Thank You for My Privilege

The holiday season is upon us. It's my favorite time of year. Now is when charities are in full force, good will is in the air, and joyful cheers of "Happy holidays!" take the place of where grumbling and silent stares take over at any other time of year. This year, however, things seem different. Maybe it is because of the recession or the war. You can blame Enron if it will help, but either way, Christmas season is not what it used to be (cue Archie Bunker's theme song). I sat down to write this with the intention of making a grandiose connection to maintaining the holiday spirit year round, including giving thanks during the forty days leading up to Thanksgiving. Then, however, I realized something. Giving thanks is not enough, and neither is paying it forward. Once in a class a long time ago I listened to a brief lecture from a professor regarding the importance of recognizing privilege. Privilege, he said, does not come just in the form of money or social status, but it comes in all the things that make our lives better, easier, or gifted. That, more than the holiday attitude, more than the period of thanks, and more than the idea of paying it forward, is where I would like to focus. It makes sense to me that if we remember our own privileges, we are more likely to maintain the holiday spirit and give unto others just by virtue of enjoying our own lives more. Some privileges may be silly, but others are more meaningful, yet all privileges big and small have the opportunity to change our lives. This blog is one small piece of my efforts to recognize my own privileges. Thank you, Dr. Youngblood.

Thank you for my privilege. Today I am thankful for the privilege of coffee. I know, already it sounds like I've chosen the most inauspicious aspect of my life to be thankful for. In the following paragraphs you are undoubtedly expecting an over-caffeinated vow of loyalty to the pure magic that is my morning (and sometimes afternoon and evening) drink. I'm sorry to disappoint.

No, today I am thankful for my privilege to drink coffee for several reasons. First, because my husband gave me a fabulous espresso maker by N'espresso that allows me to make fancy coffee drinks at home, and it is a privilege to be able to recreate the brilliance of Starbucks in my own kitchen. I am thankful for the privilege of my espresso maker, and I would not have known about this particular machine if it had not been for my trip to Germany to visit my friend Greta over the summer, so I am also thankful for the privilege of the money and experience and time I spent visiting overseas that eventually lead to my espresso maker. Second, I am thankful for coffee because it allows me to spend hours with my daughter, husband, and dogs while still accomplishing a host of other things (aka work and school and more work). These are my everyday reasons for appreciating the privilege of coffee.

Today, however, I am thankful for more. Allow me to explain. Everyday when I come to school I stop to get a diet Coke before I get to my classroom or office. Two days per week I stop at Jack in the Box. I don't know anyone who works there, but I appreciate the convenience of a drive-thru that is so close to my office I almost have more trouble justifying the gas in my car than I do the expense of the soda. Several weeks ago, a man who was working while I ordered my soda waved me away when I reached for my money. I was surprised, but I thanked him, took my soda, and left. The next time I came, he did the same thing. That day I went to buy a latte at Starbucks, having missed the window of opportunity to make my own latte at home. While I was there, the woman in front of me did not have enough money to pay for her coffee. As she went to hunt for the ever-illusive change in her car, I chose to pay for her drink and my own. The woman returned, learned of my action, retrieved her drink and left. She did not say anything to me, but the barrista behind the counter put an extra shot of espresso in my drink as a means of returning kindness for kindness. It was my privilege that day to help someone over something so simple as a cup of coffee, and it was my privilege to have my kindness returned by an employee who did not otherwise benefit from my actions.

Since that time, the nice man at Jack in the Box has continued to give me my diet Coke for free. I don't know why he does this, and he never tells me. He just hands me my drink and sends me on my way. I still only go twice per week, but I'm also still pleasantly surprised every time he does this. As a result, I've found myself thinking about his kindnesses as I go through my week. It puts a smile on my face to know he must have some good reason for being so unexpectedly, undeservedly generous to a stranger in a car, even if he always seems to know it's me he is doing this for. As I smile about this, I pay it forward. Sometimes I pay for the coffee of the person behind me in the Starbucks drive-thru, and sometimes I leave extra change in a vending machine at work. I'm more likely to hold the door, hold the elevator, or even hold a package for a random person on the street or in my building, all because of a free diet Coke. I most often think of him, however, when I repay people with coffee.

So today I am thankful for the privilege of coffee. I am thankful for the caffeine and the gift of my N'espresso machine, but I am also thankful for the privilege of hopefully making someone else's day better the way the Jack in the Box man does for me. He, too, is my privilege.

A Beginner's Blog

I've always been curious about blogs. They seem to be a cross between Twitter and a private journal left on a public park bench. You have something to say, but you don't know if anyone is going to care long enough to hear you. You have a thought that you need to put in writing, but why go to all the trouble to put it in writing unless someone other than yourself is going to read it? That's not to say that all journals are written with the intention of having an audience beyond their authors, but a fair amount of them are written with the intention of being found, exposed, and eventually turned into the Great American Novel (note to self: find literary agent for future blog potential). And so, being the highly commercialized, consumer-oriented, capitalistic English major that I am, I figure it is time to bring my thoughts to the table.

I'm writing this blog in much the same way I joined MySpace, Facebook, and various other social networking sites. I spent months, years even, displaying public disdain for their nonpersonalized attempts at overcoming decades of rejection in high school and college. Really, can we all say popularitycontest.com? I'm sure that's a real website, but probably only because the name was taken before the MySpace/Facebook guys came along. Eventually, however, I, too, caved to the peer pressure of doing what all the cool kids were doing, and I made a MySpace page. My Facebook profile was not far behind it. I started these pages long after it was hip or trendy and right about the same time that people's grandparents got involved. Just as I found myself approaching the 200 friend mark that indicated I had "arrived" in Facebook and become one of the many people convinced of my own importance because surely I am well-liked if I have 200 friends - most of whom I would not recognize if I passed them on the street - I found another disappointment. One of my few Facebook friends who I see on a regular basis invited me to look at her blog. "What are you talking about?" I asked, hoping beyond hope that blog was a misnomer for yet another "All About Me" survey someone had answered and posted as a "note" on their profile. I was wrong. One Facebook profile and three clicks later I found myself laughing out loud (no, I don't mean lol) at her personal thoughts regarding the intellectual abyss that is our college. Cue the dramatic entrance music as I realized my own jealousy and desire to have a blog of my own.

That, of course, brings us here, to my very own blog entitled "Sincerely Cynical." I figure it is a fitting title given my propensity for bitter diatribes about the reality of modern day education, pet obedience, and my daughter's exclusive adoration of her father (Hi Chuck!). I've written blogs before, of course, but mostly for jobs or classes where I had an assignment at hand that gave my blog too much direction and purpose to really fit the stream-of-consciousness lifestyle I choose to lead. No deadlines (at least, none that get acknowledged or met), no final goal (erm, besides graduation), and no one to supervise (provided my supervisor doesn't learn about my blog). Welcome to Sincerely Cynical! I hope you enjoy your stay, but you probably won't.