A Picture is Worth a Thousand Smells

I made it to New York City Last night after getting off a one way bus from 30^th street station in Philadelphia. That ticket only cost me $12. I’m in the midst of releasing a different post about travelling on a budget, and this trip was yet another example of how easy and inexpensive travelling can be.

This brief post, however, is not so much about travelling on a budget, but more so on what to be weary of while travelling this great earth. After the Megabus dropped me off on 27^th and 7^th avenue, in the middle of New York City, I began my journey through Times Square and up to the Upper Eastside (just to the right of Central Park). There, one of my good friends would be able to put me up for the night.

The congestion on the streets was to be expected, but what I never expected was the post-apocalyptic New Year’s Eve remnants in the thousands of confetti papers floating around like flakes of snow. That was the first surprise, the second was seeing three costumed humans milling around the middle of Times Square. They were: Olaf, from Frozen, Iron Man and a Despicable Me minion.

Olaf was running up to every person he saw with his arms extended, and when he crossed my path I couldn’t resist a hug. After we embraced, Iron Man ran up to us and said, “You need a picture!” I gave him my phone, and I sized him up before I did, believing I could have easily chased him down had he tried anything funny, even with the thirty pound travel backpack I was toting.

Iron man must’ve noticed my long hair, because somehow he immediately changed the conversation to how he enjoyed puffing a little reefer. I laughed it off, knowing well that this is how many people initially try to relate with me, not knowing the only thing I’m ever high on is fresh mountain air.

Once Iron man took a few pictures, I suddenly noticed upon further examination the worn, dirt caked costume of Olaf who was standing next to me. I glanced through the snow man’s head piece and saw a dark skinned Asian man who smelled faintly of beef and cigarettes.

Olaf proceeded to take off his gloves and revealed a rolled up clump of five and one dollar bills. Iron man then flipped open his mask, and with his piercing eyes and horizontal scar above his eyebrow, asked, “You got any money?” Again, I had to laugh this off and immediately pointed to my oversized backpack and explained that I was technically homeless for the time being. They couldn’t argue with that, so we all kind of just shrugged our shoulders and Olaf and the minion went on approaching strangers with deceptive hugs.

The moral of the story is pretty simple, but also a little complex. Sure, looks can be deceiving, but even deeper is this idea that people often possess ulterior motives, especially when power, money and feelings are involved. Some people are scary good at pretending they’re genuine, and only when you get to know a person might you discover their true identity. The only thing I can suggest is to always be searching for truth, not only yours, but that of others. As depressing as it sounds, if something doesn’t feel right, it may not be right, ever.

The only thing we really, truly have to offer each other is our love and our time. We should invest immensely in both these things, because this is what our happiness hinges on. When we do the things we love with the ones we love this is when we reach our peak flow, the point where things feel seamless and synchronized.

The last piece of brief advice I’d like to say, which also happens to be my new years resolution, is to make it a point to minimize all expectations and assumptions. Creating expectations is one of the most detrimental things we can do, simply because we are taking away from the present moment and an otherwise authentic experience, which often times leads to a let down. Sometimes we can’t predict things no matter how we slice it, and that’s half the fun. I may have been initially greeted with hugs and enthusiasm in the big apple, but in the end it turned out to be strange men who smelled like pork rinds trying to shake people down faster than four day old confetti falling from the sky.

Welcome to Shakedown Street

The Gender Delusion

It’s been a couple months since I’ve written on here, and I can tell you it’s not because I’ve stopped writing. It’s mostly because I’ve stopped traveling! Only temporarily, however. As I’ve told many of you, I’m most inspired to write when I’m outside of my Southeastern Pennsylvanian hometown and immersed in new, fascinating cultures. I have indeed continued writing, it’s just the majority of my writing has been for the classes I’m taking to complete my Masters in mental health counseling. I’ll be exactly halfway through my program after this semester, which means that I can finally look forward to actual counseling within the next year or two, not just convincing inebriated customers at the pizzeria that no, just because you got kicked out of ---insert bar name here---, your life isn’t over.

So, why am I blogging now? Well, it’s mostly because the content I’m about to share with you is the same follow up email I sent to a doctorate student completing a research dissertation. That means less writing for me, and more knowledge for you, like I just cracked a double egg (for every two birds killed with one stone, a double egg is birthed). It was through this research dissertation that I was reminded of a subject that effects every one of us, every single day.

Anyone going to school for psychology, counseling or any scientific profession for that matter can relate to the hundreds of emails we receive monthly to participate in X research project for a group of doctorate students at X university. Traditionally, I delete many of these emails without even looking at the content. Either I was really bored this day or my cat somehow managed to open up gmail, because I somehow read the subject of the research, “Process of How Men Encounter Their Gender in Counselor Education”, and thought, “Hmm, how do I see myself as an aspiring male counselor in a room filled with 75% females?” It’s nothing new to me, as JMU classes were roughly 60% female, but as many of you could guess, counseling is a profession filled predominantly with woman, so that compounds the ratio, not to mention my current school was exclusively female up until 2005. Any who, I emailed back the sender of that email and after a brief, casual interview style phone call, they determined I was in fact a good fit for the study.

You may be curious as to what my “participation” in the research has been like thus far in the process. It’s been pretty simple, actually. Once they determined that I was a good fit I electronically signed a confidentiality agreement and we then met up via video chat and spoke for about an hour, myself answering questions from the principal investigator in a free flow style conversation. Soon after, I sent the investigator an email just to relay some thoughts about the subject material of the research, nothing specifically about the actual research being conducted, but more of a reflection on my experience. Here’s that email (As far as I know, sharing this isn’t at all breaching the confidentiality agreement I signed. I read that agreement, several times):

Participating in this study has actually helped me understand my own story in a more personal and enriching manner, while also providing me insight into the process of conducting actual, meaningful research. You could compare it to construction, for example. Unless you’ve had the specific experience of helping to build a bridge, you will never fully appreciate, or understand how that bridge was built.

I thought it was interesting, and quite paradoxical, how myself and my classmate used the words aggressive and passive to define each other. Just by saying aggressive, that lady came off as aggressive, and by me saying “passive”, it may have seemed like I was being passive aggressive. However, I was merely making a point, although many may have viewed me as being aggressive simply because thats how the other student choose to categorize me. See what I am getting at here? This was also the point of the TRUE pizzeria story I shared in that email. That's a prime example of how these passive/aggressive characteristics are attributed easily to both genders.

Often times what ends up happening is the words we use to describe people, or the way we perpetuate others, is usually what leads to their self-concept of themselves. If you constantly tell a child they are no good, well, they are going to believe you and end up, “no good”. As one of my friends said in a discussion recently, “Look at the way we stereotype drug addicts as violent. No wonder they act out aggressively and often end up in jail.” Its not a coincidence that countries like Ireland and Denmark have an extremely more effective prison and rehabilitation system for these types of people. Those countries don’t label these people violent users, but instead, people who choose to use drugs. We pathologize our drug users to the extent that they are seen as monsters who cannot, will not, fit into our society. I think this stigma, along with the gender stigma, is slowly, yet surely changing, but it takes acknowledging these stigmas in order to go about changing them.

In order to move forward as a society, I believe each person needs to be viewed as an entire, complete person. Not based off their gender, religion, sexual orientation or income. Not based off stereotypes ether. People need to realize that you can’t tell who a person is just by looking at them. You find out who a person is by having a conversation with them and getting to know them. Although I’d like to love and treat everybody the same, I can’t, because their gender, their diversity, their identity, dictates how they see me, in a potentially much, much different way then how I see them.