I have got to learn to reign it in. Sorry that yesterday's post was so damn long.
See, the thing is, I really like writing. It's what I studied as an undergrad, and then I had a few different jobs as a writer before going back to school. Law school, itself, is very writing-oriented; unfortunately, it's not the type of writing that I "enjoy." I'm obviously wordy (in case you hadn't noticed), and we're being trained, as legal writers, to write concisely and clearly, with as much repetition and as little variety as possible to get our point across without taxing the (obviously busy) legal audience, who will not have hours to spare for poring over lovingly crafted memorandum. I can do it; eventually, I'll be able to do it well. But it's not my favorite.
Words are my favorite. The way that they slide out of your mouth, over your tongue and into the air, for others to pick up and absorb as fast as you can say them. The way they have so many different variations and functions, and can be flipped from adverb to adjective, from noun to verb - no, I'm not averse to words like "gifting" or "facebooking." The way you can say the same thing, in the same language, in 2 big words, 2 little words, or a dozen medium-sized words. The way you can add and subtract letters from words to make people hear an accent in their head. The way you can string them together on the page or in the air to make people see something, hear something, smell or taste or feel something that is otherwise outside their reality.
Words are not dry, bland, dull creations laid down in centuries past only to give children headaches and heartaches about spelling quizzes and book reports. Words can be a full-body experience if put together the right way. They get into your head as you're sitting on your sofa in mid-November and dance around and sing and suddenly it's June, the cliffs are falling down into the ocean beside you and the salt on the lupines to your left is so strong that it burns your nose. You're not really sure how you ended up there, but you know the moment your eyes leave the page you'll be back in your living room, and you're not ready to leave the water's edge.
I could go on and on. Suffice it to say that, sometimes, there are so many words in my head that they just fall out all over the place, and I hope you can bear with me.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Obligatory end-of-year post
As December 31 approaches, the newspaper, television and Internet are all rapidly consumed by more patter than is normal. Broadcasters, normally devoted to serious topics like death, war, and school lunch programs, suddenly become fascinated by weight-loss and inspirational stories about recovering alcoholics. The Internet runneth over with self-help blog posts, lists of 2010's best and worst everything, and New Year's Eve party-planning pictorial slideshows. Newspapers publish 17 pages of advertisements per section, all cleverly disguised as event listings for this weekend, and try desperately to keep up with television and the Internet, to whom they are slowly, sadly losing the fight for the privilege of informing the masses.
So, what's the big effing deal? In some ways, it's a day like any other day - we're going to go to sleep on December 31 and wake up on January 1 exactly like we do at all times during this season: Cold.
In the human psyche (of which I am only a casual student, I know no fancy theories), however, the New Year is, indeed, a big effing deal. There appear to be several reasons why.
New Year's Eve is a grand excuse to throw a party during a cold, bleak time.
In millennia past, people didn't have a whole lot to do during the winter. I learned from reading the "Little House on the Prairie" series that there was an awful lot of candle-light fiddle-playing happening during the cold months, but that was about it. In the temperate and arctic climates, we're pretty limited as to what we can do from about October to March. While today's technologies have made a dramatic change to our year-round activities and productivity, it's still damn tempting to hibernate when the snow hits the ground. For some people, the annual round of New Year's Eve parties is a drag, because we actually enjoy our quiet, boring, cave-dwelling hibernation (as long as we have an adequate stock of hot cocoa). For most people, however, winter hibernation is a drag, contravening their basic, human, social instincts. What better time to party than a time of nerve-wracking transition? Which leads me to my next theoretical reason . . .
Change is frightening.
People who have been diagnosed with Autistic spectrum disorders classically exhibit difficulty dealing with transition. Doctors, therapists and psychologists can list off approximately 37 million reasons why this is so. In the real world, however, Autism looks an awful lot like a severe amalgamation of perfectly "normal" human behavior. Who doesn't feel like flapping their hands around wildly when stressed? Who doesn't get squicked out by certain physical sensations - like tickling, scratchy fabric, or sudden loud noises - from time to time? Who hasn't felt like they don't know how to appropriately communicate with someone or some group, resulting in anxiety, mental shut-down, or just severe verbal spewing? In reality, we all exhibit autistic behaviors as part of our daily lives; they're just not severe, or bundled together in a way that makes it difficult for us to deal with day-to-day activities. Perhaps the most common "autistic behavior" in "normal" human society, though, is an inability to deal with change.
I for one hate change. I hate it when I've decided that a certain situation or event will pan out in a certain way, and then some asshole throws me a curveball - like my car breaking down, or that pretty platter of crudites not being touched at a party. It's not because I can't accept these things happening, or because I don't like the people who didn't eat my lovingly arranged veggie sticks; it's because change is dangerous. Changes in our environment and our social status historically signal danger, so as a species we've developed an aversion to them.
The New Year is in and of itself a huge change in the human psyche. We convince ourselves that, next year, everything will be "different;" our lives will get better, we'll finally get that promotion we deserve, we'll do better in our classes, something will change in a positive way after January 1. But secretly, deep down inside our souls, we are all pretty terrified that the changes the coming year brings will be disastrous. So we self-induce a societal vomit of self-helping idealism to comfort ourselves with the thought that, starting tomorrow, everything will be right in the world.
America is a "quick-fix"country that perversely treasures hard work, and we want these things to sing in harmony.
Resolutions usually fade faster than photographs from 1973 left on a sunny windowsill. First the sheen wears off as we realize we actually have to do something to make them happen; as we work a little less every day at keeping them, their bright colors, so full of promise on January 1, blanch to a dismal sepia. We keep them hanging around for a little while (some longer than others), bringing them out to display to family and friends until they're just embarrassing to look at. Finally, they end up tucked in the back of the closet beside those heels you just can't walk in and the treadmill you bought last year. You know the one I'm talking about.
The problem is that most of our "resolutions" are too damn hard. In a paroxysm of motivation, spurred on by too much champagne and not enough hors d'oeuvres, we triumphantly raise a glass and announce that this year we will lose 50 lbs, quit smoking, learn to dance the Jitterbug and swim the English Channel by this time next year. These are not easy things. Yet, they are the most commonly made resolutions, often by the same people each year (ok, maybe not the last two examples, but you get the idea).
Sometimes, we fail because those dreaded changes we sought to control occur without even a pretense of courtesy, and life gets in the way. Often, we fail because we just plain can't meet our resolutions fast enough. Losing weight takes time, discipline, and hard work at the gym. Quitting smoking takes drive and determination akin to Mother Theresa's devotion to the impoverished, and one attempt usually just won't cut it. In our country, we're used to going about things a certain way: We purchase a pill or device or contraption. We take the pills, use the devices, and scratch our heads trying to figure out what to do with the contraptions. We wait for a couple weeks or a couple hours, and suddenly, almost magically, everything is better. The pills have masked our symptoms or cured our illness, the device has let us know when our ferret has to go to the groomers, and the contraption has . . . contrapted. And it's all over pretty quickly. We're gratified nearly instantly, and we feel like we have accomplished something.
With a New Year's resolution, we've got a lot more work ahead of us. The work takes time and commitment, and sometimes a total change of life or mind frame, as well. For the most part, we Americans just don't have the patience for this.
So, what's the big effing deal? In some ways, it's a day like any other day - we're going to go to sleep on December 31 and wake up on January 1 exactly like we do at all times during this season: Cold.
In the human psyche (of which I am only a casual student, I know no fancy theories), however, the New Year is, indeed, a big effing deal. There appear to be several reasons why.
New Year's Eve is a grand excuse to throw a party during a cold, bleak time.
In millennia past, people didn't have a whole lot to do during the winter. I learned from reading the "Little House on the Prairie" series that there was an awful lot of candle-light fiddle-playing happening during the cold months, but that was about it. In the temperate and arctic climates, we're pretty limited as to what we can do from about October to March. While today's technologies have made a dramatic change to our year-round activities and productivity, it's still damn tempting to hibernate when the snow hits the ground. For some people, the annual round of New Year's Eve parties is a drag, because we actually enjoy our quiet, boring, cave-dwelling hibernation (as long as we have an adequate stock of hot cocoa). For most people, however, winter hibernation is a drag, contravening their basic, human, social instincts. What better time to party than a time of nerve-wracking transition? Which leads me to my next theoretical reason . . .
Change is frightening.
People who have been diagnosed with Autistic spectrum disorders classically exhibit difficulty dealing with transition. Doctors, therapists and psychologists can list off approximately 37 million reasons why this is so. In the real world, however, Autism looks an awful lot like a severe amalgamation of perfectly "normal" human behavior. Who doesn't feel like flapping their hands around wildly when stressed? Who doesn't get squicked out by certain physical sensations - like tickling, scratchy fabric, or sudden loud noises - from time to time? Who hasn't felt like they don't know how to appropriately communicate with someone or some group, resulting in anxiety, mental shut-down, or just severe verbal spewing? In reality, we all exhibit autistic behaviors as part of our daily lives; they're just not severe, or bundled together in a way that makes it difficult for us to deal with day-to-day activities. Perhaps the most common "autistic behavior" in "normal" human society, though, is an inability to deal with change.
I for one hate change. I hate it when I've decided that a certain situation or event will pan out in a certain way, and then some asshole throws me a curveball - like my car breaking down, or that pretty platter of crudites not being touched at a party. It's not because I can't accept these things happening, or because I don't like the people who didn't eat my lovingly arranged veggie sticks; it's because change is dangerous. Changes in our environment and our social status historically signal danger, so as a species we've developed an aversion to them.
The New Year is in and of itself a huge change in the human psyche. We convince ourselves that, next year, everything will be "different;" our lives will get better, we'll finally get that promotion we deserve, we'll do better in our classes, something will change in a positive way after January 1. But secretly, deep down inside our souls, we are all pretty terrified that the changes the coming year brings will be disastrous. So we self-induce a societal vomit of self-helping idealism to comfort ourselves with the thought that, starting tomorrow, everything will be right in the world.
We like to know that we are not the only person who worries.
People don't like to feel alone. Even if you're one of those people who really, truly treasure their space or their "alone time," you are still an inherently social being. That social instinct may manifest itself with one partner, or with 100 people at a bar. But you still need it. Admit it; it's ok.
This isn't about co-dependancy, or even about our individual social skills. It's about survival. The lone wolf is a nice idea and all - there's something rugged and idealistically American about handling the world with no one to turn to - but it just doesn't work. We need to feel united with others, even if only for a moment. When people across the country and around the world all stand up at midnight (time zones are conveniently ignored in our fraternal fiction) and resolve that this year will be the year, it makes us feel good. So we partake.
So if it's all just about unity, E, why do we bother trying to keep our resolutions?
Well, personally, it looks to me like people just don't want to be liars. Even though everyone and their mother knows that these resolutions will usually falter and fail, they hate to admit that when they're making them. This is where human pride comes in. How dare you suggest I'm a liar, we say silently when people make jokes about the fallacy of our resolutions. How dare you suggest I'm incapable of fixing (fill-in-the-blank). So we hold our heads high and give those resolutions a shot. We one-up one another by taking on more difficult challenges with a greater projected award, not stopping to really think about what it is we're setting out to do, or the sheer amount of work we're going to have to put into them. This will become a problem in about a week.
America is a "quick-fix"country that perversely treasures hard work, and we want these things to sing in harmony.
Resolutions usually fade faster than photographs from 1973 left on a sunny windowsill. First the sheen wears off as we realize we actually have to do something to make them happen; as we work a little less every day at keeping them, their bright colors, so full of promise on January 1, blanch to a dismal sepia. We keep them hanging around for a little while (some longer than others), bringing them out to display to family and friends until they're just embarrassing to look at. Finally, they end up tucked in the back of the closet beside those heels you just can't walk in and the treadmill you bought last year. You know the one I'm talking about.
The problem is that most of our "resolutions" are too damn hard. In a paroxysm of motivation, spurred on by too much champagne and not enough hors d'oeuvres, we triumphantly raise a glass and announce that this year we will lose 50 lbs, quit smoking, learn to dance the Jitterbug and swim the English Channel by this time next year. These are not easy things. Yet, they are the most commonly made resolutions, often by the same people each year (ok, maybe not the last two examples, but you get the idea).
Sometimes, we fail because those dreaded changes we sought to control occur without even a pretense of courtesy, and life gets in the way. Often, we fail because we just plain can't meet our resolutions fast enough. Losing weight takes time, discipline, and hard work at the gym. Quitting smoking takes drive and determination akin to Mother Theresa's devotion to the impoverished, and one attempt usually just won't cut it. In our country, we're used to going about things a certain way: We purchase a pill or device or contraption. We take the pills, use the devices, and scratch our heads trying to figure out what to do with the contraptions. We wait for a couple weeks or a couple hours, and suddenly, almost magically, everything is better. The pills have masked our symptoms or cured our illness, the device has let us know when our ferret has to go to the groomers, and the contraption has . . . contrapted. And it's all over pretty quickly. We're gratified nearly instantly, and we feel like we have accomplished something.
With a New Year's resolution, we've got a lot more work ahead of us. The work takes time and commitment, and sometimes a total change of life or mind frame, as well. For the most part, we Americans just don't have the patience for this.
This is an opportunity to control our destiny.
Perhaps the most gut-wrenching reason to make a New Year's resolution right here, folks.
People are obsessed with control. I'm not throwing stones - I am, too. Americans have one of the worst national public transport systems in the developed world because if you're not the bus driver, you don't control the bus. If you're not the person laying the tracks or conducting the train, you have no control over the speed with which you travel or the route that you take. Judging by the tepid success of most car-pooling programs, we don't even like it when someone else drives the car we're in.
There are so many major books devoted to the idea of controlling your destiny. "The Secret" has been a big one year after year since it was released in 2006. That's a pretty good run for a book. I personally haven't read it, but I'm pretty sure there's no fancy, metaphysical hoo-ha hidden in those pages. Last I heard, it was all about "manifesting your own destiny." Manifesting can conveniently stand in for "controlling" this time.
Even when people "give themselves to God," it's often an attempt at having some control over their future, regardless of what the various religious doctrines will tell you. You walk in, you pray or meditate or cast a spell, you ask "God" for something you want or need, and you walk out of there content that you will receive it if you are "worthy." If you don't think you're worthy, you generally set about acting like a nicer person than you have in the past, by volunteering at soup kitchens, refusing the tax deductible receipt when you give to charities, and helping little old ladies carry in their groceries. This way, you're increasing the odds of your spiritual crapshoot so you're more likely to get what you asked for. We only fall back on the idea that "it's not in God's plan" when what happens or doesn't happen is so far outside our ability to control that we can't reconcile with not deserving the opposite.
New Year's resolutions are just another way to control what happens next. We usually resolve to do something that will create a ripple effect of other, lovely things. When we quit smoking, for example, not only do we stop smelling like walking ash trays, but we stop coughing all the time, it's easier for us to breathe, we have more stamina, and we stop wanting to kill people every 2.5 hours on the dot if we can't get in a 5-minute break. Not only do we exert greater control over our habits, we also exert greater control over our physical sensations, our mood, and our health insurance costs. We also exert control over how people perceive us - no longer will we be seen as the reckless/dirty/stinky/rebellious addict, but as the responsible, strong-willed person that we believe ourselves to be.
That's a pretty big deal.
All together now.
In case you hadn't already guessed, I won't be making any New Year's resolutions. I am joining the slavering mob of nay-sayers this year and boycotting them. I believe it's best to stick with what I know: I will continue to make minor changes to my habits which will positively impact my health. I will continue to work hard at school in order to secure a brighter future for myself and my family. I will continue to be a cranky mess before 9am. And I will continue in my efforts to be a nice person every day, knowing that I will fail (spectacularly) at times, but that I only have to think about it each day as it pertains to that 24 hours.
Go ahead and make your resolutions. Prove me wrong and succeed. It's nice when people succeed. It's also nice when you know what you're capable of and don't set yourself up for (spectacular) failure.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
And a good day to you, too
Well, hello there, Internet! Shall we?
First, a little about this blog.
This is just a personal blog, nothing fancy. I hope you'll find it slightly interesting to read, as I hope I will find it interesting to write. There's no set theme yet, beyond the documentation of my average life in Maine. There are many different aspects to living in Maine - for instance, right now it's m-fin' cold outside. And there's snow on the ground. BUT, in approximately 5 months, it will be slightly less cold, and will be muddy. Then it starts to get buggy, then really hot (but only for the months of July and August), then wha-BAM - it's cold again.
Seriously, there's more to it than that. I love Maine and all its weird, quirky charms. There are plenty of things I don't love about it (which we will discuss more as time goes on), but I also love the things being done to change those not-so-favorite aspects of our state. So, for everything that may suck about Maine, there are at least 37 million things which don't, making this place a damn good deal. For example - cost of living really high because of taxes and heating oil? No problem! We have at least 18 breweries in state, providing you with tasty, local beer at reasonable prices, which you can purchase and drink when you're feeling particularly ticked off about the high cost of living.
Ok, so maybe that was a bad example. Maybe we should just carry on with this introductory crap and I'll save the other stuff for later.
And now, a little about the author.
I'm E. I'm a 25 year-old law student living in Portland, ME with Wife, Old Dog and Crazy Dog. Crazy Dog has lots of other names too, but we'll go with the most polite one first. I'm currently taking advantage of my winter break to take another stab at blogging. I have no delusions of grandeur or expectations that this blog will make me into a super-wealthy Internet celebrity (although I will not complain if that happens), I just miss writing things that I enjoy writing, rather than writing things I am assigned to write.
Once upon a time, I thought I was going to be a writer, and I even worked for a couple of newspapers over the span of about 2 years. But that didn't work out so well at age 21 (lots of responsibility+deadlines+free-form schedule+beer=disaster), so I spent the last few years working in social services, gradually getting poorer as Wife, Old Dog and I moved to the big city, acquired Crazy Dog, had a lot more big-city bills to pay, and generally got slapped in the face with a shitty, shitty economy. So I went to law school.
Unfortunately, my planning stopped at "law school." Now I need to figure out why I'm doing this and what I want to do in a couple of years when they set me loose on the hapless citizens of Portland. Hopefully, along the way, I'll also figure out how to not suck at something and will end up doing that.
If I don't, then I guess I have to become an Internet celebrity, right?
So anyway, feel free to stop by now and then. Or even every day, if you like. This blog will likely be updated pretty regularly for at least a month (while I'm on break) and then may drop off considerably when the semester starts anew. Or it might not. That all depends on how badly I want to avoid my homework.
First, a little about this blog.
This is just a personal blog, nothing fancy. I hope you'll find it slightly interesting to read, as I hope I will find it interesting to write. There's no set theme yet, beyond the documentation of my average life in Maine. There are many different aspects to living in Maine - for instance, right now it's m-fin' cold outside. And there's snow on the ground. BUT, in approximately 5 months, it will be slightly less cold, and will be muddy. Then it starts to get buggy, then really hot (but only for the months of July and August), then wha-BAM - it's cold again.
Seriously, there's more to it than that. I love Maine and all its weird, quirky charms. There are plenty of things I don't love about it (which we will discuss more as time goes on), but I also love the things being done to change those not-so-favorite aspects of our state. So, for everything that may suck about Maine, there are at least 37 million things which don't, making this place a damn good deal. For example - cost of living really high because of taxes and heating oil? No problem! We have at least 18 breweries in state, providing you with tasty, local beer at reasonable prices, which you can purchase and drink when you're feeling particularly ticked off about the high cost of living.
Ok, so maybe that was a bad example. Maybe we should just carry on with this introductory crap and I'll save the other stuff for later.
And now, a little about the author.
I'm E. I'm a 25 year-old law student living in Portland, ME with Wife, Old Dog and Crazy Dog. Crazy Dog has lots of other names too, but we'll go with the most polite one first. I'm currently taking advantage of my winter break to take another stab at blogging. I have no delusions of grandeur or expectations that this blog will make me into a super-wealthy Internet celebrity (although I will not complain if that happens), I just miss writing things that I enjoy writing, rather than writing things I am assigned to write.
Once upon a time, I thought I was going to be a writer, and I even worked for a couple of newspapers over the span of about 2 years. But that didn't work out so well at age 21 (lots of responsibility+deadlines+free-form schedule+beer=disaster), so I spent the last few years working in social services, gradually getting poorer as Wife, Old Dog and I moved to the big city, acquired Crazy Dog, had a lot more big-city bills to pay, and generally got slapped in the face with a shitty, shitty economy. So I went to law school.
Unfortunately, my planning stopped at "law school." Now I need to figure out why I'm doing this and what I want to do in a couple of years when they set me loose on the hapless citizens of Portland. Hopefully, along the way, I'll also figure out how to not suck at something and will end up doing that.
If I don't, then I guess I have to become an Internet celebrity, right?
So anyway, feel free to stop by now and then. Or even every day, if you like. This blog will likely be updated pretty regularly for at least a month (while I'm on break) and then may drop off considerably when the semester starts anew. Or it might not. That all depends on how badly I want to avoid my homework.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)