Culture Shock

The more time I spend out and about in Lansing, the more I realize that it's really nothing like Detroit at all. I suppose essentially they are two cities with almost the same work ethic, but I'm not entirely sure. I guess all I really wanted to do was use essentially in a sentence since it took me about five trys to remember how to spell it. And I really don't have any idea how to compare the social class makeup of these two cities. I do, however, know things are very different. How?

People are nice in this mid-Michigan area. It throws me off. Way off. People you don't know say hi to you and almost go out of their way to do so. I try to at least smile back when I'm not thrown completely off guard. Afterward, I crinkle my face and wonder why they did that. It kinda freaks me out. Even though I worked in retail, I never said hi to anyone. In fact, it's only at the Joe that I make it an effort to be nice to others - maybe then it's because I know they are always watching. Or it could just be the magic of the place. Who knows.

I lied - I also say hi to some of the people in my museums. But not all of them and not all the time. So let's just say it really is just the Joe.

Back to the reason why I decided to blog while hiding from harsh world: So I was walking in one of the malls I went today and one of the guys standing in a cell phone booth called me over and tried to get me to convert to his company. I'm happy with what I have, but I think the loyal ties might sever soon if it means saving money. But I'm not sure yet, I have do some number crunching and see if it would all be worth it. But it threw me way off. Even working in a mall, I never saw this done. I'm just way not used to people being nice to one another.

And I'm not used to the way people drive over here either. There is a calm sense about it with no rage or no rush. It really trips me out sometimes. And it's really hard to adjust my unquestionable, jerky city driving while over here. I'm not sure I like that. But I envy the relaxed tone in which these people drive. It's really quite amazing.

The towns are something too. I'm a city girl, born and bred in the big, bad D. My great-grandmother lived in Roscommon, about 3 hours or so up I-75, so when I'm off the freeway and get to drive through some of these little towns, set up so innocently and sweetly, I'm instantly transformed to a simpler time in my life. But then I look up and there is either a four way stop or I'm about to hit a run-a-way cow or baby Sparty. Opps!

I know somewhere beneath the scar tissue of being "downtown way too long, and in retail, and working with little kids, and drunken idiots" that I am still a nice person. Sometimes, it even shows through. And sometimes when it does, I surprise even myself. But when I gallivant among the outskirts of Michigan's capital city, I'm no where near as nice as these people and I realize that I am too damaged to ever be repaired. But maybe I was never this wholesome to begin with.

It's a good thing, not a bad thing. If I weren't so set on my impatient city lifestyle I might even be jealous. But maybe I am anyway.