Stay of Execution

All Requests: Why Is This Time Different?

The Weeble challenges me to explain why now, with NBT, I'm finding a way to drop my defense mechanisms and rules and stop hedging and just run with the relationship.  Is it because NBT is well matched for me?  Is it because something has changed inside of me?  Is it both?  Is it something else?

Hmmm.  Well, Weeble my friend, that is a good question.  It probably won't surprise anyone to know I've been asking it myself a fair amount, too.  I'll tell you as best I can what I know. 

All Requests: Does Everything Happen For A Reason?

Dawn asked me to write about whether I think everything happens for a reason.   My answer is no, but it probably sounds a lot like yes.

I have tried to find faith, but so far I haven't.  I believe in a universe that's mostly chance and accident, an infinite number of monkeys hammering away on an infinite number of typewriters.  I haven't completely reconciled this worldview with some other things I believe: in the urgency of living an authentic life, in the importance of cultivating kindness and curiosity, in the power of certain "compasses" we have: ethical and creative and relational.  I don't specifically believe in karma, but I act like it and if I try to talk about how I make decisions my language would get kind of groovy sounding.  Maybe that's why I read so many books on brain chemistry and happiness and evolutionary psychology, because I'm trying to make sense of it all.  But at the core, I don't believe there is a Plan or a Fate, that the various twists and turns in our life are put there by some kind of intelligence in order to teach us certain life lessons or provide particular opportunities or challenges. 

But.  I think we are creatures that need to find meaning, and I believe the hunt for meaning is fundamental.  It's important for identity and important for our social relationships and important for how we learn things and important for how we feel.  The process of constructing meaning out of what happens in our life is what gives us our compasses, and it's the tuning device that tests and adjusts those compasses.  So I believe very much in the practice of trying to figure out why something happened, what specific life lesson a person or an event allowed you to learn that you wouldn't have learned any other way.  I think doing that kind of thinking connects the dots and helps us cement associations and lessons so we don't have to keep learning them over and over again. 

So does everything happen for a reason?  No.  But can you find or create meaning from everything that has happened?  I think it's worth your time to try. 

Housekeeping

1) The Blog Party is still going on.  You people (and dogs and cats) are wild.  I keep opening the door to late arrivers, who are bringing yummy dishes and inviting friends along and making themselves right at home.  It's not too late to join us.  We've got some people tangoing, folks in the backyard playing a little ultimate in the snow, someone tending the bonfire, and some 80s fans have commandeered a boom box and are lip syncing out on the back porch.  We've got enough kids now that we can build something really cool with the legos, and maybe play a little duck-duck-goose.  The dogs are sniffing one another's butts and begging for food from the sideboard.  Won't you stop by? 

2) The Why My Roommate Moved Out Fiction Contest is still alive.  I kept it open because The (Ex)Roommate herself promised me she'd submit an entry, as did a very creative pal of mine.  But neither of them has delivered yet, which means you can still join in if you'd like. 

3) We haven't done an All-Request Day in a while.  If there's something you'd like me to post about, send me an email or leave a comment, and I will be as honest and helpful as I can in response. 

Belated Request: Fish or Cut Bait?

Bill requests a post about making career decisions: "How does one make the decision to "fish and cut bait" in their career?" He notes that some days he likes his job, and other days he feels like he's entirely not cut out for the line of work.

I have a pretty simple philosophical approach to the fish-or-cut-bait question.  Fish.  When faced with a "action-versus-inaction" decision I'm strongly biased toward the "action" choice.  (The exceptions are for sexual temptation and for incurring substantial debt: in those two cases my bias is toward inaction.) 

Here's what I would ask you about your job if we were having coffee:
    1) Do you feel like what you are doing is good for the world?
    2) Do you feel like what you are doing suits your temperament, that the good-for-the-world part springs more or less naturally from you being yourself? 
    3) Do you admire the people who are further along the path than you?  Would you feel pretty good turning out like them?
    4) Do you have irrational envy of any of your friends, for the way their life is ordered?  Can you learn anything about what you are missing in your own life from that envy?
    5) When you come home and say, "I had a great day today, I felt really good," is it because of things you did and things that happened to you that you can reasonably expect most days? 

Here's what I WOULDN'T ask you:
    a) What would you do if it wasn't this, and why do you have any reason to expect it would be better? 

I don't think you can really see opportunities until you know what you want, at that sort of gut level that drives envy or that lets you recognize a day where what you contribute flows out of who you are.  I also don't think you can really see opportunities until you let go of what you're holding on to.  So if the answers to the top set of questions suggest that it's time to leave, I think that's the first decision.  And then the second decision is "What now," which, luckily for me, you didn't ask. 

Belated Request: Working Out Disagreements

Some time ago, PG asked for a post about fighting.  "How do you deal with arguing with people you're close to?" she asks.  Hmmm.  I haven't posted about this because I don't think I'm very interesting in this regard.  And because I don't think I'm able to tell the truth about it, necessarily.

I don't argue often -- that's the truth.  I like to think that's because I'm easygoing and reasonable and frank and open-minded and generous of spirit, but that's probably not true.  What's probably more true is that I'm avoidant and indecisive when I'm troubled by something, and I'm reluctant to talk about it until I've figured it all out for myself.  I would like to think that my arguments are tactful and loving but I'm not sure I'm always very reasonable.  The truth is I don't really know.  If I have a conflict with someone I love it's emotional and stressful and I'm in my head so much that I'm not a very clear observer.  I think I've written about this before, how I can't remember break-up scenes, or big relationship talks, the way I can remember more ordinary conversations.  I come away with just the gist, and no recollection of how the topics segued from one to the next.  I'm desperate not to disappoint the people I love, and if it looks like I have done so I project all of my own self-judgment and criticism and imagine they are levelling it at me and it feels so bad I can't stand it and get resentful and outraged and self-righteous.  It's hard to get past that to reasonable ground. 

My basic approach to differences isn't conducive to a lot of arguments.  You do your thing, I'll do mine.  I'm okay being friends with people who vote differently than I do, or who live differently than I do.  I'm pretty unbothered by differences of opinion within professional or nonprofit situations; I don't feel the compulsion to persuade other intelligent people to my worldview.  Where we diverge I'm generally curious about the reasons, and I'm rarely so attached to my own preference that I wouldn't consider changing it.  I'm even okay being friends with people when I think they are being selfish, or foolhardy, or shortsighted, or unkind in their approach to other people, although in those situations I'll speak up if I can.  Speaking up usually means some combination of gentle teasing or admonishment, or saying something like, "You know I'm on your side here, and I don't mean to imply that I think it's easy, but I think you're being a coward, and I think you're brave enough just to say something.  I don't understand why you don't feel like you can tell the truth."  The point being to let them know I love and respect them, and am baffled by their behavior, even as I recognize their autonomy and will stick by them even if they keep falling short of being their best self.   

The boyfriend who dumped me shortly after the inception of this blog has become a pal since then.  After me he got into a very turbulent relationship with a woman who was trouble trouble trouble.  After one of their breakups we were talking about their frequent fights.  He's a gentle fellow -- kindhearted and easygoing.  He and I never fought.  "I think that was the trouble with us," he said to me, thoughtfully.  "You and I always got along so well.  It was always so easy.  Whereas M___ and I fought like cats and dogs."  In the wistful sigh that followed it was pretty clear which one he preferred.  I've never had a relationship like that, full of anger and raised voices and tearful recriminations.  I don't think I have the temperament to stick around for anything so dramatic. 

All Requests: Comments on the Blog

Jenny asks me to write about what I think about blog comments. 

What can you say about the role and purpose of comments on your blog?  .... How do they affect what you write about, how you feel about your writing, and you in general?

That's a good question.  While I think about it, I'll direct you to what I've written before about blogging, and my thoughts about the relationship between blogger and audience.  I try really hard not to tailor what I write to y'all.  I try really hard to write honestly, about what I'm thinking about, whether it's light or descriptive or introspective or polemical.  But I am not unaware of having an audience.  I know this is a public project.  That's part of the fun of it.  There are some topics that I avoid even if they are on my mind because they don't seem easy to reconcile with the relationship I want to have with this indeterminate public audience; it requires too much trust, or it distances me in what feels like an artificial way, or it doesn't make a meaningful contribution to whatever identity or tone I've established here.  [I break these boundaries almost as often as I honor them, however.]

I feel really lucky to have the set of readers at Stay of Execution that has arrived here.  You are an insightful and generous bunch.  I think a lot about the comments you leave here.  "L."'s comment the other day about being on the receiving end of snarky junior league comments from friends really hit me hard, and made me realize how belittling I can be without intending.  Bill caught me out not too long ago equating extroversion and happiness, and he was right to chide me for that kind of thinking.  Those reflections and perspectives are really valuable for me, and are one of the biggest rewards of blogging.  Another, of course, is the feeling that I'm not alone -- that some of my loneliest or most vulnerable or confused feelings are not so bizarre or isolating, and in fact are shared by interesting and kindhearted people of all different ages and paths.

I've been lucky not to have a lot of really scornful and angry commenters here, who tear me down.  I have pretty thin skin and I do think a lot about what y'all say, probably because I think highly of the people who read and comment.  But I don't consider the purpose of this weblog to interact with commenters, or to gain your approval.  If I did that I think I would lose my way pretty quickly, and I couldn't be honest.  That's what this weblog is about, in the final analysis.  It's a project where I am trying to speak the truth about my experience as I fumble along trying to live a life that fits me. 

Is that a good answer?  I don't know if it says very much.  As far as measuring the quality of my writing, I've not found comments to be all that predictive.  Sometimes I write something that I feel really proud of and good about and nobody says boo in the comments, but in person or by email someone will tell me they were really touched, or that they remember it months later with some vividness.  Meanwhile I can guarantee you that if I mention a leaky pipe in passing I'll get 12 comments about fixing it.  [My favorite example of that is what felt like a vulnerable emotional post that mentioned physics.  What part did people respond to?  The physics, not the emotions.  Sigh.]  So although it's very difficult to do, I have learned to unhook my own ideas about the quality or caliber of a post from the comments.  Still, if I hear back from you that something has touched you or struck a chord, it means a ton to me, and sometimes surprises me (as with the responses to this post).

All Requests: How Are Things With NBT?

Someone wants to know how things are with Mr. NBT.  For those of you new on the scene, Mr. NBT stands for Mr. "Next Big Thing," a new relationship I have with someone I met through this weblog.  It's all very meta and Web 2.0 and we could probably be a nice case study for someone's PhD thesis if anyone were still interested in blogs instead of v-logs or podcasts or MySpace or whatever you kids are into these days.

Anyway.  The question -- how are things?  Things are crappy.  He came to visit, and now he's gone home.  And the crappy part is that having him here was so good, and having him gone is really really hard.  It is much harder than when he was gone before, because I didn't know how nice it was to have him here.  It was normal to communicate by phone or email or text message.  Now I'd rather look at him and smile or raise my eyebrows, and I don't WANT to talk on the cell phone.  I don't want to have to tell him that it was so stormy last night that the windows rattled and I thought my boat blew over on the trailer.  He should just know because we would have both heard it.  So, I have this bad attitude about the distance between us.  Next up is my visit down there, which is being schemed and planned now.  You'll hear about it, I'm sure, in due time. 

All Request Day

I guess now I'm on a loose once-a-month-or-so timetable of inviting requests.  If there's something you'd like to ask me, or you'd like to see me post about, please leave a comment or send me an email, and I'll do my best to give you an honest response.  If you've previously asked me something, and I haven't posted about it, don't be shy about pinging me again.  Things fall through the cracks.

All Requests: Deep Thoughts About Unrequited Love

An anonymous reader asks for deep thoughts about unrequited love:

That is, other than 'move on, keep busy, date others, etc,'' any thoughts on how to let go, and not feel inadequate and undesirable, when the one you love loves someone else??

Well this is a tough one.  You've taken away the easy answers: eyes on the horizon, keep moving, there are other fish in the sea. 

When I sat down here I was planning to be all worldly-wise, and say, "we've all experienced unrequited love, and I know I've had my share."  But the truth is, I'm not sure I have.  I've been disappointed, for sure.  I've built up expectations based on the most optimistic interpretations of someone else's behavior, and then been crushed to realize I was reading it all wrong.  I've fallen for men who never really opened up to me.  But is this unrequited love?  I don't really know.

I think I've protected myself against unrequited love by holding a part of myself in reserve.  I want the other person to go first.  Once upon a time I wasn't afraid to go first, to be the person who liked the other person more.  Because what are the chances you're both going to have your feelings deepen in exact synchronicity?  People open up at a different pace.  Time was, I was able to be brave.  And then I got damaged, and I wouldn't go first anymore.  So I stayed aloof, kept a part of me separate, and always watched the other person for signs that would let me cut and run away.  It did protect me from unrequited love.  But I think it protected me from real love, too. 

Something is different with Mr. Next Big Thing.  I don't know why, but I'm not afraid.  I have some theories (he met me through this blog, for one, so I felt like he'd seen a lot of my most vulnerable self already, and I couldn't really pretend or project something stronger than I really am.  Or I didn't have the energy to be elusive and reserved.  I dunno.).  In any event, it's an unfamiliar sensation, this enthusiastic, sappy, opening up, and it's made me see just how much I held back in prior relationships.  It feels really, really good.

So I don't know if I have much to offer to you.  I do think that timing is so much of connection.  I know you know that just because a particular person doesn't love you back, at the same time you are able to love him/her, it doesn't mean you're unloveable.  It really doesn't.  It's okay to feel sad, though.  It 's okay to long for something.  But all that other stuff that I'm not allowed to advise is not eye-rolling pablum.  It's real, and I think it's the only thing besides time that can heal the ache of wanting something you can't have: take care of yourself, date other people, be kind to the people around you, do something that makes you happy and do something that makes you feel beautiful, like your best self, once a day if you can.

All Requests: Not That Smart

Jodi requests a post about my realization that I'm just not that smart. 

It's a good question.  I say that because it's a question I don't know the answer to.  I just went through my archives because I remember writing something about this.  Basically, like everyone, I have a bunch of different facets to my personality.  One of them, the sharpest pencil, perhaps, was my easy-breezy ability to excel in the classroom.  Let's call this part of me Academic Success Barbie.  I've always gotten a lot of praise from grown ups when Academic Success Barbie was out.  And so I guess it became natural for me to believe that I was really smart, and (more fatally) that being smart was the most important and valuable thing about me.  I wrote about that assumption here, as I was thinking about what kind of jobs I might want to look at after I stopped practicing law.   

Of course there were plenty of inklings that I'm not that smart all along.  When I got to Yale, I was around some people who could see things that I just couldn't see -- physics and math stuff, mainly, although some wonderful writers, too.  I could hang, just barely, but I was able to see people who could fly, and I knew that there are worlds I don't have access to.  Perhaps because of that I gave Academic Success Barbie some time off, and spent my college years cultivating Sailor Barbie and Rock Star Charisma Barbie. 

But it's only been in the last several years that I've started to realize being smart doesn't mean that much to me.  And as I've loosened my hold on that as my primary sense of self-worth, it gets easier and easier to see clearly how silly it was to cling to it.  There are so many smart people out there, who have mental skills I will never have.  I'm not a very abstract thinker.  I forget things.  I am distractable, so distractable.  I'd rather dwell in my senses than in my head, most of the time.  And many of these smart people have a foundation of knowledge from specialization and a kind of single-minded focus that makes it impossible to imagine ever catching up.  But that's okay with me.