Rant #28: Sounds I Hate

Earlier, I did several top-5 lists of my least favorite things in certain categories (Rant #26: Least Favorite Songs and Rant #18: Foods I Find Weird are coming to mind, though I know I did a couple others). They were part of my effort to be less wordy. (I've been better at keeping it pithy, I think. With the exception of that last post. And the one before it.) Due to their, ah, tremendous success, I'm going to launch into this one:

Top Five Sounds Emma Hates the Most, in No Particular Order:

1. The drumming of someone's nails; that little tap-tap-tapping that says, "I'm bored, and also immensely superior to you." I also have no nails (I pick at them. I know, I know, bad habit), so maybe I take it a little too personally, but it makes me feel like people are mocking me.
2. The sound my laptop makes when it gets too hot; that whirring sound, like it's getting ready for take-off. It infuriates me.
3. The sound of dentist tools; that threatening clattering sound. It's even scarier when my dentist's face is right above them and invading my personal space. (My dentist goes to my synagogue. Nice guy, but I'm always super awkward around him. Whenever I see him chanting or whatever I always think, "he knows what my back molars look like". And then I wonder if he's thinking about my back molars when we run into each other at synagogue. It's gotten to the point where I'll dash over to and hide in the classrooms if I see him coming. But I digress.)
4. The buzzing of a bee. I immediately regress to 7-year-old mode, and stand there motionless and mutter to myself "they're more afraid of me than I am of them". I'm not sure why. I've been stung by bees before, and while obviously I don't like being stung I'm always a big girl about it. It's not that bad.
5. Children (anyone, really) just learning the violin. There are few things on this earth as excruciating as a bad violinist. It's a testament of my love for my younger sister that I've listened to her practice her violin, oh, at least twice. (And she's not bad, per se; she's just 7 years old, and, well, no Mozart.)

Comment away if you have additional hated sounds.

Rant #27: That Woman Who Passed Me Over

I have a sad story today.

Well, upon further reflection, it's not that sad. It's not about the situation in the Middle East, or about the oil spill crisis, or about the state of Darfur. It won't ruin your day. It's safe to read on, I promise.

A couple days ago, I went to New York with a few friends, two of whom -- let's call them Lona and Yibamani -- are native New Yorkers and understand the subway system and everything. (Which is great. My sense of direction isn't exactly that of a homing pigeon. Instead, our other friend [whom we'll call Marsha] and I just -- to continue with the bird metaphor here -- followed them around like ducklings as they dragged us along to all these fun places. It was excellent.) Anyway, I doubt they remember this incident. But it stuck with me, and actually made me rather sad.

We were walking along some street (no clue; I was in duckling mode at that point) where loads of people were shoving pamphlets at passersby and trying to recruit people to donate money to various causes (or maybe they were advertising something; I'm not quite sure). For things like that, I always -- like the vast majority of people -- say "no, thanks". But anyway, we were walking along, and several yards away there was a woman offering pamphlets to people. We got up to her. I made eye contact, and smiled politely, if distantly. And you know what that woman did then?

She walked right by me, without saying a word, and proffered her pamphlet to the people behind me.

It made me kinda sad.

Well.

Yes. Kinda. Kinda sad.

Obviously I didn't want the dang pamphlet. I would have said "no, thanks" had she offered it to me. And yet, I was all ready for that brief human interaction. And I have to admit that it was a smidge depressing to be immediately passed over.

You see, slightly overweight, mid-fifties, shoulder-length puffy gray haired woman handing out your pamphlets, I'm not a jaded New Yorker. I won't scoff at your cause. I won't be mean to you. I'm worthy of a pamphlet and a smile, even if I am a teenager. I have to tell you, pamphlet woman, you hurt my feelings. I'm sure you're a nice woman -- maybe you had a bad day; I can certainly see how handing out pamphlets is a hellacious job -- so next time, please just smile back at me. You made me sad.

Kinda.

Kinda sad.

Interlude: My Book

Now, I try to keep my age ambiguous here. (After all, I took a computer safety class.) I try to make this blog read like I'm thirty, and a stay-at-home mom, but the truth is, I'm not. And while I'm reluctant to share my age with all my Internet fans whom I don't know personally ('sup Buddy the Elf?), I really want you to share this with you.

I wrote a parenting book: How to Parent Emma and Other Young Teens, by Emma.  (The elaborate prelude re: my age was written under the assumption that you'd go ahead and use your deductive reasoning skills and realize that I'm a teenager). I just got the first author copies today:

That's me, with the book. (Wow. I guess I really am going all out today -- K, my computer safety lecturer, will be disappointed in me -- with my age AND face). I, like my mother, am a wee bit of a Luddite, so I wasn't able to turn the picture around, but you get the gist. 

Many of my friends have wondered why I wrote a parenting book. I'm not a parent. I'm merely a wordy high-school girl. And yet, I wrote a book, because I feel like I have a lot to say.

When I was in 8th grade, I figured that everyone can use a bit of constructive criticism, even my own dear parents. Thus, I started writing. I gathered quotes from friends and classmates, and realized I had more to say than I had anticipated. So I kept going. It was relaxing, writing; it was a useful exercise, having to articulate everything that was annoying me about my parents, and looking at our relationship from a different perspective. As I read more parenting books, and learned about more parenting theories, I started coming up with my own theories and opinions. It just went from there, and the book was written.

It was a long process getting it published -- over 2 years, I guess it took. But it's almost done. Now, I have the author's copy, and while I have a few more tweaks to make on the formatting and spacing, the writing's totally done and edited, and I promise it'll be over very, very soon. Then, you'll be able to buy it on Amazon or on the Barnes and Noble website, and I hope that you will.

It's called How to Parent Emma and Other Young Teens, by Emma, and it's by me, Emma Dubin. (Oops. Last name. Sorry, K.)  I hope you enjoy it.