you…” came out shaky – like violently so… She kept smiling and nodded her head; while I was escaping by running away, she shouted:

“Meet me after school?” At which point I was in shock, but had enough sense to nod that blushing head of mine – while running even faster, looking for a place to hide.

My master-plan suggested small steps for small successes (or small failures). My first attempt had been a giant leap for Peter; the significance of that moment was tremendous. With this surprisingly new achieved confidence, I started smiling a lot more, stopped mumbling and started talking, bit by bit; greeted my classmates, looking into their eyes – yes, even the girls.

I still prepared myself for rejections and they were plentiful. But the more I faced rejections, the better I got at dealing with them. I simply removed ME from the equation, by trying to convince myself that it was not all personal – but it was, for the most part. I kept telling myself that we learn more from our failures than we learn from our successes – I learned a lot and I learned it fast.

I started hanging around groups of kids that I had successfully avoided socializing with for years. At first they looked at me with suspicion, but I just smiled and then one day I said a few words and they looked at me with surprise, like they were saying: whatever. And on I went, adding new daring projects every single day; some days were tougher than others, but I hung in there.

When I got low and didn’t feel it worked fast enough, I thought of the years I had spent in self-pity, cowering behind my shyness - all that waste of precious time. So I worked even harder. I accepted that it was always a gamble of either shine or suck, but I was willing to take those chances by applying determination & hard work. And slowly I was reaching those goals of mine; slowly but surely.

I like the person I became; meeting me for the first time, you wouldn’t know that I’m shy – none of the people who knows me believe I am. I worked the transformation so well, that I now categorize myself as an extrovert, which is also a term used concerning shyness. The person is more so outgoing (and loud at parties – another reason I’m never invited) to cover up being shy. I talk with people everywhere and make riding elevators fun and challenging. I still straighten up a bit more when walking around other people; I have made many speeches through my life and only the first few moments are still tough, but then I’m okay; I’m constantly working on being in control of my shyness – every single day, and I will till the day I die (and perhaps longer, huh?)

I did all this and you can too, if you are shy as I am. It just takes the desire to change, hard work and willingness to accept failures as well as successes on the way; and that’s a true story.

Till next Monday

THE NAKED TRUTH ABOUT NUDITY

I think our attitudes towards nudity are weird. Among them, we find: embarrassments, insecurities, sexual inclinations (which is actually not so weird); anxieties, expectations, disappointments, fascination, exploitation, curiosities, pride, disgust, obsession, nausea, uptight moralities, hang-ups, confusion, laws, shyness and the list is long. Why do we have such a strange relationship with our bare bodies? I mean, we are all naturally naked underneath; aren’t we? So what’s the problem?

We all know that the technical explanation for nudity is: the state of being unclothed and that naked explains: the state of nudity. I’m sorry to inform you, but that’s pretty much where the simplicity ends and confusion begins. Not much about our naked bodies goes down easy from this point on and I really think that’s a shame – to some extent.

All this nakedness starts rather innocently. We are born unclothed, stay naked a few minutes and then we are stuffed into blue or pink and some even get a beanie on top. From that moment on, we will cover up this innocent nudity the biggest chunk of our lives; and isn’t that a pity?

Babies cannot be any cuter when lying on a soft blanket in all their glorious nakedness; their cute, rounded behinds, red faces and adorable smiles, the drool and happy giggles. We fully embrace those innocent moments (sigh).

Now, if you picture that cute baby’s great-grandmother posing nude on that same blanket, drooling, red-faced (due to gas, no doubt) and giggling for no apparent reason, wouldn’t that seem a bit awkward to you? I thought it would. And don’t you think it’s weird we feel that way? The baby is naked, and great-granny is naked, so what’s the big difference?

Okay, I admit it’s a different look, but isn’t nude and nude the same? Of course it’s not, because society has accepted naked babies as being cute and great-grandmother Caroline’s nudity to be disturbing – we can only hope she was a bit drunk; the great-grandmother, not the baby.

We are the only species covering up by getting dressed. It is primarily to protect ourselves against the elements. As an example: Eskimos do not wear Speedos or bikini thongs in their natural habitat; only when vacationing in Hawaii.

There are billions of ways we dress to cover our nudity; layers upon layers of clothes depending on the occasion, season or reason. We dress in ways to show off our bodies, not particularly our naked bodies, but our body shapes – which will get vivid imaginations going – and are intended to do so, for the most part. Some are proud of their bodies and want to show them off, and there are plenty who wants to take a look – or three; I have no problem with that – do you?

Though we cover up a lot of skin, a lot of skin is also voluntarily being exposed to us; bits of nakedness. Low cuts and cleavage, snug short skirts and tight jeans, body-hugging outfits that underline the naked shapes underneath. We see Speedos and thongs on the beaches, with not much left to the imagination. But we stop in our tracks if those little scraps of fabric blow off. But really, what’s the difference? Well, the difference is rather big for some.

The moralities of decency most of us were brought up with caused us to become violently sick if we saw a naked parent or two. I mean, what could be worse? - You tell me… Okay, seeing great-grandmother Caroline on that blanket might top it. The things we were taught about nudity, presented us with a very confused relationship with our own bodies; what we could do, show and “those” parts to keep undercover at all times. And then we matured and became a bit more relaxed – or did we?

To some extent we like watching naked people – if nothing else (hubba hubba), we are guided by simple curiosity. This watching thing is based on sexual preferences for the most part. But we are also very selective (discriminating?) as we prefer that near perfect body over the weight & age-challenged and what not.

Though we are fine watching naked people, we don’t want to be watched in our birthday suits, do we? We find it inappropriate and utterly uncomfortable and perhaps nauseating for some. But what is it precisely that makes it so weird?

We have this belief, obsession if you will, that we must not, should not and legally cannot liberally show our naked genitals or those female breasts (dang it) to just anybody, other than partners, wives, husbands, doctors and what else you have under the umbrella of consensual peeking. We feel utterly uncomfortable when strange people run up to us to show off those parts of their bodies, going: “see what I got – na na na na na na”, while you are frantically trying to call 9-1-1 (or your mother); somewhat the backside of frontal nudity, if you ask me – because I’m not so sure why that is.

For some awkward reason I feel that we have been taught that those “private parts” are not called that for nothing – they are as private as anything gets. Don’t you find that a bit weird – really? Those things are just “parts” of our bodies, so why is it that we are hell-bend about nobody getting a peek, other than the aforementioned group of people?

When I was in school back in 1822, we had to shower together after gym; me and some 40 other boys. I did it only once and then I refused to ever do it again. I was 8 at the time and due to my heavy pleading to the principal, I was finally granted group-shower immunity. I told her that I was so weirded out seeing all those little wieners swinging back and forth – and a few had even curly hairs on them. My Mother was with me; she told me years later that the principal had laughed so hard.

The point is, that whatever values of decency or morality I was given early on, just the sight of somebody else’s little penis, grossed me out and made me feel utterly uncomfortable; in retrospect, was that good? Shouldn’t it have been: It’s as natural as is?

I appreciate (most) naked bodies. I have always found gratitude in the human and especially the female-human shape and form; and NO it’s not like I’m constantly exposed to some or get in a position to be exposed to such. In Miami Beach, Venice Beach and many such places, as well as in movies, it’s the occasional hot female body strolling by. In art, naked females have been featured for a few thousand years. I have always observed in a celebratory fashion – and for the most part without serious drooling.

I’m fine with nudity; the naked truth about it and all. It’s not really that big of a deal. I believe we make it a much bigger deal than we actually feel it should be, but we are still cowering a bit behind laws and our bare insecurities.

I believe the naked truth is also that only a small number of people are fully satisfied with their own nakedness – even the ones I deem beautiful, men or women. Looking in the mirror, very few go: “WOW that is hot…” I often do that WOW thing, but it’s quickly followed by: “I gotta do something about that…” Sounds familiar?

Overall I’m okay with what I see, as I actually do something about it. That my fitness club visits, long walks with the dog and trying to eat healthy, doesn’t shape me into a more acceptable body, is okay - it really is.

But, do I appreciate nudity enough to accept the vision of great-grandmother Caroline, drooling and giggling, with a body that clearly has lost the fight against gravity? Nah, I think I’ll pass – wouldn’t you? But otherwise, when she’s sober, she’s a really nice lady.

See you next Sunday – yes that’s right. Next Monday I’ll be on a plane to Europe that does NOT have Wi-Fi. So this will break a streak of 70 Mondays in a row, publishing new posts – dang it… I hope it’s not going to ruin your day, huh?

PEOPLE WATCHING – and you being watched

We all do it – again and again; watching and of course, being watched. We do it on purpose and we do it unconsciously, automatically, as well as by simple, natural reaction. Whenever there is a minimum of two people in one place (or one person with a mirror), we watch – intensely; but do you know why we do it?

My shorter version of a long scientific explanation is that we simply observe our fellow human beings and their interactions. Before I continue, let’s get one thing straight: if you find yourself getting any form of sexual gratification or sexual arousal from this observation bit, you are performing voyeurism (naughty - naughty) and that is not what people watching is about; at times the line between the two is very thin. If you watch and drool, you are crossing that line. I’ll get back to that a bit later.

Academically, the term naturalistic observation is fitting, as it means watching stuff, like animals (as some of us are called at times) in their natural habitat. And that is precisely what we are doing when we people-watch.

Be careful when you coincidentally listen to peoples conversations as you watch them. This is known as eavesdropping (which is one of the weirdest words ever; don’t you think?) In some cases this eavesdropping thing, can actually be caught as being an illegal activity, as you are listening to private conversations without the consent of the participants – how could you?

Why are we people watching? We find it relaxing, enjoyable, fascinating, informative, utterly interesting, a grand way to pass time, inspirational and it can also be constructive. It jiggles our senses of wonder and amazement, has a bit of social interaction (no matter how one directional it is for the most part) and many other descriptive reasons. And none of us are watching and seeing the same things; isn’t that just mesmerizing?

I think curiosity is one of the two main reasons we watch; being fun is the other and that is why I’m out there goggling. And we can do it anywhere and anytime; I mean, how convenient is that?

I can’t say I have a favorite spot from where to people-watch. I prefer the small sidewalk café on a busy street in Rome, to the food-court in our local mall, but only because of the many glaring differences. It’s still people watching, no matter where we do it.

You see, the thing is that we are fascinated with watching, because we, the people, are fascinating to watch – how simple is that? And some people really like to be watched. So do we need any more reasons? Why not; how about the following…

When considering that we are about 7 billion people on this globe thing, we must be in awe that not any two are alike. So we have this endless stimulation of diversity, differences, looks, colors, clothes, moves, interaction, expressions, etc. It’s a never ending variety of our species passing, walking and running by, sitting, standing, talking, smiling, laughing, swearing (Yeah, I once saw one do that), and the menu goes on for as long as you want it to; curiosity and fun, all in one.

So what are we looking for, what is it we are observing? It’s nothing and it’s everything. It’s what she wears, how she wears it, does it match, how old, how young, what is she doing, are they real, where is she going, nice purse, by the way; is she travelling alone, who’s that older guy with her; the father, her “old” husband, is she happy, sad or in deep sorrow, and on and on we go. We process thousands of pieces of information in seconds, creating phantom characters based on what we see, massive assumptions about the person based on how she moves, acts, dresses, carry herself and so forth; oh, and all this, while somebody else is doing the same evaluation of us.

When we consider the time or lack of time we take or have with that one person in view, it is amazing how much information we run through in such a short time. Visual and auditory impressions, and in some cases, if close enough: smells of perfume, cologne, sweat (Yuk), booze-breath, etc. which are also items to help evaluate the possibilities in our guess-work, right or wrong. And we rarely find out, do we? They disappear as fast as they appeared; but it’s still a lot of fun.

Who do I people-watch? I’m an equal opportunity goggler, but if you threaten me with a session of water-torture, I will tell you that for the most part I find watching women more fascinating than watching men. I find women more alive, and men to be more predictable. I find the female shape more interesting and pleasing to the eye, than the way men are shaped. Women dress more creatively, therefor a grander variety (not as an excuse, but I did work in women’s fashion many years ago in Europe). On many levels women appeal more so to me than do men, which no doubt also stems from being a devout heterosexual; and that brings us back to that thin line thing from before.

No, Dear Reader, I do not feel to any extent of your imagination, that I ever cross the line from people watching to Peeping Peter (as in voyeurism and drooling). Not that it’s any of your business, but being an honest guy, I’ll tell you why: I am not lusting after any of the women I watch, but I highly appreciate their shapes, forms, moves, personalities and interaction (not with me) within the environment the persons I’m watching are in, people they are with, etc. I’m not out there hunting for anybody. I’m happily married, and utterly secure in my life with my wife; so I can calmly sit back, enjoy and appreciate. Okay, I told you mine, now you tell me yours; fair enough?

For the most part, people watching is incidental, we just do it (not a Nike thing, by the way). And then some just do it as a hobby, meaning people-watch on purpose. Personally I don’t really have time for that, though it sounds intriguing. I travel enough to get my fill, but even the trip to the super market is, well, still fun.

So what are you watching? Have you ever specifically thought about it? Oh, and have you noticed how you constantly narrate your observations? Either to the persons you are with, or when alone, you chat to yourself. “Nice tight jeans on that dude”; “shoes don’t go with that skirt”; “hubba-hubba”. Our narrations are as varied as the people we are watching – and then some.

I’m off to Europe again in a few weeks. Have a total of four airport stops with time between flights; time to people-watch and that’s what I also do – something I look forward to as well; part of traveling with Peter.

Oh, I nearly forgot: when somebody catch you watching them, and you can’t turn away fast enough, don’t twist your body into pieces, while trying not to look utterly guilty. Instead, give that person a big smile. If they don’t rush over and slap you silly, they will for the most part smile back. You see, we like to watch people, but we also like people watching us – to some extent; don’t you agree?  

Till next Monday – go watch a whole bunch of people

TRUST – do we use it the right way?

When somebody stops and says: “Trust me on this” as they are chatting away, I get a bit suspicious, since I haven’t trusted anything he had said so far. By him stating that now is the time to actually “trust him”, I seriously don’t want to; why start because he says so? Instead I simply discard whatever else comes out of his mouth – he was a jerk anyway, so it doesn’t really matter; but you get the idea?

The noun TRUST supposedly arrived in the 13. Century, borrowed from the Old Norse (Scandinavia) word TRAUST meaning help, confidence and/or firmness (no, not as in: ‘You have a TRAUST body”, but “firmness” as being assertive). We then rolled it into something more like assured reliance on somebody, the ability, strength and truth of someone. Quite a lot of stuff and laced with vast expectations, I would say.

But today we are using this important term in a much looser fashion, where I claim that we should not. We must have a term that underlines strong confidentiality, something we can fully rely on. Too often we are using trust as a term for: I expect, I assume or I take for granted; but we don’t use any of those very often, as trust is faster to say – but let’s recognize the big difference, please.

When we look at the definition of trust within social science, the trustor must be willing to rely on the trustee, who must prove and be expected to show full trustworthiness. To whatever degree we put our trust in somebody, can include: belief, honesty, fairness, respect and confidence (to be trusted). Of course other forms of measures exist, as each of us have our own sets of standards concerning this trust thing. But across the table, no matter how you perceive trust, it is still essential that you believe that you can fully trust that other person.

We find this trust issue all around us; in families, between friends, significant others, partners, girlfriends & boyfriends, wives & husbands, business colleagues, teammates and so forth. We use the: I expect, I assume or I take for granted by saying trust in most situations and I can certainly swing with that. But then we also have the more involved upgraded sets of expectations, looming under the real use of the term trust.

How many people do we really trust? People we can depend on, rely on, who will, at all time, honor, respect and fully believe in your friendship, in your person and character? When I look around me, not that many – but that is also okay, as it is a heavy commitment.

But I think we must look at ourselves first, before passing judgment on others. I must contemplate how much I can actually trust myself and figure out to what degree I am trustworthy to the people around me. Going back in my life, it is a mixed bag. Some stuff (like, way back) I’m not proud of and though I negate thinking about those few situations so many years ago, they do pop up on occasion – I guess as a reminder and: “now Peter, don’t you remember?” is still an effective tool for me to do the right thing today – in the case of being trusted.

In a funny way, or perhaps in not so funny ways, we often take trust for granted. Our assumptions concerning trust blur the picture of what is going on, so some of our expectations are often shut out of the water, facing us with disappointments we could have avoided.

“I thought I could trust her,” he said, after she had an affair with some other guy. “I fully believed she would never break that trust…” To me, that is only a fair statement if both parties in this case knew precisely what was to be expected concerning what to trust in each other and/or within the couple they used to be. You see, he obviously lived by the I took for granted that she wouldn’t be unfaithful, where she wasn’t sure if a bit of fun on the side was breaking any trust or not – that was her interpretation; perhaps claiming a bit of ignorance?

So I find that the issue of trust (like so many other things and terms), must be outlined, understood and agreed upon before we start to play. If the above former couple had accepted a few rules before the kissing started and the relationship began, the break-up might have been avoided. “Okay, concerning that trust thing, no fooling around. We must trust that it’s just you and me, baby…” And all would have been fine – and they might have lived happily ever after – and perhaps even longer.

Of course failure of trust may be forgiven more easily if interpreted as a failure of competence of the other party, which of course underline the importance of who we trust. But when she was making out with that other guy, “failure of competence” was not a factor at all; I would assume (or trust?) But do you still think he should forgive and forget?

It is especially in the people we surround ourselves with, the ones we form unions with romantically, as well as family, friends, at work and between businesses, that we must also bond with some true trust. If we don’t, we have to solely rely on assumptions, expectations or ignorantly take things for granted. This way we are setting the stage for disappointments (or break-ups). And that is not really what we want, is it?

Yeah, I know, setting some ground rules after that fantastic first date, romantic and so, well, perfect, doesn’t make you want to sit down and chin-whack about some “future rules of trust and behavior”, huh? Nah, we feel in our silly hearts that all will be well and she would never…oops, and then she did (or he did…) and that’s when we say: “We should have hammered out some ground rules, ex-girlfriend, shouldn’t we?”

Trust is a heavy thing, it really is. But when it feels right, trusting the right people and have the people you respect and love trust you, it is not a burden to any extent. It is inspiring, so comfortable and enriching and it makes you all tingly and fuzzy inside; and isn’t that great?

I have competence, the belief that I can trust myself, my wife, kids, family and friends. I can truly trust them and I never take any of that trust for granted by assuming or expecting anything beyond that trust.

I know, this was a bit heavier than my “normal” posts, but it is something I have pondered for many years. The thing is that implementing or applying this whole trust issue is not easy, especially if we don’t consider some common directions. So instead, we leave it alone and deal with it when we are more so forced to – for the most part at the time when failure and disappointment have already popped up.

But I still prefer to fully trust somebody and if they prove my trust in them wrong, so be it – because that is also LIFE AS IT REALLY IS.

Till next Monday and I promise you a much lighter post - really    

CONSUMERS – we are not that ignorant

I think they secretly call us SUMERS because they are out to CON us (as in: CON-the-SUMERS), which exposes the hidden meaning of the word consumers. I will of course clear all this up for you, because I know you expect nothing less…

In one corner we have the consumers, meaning individuals or households purchasing all kinds of goods and services, also known as you and I; and we are all doing that consuming-thing a lot. In the opposite corner, we have the suppliers of these goods and services. When we pay attention, we see that they are doing everything in their combined might to trick us into purchasing their offerings; at least it feels like it at times – don’t you agree?

I don’t think we as consumers are neither ignorant nor stupid to any extent. We fully understand and can clearly see all the trickeries we are presented with from suppliers about what we need, want and expect in services and goods that we purchase; must purchase, according to them, or else!

For the most part we can all see some of these suppliers making fools of themselves, believing that they are actually conning the sumers; they couldn’t be more wrong, because we are much smarter than that and we have come to the overbearing conclusion to let them play their silly games of persuasion. “Let the child”, as we say in Danish…

SAVE / SAVINGS

Here is something I never fully understood: They tell you to save, but you have to give them money to do so. Wouldn’t you save more money by not buying anything? Do they ever offer that option?

BEFORE & AFTER

Here is one of those real pathetic “encouragements”. In the before black and white photo, the person looks like she’s between death and rigor mortis. Everything is wrong, out of place and weird; but the real kicker is that she has a sour and tired look on her face.

In the after image, which is in full color, she has luscious lips, only one chin, zero wrinkles, a firm butt and a new set of perky breasts. But what really makes us see the difference between before & after, is her broad and lovely smile. Now you tell me, have you ever been persuaded to sign up for any alterations or products due to this kind of advertising? I didn’t think so, because we are not being conned easily. Oh, by the way, would you like quick personal improvement at no cost? Here’s what you do:

Go to the nearest mirror; look at yourself with a sour, disgruntled and crappy looking face. Hold that pose for 30 seconds (if you can stand it). Now change that facial expression into that mighty smile of yours, teeth and all. Noticed the difference? It is mega huge and marked down to free.

GAS PRICES – but why?

Around here (USA) pricing of gas / petrol / fuel is weird. No, Dear Reader, not because they are high, but it’s the way they are presented to us. I have not a single clue as to why gas is priced like $3.85 9/10 per gallon. Why the 9/10 of a cent? What the heck does that mean? Is it to hide the fact that we are paying $3.86 and not what we believe (give me a break) to be $3.85? If I pay $3.85 9/10 or $3.86 will never make a difference, so why not just price it for what it cost – without 9/10 of a cent, please – consumers are not stupid, huh?

SALES – and more sales

THE BIGGEST SALE OF THE YEAR – LOWEST PRICES EVER – NO THIS IS THE BIGGEST SALE OF THE YEAR – EVERYTHING MUST GO, etc. So many stores have all these different sales through the year. I can easily swing with that, because I buy all my stuff on sale. But I still get a few giggles out of all the creative ways these sales try to outdo each other over and over – within the same shops and department stores. It’s hilarious if you pay attention, but we have gotten numb over the years and just take it for what it is – silly.

My favorite is everything must go; now really, do you think that any store has ever considered some of it must go? Of course everything will hopefully get out of there, that’s why you are in business, to sell the darn things – to make room for new stuff – that you also want to go.

BALLOONS sell cars?

On car-lots and car-dealerships around here, you often see balloons attached to cars – a lot of them and all sorts of colors. Now where the heck did that come from? Did they actually have a meeting where they considered and approved that: “If we tie balloons to the cars, we’ll sell more, huh?” Or should that be: DUH? And have you ever bought a car because it had a pretty balloon attached to it? I didn’t think so.

I am all for a healthy economy, with money swirling around by production, supplying and consuming; nothing wrong with that. But I just don’t understand why we need to be somewhat misled into believing to purchase certain products. A bit of honesty would fare somewhat better, I trust. Don’t you?

I don’t like to be talked down to, which physically doesn’t happen often as I am 6’1” (6’5” in heels), so I’m a bit irritated by the way some suppliers are advertising like I’m an idiot or pathetically ignorant (whichever you choose). But then again, I have reached a level of being overbearing, as I am in full control of my own consuming; and you are too, I’m sure.

And then I acknowledge advertising and commercials where I sit back in awe as to how stupid and ignorant it is and wonder if ANYBODY buys this stuff. But Some people must, because you see the same ad and same commercial over and over – I’m amazed and somewhat saddened, because are some of us consumers really that naïve?

But I am so totally free of being persuaded and tricked by advertising, their slogans and logos and other oblivious attempts on my assumed consumer stupidity. I am the ultimate consumer, their worst fear. I consume when I damn well feel like consuming and what I like to consume – always MY choice, baby. I feel freed from them all and then I scream to nobody specifically, from the highest mountain ever, against the swishing wind, that we should ALL be independent and strong-willed consumers. Are you with me?

JUST DO IT (oops)

See you next Monday…

KISSING – read this and is a kiss still a kiss?

When we contemplate the mechanics of kissing, the technical aspect of puckering up by engaging the orbicularis oris, which we all know is the ring-muscle of the mouth, while activating as well as coordinating 34 facial muscles and about 112 postural muscles, it does remove a bit of the romance factor as we watch Bergman and Bogart suck face in the movie Casablanca; don’t you agree?

As I wondered who actually started this kissing thing, I called an expert on the subject, Kissmopologist Dr. Andrea Liplock, who has a PhD in Lip & Tongue Synchronization from Duke University. Surprisingly, she didn’t know; how about that? You would think with an education and a title like that, she would at least have learned about how the kiss was born - and she went to Duke U. of all places.

 So can we just assume that two people, who kind of liked each other, could not get any excitement or tickles of satisfaction just shaking hands? So they thought of other things to help them along, and by pure coincident came up with lips-to-lips?

And can we also assume, that they got so thrilled about this new thing that they continued to talk with their lips still locked, so the tongues got in the way? All this actually took place in Paris (where else?) and guess what: French Kissing was born – true story.

I did find that kissing has been a wonderful and solid tradition for many, many years. Socrates, Aristotle and their respective girl-friends supposedly already did it way back in the old Greeceland days. But we are not totally sure, as Soc and Aris were perfect gentlemen and lived by: “don’t kiss & tell”. Of course the girls kept quiet as well; just like they do today – yes?

So why bother kissing? (There you go, rolling your eyes…) We do it because we find sensations of taste, touch and smell when we kiss, among many other things – oh, and it feels nice too. Still doesn’t sound too romantic – does it?

Kissing is the physical act of pressing one’s lips against the lips of some other person or against some of that person’s body parts, as cheeks, forehead or hands (the rest is up to you); in some cases we kiss objects, like the Pope’s oversized ring; I mean, don’t you? In rare cases we ask somebody to kiss my butt; not something we really want them to, is it? Oh, I see, you don’t kiss & tell… (giggle).

Kisses express sentiments of love, passion, affection, respect, greeting, friendship, erotic emotions and my all-time favorite: lust (I’m only kidding – but it’s true).

The word kiss is from Old English cyssan, which translates to kiss. In Danish we call it kys, in Dutch kussen, Finnish (and good luck with that one) suudella; in French they have several words covering the same thing, but I’ll stay with baisent. The Italian’s go for bacio, the Japanese with seppun and for those of you who only speak Latin, I couldn’t find any words for kissing; tough luck. Spanish is either beso or besar (would I be right if it is singular and plural?) Of course Swedish is my utmost favorite and they have three variations: kyss, puss and kyssa. Any one of those three works for me, big time…

Of course we also have colorful variations of that kissing thing. Besides suck face, how about lip-lock, French kiss, smooch, smack, peck, snog (British slang, and my all-time favorite), air kiss and so forth. Of course kiss is also a text message abbreviation, meaning keep it short stupid – you didn’t know that, did you?

And then we all have the dreaded, proverbial, nervous, frustrating, romantic and horrific first kiss, huh? The one we do remember, no matter how much we want to forget.  I’ll tell you mine if you’ll tell me yours, okay? I’m always ready for a good laugh – seriously…

Henrik was dating this girl Susanne. I would guess we were something like 11 or 12. I had no experience in the kissing and make-out department, Henrik had some experience and Susanne was much more advanced than the both of us put together, plus she was a few years older. So we were sitting around in Susanne’s room; she was making out with Henrik (kissing only), while I was desperately trying to concentrate reading the new issue of Donald Duck.

Susanne and Henrik got into a bit of a disagreement and Henrik sourly moved away from Susanne who stayed on her bed. A few minutes later Susanne asked if I knew how to kiss. I blurted out NO while blushing all over the place. Then she padded the space next to her and told me to come on over. I did, which left Henrik a bit puzzled; go figure.

“I’ll teach you how to kiss, okay?” And did she ever – while Henrik was steaming in the chair, trying to concentrate on Donald Duck; I doubt if he succeeded…

Henrik and I stayed friends and the weird thing is that Susanne liked both of us, so it was kind of an innocent three way dating situation. Now hold your giggling, it was not much more than that kissing thing – really. What were you thinking? I was 11 or 12 for goodness sake… and I don’t kiss and tell – oops, I just did...

I find kissing very romantic. I also find it loving, reassuring and confirming. But I still find the kissing action itself somewhat puzzling. But kissing is of course a correct and most natural thing to do as an intimate expression. No, those puzzling thoughts will never hold me back, have not and will never get in the way; I was just wondering, that’s all.

Kissing does make us feel good; where that level of feeling good is at, has of course a lot to do with the person we are kissing and how we are kissed back. It’s not all about how good we are at kissing, though it helps, but it’s more so how we as a whole person react with the other person, that guides how good we feel about lip-lock snogging.

On certain levels, kissing discharges a bit of dopamin in our bodies; this doesn’t mean that it makes you look dopey. It means that this feel good chemical is released when we experience something that is highly pleasurable – as with kissing (and bowling, for some of us).

Now don’t get all uptight and sue me for killing your kissing abilities or joys of same. I fully declare that I am not an expert, though I do have…. Whatever!

I often feel a bit uncomfortable watching kisses and sex in movies, though. I feel like a voyeur, a Peeping Peter or Tom. I’m okay with them making out, but not really in front of me; get a room, is my suggestion.

But then again, I have watched and also enjoyed many romantic kisses in movie theaters; especially with Ingrid Bergman participating; on the screen, that is. The sweet and beautiful Ingrid, kissing Cary Grant in Notorious and Bogart in Casablanca. That’s where I embrace kissing at its highest level of romance – but of course, off screen much more so…

You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh (ahhh...)

…and how blooming romantic is that, huh?

See you next Monday – now go give somebody you like a snog on the nose; or perhaps go bowling…