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Original Blog-Surfer

I am the one, the first, the Original Blog-Surfer. I roam around Blogdom and leave comments on whatever Blogs I want. If I happen to comment on your Blog, don't get bent out of shape...be honored.

Name:
Location: Missouri, United States

Quiet until I know you. Polite even if I don't like you. Cynical all the time. HATE gossip with a passion. Firmly believe that there are always two sides of a story and anyone who makes a decision based solely on one side is acting like a fool. I love to read, so if you have read a good book, let me know.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Culture Study

I am in the process of getting my B.A. in Cross-Culture Communication. How does one talk and interact with people from different countries? They might speak the same language (ie. Great Brittian), but are they saying the same thing you are? I am learning that this can pertain to different places within the same country as well...like Missouri. My home state is OR. and now I am here in MO. They are both in the U.S. of A., but it is like we are in different countries. So, I am learning how to apply my cross-culture tecniques here in my own country.
I am just going to list a few things that have struck me as...different. Not wrong, not bad, just different.

1) I have already talked about Bubba so there is no need to go into detail about him. But he is a prime example of different cultures clashing!

2) I pass a cemetary every day. The irony of the name consistently makes me chuckle. It is called Dale Blair Memorial Cemetary...
Really.
I have been under the impression my whole life that when I see a bench or a garden or a whatever with a plack on it saying, "this is in memory of whoever" that it is something that people see and think of these people's lives. THEIR LIVES FOLKS. I do not look at a cemetary and think about life. Dale Blair or anyone elses. I look at cemetarys and think about...well...death. After all, it is full of dead people.

3) Where I am from, in Eastern Oregon, there are alot of ranchers. Ranchers in general are pretty slow moving people. I guess that speed isn't going to make the alfalfa grow any faster or make the calves come any sooner, but the good folks around here have given me a new definition of slow. Good Gravy. Maybe it is the humidity, I don't know, but speed just isn't in their vocabulary. When the boss says that he will be back in 30 minutes. No... he won't. Just take your time doing whatever you're doing, 'cause you are gonna be here for a while, son.

4) Roads...are freaking small. No middle lines, so shoulders. Goes from cement to grass, just like that. Posted speed limit is 25. Talked to one guy and these are his exact words, "I try to keep it at least at 45 or higher". Nice. Only in America would we as a country vote in slow speeds, then all promtly ignore the posted speed limit! Why not just say, "Hey we are going to go 45 on this road, lets make that the speed limit!.

Ok, I know there is more, but I shall end for now. I'll let you know if I add to this!

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