This week an essay was published in O magazine by the mother of Dylan Kiebold, one of the boys responsible for the Columbine shootings. I took particular interest in this article for several reasons. Mainly the book that I'm currently writing revolves around a school shooting similar to Columbine and one of the characters whose head I attempt to get inside of is the mother of the culprit. So obviously I'm curious to read the thoughts of a true-life example.
Another reason, a more personal one, is that I've always wanted to know how a monster like Dylan Kiebold could live in a home, do chores, eat dinner, make small talk about lifes up and downs, and the parent(s) not have a clue about the malevolence simmering just below the surface. The simple answer is that the darkness within him was obscured by the mask he'd adopted to hide his true emotions. And if someone like him could exist and completely fool his parents, how can you really trust anyone?
We all wear one, you know. Masks. For some of us it's almost translucent. What you see is literally what you get. Those are the people who were born without a mental filter. They say exactly what comes to their mind, regardless of any feelings that might be stepped on ("Are you really going to wear that?" . . . "Wow, looks like you've gained twenty pounds."). And you always know what they're thinking because you can see it on their faces, or in their mannerisms. But the people with masks that thin are a rare breed indeed. It's a good thing too, because those type of people really irritate me. Isn't it ironic how people like that seem so shallow also? There's a certain amount of mystery and attributable substance (albeit assumed) to things we can't see.
I'm on the other end of the spectrum. I'm very hard to read, just ask my wife, and most of the time I like it that way. I shield my feelings, remain detached, and usually avoid circumstances where raw, open emotions are the norm. That's the mask I've fitted for myself, but its also the one I've learned to cope with. I believe the type of person we are, at least the one we project for everyone to see, the mask we wear, is a combination of a genetic make-up and common choice.
Throughout my life I've been asked countless times, by all kinds of people, what I was angry at. But I wasn't angry. Or even upset. I just looked that way to them. I've come to learn that's just happens to be the default look for my face. It's not a conscious choice. I think a good portion of the mask we put on for everybody is that way. We don't control it, it's just the way we are. But there is an element we do have influence over, choice, and that's the scary part. It's that choice that allow the 'Dylan Kiebolds' to hide from the world.
So . . . who has seen underneath your mask? I would postulate that for most people the answer would be no one. Sure, plenty of people have peeked a look or glimpsed a good portion of your actual being, but I doubt that anybody has seen everything that we keep bottled up inside us. I'm talking about the stuff that's deep . . . deep down. Primal. Of course the more time you spend with a person, the easier it becomes to see through the mask. It makes a strong case for lengthy romances and really getting to know your partner before getting married, or more importantly, having a child together. Then again, that could just be me making assumptions because that's the way I am.
Blogs such as this, Facebook, Myspace, Bebo, all are tools to provide people such as myself, ones with crippled social skills, an opportunity to re-shape our mask. They are also an opportunity to identify the 'Dylan Kiebolds' amongst us and get them the help they so desperately need before people are hurt. The depression and struggles Dylan was enduring prior to Columbine was reflected in the journals he kept. Who's to say that if Facebook was popular back then that some of his thoughts, feelings, angst, would have been evident there? Maybe . . . maybe not. If his own mother was clueless, could a facebook friend have any better insight?
While I was wrinting this I realized that Halloween was just around the corner. A night when kids and grown-ups alike dawn masks in celebration. Is it weird to think that some of them will pick a mask that better reflects their personality then the one they wear everyday?
Can I Speak To Your Supervisor Please?
This is a re-print of a post I made on another site I used to frequent. It’s still very relevant.
I recently had to call to cancel my Xbox Live account. I thought I had ended my membership a couple months prior by changing my status on-line, but I found out somebody (oldest son) changed it back. So when the time came for annual renewal, their system automatically billed my credit card. Once I discovered what had happened I tried to e-mail Xbox support to cancel the account again and have the charge reversed, but it turns out they only handle cancellations involving refunds over the phone. So I made a call.
I phoned about mid-afternoon and naturally had to navigate through a recorded menu that if flow charted on a blackboard would stump a college professor. I patiently listened for the keyword “cancellation” and depressed the associated number. Finally a real person, who sounded like a young woman, came on the line and asked me for the last four digits of the credit card my account was billed to. Luckily I knew which card it had been billed against and I actually had it with me, so I scrambled for my wallet and plucked out the card and gave her the numbers. I waited as she was pulled up my account and then she asked me what I could do for me. I found this humorous since I followed a meticulous crafted phone menu that led me directly to her extension for cancellations, but none the less I told her what I needed. She stated she was sorry to hear that I wanted to discontinue the service and proceeded to ask me some questions, all of which I had anticipated.
Can I ask why you are canceling your account? I don’t play on-line all that much because most of my friends have Playstation instead of Xbox.
Are you aware of our Diamond Card features (an upgraded service that offers more features than just the ability to play games on-line)? Yes, I am, but it really doesn’t interest me.
Do you know of a friend or relative who could use this membership? No, like I said they all have different systems.
At this point I’m starting to get a little perturbed because it seems like the dialogue is heading in an unfavorable direction. Then the conversation takes a twist and I’m a little surprised.
“I own both,” she says.
“Both?”
“PS3 and Xbox”
“Good for you. Which one do you prefer?”
“I like them both equally. They both have exclusive games that I enjoy, but in terms of on-line games I like Xbox the best.” Her voice has taken on a more personable tone now.
“I wish you could convince my friends of that. I can’t get them to switch,” I responded.
“Do you have a 360,” she asked.
“I actually have an Xbox, 360, PS2.”
“You’re my hero.”
I laugh.
“Are you into sports games,” she asks.
“That’s a silly question”
“Have you played Madden yet?”
The conversation continued on for another 5 to 10 minutes, with the two of us casually talking about our favorite games on different systems. It was a talk between two game enthusiasts, not a customer and a support person. We came to a natural pause in our chat and she informed me she had cancelled my account and I should see a credit on my card the next billing cycle. She provided me a confirmation number and asked me if there is anything she can do for me today. I asked for her name to write down next to the confirmation number. “Mary” she replied. I quickly reflected on where I thought the conversation was heading and where it eventually ended and I made a decision.
“Mary, can I speak to your supervisor please?”
There’s silence on the other end of the line for a moment, and then, “Certainly sir, but may I ask if I’ve said or done something your not pleased with?”
“Actually quite the opposite. I want to tell your supervisor what a wonderful job your doing. They need to hear that sometimes.”
“Why thank you very much Mr. Hammons, but you don’t need to do that”
“Your right, I don’t need to, but I want to.”
She thanked me again and connected me to her supervisor. From the way her superior acted with me, he obviously wasn’t used to receiving complimentary calls about his phone support people. I told him how pleasant and engaging she was and she was not your typical phone support person. He regrouped gracefully and thanked me for the compliment.
The morale of my story . . . If you feel compelled to complain about bad service . . . you should be willing to reward good service as well.
I recently had to call to cancel my Xbox Live account. I thought I had ended my membership a couple months prior by changing my status on-line, but I found out somebody (oldest son) changed it back. So when the time came for annual renewal, their system automatically billed my credit card. Once I discovered what had happened I tried to e-mail Xbox support to cancel the account again and have the charge reversed, but it turns out they only handle cancellations involving refunds over the phone. So I made a call.
I phoned about mid-afternoon and naturally had to navigate through a recorded menu that if flow charted on a blackboard would stump a college professor. I patiently listened for the keyword “cancellation” and depressed the associated number. Finally a real person, who sounded like a young woman, came on the line and asked me for the last four digits of the credit card my account was billed to. Luckily I knew which card it had been billed against and I actually had it with me, so I scrambled for my wallet and plucked out the card and gave her the numbers. I waited as she was pulled up my account and then she asked me what I could do for me. I found this humorous since I followed a meticulous crafted phone menu that led me directly to her extension for cancellations, but none the less I told her what I needed. She stated she was sorry to hear that I wanted to discontinue the service and proceeded to ask me some questions, all of which I had anticipated.
Can I ask why you are canceling your account? I don’t play on-line all that much because most of my friends have Playstation instead of Xbox.
Are you aware of our Diamond Card features (an upgraded service that offers more features than just the ability to play games on-line)? Yes, I am, but it really doesn’t interest me.
Do you know of a friend or relative who could use this membership? No, like I said they all have different systems.
At this point I’m starting to get a little perturbed because it seems like the dialogue is heading in an unfavorable direction. Then the conversation takes a twist and I’m a little surprised.
“I own both,” she says.
“Both?”
“PS3 and Xbox”
“Good for you. Which one do you prefer?”
“I like them both equally. They both have exclusive games that I enjoy, but in terms of on-line games I like Xbox the best.” Her voice has taken on a more personable tone now.
“I wish you could convince my friends of that. I can’t get them to switch,” I responded.
“Do you have a 360,” she asked.
“I actually have an Xbox, 360, PS2.”
“You’re my hero.”
I laugh.
“Are you into sports games,” she asks.
“That’s a silly question”
“Have you played Madden yet?”
The conversation continued on for another 5 to 10 minutes, with the two of us casually talking about our favorite games on different systems. It was a talk between two game enthusiasts, not a customer and a support person. We came to a natural pause in our chat and she informed me she had cancelled my account and I should see a credit on my card the next billing cycle. She provided me a confirmation number and asked me if there is anything she can do for me today. I asked for her name to write down next to the confirmation number. “Mary” she replied. I quickly reflected on where I thought the conversation was heading and where it eventually ended and I made a decision.
“Mary, can I speak to your supervisor please?”
There’s silence on the other end of the line for a moment, and then, “Certainly sir, but may I ask if I’ve said or done something your not pleased with?”
“Actually quite the opposite. I want to tell your supervisor what a wonderful job your doing. They need to hear that sometimes.”
“Why thank you very much Mr. Hammons, but you don’t need to do that”
“Your right, I don’t need to, but I want to.”
She thanked me again and connected me to her supervisor. From the way her superior acted with me, he obviously wasn’t used to receiving complimentary calls about his phone support people. I told him how pleasant and engaging she was and she was not your typical phone support person. He regrouped gracefully and thanked me for the compliment.
The morale of my story . . . If you feel compelled to complain about bad service . . . you should be willing to reward good service as well.
Gotta Start Somewhere
So I guess it's just the four of us right now, referring to my three commenters from my last post (thanks, by the way). So be it. You gotta start somewhere, right?
As I dig further into the whole publishing model, there is much more going on then simply writing a book, getting it printed, and crossing your fingers while you sit back to see if it sells. It is a very steep climb to the top of that hill that is called being published, one that is fraught with loose rocks and slippery facings. If your work is fitting (and that is still a pretty big IF), there are steps to be taken that are mandatory. They are hard coded into the process and cannot be side-stepped. But there are also steps you can take, optional steps, but they might increase your chance of succeding. Traveling to writing conferences and pitching your book in person to the agents and publishers that attend those functions is one way. But that is an expensive and time consuming way to promote yourself, especially if you have an everyday job. Another method is establishing an on-line presence, a blog, and developing a following. It's something you can use on your writing resume, as well as a way to work on your writing apart from your novel. Obviously, the more traffic your blog draws, the better you look and the more notice an agent or publisher will pay.
So, how do I increase the number of visiters to my site? I could post pictures of women's breasts, that's a sure way to bring web-traffic in. Nah . . . I want people dropping by to read my writing. My thoughts and stories. Maybe I should write about women's breasts?
I'm open to any idea's from my three commenters, or anyone else who might stumble in. I'm committed to doing this. Wanna help? Come back again, and bring your friends.
As I dig further into the whole publishing model, there is much more going on then simply writing a book, getting it printed, and crossing your fingers while you sit back to see if it sells. It is a very steep climb to the top of that hill that is called being published, one that is fraught with loose rocks and slippery facings. If your work is fitting (and that is still a pretty big IF), there are steps to be taken that are mandatory. They are hard coded into the process and cannot be side-stepped. But there are also steps you can take, optional steps, but they might increase your chance of succeding. Traveling to writing conferences and pitching your book in person to the agents and publishers that attend those functions is one way. But that is an expensive and time consuming way to promote yourself, especially if you have an everyday job. Another method is establishing an on-line presence, a blog, and developing a following. It's something you can use on your writing resume, as well as a way to work on your writing apart from your novel. Obviously, the more traffic your blog draws, the better you look and the more notice an agent or publisher will pay.
So, how do I increase the number of visiters to my site? I could post pictures of women's breasts, that's a sure way to bring web-traffic in. Nah . . . I want people dropping by to read my writing. My thoughts and stories. Maybe I should write about women's breasts?
I'm open to any idea's from my three commenters, or anyone else who might stumble in. I'm committed to doing this. Wanna help? Come back again, and bring your friends.
Roll Call
You know that guy? The weird one. The one who's standing there in the hallway, talking to himself. He's not weird, he was actually talking to somebody, but they walked away when his back was turned and he continued speaking as if they were still listening to him. Awkward!!
I'm kinda curious to see if I'm that guy. I'm wondering who visits this blog, if anybody. So to satisfy my curiosity I'm asking everybody who visits this blog until my next post to leave a comment of some sort. It can be simple. Hi . . . is fine.
Just something to let me know that I'm not standing in the hallways talking to myself. I'd appreciate it!
me
I'm kinda curious to see if I'm that guy. I'm wondering who visits this blog, if anybody. So to satisfy my curiosity I'm asking everybody who visits this blog until my next post to leave a comment of some sort. It can be simple. Hi . . . is fine.
Just something to let me know that I'm not standing in the hallways talking to myself. I'd appreciate it!
me
Memory Snapshots from Camping with Boo
Here are some random memories I took notice of while camping out with my son Friday night.
- It sure takes a whole lot of crap to go camping for just one night.
- Driving the 50 minutes to the campsite over winding roads, with all the windows down, the moonroof open, and 'Freebird' blasting on the stereo.
- The tiny doe watching us pull into the campgrounds, unafraid, as if she were welcoming us inside her home.
- We are actually getting pretty good at erecting our tent. It only took us one attempt this time and amazingly it resembled the picture on the box when we first bought it.
- Food, any food, taste ten-times better when it's cooked over an open flame when your camping.
- Sitting on the bluff's by the lakeshore, switching your ears from active mode to passive and letting various sounds drift in on thier own. The water gently lapping against the rocks. An outboard motor sputtering in the distance. Acorns tumbling from the tree-tops or other mysterious snaps and cracks from the forest.
- Watching my son toss large rocks into the lake, smiling everytime it elicits a louder 'ka-thunk' sound when it breaks the surface on its way to the chilly depths.
- Stumbling across a camper with a satellite DISH hooked up and no longer feeling bad about dragging along a small TV and DVD player.
- Watching the sun slip below the horizon and having the presence of mind to snap a picture with my cell phone to send to wife at home. Seeing the moon climbing over my shoulder and suddenly craving the darkness. Boys at all ages love to play with flashlights!
- The beam of a flashlight through the billowing smoke of a campfire, and how it resembles a light saber.
- Being amazed that a glow-in-the-dark stick can still hold so much fascination for a ten year old.
- Fulfilling the time honored tradition of no matter how organized you are and how many checklists you keep, you will still forget something important. This time it was pillows.
- Amazement that there are campers out there who don't realize that one of the reasons people come to the woods is for peace and quiet! Block parties don't belong at family campsites.
- The chill on the back of your neck from a cool breeze and the comforting warmth on your face from a perfectly constructed campfire, is unequaled anywhere.
- Air-mattresses are made in heaven!
- The mist floating hypnotically above the lake in the early morning is simply waiting for a wizard to summon it for a greater purpose.
- Packing up to return back home was best descibed by my son. "It Sucks!"
- Boo still looks forward to our next outing, which tells me I must be doing something right.
- It sure takes a whole lot of crap to go camping for just one night.
- Driving the 50 minutes to the campsite over winding roads, with all the windows down, the moonroof open, and 'Freebird' blasting on the stereo.
- The tiny doe watching us pull into the campgrounds, unafraid, as if she were welcoming us inside her home.
- We are actually getting pretty good at erecting our tent. It only took us one attempt this time and amazingly it resembled the picture on the box when we first bought it.
- Food, any food, taste ten-times better when it's cooked over an open flame when your camping.
- Sitting on the bluff's by the lakeshore, switching your ears from active mode to passive and letting various sounds drift in on thier own. The water gently lapping against the rocks. An outboard motor sputtering in the distance. Acorns tumbling from the tree-tops or other mysterious snaps and cracks from the forest.
- Watching my son toss large rocks into the lake, smiling everytime it elicits a louder 'ka-thunk' sound when it breaks the surface on its way to the chilly depths.
- Stumbling across a camper with a satellite DISH hooked up and no longer feeling bad about dragging along a small TV and DVD player.
- Watching the sun slip below the horizon and having the presence of mind to snap a picture with my cell phone to send to wife at home. Seeing the moon climbing over my shoulder and suddenly craving the darkness. Boys at all ages love to play with flashlights!
- The beam of a flashlight through the billowing smoke of a campfire, and how it resembles a light saber.
- Being amazed that a glow-in-the-dark stick can still hold so much fascination for a ten year old.
- Fulfilling the time honored tradition of no matter how organized you are and how many checklists you keep, you will still forget something important. This time it was pillows.
- Amazement that there are campers out there who don't realize that one of the reasons people come to the woods is for peace and quiet! Block parties don't belong at family campsites.
- The chill on the back of your neck from a cool breeze and the comforting warmth on your face from a perfectly constructed campfire, is unequaled anywhere.
- Air-mattresses are made in heaven!
- The mist floating hypnotically above the lake in the early morning is simply waiting for a wizard to summon it for a greater purpose.
- Packing up to return back home was best descibed by my son. "It Sucks!"
- Boo still looks forward to our next outing, which tells me I must be doing something right.
