To continue with what appears to be a "People of Gutsiness" series, I hereby give tonight's gutsiness points to Sheb Wooley, famous for acting roles in numerous 1950's and 60's Westerns, including some personal favorites of mine (being High Noon and Rawhide).
I watched High Noon this evening, again. Seriously brilliant movie. I don't care if it was made in 1952, it's still fantastic. And Sheb gets to play a bad guy, which is fun if you've ever watched him be good ol' Pete in Rawhide.
But Sheb's gutsy points are not due to being a fantastic actor, nor are they given for being ruggedly handsome (which, you know, he is). No, Sheb's gutsy points are awarded for this monstrosity.
Don't watch unless you have a strong stomach. And speakers that turn way down.
But really, we have to be thankful to Sheb for something like that. Because honestly, without songs like the above, how would we be able to discern what is good and wholesome in this world?
My hat is off to you, Sheb. I think I'll stick with watching you act instead of listening to you sing. Makes me more inclined to like you.
-The GLS
Showing posts with label People of Gutsiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label People of Gutsiness. Show all posts
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Sodo Mojo.
Tonight's Points of Gutsiness go to Franklin Gutierrez of the Seattle Mariners.
It's okay, Frankie. It can't be easy to stand in front of thousands of screaming (and not-so-screaming) fans in the bottom of the 9th, 2 strikes, 2 outs, and no possible chance of success...and then strike out.
My hat is off to you, Gutierrez, for even trying. We still love you. Even if you made us groan in anguish.
But then, the Mariners tend to have that effect on people.
-The GLS
It's okay, Frankie. It can't be easy to stand in front of thousands of screaming (and not-so-screaming) fans in the bottom of the 9th, 2 strikes, 2 outs, and no possible chance of success...and then strike out.
My hat is off to you, Gutierrez, for even trying. We still love you. Even if you made us groan in anguish.
But then, the Mariners tend to have that effect on people.
-The GLS
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Shuffle & Comments
I turned on my iPod to "shuffle songs" for the first time in forever, today. This evening I was treated with a long-lost friend, "Take It Back" by the Barenaked Ladies. And as much as I love the song, I hadn't really listened to the lyrics until tonight. This line popped out loud and clear in terms of my day, today:
"It's hard to keep your mouth shut. Harder still to make noise."
In fact, that line played right as I sat down to write this post. Kind of spooky.
It would be very easy to say I was gutsy because I didn't say anything, today. I kept my mouth shut when faced with great temptation to let someone have it. I should get applause for my restraint, right?
No. I shouldn't.
Let me explain.
Remember That One Kid in Poetry class? Well, this isn't about him. This is about another sort of That One Kiddiness, a distant relation to that concept known as "That One Older Guy In Class Who Won't Shut Up".
This is not to be confused with "That Continuing Education Person". Because I LOVE having older folks in my classes. I love hearing what they have to say, and I love picking their brains about stuff, and I love their down-to-earth-wisdom and their excitement and their just plain awesomeness, even when they're arguing with me.
But That One Older Guy In Class Who Won't Shut Up (hereafter known as TOOGICWWSU) is another matter entirely. He (and it usually is a he) is the sort of person who thinks he knows more than the professor, and wants to share this information liberally and with great fervor, often interrupting other students...or the professor...in his zeal. He is often condescending, often bigoted, and often wrong.
In my Mass Media class, I have TOOGICWWSU, and he has the three strikes: often condescending, often bigoted, and often very wrong.
I know what you're thinking. GLS, why didn't you realize this sooner? You've been in this class for awhile now, right?
Because he was a sneaky one. He kept his mouth shut until last week, except to utter a few brief (albeit insightful) comments. And then? The dam broke, and now he can't open his mouth without sounding ignorant or racist or both.
I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, at first, because he's an older fellow. And granted, none of his racism is said "in anger". But upon further examination I realized...he's in his late fifties. That's not THAT old. And he's of the generation that probably "knows better", or at least has had time to think about it. He ought to know that there are some words that it's just not right to say anymore, just some topics that it's okay not to bring up in class, and just some basic manners that are human to human, not race to race.
But while I'm sitting in class thinking all of these things, and in the car fuming about these things, and sitting here at my computer typing about these things, I come to a sadder realization.
Yes, props to me for not strangling him out of sheer embarassment and anger.
But...no points to me for not saying anything. Because isn't that the problem? When he talks, everyone (including the teacher) just winces and says...nothing. Not even a sneaky deflection. Not even a wry comeback, or a carefully-worded clue that he might not be right. That he might not have all the answers. That he might clean up his replies if he wants to engage in "continuing education" at a college in Seattle, where liberalism is quite rampant and you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a Democrat (not...that you'd want to...I'm just making a point).
The reason why people feel free to say what they say is because they assume they are agreed with. I think it's fair to say that others are intimidated by the common TOOGICWWSU because he is older and "wiser" and hard to argue with.
But at least I know where I sidestepped, even if today does feel like a gutsy fail. Maybe on Thursday (our next MM class) I can think of a way to gently let TOOGICWWSU know that I do not agree with his assessments by thinking through a logical contribution to the discussion. Could backfire on me, or I could chicken out. But being gutsy is about trying, isn't it?
We'll see.
-The GLS
"It's hard to keep your mouth shut. Harder still to make noise."
In fact, that line played right as I sat down to write this post. Kind of spooky.
It would be very easy to say I was gutsy because I didn't say anything, today. I kept my mouth shut when faced with great temptation to let someone have it. I should get applause for my restraint, right?
No. I shouldn't.
Let me explain.
Remember That One Kid in Poetry class? Well, this isn't about him. This is about another sort of That One Kiddiness, a distant relation to that concept known as "That One Older Guy In Class Who Won't Shut Up".
This is not to be confused with "That Continuing Education Person". Because I LOVE having older folks in my classes. I love hearing what they have to say, and I love picking their brains about stuff, and I love their down-to-earth-wisdom and their excitement and their just plain awesomeness, even when they're arguing with me.
But That One Older Guy In Class Who Won't Shut Up (hereafter known as TOOGICWWSU) is another matter entirely. He (and it usually is a he) is the sort of person who thinks he knows more than the professor, and wants to share this information liberally and with great fervor, often interrupting other students...or the professor...in his zeal. He is often condescending, often bigoted, and often wrong.
In my Mass Media class, I have TOOGICWWSU, and he has the three strikes: often condescending, often bigoted, and often very wrong.
I know what you're thinking. GLS, why didn't you realize this sooner? You've been in this class for awhile now, right?
Because he was a sneaky one. He kept his mouth shut until last week, except to utter a few brief (albeit insightful) comments. And then? The dam broke, and now he can't open his mouth without sounding ignorant or racist or both.
I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, at first, because he's an older fellow. And granted, none of his racism is said "in anger". But upon further examination I realized...he's in his late fifties. That's not THAT old. And he's of the generation that probably "knows better", or at least has had time to think about it. He ought to know that there are some words that it's just not right to say anymore, just some topics that it's okay not to bring up in class, and just some basic manners that are human to human, not race to race.
But while I'm sitting in class thinking all of these things, and in the car fuming about these things, and sitting here at my computer typing about these things, I come to a sadder realization.
Yes, props to me for not strangling him out of sheer embarassment and anger.
But...no points to me for not saying anything. Because isn't that the problem? When he talks, everyone (including the teacher) just winces and says...nothing. Not even a sneaky deflection. Not even a wry comeback, or a carefully-worded clue that he might not be right. That he might not have all the answers. That he might clean up his replies if he wants to engage in "continuing education" at a college in Seattle, where liberalism is quite rampant and you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a Democrat (not...that you'd want to...I'm just making a point).
The reason why people feel free to say what they say is because they assume they are agreed with. I think it's fair to say that others are intimidated by the common TOOGICWWSU because he is older and "wiser" and hard to argue with.
But at least I know where I sidestepped, even if today does feel like a gutsy fail. Maybe on Thursday (our next MM class) I can think of a way to gently let TOOGICWWSU know that I do not agree with his assessments by thinking through a logical contribution to the discussion. Could backfire on me, or I could chicken out. But being gutsy is about trying, isn't it?
We'll see.
-The GLS
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Fail & Flume
I knew it would happen sooner rather than later. Here it is...the first Failure of Gutsiness.
Important Note: I'm fully aware that this post may not shed the most flattering light upon me and my thought processes. But I figure it's best to be honest, and in the spirit of this blog I feel that being gutsy also includes being able to admit when you're a coward. So there.
It all started in Poetry class.
Actually, that's false. It all started in Short Story Fiction class last quarter.
See, there's that one person in every class. That one that makes everyone shift uncomfortably when they open their mouth. That one that is quite eloquent in all the wrong ways, talks over the teacher, always has a comment, and is often irrelevent and/or oblivious to social cues. Normally, I try to be as understanding as possible of these people, though I will shamefully admit to being just as irritated as everyone else.
So, in my Short Story Fiction class, we had That One Kid. Obviously for the sake of being respectful his name need not be mentioned, but he was definitely That One Kid. He wasn't quite as intrusive as others I've run across, but he had a morbid sense of humor and used it to make everyone very uncomfortable, though I'm not sure he knew he was doing that. I don't know. I don't like to think ill of people, yet it's shocking how often I end up doing just that.
I'll confess to being a little glad when class with him ended.
And then I'll further confess to being a little agitated when I walked into my first day of Poetry class this quarter and...there he was. And he remembered me.
A month later, he's still very much the same as he was in Short Story Fiction. And I wasn't sure what to do about it, being one of those people who is easily embarassed FOR others and therefore sensitive (almost allergic) to his socially-awkward behavior.
But today I thought, no. Today will be different. Today my act of gutsiness will be to engage him in civilized conversation, and not shy away when he tries to talk to me, and not wince when he raises his hand in class. Today I will be a decent human being. Today I will be gutsy.
Today I failed. Miserably.
I took two unnecessary trips to the bathroom just to avoid his comments. When he came to be in my workshopping group, my heart sank. I couldn't meet his gaze, I couldn't even muster up a pleasant tone of voice when answering his questions.
Obviously, because I over-analyze everything, I thought about this at great lengths driving home from school. What the heck is wrong with me? Why can't I decide to be civil and then by-gum go ahead and do it? What is it about That One Kid that bothers me so much?
And then I realized: what bothers me about That One Kid is that I'm only one crucial step away from him, which I'll expound on in a moment.
Who hasn't said something awkward and gotten snickered at? Who hasn't missed a social cue and said something you shouldn't have? Who hasn't misjudged the senses of humor in the room and made a joke inappropriate to the moment? I know I have, and I've shrunk away in shame because of it, and I've squirreled those moments away into little boxes in my brain marked: TOTALLY EMBARASSING; DON'T OPEN.
That one crucial step that separates me from That One Kid is this: True and Genuine Gutsiness.
Think about it! Every That One Kid in this world says what they say because they don't give a fig whether you fidget in humiliation on their behalf or not. Whether they're aware of your discomfort makes no difference. In many ways, That One Kid is braver than I am, and makes me look rather petty in comparison. I've devoted this next year of my life to trying a new thing every day, and when I meet someone who lives their entire life like that I have no response but embarassment, shame, and even disgust.
Maybe I'm being hard on myself, but there's hope in this, too. Now that I recognize my discomfort, maybe I can turn it around. Maybe I can be the person that I want to be, even if it means making That One Kid-type comments every once and awhile by accident.
So, this post is less about MY gutsiness and more a monument to all of the That One Kids out there. Kudos to you guys for opening your mouths and putting the rest of us to shame with your astounding bravery...even if it's at the expense of our pride.
Will I manage to turn it around instantly and engage That One Kid in Poetry class in intense and deep conversation next time I see him? Realistically not. But I can always try, one step at a time, and maybe I'll get there sooner than I think.
On a mostly unrelated note, but speaking of someone ELSE'S gutsiness...Peter Gabriel is releasing an album of covers, one of which being a jarring rendition of Bon Iver's "Flume" that created a REALLY difficult moment for me, this afternoon. Thinking: okay, that's the MELODY of Flume, but that sure as heck isn't Justin Vernon...did someone rip someone else off? What is going on? (And then I imploded.)
My hat is off to Mr. Gabriel, however, and I hope the album is a success, even if it DID give me a momentary bout of crippling confusion.
Favorite song of the day? "Falling Down Blues" by Ramblin' Jack Elliot. If you like blues, you'll love this song. If you don't like blues but you like guitar, then you'll still love this song. If you don't like blues or guitar...it probably isn't for you.
Thanks for reading, y'all. Say something stupid this week. It's therapeutic.
-The GLS
Important Note: I'm fully aware that this post may not shed the most flattering light upon me and my thought processes. But I figure it's best to be honest, and in the spirit of this blog I feel that being gutsy also includes being able to admit when you're a coward. So there.
It all started in Poetry class.
Actually, that's false. It all started in Short Story Fiction class last quarter.
See, there's that one person in every class. That one that makes everyone shift uncomfortably when they open their mouth. That one that is quite eloquent in all the wrong ways, talks over the teacher, always has a comment, and is often irrelevent and/or oblivious to social cues. Normally, I try to be as understanding as possible of these people, though I will shamefully admit to being just as irritated as everyone else.
So, in my Short Story Fiction class, we had That One Kid. Obviously for the sake of being respectful his name need not be mentioned, but he was definitely That One Kid. He wasn't quite as intrusive as others I've run across, but he had a morbid sense of humor and used it to make everyone very uncomfortable, though I'm not sure he knew he was doing that. I don't know. I don't like to think ill of people, yet it's shocking how often I end up doing just that.
I'll confess to being a little glad when class with him ended.
And then I'll further confess to being a little agitated when I walked into my first day of Poetry class this quarter and...there he was. And he remembered me.
A month later, he's still very much the same as he was in Short Story Fiction. And I wasn't sure what to do about it, being one of those people who is easily embarassed FOR others and therefore sensitive (almost allergic) to his socially-awkward behavior.
But today I thought, no. Today will be different. Today my act of gutsiness will be to engage him in civilized conversation, and not shy away when he tries to talk to me, and not wince when he raises his hand in class. Today I will be a decent human being. Today I will be gutsy.
Today I failed. Miserably.
I took two unnecessary trips to the bathroom just to avoid his comments. When he came to be in my workshopping group, my heart sank. I couldn't meet his gaze, I couldn't even muster up a pleasant tone of voice when answering his questions.
Obviously, because I over-analyze everything, I thought about this at great lengths driving home from school. What the heck is wrong with me? Why can't I decide to be civil and then by-gum go ahead and do it? What is it about That One Kid that bothers me so much?
And then I realized: what bothers me about That One Kid is that I'm only one crucial step away from him, which I'll expound on in a moment.
Who hasn't said something awkward and gotten snickered at? Who hasn't missed a social cue and said something you shouldn't have? Who hasn't misjudged the senses of humor in the room and made a joke inappropriate to the moment? I know I have, and I've shrunk away in shame because of it, and I've squirreled those moments away into little boxes in my brain marked: TOTALLY EMBARASSING; DON'T OPEN.
That one crucial step that separates me from That One Kid is this: True and Genuine Gutsiness.
Think about it! Every That One Kid in this world says what they say because they don't give a fig whether you fidget in humiliation on their behalf or not. Whether they're aware of your discomfort makes no difference. In many ways, That One Kid is braver than I am, and makes me look rather petty in comparison. I've devoted this next year of my life to trying a new thing every day, and when I meet someone who lives their entire life like that I have no response but embarassment, shame, and even disgust.
Maybe I'm being hard on myself, but there's hope in this, too. Now that I recognize my discomfort, maybe I can turn it around. Maybe I can be the person that I want to be, even if it means making That One Kid-type comments every once and awhile by accident.
So, this post is less about MY gutsiness and more a monument to all of the That One Kids out there. Kudos to you guys for opening your mouths and putting the rest of us to shame with your astounding bravery...even if it's at the expense of our pride.
Will I manage to turn it around instantly and engage That One Kid in Poetry class in intense and deep conversation next time I see him? Realistically not. But I can always try, one step at a time, and maybe I'll get there sooner than I think.
On a mostly unrelated note, but speaking of someone ELSE'S gutsiness...Peter Gabriel is releasing an album of covers, one of which being a jarring rendition of Bon Iver's "Flume" that created a REALLY difficult moment for me, this afternoon. Thinking: okay, that's the MELODY of Flume, but that sure as heck isn't Justin Vernon...did someone rip someone else off? What is going on? (And then I imploded.)
My hat is off to Mr. Gabriel, however, and I hope the album is a success, even if it DID give me a momentary bout of crippling confusion.
Favorite song of the day? "Falling Down Blues" by Ramblin' Jack Elliot. If you like blues, you'll love this song. If you don't like blues but you like guitar, then you'll still love this song. If you don't like blues or guitar...it probably isn't for you.
Thanks for reading, y'all. Say something stupid this week. It's therapeutic.
-The GLS
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