As John Cooper said on his FB posting, “This is one of the coolest “flash dances” ever! It’s 2012 and young people in Moscow have put on a “flash mob” happening, dancing to an 83-year-old American song written by a Russian-born American
Jew (Irving Berlin).” I’d add that all those people holding Korean tablets and wearing Australian boots and using Japanese cameras tell an even bigger story. We live in a small world. A small fucking awesome world.
Super Duper
May 18th, 2012Quora Question 2: What do I do if my interests don’t match with the people surrounding me?
April 19th, 2012One approach you might consider is to endeavor to parse out the essence of your dilemma. Why is it, if it is truly the case, that you do not share the interests of the people around you? Once you’ve gotten to the heart of the situation, there are a few things you can do to handle it.
First, the question. It seems kind of ridiculous for the enlightened among us to ask, hey, why don’t you like what they like, why don’t they like what you like? We are at a place in history that even in it its more primitive sectors believes that we should embrace our originality, our creativity – our individualism. Nothing against this, but as a thought experiment address the problem anyway. Why is there a disconnect between your interests and those around you? Think about it like this – unless you were transported to this school and situation very recently, much of your social development has happened in parallel to theirs. While your family might be very different and very unique, there is no reason to believe that this one factor would make all of your tastes different. This is because, in fact, our cultural and social intelligence – especially at a younger age – is very elastic. It is for this reason that immigrant children can adapt to the social normatives of their adopted culture, even against the strenuous objections of their parents. What about you – is there some cognitive or social intellectual aspect of your personality that eschews, say, popular film? Well, however we might like to believe it to be the case, it’s not very likely. This goes back to elasticity – by definition your social impulses on a genetic and developmental level were meant to help you succeed in a self-contained social setting or, further back, your tribe. That is, the cave-dwelling version of you from 10,000 years ago did not and could not have developed a particular distaste for movies which wouldn’t be invented for millennia. Frankly, it is not about you liking or disliking a particular thing. I propose that if you had been born in a culture and society that fawned over opera, you would have been uniquely drawn to dramatic theater. This is because going back to the caveman you, while there are survival advantages individually to being part of the group and on the team, there are also some group advantages to having a contrarian in the group. Very abstract, but stick with me here: if your small group was all into, say, saber-tooth tiger tag, and the ancient you was just not that into it, in some situations – and remember you had thousands of years to develop this trait – you might have been the survivor, and your somewhat contrarian genes might have snuck into the gene pool. What I’m positing here is that you were born to be contrarian in this sense – even if just at your age – you would have been talking about movies right now if you’d been born into a more bookish context. You have that little spark of fight whenever you see the crowd embrace something – you question it, you find its flaws or simply fail to embrace its pleasures. It’s hard – so hard – but you have to consider the possibility that these people around you are actually enjoying a valid pleasure, and further that you are not enjoying it because you are deeply programmed not to. The essence, then, of your dilemma is not where you are or who’s around you – it’s you. And that’s okay, in fact it’s wonderful – but in order to solve this problem, you have to embrace the reality that you’re programmed to, at least in this stage of your life, be contrarian. Think of it as nature’s way of pushing you to a new pack, or forcing you to adapt in unique ways to this one.
If you accept this premise, you are free of some really heavy baggage. Here’s why: If you understand that it’s not about the movies or the books or the kids or any of that, you won’t waste your time concerning yourself with them, and you won’t waste your energy being upset by them. If you can truly embrace the fact that if you were at Hogwarts (don’t mock my references, I’m tired!), you’d be the one annoyed about all the fuss about quiddich – if you can accept that, then you can ask yourself what your choices are. And here, finally, are some suggestions from a person who also had a bit of a contrary streak – though I am sure not quite as large as yours!
a. Find Another Valley: Let’s get this out of the way. It’s a terrible idea to run away (if you’re not old enough to leave on your own!), and it won’t solve your problem even if you did. That’s because this kind of push-back stuff is an adolescent evolutionary trait designed to get you to spread the genetic line outward – if you’re still an adolescent, your move will likely make you itchy to just move again. But, unlike your cave ancestry, you have a few hundred million people who speak your language and with whom you can safely interact online. Rather than doing the quick and dirty join-the-circus trick, spend your free time now testing out the fairgrounds. Think of this as the time Steve Jobs spent in Asia, or Siddhartha spent wandering the towns – just look around the world and see where you might want to go to college or post-college or whoever you aren’t – so that when the time comes and the plane is ready for takeoff, you’re on it. If you’re an adult, then I just doubt you’d have asked this question – but if you did, then maybe now is the time to try a move. Don’t head out to India just yet – if it’s just change you long for, you can get that one town over. Try that first – you can always spend your seven years in Tibet later.
b. Find Another Tribe: As you are clearly an intelligent and interesting person, you might be screaming, wait, no, I know that if I got off the tarmac in Mumbai or Cambridge, everything would just be better. And in a sense you’re right. That’s because of something called confirmation bias – if you move to India or Indiana, because your brain wants to have loved that place, wants to write home about how much better off everything is, your brain will stealthily trick you into noticing that amazing bookstore or that great girl/boy in the coffee shop. A survival tip that I can offer – even if I can assure you it’s far easier said than done – is to try that trick at home. Make a non-geographic change – embrace a new personality or style or activity – one that takes a reasonable investment, and your brain will see you all giddied up and say, Hey, check out that hottie at that bookstore you never noticed down the street! This sounds almost laughably easy, but think about the goth kids or the math team-ers – and then track backwards. They weren’t any of those things in fifth grade, or sometimes as late as eighth. However, because of a skill-set or more often a drive like your own, they wanted to make a change. When they did buy the outfit and change the hair and get the piercing – their brain was shooting all kind of, come on, this had better work signals their way, and so the few other people or sound tracks or whatever that seemed to fit in with their style suddenly seemed just great. The other kids who had gone to the same lengths seemed like kindred spirits. You might find your own kindred spirits by trying to jazz up your life.
The thing is, social constructs are just constructs – you identify with them because your brain needs to agree with you. You could have been a fundamentalist Christian singing at church or a die-hard liberal activist holding a sign if only you’d been born somewhere else. The thing is, had you been born as either of these things, it’s possible you wouldn’t have clicked, and you would have had to find another. That’s cool. Thanks to the internet and this crazy modern world we live in, you can do just that. Just keep it safe and remember, someday you can make it to India, so do your best to stay intact until you do.
Every So
April 19th, 2012Every so often I forget
That our son is perfect.
Because nothing is perfect,
Nothing is absolute,
Not even the rule
That nothing is absolute.
I can’t see perfection,
Because I was born at the
Wrong
Right
Time, when cartoons
Became a witty statement statement,
And every single word we said
Was chilled with context,
Like we were forever shaking off
From a winter walk,
A frigid soaking layer
Of everything we should have
Just openly loved.
Sometimes, I fear I’ll choke
On all the irony.
Every so often I forget
That our daughter is perfect.
I think it’s all based in
A kind of self-loathing
Would I want to be in a club,
That would have me as a member?
I can’t love deeply
Because for me love
Can’t
Won’t
Love me back,
Or might not love me forever,
And so approach with caution,
Look for subtle clues
Like we are children,
Alone in the house for the first time
Loving the freedom
Listening for sounds,
We lock the door.
Sometimes I peek out,
Fearing I love the monster.
Every so often, I forget
That you are perfect.
Because I think too much.
But however flawed my perception may be,
I never forget,
How lucky I am.
My Favorite Speech at the Reason Rally
March 30th, 2012This is the place – clearly – from which the post below was born. I didn’t know who Jamie Kilstein was until this speech – but he’s great!
Stop Thanking God
March 27th, 2012I was just reading too many posts on Facebook about this or that survivor. One was of this wonderful woman who had a mastectomy, survived cancer, and is now pregnant. The caption said, God is Good!
And I am not a disbeliever. I don’t fight the notion of a god, though I don’t believe in any supernatural beings, gods included. I have no problem with the idea that there might be, and that that God or those gods might be beyond our comprehension, working in ways beyond our scope of understanding. But everything right here, right now, that I know of, I know of outside of God. I can explain gravity and the moon and the tides and the coloring in my love’s hazel eyes. I don’t need a god for that, and I most certainly don’t need a god to tell me what is right or wrong.
So I have nothing against the idea that God is Good. I take no issue with the possibility that there are aliens from far away planets currently on their way for some chips and a Yankees’ game, either. If those green big-eyed folk are friendly and meaningfully address issues of social inequality and environmental impact, then I’d be fine calling them good, too.
But I’m imagining the doctor who diagnosed the cancer, the anesthesiologist who brought the woman to within an inch of her life and then brought her back, the nurses, and finally the surgeon who cut out a deadly and thoughtless disease – and even if they were all deeply religious, I just don’t see why we’re thanking God first.
When I get good service at dinner, I don’t tip God.
The thing is, I believe that we are given what we have. Not by gods, but by society. Schools, roads, clean air, security, fire protection – I could not have been educated without these things. And I openly accept that when I do good deeds – like founding a school or raising my kids – I am really extending all the good that has been done for me.
But I could have been a banker. I’m Ivy-League, quick with numbers, a quick study, and well-connected. I could have joined the training program at an investment bank, I could have been an analyst or a software developer at a brokerage house. The money would have been better, the work easier, and the life far more luxurious than the one I ended up with. I didn’t end up with it, though. I chose it. And yes, my parents and my dogs and the butterfly in China also played a part in those choices, but I had final say. I could have lived a life devoted entirely to myself or money or any other thing. But I chose to do a bit more for the world.
So did those doctors and nurses.
So no, don’t thank God. Maybe gods and aliens are good, most likely one is a Bronze-aged fairy tale written by some Palestinians a few thousand years ago and the other are probably just like us only greener – but it doesn’t matter. We little specs of carbon and hope down here, we have to choose to be good, and we deserve just a bit of credit.
For B
March 18th, 2012Don’t Stay There
You can stay in the lane
For a bit, if it makes sense.
But there’s a car merging in,
And he’s going to want this space
So get out!
Merge out, Brie!
And I fear the shudder
And the tilt
As the car makes a
Jarring turn into the middle lane
And the very real possibility
That she didn’t look
When she looked
To see if the lane was clear.
But there is no shudder.
She stays in the lane,
I press the invisible
Imaginary brake pedal at my feet,
Wondering when she’s going to
Merge left.
Until I realize she’s not
Going anywhere.
So I say,
Why are you still here?
And she responds
That it’s safer in the
Right lane.
That it’s slower and she
Feels more comfortable.
The truck rears a little
As she slams the breaks
Realizing almost too late that the
Car in front was not going that fast.
Then we’re okay for a second.
I want to say
Well, that doesn’t feel
Very safe.
But I think about
What to say so that
She won’t clench her fists
Crush her body
And look vacantly out
For the rest of the
Driving lesson.
So I say
It’s not better
In the right lane.
It seems like it should be,
Since you’re never speeding,
And you’re always closer
To the exit.
But if you stay,
You’ll be stuck here with all
Those who need this space to merge
Into greater things
And worse,
Those who
Never will.
Don’t ever avoid
Pushing a bit harder on the gas.
Don’t dodge
The catching up
Or the moving past.
Sometimes we fear
A high speed death
More than
A slow life.








