The Human Blog

People surprise me.  Always.  Oddities begin to flow out of people when you ask the right questions.

I met Pat in a traditional Chinese tea house in the basement of a building on campus.  My girlfriend, Kate, and I were exploring and decided to try something new.

Upon entering the tea house, we were greeted by Pat, the tea master who looked…not like a tea master.  He had a lip ring, skinny jeans and blond hair strategically placed diagonally across his forehead.  His appearance screamed “skater punk,” yet his internal self was passionate about culture and, of course, tea.  

Kate and I talked with Pat for over an hour while sipping our masterfully brewed traditional Chinese tea.

It was clear that Pat was positively impacted by our natural curiosity into who he was, what he loved and how he pursued those “cups of tea.”

It is almost as if Andrew and Sam (along with all of their awesomeness) exist just for this here blog entry.  

I am always saying that “everybody has a story” or “no two people are alike,” but really, no two people are alike.

Sam is Korean.

Andrew is Korean.

Upon first seeing either of them in the context of being on a college campus, you might just peg them as international students.  Wrong!  Ask the right questions and you’d find out why.

Sam was born in Korea, but grew up in India.  Andrew was born in New York City while during his parents pursuit of the “American Dream.”  As it turns out, pursuing that Dream was brutal and unrewarding.  So after learning English, Andrew and his family moved to Chile - where he then because fluent in Spanish.  Go Andrew!  Then at age twelve, Costa Rica became Andrew’s home.  

These two guys rock.  But they don’t rock the same way.

“Always remember, you’re unique - just like everyone else.”

Next time you meet somebody and those natural assumptions start to creep up, I dare you to ask “what’s your story?”  Here them out.  I guarantee a fine balance of curiosity and listening will earn you a unique little surprise.

Lenny and Jim are camera and audio guys for ESPN.  How did I meet them?  Well I went stampeding into the ESPN headquarters, fought off eight security and handcuffed myself to them.  So we could talk and stuff.  Obviously.

Actually, I go to Penn State, some high-up guy did some stupid things that resulted in lots of camera crews being around my school.  Lots of students were getting pretty fired up at the media for portraying Penn State, as a whole, so poorly.  As I walked out of a press conference-Q&A-forum type thing, Lenny and Jim were chilling out on some lounge chairs in the HUB.  I thought back to the countless times I had talked about “the media” with friends and classmates.  And here they were…”the media” had taken shape right in front of me.  It was odd because “the media” looked like two average, tired guys.

So I sat down and tossed out some questions.

We had a pretty nice exchange were they emphasized over and over again that this was just a job for them and in two weeks they’d be off filming some other story. 

I could go on and on for a while detailing our conversation, but I just want to say that “the media” has been a bit demystified for me.  It makes me think about other broad terms I put in quotes like “Fortune 500 companies” and “corporations.” 

Lenny and Jim helped me fill in those quotes a bit with other things like “people” or “just people” or “really, seriously, it’s just people.”

This was one of my riskier human connection ventures.  The scene is a packed library cafe and I’ve just purchased a buffalo chicken wrap. 

…now I’m looking around for seat.

And…full.  Not a single open table.

I’m feeling pretty social and really positive, so… the “invasion” begins.  I spot a two person table with only one person sitting.  The risk here is that by sitting down and saying “hello,” he could be very much uninterested in even small talk.  Whatever “awkwardness” actually is, sitting at a two person table with a stranger against his will is certainly a recipe for it.

I say my “hello,” sit down and take my third risk: engaging in conversation.  My icebreaker was a pretty darn normal “what are you eating there?”  He responded with a food name I didn’t recognize and went on to explain it is a common dish in his native country, India.

At this point, I feel it is beyond safe to ask him his name.  Kisan.  We talk for about 20 minutes over lunch about family, petroleum engineering, holiday traditions, but one topic in particular peaked my interest.

I had asked him what was most different social “thing” here in the United States as compared to India.  Somehow that led to a conversation about generational differences in India, and we found something very much in common within our two cultures.  The older generation shakes their head at all of us “whippersnappers.”  We then - through laughter - concluded that one day we will probably be those “old folks” critiquing those “young folks.”

What an encouraging reason to stay open-minded.

Kisan, dude, rock on!

Earlier today, I finished up teaching a swim lesson (to a very enthusiastic three year old) and headed off into the locker room to dry off and get dressed.

There was one other guy in the locker room.  And silence prevailed.  

Now I normally don’t mind silence at all.  In fact, I actually find it relaxing and a bit revitalizing most of the time.  Today, this did not apply.  It felt like we were both swimming in a weird blend of awkward submerged in silence.  I decided to follow my own curiosity and kick out a question for him to pick up - or put down.  ”Hey there, how do you like your waterproof MP3 player?”  I was a bit shocked at his extremely talkative response.  It was almost as if [WARNING: foolish analogy ahead] his words were a bunch of chained up, salivating dogs let loose on a few tons of steak.  He enthusiastically divulged the details on every version of MP3 player that that particular company produced - ever. 

On first judgement, it seemed like Larry just liked the sound of his voice.  But as I listened, I learned something very different.  He went on to tell about how he got really into racquetball when he was younger, but all of his friends were getting too old to play, his son moved away and his gym shut down.  The dude lost a majority of the venues by which he used to connect with people.  My simple question had sparked something on the interpersonal side of his brain.

In the end, we had a wonderful 10 minute dialogue and discovered a massive amount of shared interests.

I guess my “take-away” from this brief - yet positive - interaction was that people just may surprise you.  If you let them.

No, “Tlawil” is not a typo.  After meeting Tlawil and discovering her name truly did start with a “T” and an “L,” I become obsessed with trying to pronounce it.  My efforts led to a really neat exchange about the personal importance of names.  But that is all still to come.

I met Tlawil at a fairly unconventional event hosted by an incredibly unconventional person.  The event was called “Day of Play” and it was hosted in a good acquaintance’s home about a dozen blocks from my apartment.  The sole purpose of this event was to experience a deeper-than-normal human connectedness through play.  ”Play” being any and everything light, fun and natural.  Juggling.  Conversation.  Cooking.  Singing.  Drumming.  Somersaulting.  You name it, we were probably trying it out.  Tlawil and I were leaving the event at about the same time going in the same direction, so we became walking partners.

It was during this walk that our discussion about names came to be.  I asked her if it was frustrating that 99% of Americans couldn’t pronoun her unique, Mexican name.  To my surprise, she responded opposite to my expectations saying “no, I actually really like it because people really have to focus, and they end up remembering it.”  I pondered her words for a while before blurting out, “THAT’S WONDERFUL, TLAWIL!  Absolutely wonderful!”

So, I left this conversation (and I am leaving you) with the thought: names are personal.  The mean something to everyone.  Our world might just be a bit more lovable if people became accustomed to learning, using and honoring names.  

But who the heck am I to say such things?  Better idea: try using them yourself!  Come to your very own conclusions.  

This is a neat one.

So for the past few semesters, I have met with a professor on a weekly basis to meditate.  Nothing crazy, just sitting, being still and freeing up your mind a bit.  (For those who haven’t tried it, it is a wildly revitalizing tool to rest, relax and recuperate.)  

This Tuesday, as I sat - awaiting Jeff’s arrival (Jeff is my professor) in the small, tranquil room at the spiritual center on campus, a neat thing happened: a guy nearly six feet tall with long dark, curly hair appeared in the doorway looking very curious.  ”Are you doing some meditation right now?” he asked.  ”Yes actually,” I replied, “would you like to join in.”  

And so he did.  As he entered the room, an extremely palpable, calm vibe rolled off of him.  I asked him what had encouraged him to start meditating, and he began talking about a notoriously unconventional, mind-opening course at Penn State.  Our conversation somehow shifted to the ever-relevant topic of self awareness.  And it was at this time, he said a very neat thing.  In response to my question, “what is the most valuable thing you have taken from that course,” he said he “learned to discern between Brad and not-Brad.”  Say what?

In the most collected voice, he elaborated “I have always been ‘Brad,’ but now I feel that I am able to tell when I am being Brad in the fullest sense or when I am putting up a front to another person.”

If you don’t think this is an enormously important concept, let me tell you, this is an enormously important concept.  Hmm, social masks.  We all have put them on to be perceived by a somebody in some kind of way.  At these times, who then is interacting with that person?  Is it you?  Or is it the mask you are wearing? 

After our sit, I filled Jeff in on this conversation, and he went on to tell us that “persona” is of Greek derivation and means “mask.”  This raises the question or personality vs. essence.  What a neat thought, from a neat person in a neat setting.

Can I get a “hurrah” for random, spontaneous “deep” chats with strangers? 

Sometimes it can be hard to just “spark” conversation.  And sometimes it just really isn’t necessary.  That said, some great people and a few of my coolest interactions happened because I talked to strangers.

The scene is mid-afternoon at the central campus building at Penn State University right after lunch rush hour.  I ordered my burrito and went to find a seat.  I would have been happy eating alone, with a friend or with a stranger.  Today though, I was drawn to sit down by a window at some bar-style seating.  After plopping down a few seats away from another student focused on eating food, I made the out-loud observation that “this window [was] great for people watching.”  Brandon looked up.

Clearly, something about such an out-of-the-ordinary comment to a stranger captured his attention.  Does making weird observations to strangers work well toward initiating contact all the time?  I don’t flipping know.  But it worked swell this time.

Brandon and I ended up in great conversation for over a half-hour.  He is set to graduate in December.  He got into medical school.  A job in Los Angeles (with a starting salary of 110K) was calling his name a bit louder than four more years of intense schooling.  This fact led into a neat conversation about how money relates to our personal happiness.  I offered that I wanted enough money to live, but if I were to delineate the top five ingredients to my happiness, money would not make the list.  He enthusiastically agreed and we finished our conversation chatting about what makes us happy.

As I packed up my burrito scraps, he reflected on our fun, random half-hour and we parted ways.  

Brandon is one more human marching around planet Earth with a passionate intent to live well.  Sound hip to me.

Well, I am back at Penn State ready for another year of fun human connection and a splash of learning.  Today, after taking care of a few boring things, the outdoor pool sent me a text reading “it is super sunny today, you should come hang out with me.”  So I did.

And oh my lanta!  I was in for quite a treat.  All of the international students moved into Penn State one week early and coincidently were having a pool party when I walked into the pool area.  The entire world was enclosed inside a fenced with me, a giant pool and a boatload of sun!  ”Lucky for me” I thought!

At one point I was engaged in a single conversation with Peter, Andy, Serkan, Mouni, Peng Bin, David and Toby.  They were bringing me a new perspective from Poland, China, Turkey, India, South Korea, Mexico and Nigeria - respectively.

For those who are curious how I just magically started a conversation with eight random international students, it gradually escalated to that point.  My first interaction was after I had finished swimming a few laps, and Peter (from Poland) came up and asked me if I was on the swim team at Penn State.  I told him that I swam club and offered for him to join.  From then on, we meandered around, jumped off some platforms and diving boards and introduced ourselves to other people.  I must say, due to the nature of the pool party, people were significantly more open to meeting us than normal.

Basically, there are awesome people everywhere.  Go find some Peter’s, Serkan’s or Peng Bin’s!

Frank is a police officer.  Frank is 6’ 5”.  Frank has a deep voice.  Frank has mountainous biceps.  Frank has a gun and a taser at all times.  

Have a good mental picture of Frank yet?  Frank is that cop that you don’t want to pull you over.  He is one of those guys who could compress your spine like a steam roller would compress a handful of dry twigs.  

I met Big Frankie while life-guarding at the beach.  (No, I wasn’t getting arrested or my spine compressed.)  He was patrolling the beach in a 4-wheeled beach vehicle and stopped by my stand to chat for a bit.  Now one side effect of writing this blog and living out the philosophy that people are just people is that sometimes I see through the hard “man shell” that people like Frank tend to put up.  That said, the way I interacted with him was probably very different than most of his conversations.  Rather than being intimidated, quiet and shy, I was outgoing, honest and occasionally just downright goofy.  This brought something out of him that you could tell was new.  This was social territory that Frank didn’t often explore.  Sports, politics, engines and sports were within his familiar social territory.  But I was excited to see how he would react when I nudged him outside his comfort zone.

Eventually, I was asking him questions like “how did you meet your wife” or “do you love her as much now as you did when you met her?”  (Their 25th anniversary is next week!)  His responses were fantastic to listen to!  He asked her to marry him by having a waiter at a fancy restaurant put the ring on a platter of “food” with a metal covering over it.  The entire time he was telling this story he had a massive smile on his face.  Just by listening, you could hear that she mattered to him.  Big-giant-scary Frank did - and does - absolutely love his wife.

Okay, so what does reading about Frank do for you?  Hopefully picturing him - and our conversation - encourages you to look at the next big scary dude with a tad bit more compassion and understanding.  Now, as a disclaimer, I do not encourage you to go hug every big scary dude you see.  But you could at least speculate what they like to do and who they love.  It can be a pretty fun mental exercise.  

A couple months ago, I traveled to Minnesota and lived on an Indian reservation for three weeks.  I was there with a bunch of other students to learn from the Ojibwe people.  During our stay, we listened to spiritual leaders, medicine men, teachers, and community elders.  Their words were usually jam packed with wisdom, but there were certainly specific things that somehow were highlighted, capitalized and underlined in my brain.  The life way relevant to this post is: respect your elders.  That’s a pretty common line thrown around, but natives live by it.  And it is very evident.  An elder could begin to speak in a crowded room and within seconds you could hear nothing but their voice and dropping pins.

Spending this time with a culture that values age so much changed the way I saw the world from that point onward.  

All that said, I can talk about Alphonse.

You know that old great great uncle that goes to all your family reunions, but you never have really talked to him?  To me (before my trip to Minnesota), he was just that.  An old guy who looked familiar and…well…old.  But soon after I got back from the reservation, I had a little family reunion to attend.  I saw Alphonse with a completely new set of eyes.  Rather than seeing the old, boring guy who might talk about walking to school uphill in the snow both ways, I saw a person.  I saw a person who used to be my age.  I saw a person who had experienced my life almost five times over (he is 92).  I also saw him sitting alone making attempts to reach out to other family members and being almost completely ignored.  I watched from a distance for about five minutes and decided, “to hell with it, I am going over to go talk to him.  And I am going to just be myself while I do it.”

“Hey, Alphonse, you enjoying that ice-cream cake?”  Boom.  Conversation initiated.  After the party, I ended up finding out his address from my Grandma, mailing him a letter, getting his phone number and taking him out to breakfast one morning.  It was absolutely awesome!

Now I could type a thousand more pages about my subsequent interactions, but I’d rather give you a run down of what I learned about Alphonse:

• when he was born, his doctor told him he wouldn’t live past age 30
• he is 92 and set to turn 93 on October 10th
• he still mows the lawn
• he has never been swimming in his life
• he danced with a girl for the first time ever just a couple weeks ago
• he once went on a two month road trip to Alaska with my dad
• as a kid he was extremely socially anxious
• he loves people, but has a legitimately tough time connecting with others
• he can play some decent cords on a guitar
• he wishes he jumped out of his comfort zone more often in his youth
• he is witty as heck
• the running price for a New York Times was $0.02 on the day he was born
• he was adopted
• he worked at and owned a hardware store for 45 years

This is a fraction of what I learned over a single meal and some ice-cream cake.

Every single person you consider “old” has more life under their belt than you are even able to comprehend.  Old people are people too.  And damn interesting ones.  Ask ‘em for some stories.  They might just surprise you.

Rhonda.  Oh Rhonda.  She is a keeper.

I was in New York City last weekend.  And naturally, as a junior in college, I had to go to a toy store.  Conveniently enough, FAO Schwartz, was a few blocks from the subway station.  If you haven’t been there.  Change that.  If you have been there, isn’t so dang cool!?

Anyway, I stumbled across a massively oversized tree frog stuffed animal.  Then I decided that I needed him.  (Yes, I know the difference between wanting and needing.  I needed him.)  Holding this gigantic amphibian, I proudly walked over to the cash register and saw Rhonda behind the counter.  Her hair was tightly pulled back into a pony tail.  She was black and had maybe 100 pounds on me.  She looked a bit tired, but for some reason, I really, really liked this woman before I even met her.  

When I got to the counter, I asked her for her name, how she was doing and if she liked her job.  Then I began expressing how excited I was about my soon-to-be new pet tree frog, Spinny.  (There is absolutely no significance behind that name.  I just like it.  A lot.)

Rhonda was smiling quite a bit.  And I’m pretty sure that was because I was just as enthusiastic as all the 6 year olds around me who were buying their favorite toys.  Only I have a beard.

I observed that Spinny didn’t have any tags on him and Rhonda winked at me and said, “Oh hunny, I can definitely get you a discount on this guy for ya.”  I jumped a little and asked for permission to jump the counter and give her a hug.  She said yes.  I jumped the counter and gave her a hug.  ’Twas magical.

So basically, being friendly gets you hugs and 10% off gargantuan tree frogs.  Yay!

I can honestly say that my interactions with Tyshon have changed my life forever in the funniest freakin’ way ever!  He helped me discover my new favorite social to-do.  

But before, I spill the beans, I have to throw out some background on this guy.  My friend Ben and I met him at an Arby’s somewhere between Boston and New York City.  He was our cashier.  He was incredibly warm, kind and gentle.  It was actually weird and neat how comfortable he made me feel at the counter of a fast food restaurant.  He was also fit, gay and black.  All that information was collected from observation and our conversation before I placed my order.

Right after I ordered my artery-clogging, cheesy roast beef sandwich, he asked for a name for the order.  It was at this very instant that I discovered the very exciting social practice.  I responded to his request with “Tyshon.  That is the name for my order today.  Yup, Tyshon.”

He looked up happily confused with a left brain to right brain smile.  It was almost as if he felt famous for a few minutes.  The whole interaction was very, very cool.

The moral of this interaction: place your orders under the name of the person taking your orders.  It’s freaking hilarious.  And kind.  

Dude, this girl is fantastic!  When I tried to describe her out loud to some friends and family members, I stumbled over my own excitement at least 92 times.  So here, I’ll try to solidify it a bit better as to capture the full magnitude of how sensational Najah is. 

Three good friends and I decided (incredibly spontaneously) to take a road trip to New York City.  Fresh off the subway, we made our way to the Jekyll and Hyde Club, a wildly unique restaurant.  Najah was our waitress.  She was black, about 20 years old and had enough spunk to make a bouncy ball look tired and fatigued.  She had that fantastic ghetto fabulous, New York City accent that you just have gotta love, and boy did we fall in love with her.  The four of us were definitely fueling her fire with lots of friendliness, cheesy jokes and odd questions.  And so, within the first seconds of meeting us, she was in complete hysterics.

At one point during our first little exchange, I said to her, “Najah, now if you can still remember all four of our names at the end of dinner…well…I’ll be damn impressed!”  She got all intense about it and was actually physically bouncing up and down as she reviewed our names.  ”Okay!” she blurted out, “so you’re Chad, and you are…B-B-Bryan, you are Ben and … mmmm … oh dang it!  I forget!  You gotta gimme a hint!”  She had forgotten Maarten’s name! (And no, that is not a typo in his name.  He is Dutch - and awesome - and he likes those two “a’s” right where they are.)  A quick side note to Maarten: he is funny.  Really, really, really funny.  So almost immediately after Najah asked for a hint, Maarten - with a smirk - said, “well, it rhymes with fartin’!” 

Najah lost it.  She lost it.  She was laughing so hard that I was almost positive that she was going to pass out.  After she finally caught her breath, she began announcing to the entire restauraunt what had just happened.  Lovely - and socially reckless - Najah even made it a point to retell the entire play-by-play to the couple behind us who was making a valiant effort to have a peaceful, romantic dinner.  

(By the way, we hadn’t even ordered food at this point.  I was still working on getting a water.)

The friendliness, cheesy jokes, confessions of love and intense laughs continued for the duration of the dinner.  It’s amazing how a single person can make for such a fun memorable meal.

Rock on, Najah!

This interaction reminded me of how much more fun - and memorable - the experience of life is with people.  

After a fancy schmancy dinner at The Red Parrot in Newport, Rhode Island, a high-energy group of work friends and I sought out some ice cream.  ”Pops,” a sweet little Italian ice shop captured our attention.  The bright lime green cold treat shop was made even more brilliant with the very entertained, smiling faces of the two employees behind the counter: Katie and Marissa.  

We ended up talking to these dear chums for a solid twenty minutes.  They were 16 and 19.  It was Katie’s first day and Marissa was off in two weeks to finish her third year of a nursing program in Connecticut.

During the conversation, Marissa must have looked at Katie at least 479 times and exclaimed, “this group is awesome!”  She would then turn to us and (practically) yell, “you guys are so friendly!  You are making my night!”

I finished the last slurp of my Mango icy, exchanged a few more words with them and said our goodbyes.  

Even people who work in cold places can still be warm.  And on that cheesy note, adios.