There surely isn't a lot to do in Oxford, OH for a mid-20s married couple. There are only so many trips for ice cream, so many visits to the farmers market, and oh so many bagels one can eat from Bagel & Deli. But one can never see enough movies for the sweet price of $4.50 for matinées, or $5.50 any other time.
We've seen countless movies at the Princess theater. We average 3-4 per month, and sadly, I think I'm going to miss it. The Princess a strange, faint odor that permeates the building. It only shows four movies at any given time. The website to check show times works 50% of the time. Sometimes the phone line to call for movie times screeches at you as if you've intercepted a fax. There is the same hole in the bathroom wall since I came to Oxford four years ago (they're working on it, I gather). My feet usually stick to the floor because they aren't much on mopping. It's probably the main hangout in town for the high school kids.
With all that said, it has the two most important things any movie theater could ever have: cheap movies and air conditioning. There's something oddly alluring about the Princess theater in Oxford, Ohio, and I know that I'm going to miss it when I'm paying $10.00 to see a movie I'm not all that jazzed about seeing. Because for $4.50, even if it's not a very good movie, it's strangely gratifying.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Things I'm Going to Miss about Ohio, Part II -- Sigma Pi, Eta-Phi Chapter
For the past four years, I have served as the chapter advisor to the young men in Sigma Pi fraternity at Miami University. Being an advisor meant that I attended almost every weekly chapter meeting, in addition to weekly executive council meetings. I also attended other appropriate events, as my schedule permitted such as BBQs, baseball games, intramurals, and Greek Week events.
It's still a little surreal to say goodbye to them. It's going to be weird when the semester starts up in the fall to know that I won't be making my way over to the house on Sunday night for exec and chapter meetings.
To say that we've survived a lot over the last four years would be an understatement. I won't chronicle the past here, but know that I've dealt with it all. And I think the chapter--and I--are better for it. We've survived the loss of a brother within the chapter, won Greek week three times, narrowly escaped suspension, and, well, I guess I am starting to chronicle things a bit. There are too many memories worth noting, I guess.
Eta-Phi was a little bit more than rough when I started working with them. I'd like to think that they've improved greatly. In fact, they are very close to being a top chapter in the nation according to the national fraternity-- whatever that means. I'm quite proud of them. They've had to stand up to a lot, and often to their brothers within the chapter. I'm becoming even more convinced that there is nothing more difficult in the undergraduate experience than standing up to or confront a fraternity brother whom you love like a blood brother. I think there are other things that are comparable (dealing with the loss of a loved one, for example), but none seem to be as difficult as this. They've made great strides in this area. I think that's been the single greatest joy to watch unfold.
Being an advisor has been even more important to me over the last two years. While my work at the foundation has been very rewarding, it lacks the component of working with students, which I've been able to fill by working with the Sigma Pi's. Some of the relationships I've been able to build with the guys truly feel like brotherhood, even though we were on a bit of a different plane (advisor vs. student). The men are immensely talented, and it's been a pleasure working with them.
When I first began to work with the chapter, I used to always refer to the SVSU chapter of Sigma Pi (my undergraduate chapter) as "my chapter." About two years in, I started calling it "my undergraduate chapter" because I felt as though I now had two chapters -- Theta-Beta and Eta-Phi. I'm not sure anyone ever caught on to the subtle language shift, but it was intentional and was intended to convey an important message. Spending four years with a chapter--coming to every chapter meeting, attending events--is *almost* like having another undergraduate fraternity experience, minus the drinking, living in, and paying dues part.
It's still a little surreal to say goodbye to them. It's going to be weird when the semester starts up in the fall to know that I won't be making my way over to the house on Sunday night for exec and chapter meetings.
To say that we've survived a lot over the last four years would be an understatement. I won't chronicle the past here, but know that I've dealt with it all. And I think the chapter--and I--are better for it. We've survived the loss of a brother within the chapter, won Greek week three times, narrowly escaped suspension, and, well, I guess I am starting to chronicle things a bit. There are too many memories worth noting, I guess.
Eta-Phi was a little bit more than rough when I started working with them. I'd like to think that they've improved greatly. In fact, they are very close to being a top chapter in the nation according to the national fraternity-- whatever that means. I'm quite proud of them. They've had to stand up to a lot, and often to their brothers within the chapter. I'm becoming even more convinced that there is nothing more difficult in the undergraduate experience than standing up to or confront a fraternity brother whom you love like a blood brother. I think there are other things that are comparable (dealing with the loss of a loved one, for example), but none seem to be as difficult as this. They've made great strides in this area. I think that's been the single greatest joy to watch unfold.
Being an advisor has been even more important to me over the last two years. While my work at the foundation has been very rewarding, it lacks the component of working with students, which I've been able to fill by working with the Sigma Pi's. Some of the relationships I've been able to build with the guys truly feel like brotherhood, even though we were on a bit of a different plane (advisor vs. student). The men are immensely talented, and it's been a pleasure working with them.
When I first began to work with the chapter, I used to always refer to the SVSU chapter of Sigma Pi (my undergraduate chapter) as "my chapter." About two years in, I started calling it "my undergraduate chapter" because I felt as though I now had two chapters -- Theta-Beta and Eta-Phi. I'm not sure anyone ever caught on to the subtle language shift, but it was intentional and was intended to convey an important message. Spending four years with a chapter--coming to every chapter meeting, attending events--is *almost* like having another undergraduate fraternity experience, minus the drinking, living in, and paying dues part.
Playing for Peanuts
Anyone who knows me knows my passion for baseball; that's pretty obvious and well chronicled on this here blog. A lesser known interest of mine is documentaries. I will watch a documentary about anything. Coal miners, dinosaurs, Johnny Cash, autism... I'll watch anything. I've watched all of the documentaries that our public library has in their collection. In fact, I can't *not* watch them sometimes. A personality oddity, for sure.
Well, imagine my surprise last night when I was flipping through the channels while trying to fall asleep to find a documentary series about a minor league baseball team! It's called, "Playing for Peanuts," and from what I've seen so far, it's pretty fantastic. (Full disclosure: it's actually quite bad quality and production, but it's strangely entertaining and captivating.) Here's a synopsis from their website:
"Playing for Peanuts" is a new TV show about minor league baseball. The show uses reality TV and documentary techniques to follow the South Georgia Peanuts in their inaugural season. The Peanuts are made up of a mix of rookies and veterans, all hoping to get back into affiliated minor league baseball. The Peanuts are managed by former Major League second baseman Wally Backman."
Well, imagine my surprise last night when I was flipping through the channels while trying to fall asleep to find a documentary series about a minor league baseball team! It's called, "Playing for Peanuts," and from what I've seen so far, it's pretty fantastic. (Full disclosure: it's actually quite bad quality and production, but it's strangely entertaining and captivating.) Here's a synopsis from their website:
"Playing for Peanuts" is a new TV show about minor league baseball. The show uses reality TV and documentary techniques to follow the South Georgia Peanuts in their inaugural season. The Peanuts are made up of a mix of rookies and veterans, all hoping to get back into affiliated minor league baseball. The Peanuts are managed by former Major League second baseman Wally Backman."
Friday, June 06, 2008
Things I'll Miss about Ohio, Part I - Umpiring
Today will begin a small series on this here ol' blog, called, Things I'll Miss about Ohio." Given the impending move to our nation's capital, there are *some* things that I'm going to miss about Ohio. After all, it has been my home for the past four years.
Umpiring
I've spent all four summers here as a little league baseball umpire. I umpire multiple age groups, from 8-year-olds all the way up to high school. I umpire almost every night of the week, except when it rains. It all started on a whim when I moved to Oxford. On a drive down to Cincinnati, I saw a sign for little league sign ups, so I called the number listed on the sign, left a message, and said that I'd be interested in umpiring if the chance was available next summer. Six months later, they called and asked if I would still be willing. Truth be told, I thought the position was volunteer, but they said they paid $30 per game. What a deal, I thought. I was a broke graduate student, and an extra $1200 for the summer sounded like a good deal. It was such a good deal, I decided to stick with it for four years, even while working full-time.
I think what I'll miss the most about giving up the shin guards and face mask is the connection to the community I feel when I umpire. As a transplant to this strange place called Oxford, I have always felt a real disconnect to the town. Umpiring helps bridge that. I talk with a lot of parents in between innings, not only about baseball, but about life in general. They know my name, I know most of theirs. I know their kids' names; I've watched them grow and develop as baseball players and as kids. I'm able to tell the parents how much improved their kids' swings are, and they appreciate that.
Of course, there is the obvious pressure that comes from umpiring, which is what I shall call "critiques" of my performance, which occur from time to time. I think I would have been more susceptible to them had I been umpiring for the money as opposed to doing it for fun. Oxford has a great little league, and have had very, very few instances with fans, coaches, or parents. Even in the midst of a hyper-involved parental culture, I can honestly say that the parents with whom I interact have been wonderful. It's been a stereotype-busting experience I might say. Coincidentally, whenever I tell people that I umpire little league, the first question they usually ask me is what the pressure is like from the "crazy parents." I like to take that opportunity to tell them that it's not always like that, and in fact, it's quite the opposite.
I don't think I'll continue umpiring when I get to Maryland. I just won't have the time, and I just don't think it'll be the same.
Umpiring
I've spent all four summers here as a little league baseball umpire. I umpire multiple age groups, from 8-year-olds all the way up to high school. I umpire almost every night of the week, except when it rains. It all started on a whim when I moved to Oxford. On a drive down to Cincinnati, I saw a sign for little league sign ups, so I called the number listed on the sign, left a message, and said that I'd be interested in umpiring if the chance was available next summer. Six months later, they called and asked if I would still be willing. Truth be told, I thought the position was volunteer, but they said they paid $30 per game. What a deal, I thought. I was a broke graduate student, and an extra $1200 for the summer sounded like a good deal. It was such a good deal, I decided to stick with it for four years, even while working full-time.
I think what I'll miss the most about giving up the shin guards and face mask is the connection to the community I feel when I umpire. As a transplant to this strange place called Oxford, I have always felt a real disconnect to the town. Umpiring helps bridge that. I talk with a lot of parents in between innings, not only about baseball, but about life in general. They know my name, I know most of theirs. I know their kids' names; I've watched them grow and develop as baseball players and as kids. I'm able to tell the parents how much improved their kids' swings are, and they appreciate that.
Of course, there is the obvious pressure that comes from umpiring, which is what I shall call "critiques" of my performance, which occur from time to time. I think I would have been more susceptible to them had I been umpiring for the money as opposed to doing it for fun. Oxford has a great little league, and have had very, very few instances with fans, coaches, or parents. Even in the midst of a hyper-involved parental culture, I can honestly say that the parents with whom I interact have been wonderful. It's been a stereotype-busting experience I might say. Coincidentally, whenever I tell people that I umpire little league, the first question they usually ask me is what the pressure is like from the "crazy parents." I like to take that opportunity to tell them that it's not always like that, and in fact, it's quite the opposite.
I don't think I'll continue umpiring when I get to Maryland. I just won't have the time, and I just don't think it'll be the same.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
waxing ecSTATic
For the past three weeks, I've been taking a statistics course at a branch campus here in Southwest Ohio in preparation for my Ph.D. program. It is a statistics course for engineering majors, but I figured I would have a good shot at passing it. I had to get a waiver to get into the class because it is the second one in a sequence and requires a calculus prerequisite, which I haven't seen since Bill Clinton was president.
I'm happy to report that after three weeks, I have a 93% in the class, which is quite amazing. I still have three weeks left, though, and it gets nothing but more difficult as we go. I'll be fine -- I think. Anyhow, this experience has taught me a lot about statistics, but an equal amount about being noticeably different from my peers.
First, the classroom in which we have class is filled with old geography maps from the 80s. I can remember getting these while in elementary school and really being blown away at how sophisticated they appeared. I mentioned this during break to a few fellow students, and they mentioned that they've always been a part of their classrooms as far back as they can remember.
I'm the oldest person in the class by a couple of years. This is a very new experience for me, and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about playing the role of the old guy.
I come to class straight from work, which means I'm wearing a shirt and tie. I'm more dressed up than our professor. On the first day of class my professor asked why I was wearing a shirt and tie, and I quipped, "I thought we had to." He said that there weren't any dress code requirements, to which I stated that I was just kidding, and that I come to class directly from work. I'm still not sure he realized I was joking. (This is not the first time I've said something stupid in the early stages of a relationship that subsequently strained said relationship henceforth.)
In hopes of spicing up 3 1/2 hours of statistics twice per week, our professor shows us funny email forwards, YouTube clips, and other funny stories every half hour. Surprisingly they are quite entertaining and entirely unrelated to statistics. I wonder if there's a correlation there. (See? I can make statistic jokes, too!)
I find myself being a little gratified when I arrive at a "right" answer after a lot of thought and calculation. In qualitative inquiry (my graduate training), there was never a "right" answer per se, so it was a matter of subjective argumentation and reasoning. Formulas, I've found, can be quite nice.
Just three more weeks... I just keep telling myself that it'll be worth it when I have four less credits to take at Maryland.
I'm happy to report that after three weeks, I have a 93% in the class, which is quite amazing. I still have three weeks left, though, and it gets nothing but more difficult as we go. I'll be fine -- I think. Anyhow, this experience has taught me a lot about statistics, but an equal amount about being noticeably different from my peers.
First, the classroom in which we have class is filled with old geography maps from the 80s. I can remember getting these while in elementary school and really being blown away at how sophisticated they appeared. I mentioned this during break to a few fellow students, and they mentioned that they've always been a part of their classrooms as far back as they can remember.
I'm the oldest person in the class by a couple of years. This is a very new experience for me, and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about playing the role of the old guy.
I come to class straight from work, which means I'm wearing a shirt and tie. I'm more dressed up than our professor. On the first day of class my professor asked why I was wearing a shirt and tie, and I quipped, "I thought we had to." He said that there weren't any dress code requirements, to which I stated that I was just kidding, and that I come to class directly from work. I'm still not sure he realized I was joking. (This is not the first time I've said something stupid in the early stages of a relationship that subsequently strained said relationship henceforth.)
In hopes of spicing up 3 1/2 hours of statistics twice per week, our professor shows us funny email forwards, YouTube clips, and other funny stories every half hour. Surprisingly they are quite entertaining and entirely unrelated to statistics. I wonder if there's a correlation there. (See? I can make statistic jokes, too!)
I find myself being a little gratified when I arrive at a "right" answer after a lot of thought and calculation. In qualitative inquiry (my graduate training), there was never a "right" answer per se, so it was a matter of subjective argumentation and reasoning. Formulas, I've found, can be quite nice.
Just three more weeks... I just keep telling myself that it'll be worth it when I have four less credits to take at Maryland.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Marketing Thought
Even though I now pursue higher education as a discipline, I still see the world in marketing and advertising terms very often, since my undergraduate degree is in marketing. Marketing thoughts creep into my mind quite often, and every once in a while, I think I come up with a great idea. This morning's otherwise horrific commute happened to be one of those days. Today, I thought of what I believe to be an absolutely brilliant marketing slogan. Before I tell you what it is, let me first set the stage briefly.
I think this message would be targeted to college students, or those who are shortly thereafter removed. It would play on people's reluctance to go out once they are already home because they are tired, unmotivated, or otherwise just plain lazy. So, without further ado, here it is:
I think it's fantastic. It creates a sense of urgency and maybe even a little bit of jealously, because everyone wants to be part of the night that his/her peers talk about for the rest of their lives. Still don't believe me? Consider one of these possibilities:
Bacardi (r) - "Because tonight could turn out to be "remember that night?"
(Fine Dining Restaurant) - "Because tonight could turn out to be "remember that night?"
Sure (r) Deodorant - "Because tonight could turn out to be "remember that night?"
Who knows? I could have been a wealthy corporate suit thinking these things up, testing them out on target markets, and trying to impress people at coffee shops with my accomplishments.
I think this message would be targeted to college students, or those who are shortly thereafter removed. It would play on people's reluctance to go out once they are already home because they are tired, unmotivated, or otherwise just plain lazy. So, without further ado, here it is:
Because tonight could turn out to be "remember that night?"
I think it's fantastic. It creates a sense of urgency and maybe even a little bit of jealously, because everyone wants to be part of the night that his/her peers talk about for the rest of their lives. Still don't believe me? Consider one of these possibilities:
Bacardi (r) - "Because tonight could turn out to be "remember that night?"
(Fine Dining Restaurant) - "Because tonight could turn out to be "remember that night?"
Sure (r) Deodorant - "Because tonight could turn out to be "remember that night?"
Who knows? I could have been a wealthy corporate suit thinking these things up, testing them out on target markets, and trying to impress people at coffee shops with my accomplishments.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Mirroring Others
There was a time when I was really into reading self-help books such as The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People and How to Win Friends and Influence People. While I don't discount the merits and utility of this popular genre, I do question how much they reinforce simple solution and a dominant leader paradigm. Nonetheless, one of the most valuable lessons that I remember and still use very regularly from them is the importance of mirroring others; that is, to use the language, body language, and mannerisms of others when trying to relate to them. If your supervisor is talking to you about a project he'd like done with her legs crossed, it might be to your benefit to do the same. If she's resting her head on her arm, you might consider doing the same, and so on. The key is to mirror nonchalantly and inconspicuously. Doing this, some argue, puts the others at ease, builds rapport, and helps break down barriers that might otherwise be an interference. Let me explain using some examples I've had in my life, including one from today.
I was a leadership consultant for my fraternity after I graduated college, which meant that I visited 34 chapters at different campuses all across the country. My job was to help strengthen their chapter operations in the course of three days. This proved to be challenging because who wants to take advice on how to improve your student organization from some strange guy living out of his vehicle who shows up for three days and then leaves? Mirroring came in extremely handy on each and every visit I did. When the chapter members would tell me about their school, their house, and their chapter, I paid very special attention to the words they used to describe them. Sometimes they'd refer to their Greek community as "frat row" or "Greek row," which I always tried to repeat later on during meetings with members of the chapter. If they spoke slowly and calmly, I did, too. If they referred to their president as "J-Scruggs" instead of "Justin Scruggs," I did, too. Further, if the person I was meeting with used a lot of hand gestures, I would, too. This did a lot to reduce barriers quickly, and, hopefully (I'd like to think so anyway), a lot to make me more effective at my job.
Another example occurred just a few hours ago. My auto mechanic called to give me an update on some repairs to my vehicle. When I dropped off my vehicle this morning and spoke with the mechanic, I was dressed in a shirt, tie, sweater, dress pants, and dress shoes, while he was wearing typical mechanic garb, complete with grease and stains. There was an obvious barrier there. I'm not incredibly repair-savvy, but I knew enough to pay very close attention to the language he used as he speculated what might be wrong. When he called me a few hours later to explain what the problem was, I incorporated his language into my questioning, and I quickly noticed a shift in how he spoke to me. It was almost as if I was able to shatter his typical explanation of what was wrong just by paying attention to the language he used, his inflections, and his tone.
I've sort of internalized this "mirroring" thing now, so it's a part of who I am at this point. I do it in face-to-face interactions, emails, and even trade proposals in fantasy sports. If someone offers me a trade and the comment sections reads something like "if you dont want him, make me an offer when your ready," I'll respond back with the same poor grammar and lack of capitalization, which I'm programmed not to do. That way, he/she doesn't feel like I'm above them in any way.
Mirroring can be a great way to diffuse barriers between people, in addition to a way to check one's own assumptions and privileges.
I was a leadership consultant for my fraternity after I graduated college, which meant that I visited 34 chapters at different campuses all across the country. My job was to help strengthen their chapter operations in the course of three days. This proved to be challenging because who wants to take advice on how to improve your student organization from some strange guy living out of his vehicle who shows up for three days and then leaves? Mirroring came in extremely handy on each and every visit I did. When the chapter members would tell me about their school, their house, and their chapter, I paid very special attention to the words they used to describe them. Sometimes they'd refer to their Greek community as "frat row" or "Greek row," which I always tried to repeat later on during meetings with members of the chapter. If they spoke slowly and calmly, I did, too. If they referred to their president as "J-Scruggs" instead of "Justin Scruggs," I did, too. Further, if the person I was meeting with used a lot of hand gestures, I would, too. This did a lot to reduce barriers quickly, and, hopefully (I'd like to think so anyway), a lot to make me more effective at my job.
Another example occurred just a few hours ago. My auto mechanic called to give me an update on some repairs to my vehicle. When I dropped off my vehicle this morning and spoke with the mechanic, I was dressed in a shirt, tie, sweater, dress pants, and dress shoes, while he was wearing typical mechanic garb, complete with grease and stains. There was an obvious barrier there. I'm not incredibly repair-savvy, but I knew enough to pay very close attention to the language he used as he speculated what might be wrong. When he called me a few hours later to explain what the problem was, I incorporated his language into my questioning, and I quickly noticed a shift in how he spoke to me. It was almost as if I was able to shatter his typical explanation of what was wrong just by paying attention to the language he used, his inflections, and his tone.
I've sort of internalized this "mirroring" thing now, so it's a part of who I am at this point. I do it in face-to-face interactions, emails, and even trade proposals in fantasy sports. If someone offers me a trade and the comment sections reads something like "if you dont want him, make me an offer when your ready," I'll respond back with the same poor grammar and lack of capitalization, which I'm programmed not to do. That way, he/she doesn't feel like I'm above them in any way.
Mirroring can be a great way to diffuse barriers between people, in addition to a way to check one's own assumptions and privileges.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
