Tag Archives: conversation

Dec 08 2012
4 Comments
Informative

Conversations with my Hairdresser

Hair on floor in a hair salonI really like my hairdresser. I’ve been going to the same person now for over 15 years and I can say with confidence that I have never had a bad haircut from her. Or highlights, because I do that too. I know quite a bit about her, well if you consider the fact that she has twins and likes to travel to Mexico, “quite a bit”. And I thought she knew quite a bit about me too. Because one of the things that happens when you go to the hairdresser is that you chat a lot. After all, what else are you going to do when you find yourself sitting in a chair for two hours (yes, that’s how long it takes to get highlights in this hair) with the same person standing behind you the entire time. So you talk. About all kinds of things. You talk about your kids, and your holidays, and your Mother, and what you ate for dinner, in a pinch the economy and, because you’re Canadian, the weather. And you would think that for a shallow person this is just about as good as it gets. And it was until I realized that my hairdresser doesn’t really remember anything that we talk about. Which, since I have started thinking about this, has come to make a lot of sense to me and I’m ok with it.

Here’s the thing. I only have one hairdresser who I see approximately every seven to eight weeks. During our time together she tells me stuff and, if you recall from one of my earliest posts, my memory is really not all that bad so it’s not hard for me to remember that her kids have just started high school (I can hardly believe they got so big so fast) and that she takes a yearly vacation to an all-inclusive resort in Puerto Vallarta or some facsimile and the details here don’t matter much because from what I know about “all-inclusives” it really makes no difference where they are since all you’re going to end up talking about is how much people ate and drank while they were there. Conversely, my hairdresser, depending on the day, sees between eight and ten people which means that in any given week she has 40 or 50 souls sitting in her chair, talking to her about their kids, holidays, Mothers, husbands, Mothers-in-law and who knows what else. And if we say that on average, each of those people have their hair done once every six weeks, it means that in the interval between each appointment my hairdresser may have seen somewhere in the vicinity of 240 people. And she has no choice but to listen and pretend that she has a modicum of interest in what each one is saying beyond how many inches of hair should be trimmed and whether you’re sporting ash or strawberry blonde highlights.

Now I don’t want to be presumptuous here but I’m guessing that only a fraction of these people see my hairdresser outside of getting their hair done and since few would be included on her “friends” list, she has no real obligation to even attempt to recall the stories we relate to her from one visit to the next. I mean to do so would be almost superhuman and beyond all reasonable expectations. Come on now, who would really expect their hairdresser to juggle the massive amounts of data she receives simply because she has chosen an occupation whose residual effect is to have people talk to you incessantly about things you don’t care about?  The answer, to what you may have thought was a rhetorical question, is no one. Not one person would expect this of another human being.

So having thought about my conversations with my hairdresser for the past two weeks (I know you noticed that I didn’t post last week and that’s because I was still thinking) I am ok with the fact that when I mention my Brother’s impending nuptials (and that’s happened more than once I’m afraid) she gazes at me rather inquisitively with that “oh, you have a brother?” look in her eyes. Which has led me to two conclusions. The first is that I no longer have to think up new stories to tell my hairdresser because she doesn’t remember them anyway and a couple of really good ones in rotation will suffice. The other is that I think I should have been a hairdresser.

Happy Chanukah and remember that extra blessing as you light the first candle this evening.

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Oct 28 2012
6 Comments
A little sad, A little serious

It’s a shallow world after all

World on rippled waterWhen “the Kev” and I first conceived of the idea of writing a book about being shallow we felt as though we were an island unto ourselves. We were younger then and living among friends who were, in many cases, on a quest to find meaning and purpose in their lives. More often than not we found ourselves sitting in the midst of those who were asking the “bigger” questions as they sought to understand what life was really about.

Meaning seeking friend: So do you think there is some kind of plan that guides our lives? That we are put on this earth for a special purpose? And if we are how do we know what that is. And what can we do to make sure we live up to our potential? Meet the expectations? Make the most of our lives here on earth?
Me: Not sure.
Kev: Beats me.

Needless to say, we weren’t always invested in those conversations.

But as we formulated the chapters of our book (yes we had chapters) we sometimes struggled to find examples that we could use to guide people into the shallow realm. For example, in our chapter  titled “Shallow TV Shows: Watch This!” it was easy enough to point our readers to “Seinfeld” because afterall, this was a show that prided itself on being about nothing. And he was our hero of sorts. But beyond that we had some trouble. Could we really rely on any of the other hits of the time to stay true to the cause and not try to get some sort of message across to the viewers? I mean Karen and Jack showed lots of promise but then the writers of Will and Grace  did that “first same sex kiss on TV” thing and there was nothing shallow about that. And while I can’t say that every episode of “Ellen” was necessarily thought provoking, her character did “come out” on that show which created quite a hullabaloo at the time. Even the talk shows were not a safe haven, what with Oprah turning her back on the exploitation of the downtrodden. Let’s face it, sometimes it felt like we were up a creek with one paddle.

Fast forward 10 years and it’s a horse of a different colour. Now I don’t want to claim that we were trailblazers, pioneers of a sort, but it does seem to me that the world has caught up with us. Perhaps we were just a little ahead of our time. If you don’t believe, here’s some proof. There are authors (and yes, I have read some of them) that describe how our brains have changed to adapt to this new world that we live in. In his book “The Shallows” (honestly, it’s a coincidence) Nicholas Carr tells us that with all of our multitasking we are developing the parts of our brains responsible for “shallow” thinking at the expense of those dedicated to more contemplative and reasoned thought. We have lost our ability to pay attention. To anything. For any length of time. We have 673 friends on facebook, most of whom we wouldn’t recognize if we fell over them. And yet they share with us their every move. Because they think we care. But we don’t. We protest injustice in 140 characters imagining that we are making a difference. And our political leaders respond in like sound bytes. And people continue to kill each other. I could go on but at the risk of losing you, I rest my case. It is a shallow world after all.

Well it looks like I have finally found them. Some deeps thoughts on being and becoming shallow. Don’t blame me; sometimes this blog takes on a life of its own. But to lighten things up I have written a little ditty. And here it is. My song. I don’t have any music for these lyrics so if you can come up with a tune that works let me know. Just don’t blame me if you spend the rest of the day bopping to beat of this drum.

It’s a Shallow World After All

It’s a world full of TV reality shows
Where we vote to decide who will stay or who goes
So they lie and they cheat
If they have to they’ll mistreat
It’s a shallow world after all.

Chorus 

It’s a shallow world after all
It’s a shallow world after all
It’s a shallow world after all
It’s a shallow, shallow world.

We don’t need to see anyone face-to-face
It’s the internet now that’s our meeting place
We don’t talk we just text
Move from one to the next
It’s a shallow world after all.

Chorus

Pretty soon we won’t know what is real and what’s not
And your best friend could easily be a robot
Who will tell you they care
And that they like your hair
It’s a shallow world after all.

Chorus: Altogether now

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Aug 06 2012
7 Comments
Instructive

A Shallow Person’s Guide to the Folk Fest (Part 1 of 3)

Thanks to haloocyn http://www.sxc.hu/photo/856335It’s that time again. I don’t know about you but I sure find that each year seems to go by faster than the last. Everyone has a marker by which they measure the passing of time. For some people it’s New Year’s Eve, for others perhaps an anniversary or birthday. For me, it’s the Edmonton Folk Festival. My year runs from one folk fest to the next. And now, in these few moments before the big day, or should I say four days, I am filled with both excitement and dread because, as you may already have guessed, it’s not always easy to be a shallow person attending what for many people is their “kumbaya” event of the year. But I’ve been attending now for more than 30 years and have come to learn the ways of the devotees so, for those who may be embarking on this journey (or some facsimile) for the first time, I thought it would be good of me to share with you some of the wisdom I have acquired over what appears to be a very long time.

Getting Ready

The Rules: For such a free n’ easy music loving crowd there are a lot of rules that you are going to have to follow. There’s rules about when to come, where to line up, who to line up with, when and how to enter the park, where to put your tarp, how large your tarp can be, how tall your chairs can be, what you can drink…well you get the picture. My advice is to start following rules, yes any rules, for a couple of weeks before the event, just to get into practice. A good long game of “Simon Says” might help you get into the spirit of things while, at the same time, strengthening your listening skills.

Warning! This is a particularly difficult aspect of the show for us “shallows” as we typically like to do things our own way. There are ways around most, if not all of the rules but since I don’t want to jeopardize my ability to attend this festival, (and not following the rules will do just that) you will have to contact me privately for more information.

The Line-Ups: There’s no getting around this one. You’re going to line-up to buy your tickets, line-up to get into the entry line-up, line-up for food, line-up for the plates you need to put the food on, line-up for bathrooms (a bit of a stretch to call them that), line-up for CDs, and line-up to leave. At the end of each night you will find yourself in the “mother of all line-ups” traffic jam. Here’s where that ability to make small talk will come in handy as you try to alleviate the boredom by engaging those on either side of you in some sort of meaningless banter. See the “conversation starters” below for some tips on how to get things started. You may not like it but it’s either that or one of those “little white pills” I have spoken so fondly of in the past.

The Dance: Back to the mirror for this one, although for the purpose of this exercise I recommend a full length one. There’s gonna be dancin’ and you’re gonna be boppin’ if only to continue to see the band while everyone else is groovin’ to the music. Here’s what I suggest. Practice your moves to some Celtic and then some African sounds. They’ll be entirely different (one you’ll have to focus on your feet, the other primarily on the upper body). Once you have those down some combination of each should get you through the North American stuff. (The rather colloquial language here is my attempt to get into the spirit of the event.)

Starting a Folk Fest Conversation

Like it or not at various points during the week-end you’re going to have to start a conversation. Whether it’s in one of the multitude of line-ups, the beer tent or while you’re “chillaxing” on the hill, it’s going to happen. I’ve said it before, I’m nothing if not the queen of chit chat, so here are some conversation starters for communing with your new folkie friends. They tend to be friendly, engaged and committed people so once you get them going you’ll likely be able to sit back and let them do most of the work.

“Love the shirt! Did you pick up the fabric on your last trip to India?”
“These are delicious! Are they local, vegan hotdogs?” (thanks Wader)
“I can’t wait for the Sunday morning gospel workshop!” (Watch carefully for the look on their face before continuing with this thread.)
“I really wanted to see [insert your favourite artist here] but there was no way I could miss my hot yoga class this morning.”
“Oh, you’re an accountant. That must be interesting work.”

Warning: At some point during the week-end you’re going to be approached by a long-time attendee who will start complaining about the crowds; let you know that side stage concerts are not really “workshops” anymore; and that they used to be able to arrive at anytime and still sit a stone’s throw away from the main stage. It’s time for them to face the harsh reality that, despite their appearance, this is no longer the ‘80s and this conversation is getting really old. I’m afraid you’re going to have to be the one to tell them to “let it go”, for all of our sakes.

There’s just too much to cover and so as not to overwhelm (and keeping my Gen Y readers in mind) I have broken this posting into 3 parts. Tomorrow…What to bring.

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