Hmmm...

Today I am compelled to write about one of those things "I think about blogging about during my day". I think we probably all do that although usually when I find myself thinking of something I want to blog about I play it all out in my head, word for word and that works it all out for me, leaving not much of a reason to blog about it or make attempts to sort my feelings out. But I'm just so baffled by what is going to appear below that I will blog although I've already pondered and pondered:

I was up to the Courthouse the other day. Don't worry, nothing unusual for me as in real life I am a assistant/secretary of sorts to an attorney that concentrates in Admiralty/Maritime and Personal Injury cases. So there I am, getting ready to go into the door to the Civil Division to file something and headed towards me in the hallway/foyer area are a guy and girl, of Mexican decent (or so I assume and would think it's safe to do so). As I had my hand on the door knob I hear the guy say to the girl something in spanish. Having taken spanish for 3 years (mostly coasting through) I pick up on some words and often times can figure out the gist of the conversation. He said something about 'punta', motioned toward me, and promptly she turned to me to ask me where they needed to go to pay their car taxes. I directed them accordingly and then proceeded in the door to the Civil Division. Upon entering, Michael, one of the deputy clerks asked me what was wrong as I looked pissed off. I told him, in my cheerful yet normal ditsy and kind of slow sort of way that I was just confused because some guy had just referred to me as 'punta' out in the hallway. I said "that's a bad word, right?". He laughed and said he thought so. Hmmm...

This evening after work I was going into a gas station. As I approached the door 3 young men, of Mexican decent (or so I assume and would think it's safe to do so) approached the door at the same time. They were looking at me, one says something about 'punta' and another held the door open for me. Hmmm...

I tell you. I am not making this up.

What I don't understand is this: why is it okay to talk about people, in front of their face in a different language and ASSume that they will not understand?

I'm not at all making the argument that they or anyone else that speaks another language needs to speak english, because you see, that's just not my point. It's not that I care that they were speaking spanish... that's honestly fine. It's just that I wouldn't go to Mexico or France or Africa or Timbuktu and call some random man a dick or some random woman a bitch in english and ASSume they won't understand me (and if I did I especially wouldn't ask them for directions after I did so).

So do tell... why do I keep getting called a 'punta' as I'm busy minding my own? (I feel the need to mention I am usually minding my own in a cheerful sort of way. I almost always smile at people and often I add in a "hi" or "hey".) I work on the philosophy of attempting to spread cheer, being friendly and I always try to be kind to others I meet (even when its really hard) as I TRULY believe that each of us is fighting our own battle. But even if each of us is fighting our own battle how does that make me a 'punta'?

I don't suppose I really expect an answer to what is more of a rhetorical question - I'm just smiling and confused in my normal ditsy and kind of slow sort of way.

Here's to days when I am not referred to as means things in languages other than my own...