MadMup.com

I love writing that makes its point by stressing the opposite. It can be tricky to walk that line, because some people won’t catch it and end up being hurt or offended, but I think the payoff is generally good.

I was going through the Rhymes With Orange archives and found “The Rhymes With Orange Checklist to Feeling Pathetic,” and thought I’d share it with you. It’s in comic form originally, of course, but I present it to you here in bullet points:

• Choose someone and compare yourself unfavorably to them.
• Examine your face closely in the mirror. Note all flaws.
• Relive embarrassing/awful moments that occured years ago.
• Make a mental note of all the people you regularly disappoint.
• Disregard all compliments, especially from people who (supposedly) love you.
• Resign yourself to believing that from now on, this is how you will always feel.

I don’t know about you, but I can check many of those off on many days.

I should probably knock that off.

It was one of those “so stupid it’s funny someone would even do it” things. We were in the computer lab and Jack B. started typing on two different keyboards, one per hand.

Jack: Eh? Eh?
Me: Uh…
Jack: Stereotyping!
Me: *groan … into laughter*

That was in college, years and years ago. Still, though, whenever someone says the word “stereotyping,” that’s the image I get.

People like to deal in stereotypes – it helps them have some sort of handle on whoever they’re dealing with: “I know this person and everything about him because he’s very obviously a biker.” We compartmentalize and assume, based largely on appearance or actions. It works in reverse, too. If I say “socialite” or “skateboarder,” you immediately form a picture in your mind and have an idea of what that kind of person fits in that group.

Some of us even try to fit into a particular sterotypical box. You see this a lot in teenager groups (goths, jocks, nerds, etc.). I myself have gone to great lengths to put forth the image that I’m a “geek,” the game playing, the pasty white skin from avoiding the outdoors, the love of computers, the pile of worthless trivia, and all the rest.

Thing is, just like typing on two different keyboards at the same time, stereotyping people is ultimately pointless. Rarely does anyone fit the complete stereotype, so the stereotype doesn’t paint a complete picture – it’s more like a caricature, emphasizing some parts and diminishing others. The label doesn’t allow for change or growth. Since I don’t like to go outside, any idea that I might do so at some point in the future is laughable. Since I don’t like to drive, the idea that I might take a weekend trip should be looked at skeptically.

It’s my own fault. I’ve worked hard at fitting the stereotype, so it shouldn’t surprise me that people look at me through that lens. But what about others who’ve been assigned a label, maybe even one they don’t want? There’s not a whole lot a person can do except live outside the stereotype.

Do it long enough and people might eventually figure it out.

It’s been a little over eight years since I was last on a ski hill. At the time, I was in charge of organizing student activities, which included one ski trip a year to Cascade Mountain. The activity was always well-attended, and I went along – ostensibly to oversee, but more because it got me out of the office.

I’ve long been fascinated with snowboarding, and my second time going on the trip I gave it a try. I had moments of actual boarding, but I mostly fell down a lot. It was when the back edge of the board got caught and slammed my head into the well-packed snow cover that I called it quits for the night.

My third time on the trip, I boarded a little bit, but then traded in the board for skis, as there were lessons available. I remember being laughed at by the friend who was with me, but I did pick up skiing a little better than I had boarding. Granted, I was snowplowing most of the way down the beginner hill (higher and longer than the bunny hill), but I did do some actual skiing, and I actually enjoyed myself.

What I remember the most, though, is the lift back to the top of the hill. It was nervewracking to have to maneuver myself into place rather quickly to let the lift grab me and pull me along, as I wasn’t very good at getting around on the snowboard or the skis. Getting off was tricky, too, but I don’t think they ever had to stop the lift to get me out of the way.

There was something about that ride, though…

I’m not a good judge of height, but there were times when I was 25-30 feet above the ground. Normally I’m not too good with heights, but there on that lift, with the black sky, the lights on the hill, and the cold air… it was so beautiful. The beginner hill was set apart from the major hills where most people were, so it was quieter already, but the height of the ski lift made it even quieter, and I never rode up the lift with anyone – “I’m not too good at this, so it’s not a good idea,” I’d say.

All alone, floating above the cold, white earth, with the infinitely black sky above is the most peaceful I’ve ever felt.