Talking to someone who's not going to respond because I'm not talking directly
to that person (though I should be because otherwise how will you get dialog
going? I think I'll post this in facebook notes or something) is something I'm
fond of doing, and Diane is no exception.
"In fact, one time at Ridgedale Mall, I actually called the cops because I thought someone had stolen my car. It turns out I had parked in a different lot."
Diane claims to be "directionally challenged". Or "directionally disabled," if you prefer being politically incorrect.
"Looking at me, you’d never guess that I have a disability."
Well, you don't. At least, as you next claim, I don't.
"One time our son was driving for the first time from Elk River to Rogers and ended up in Downtown Minneapolis—I guess the disability is genetic. But my husband was able to go online to Google maps and give him directions home—during rush hour!"
I can only speak for me at this point, but I know quite clearly (similarly to how I knew
why I was depressed), why I'm "directionally disabled". And perhaps you could factor
in genetics, but I doubt that it has as much cause as the following:
Disinterest.
If you recall my past, you'd find me often reading a book while we were
driving about in the car. Guess what Clara was doing? Nothing but looking
out the windows at the pretty scenery. While this might make for the
assumption that I would one day be a leader and Clara a simpleton
valley girl who'd be cute to look at (hey, while I'm not talking to them
directly, why not have a few unwarranted and unlikely assumptions
put in for the fun of it?), this also meant that I was not paying any
attention to the road. At all. And Clara was.
Unsurprisingly, Clara has become the family GPS, and I have become
"genetically" disabled, following in my mother's footsteps. Y'see, all
that time spent "doing nothing but looking at the scenery" probably
developed in Clara's mind an intuitive map and layout of the geology,
geography, or whatever-the-fuck-you-call it, during the early years
that she could use expertly later on. And I, an intuitive linguistic
map, which as many of you know quite well, I navigate like a pro.
Which is to say this: while I might be "genetically disabled" in the
area of maps, that lack of ability shows where it went, with my
literary enjoyments. And this could very well be one of those
combinatory nature/nurture types of things - Diane herself
was adept at studying. I might hate homework with a passion,
but what I study, I also study with a passion.
So it might be that I had a tendency to be shit with maps,
roads, and directions, and obsession with literary works simply
solidified that lack of development. The question that that
raises, I think, is whether taking the time to become geographically
adept would be worth it to me. Right now, no, not really.
Just doesn't seem all that interesting. Of course, there are
aspects of it that interest me, but not enough yet to devote
a lot of work to it... yet.
The main thing that annoys me of what Diane's talking about
is all these things she's using as a means to cover up the truth:
"OK. Maybe being directionally challenged isn’t as bad as some other disabilities, but it is a disability for which the general public has no compassion.
There are no special classes in school for students that can’t find their way to the bathroom. No guide dogs for the directionally impaired. No. . . . People make jokes about people like me. . .people who get lost. They question the intelligence of the directionally challenged. I’ve heard the snickers behind my back. The whispered put downs, “she couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag.” It hurts. You cut me I bleed. Just because I get lost doesn’t mean I’ve lost my mind."
"If you are one of the fortunate people who can’t understand why some people seem to be perpetually lost, I beg you for compassion."
"If you are one of the fortunate people who can’t understand why some people seem to be perpetually lost, I beg you for compassion. Although I have largely overcome my disability, I recall the most dramatic symptoms of directional impairment manifested themselves when I was driving:
I couldn’t remember how to drive somewhere until I had driven there at least 5 times.
I was completely unable to reverse driving directions."
"I used to get left and right mixed up. I often pondered the meaning of statements such as “on the left side of the house,” wondering which left is meant.
Parking at shopping malls will strike terror into the heart of the directionally disabled:
I didn’t just park the car, I abandoned it. For a while, Mall Security at the Mall of America was on a first name basis with me, because they had to help me find my car so many times.
In fact, one time at Ridgedale Mall, I actually called the cops because I thought someone had stolen my car. It turns out I had parked in a different lot."
"Does any of this sound familiar? What can be done? How can the “lost be saved?”
Well, prayer can’t hurt! Jesus called himself “the Way.”"
*facepalm*...
"But, if you are directionally challenged, you need some practical advice. The 3 keys are: Careful Planning, continuous practice and creative . . .lying. Not lying to other people. . .that would be wrong, but lying to yourself. . .a little self-delusion can be healthy. Saying things like, “I’m not lost, I’m just taking the scenic route.”"
In other words, there's only one legitimate piece of "practical" advice: Careful Planning.
Which of course isn't at all obvious. Well, I take that back. Two legitimate pieces of
advice - continuous practice, something that I don't much care for yet.
"Always carry note paper–I’ve learned to never park a car without making detailed notes about where I left it. If all else fails you can use the Hansel and Gretel method– tear up the paper into little pieces and leave a trail. Sure the paper may blow away, but chances are the mall police will have been notified of your strange behavior and will help you find your car."
Is this one relevant? No. But it IS fuckin' funny!
"Whenever possible, let someone else drive or lead the way. Then if you get lost, it is somebody else’s fault–you can just claim you weren’t paying attention."
Or you could just say this:
"Hey, I suck with directions and always will, probably.
(addition for Diane: 'I have a genetic disability.'
addition for Sean: 'I read too much when I was in the
car when I was younger and still ain't too interested in directions.')
You lead the way, or we're going to end up in Canada."
"Get a job or hobby which requires you to drive a lot. In the past year, I have had 3 different assignments with the Census Bureau (including one currently which has kept me from blogging recently) , all of which involved using maps and finding locations. The best part of the job is that the Census Bureau pays for all mileage and the time I spend driving. So, now I get paid to be lost! Your tax dollars at work."
Another good piece of advice. Except for every sentence after the first one.
"Finally the third key is a little healthy self-delusion—really just changing your attitude. Enjoy the journey! Accept that you may not end up where you planned—you might end up somewhere even better!"
Well, I guess that explains it: "Enjoy the journey!" When wasn't I doing that?
Sheesh, Diane, slow yourself down. The end of the journey does not justify
being embarrassed about being different from others in a way that makes
you less reliable with directions which is embarrassing to you because
it's thought to be normal and so you're different in a fundamental way
that scares people a little bit and so they make fun of you, when they
should be making fun of this run-on sentence that just won't end.
(From SuperSense)
"Human freaks challenge our view of the living world. We expect people
to look a certain way and be a certain size and shape, and individuals
who do not fit these expectations are deemed unnatural." pg. 136, 137.
"Although we intuitively think of essences, life forces, and holism, we would be hard-pressed
to describe what we mean. ... Having good or bad "vibes" is the closet that most of
us come ... but our behavior and opinions reveal that essentialism, vitalism,
and holism are still guiding our reasoning. When people respond negatively
to wearing a killer's cardigan, this is a reflection of their naive biological reasoning at work.
The evil they think is imbued in the cloth is a reflection of the same mechanisms
that children apply to infer the hidden properties of living things." pg. 139
"Jewish dietary law forbids the consumption of certain animals described in Leviticus of the Old Testament as unclean. At first, the lists seem rather arbitrary. Unclean animals include camels, ostriches, sharks, eels, chameleons, moles, and crocodiles. ... One intriguing alternative is that originally the animals were deemed either clean or unclean depending on how well they fit properties of the group to which they belonged.
'But this is what you shall not eat from among those that bring up their cud or have split hooves;
the camel, for it brings up its cud, but its hoof is not split--it is unclean to you;
and the hyrax, for it brings up its cud, but its hoof is not split--it is unclean to you;
and the hare, for it brings up its cud, but its hoof is not split--it is unclean to you;
and the pig, for its hoof is split and its hoof is completely separated, yet it does not chew its cud--it is unclean to you.
You shall not eat of their flesh nor shall you touch their carcass--they are unclean to you.'
-- Leviticus 11:4-8
Any group of animals should share more properties compared to those from another.
Biologists call this grouping "taxonomy," after the Greek taxis, which referred to the
main divisions of the ancient army. Today's modern taxonomy is based on one originally
devised by the Swedish biologist Carl Linnaeus in the eighteenth century, but prior to this,
taxonomies were based on animals' different modes and movement and their habitats.
All the various animals of the land, sea, and air share very similar bodily structures and
forms of locomotion. Land animals have four legs and jump or walk.
Fish have scales and swim. Birds have wings and fly. One suggestion is that unclean
animals tend to be those that violate these properties of the general category to which
they belong. Sharks and eels lives in the sea, but do not have scales.
Ostriches are birds, but do not fly. Crocodiles have legs that looks like hands.
Maybe some of the unclean animals are the freaks of their taxonomic group.
The early Jewish scholars thought that such violations were abominations of the natural world." 139-141
Apparently, when convenience has become the norm, being utterly unable
to find your way out of a lunchbox with 5 tries is rather close to that schema
of "unnatural". While Diane isn't condemned (or a "freak") in the way those
with leprosy were, she does get snickers, and since she too shares the same
mindset, she gets embarrassed about it.
Me, I just say that it's my fuckin' fault. Though I may have a biological basis
for getting lost when I venture far away from a familiar place, I'm pretty sure
that being a bookworm had, I don't know, something to do with it.
And sure, maybe if I had, as it were, "normal genetics", I would have a natural
ability to geography and maps in the same way I seem to excel faster than most
at most things I try things I try (I'm not saying I'm better than anyone; hell, for
all I know, I'm average, and Diane is just a retard or something... don't tell her
I said that.).
Oh, and by the way, though I may be an atheist, I know this, too (from reading
SuperSense): In some cases, prayer Does work. Why? Placebo effect;
feeling that you're in control. That does a world of difference when you feel
lost and helpless.
Or you could just call the police:
"[O]ne time at Ridgedale Mall, I actually called the cops because I thought someone had stolen my car. It turns out I had parked in a different lot."
It may be a little insane, too, but at least you can see 'em. Then again...
"Always carry note paper–I’ve learned to never park a car without making detailed notes about where I left it. If all else fails you can use the Hansel and Gretel method– tear up the paper into little pieces and leave a trail. Sure the paper may blow away, but chances are the mall police will have been notified of your strange behavior and will help you find your car."
See her post:
