Choose Trouble

Home

  • Failing Forward

    A while ago, I listened to Lex Fridman’s interview with Mark Zuckerberg from June 8, 2023. Mark Zuckerberg claimed that he is very willing to fail at things when he is trying something new, and stated that this is crucial to the ability to do new things. Most people, he claimed, like building expertise, and once they have done so, they are trapped by the expertise they have built, and unable to do anything new.

    I’m excited looking at this now, because I think I’ve finally found a way that I’m comfortable failing! Sewing has been a fascinating new hobby to pick up because I can tell when I’m doing it “wrong” or at least, not “well,” but the finished product still ends up looking great! And that, to me, is a win.

    I’m hopeful that learning this, feeling this, that failure is not fatal, that I can do things very imperfectly and still come out ok in the end, will help me to take more risks in the rest of life.

    One thing that I can’t really understand is why this is working for sewing (at least for now, let’s not jinx it!) when it didn’t work for yoga teaching, for drawing/painting, for singing, or, honestly, for writing. I think one crucial piece is that for sewing, I don’t have to let anyone else see the failures, the messy stitches. They end up inside the clothing, invisible. For these other activities, there’s something inherently performative that means that others will witness and potentially judge me and my work.

    Am I being pollyannish about this? Maybe. Certainly clothing designers and those more educated in fashion will be judging anything I make. But, again, I don’t have to show them the messy interior. And I don’t have to tell them I made the clothing. It’s not obvious that it is a performance at all. Maybe that’s the best part? Wearing clothing isn’t exceptional— it isn’t an obvious way of calling attention to myself. It’s a thing that must be done, and that I’m just choosing to do in my own way.

    , ,

  • Routines

    Building new routines remains difficult. I’m feeling drawn to sewing, so rather than waking up and writing with my coffee, I’ve been waking up and hemming. Still very productive, and pleasant, so does it matter that it isn’t my goal activity?

    I’m not sure. On the one hand, it is still a positive activity/hobby— one that could help me have better-fitting clothing and rely less on fast fashion. It’s definitely a growth and learning opportunity, and I’m really happy with how I’m dealing with learning/adversity/progressing through things I don’t know how to do. In the past, I easily got overwhelmed when I didn’t know how to do things. Now, I seem to just be chugging along, doing my best, and figuring out what I can do better next time. All good things!

    But…

    Why can’t I do that with my writing?

    Is the issue that it feels too much like my day job?

    There’s certainly a part of it that doesn’t feel ideal — my work is already super sedentary, so having a completely sedentary hobby isn’t the best addition.

    But I worry that I’m missing out on something important— writing helps me to think, helps me to shape the stories, lessons, and arguments that sit shapeless in my head. They’ll remain amorphous and emotional until I’m forced through the rigor of writing them down to wrangle with the complexities and contradictions in my arguments.

    It’s an important process, and I understand that— but then why am I avoiding it?

    Maybe it’s mostly because it is so easy to avoid— there are so many distractions, including productive ones like sewing, to spend my time on.

    Maybe it’s also because I don’t have anyone to hold me accountable— not that I need a task-master, but there is no one in my life who is expecting rigorous thought of me, so I don’t feel the need to prepare. This, I think, is also the biggest opportunity— of course no one expects it, but that means that very few people are doing it— so if I do it, I can accomplish all sorts of things. But it requires the discipline to expect it of myself when no one else thinks it necessary.

    Maybe it’s also that I’m afraid of what I’ll learn— about myself, the world, what I care about, what I don’t. If I look too carefully at myself or my life, I may find I’m spending my days in ways that aren’t consistent with my values. (Who are we kidding here? I definitely will find that. There is no value I hold that requires as much instagram scrolling as I’m currently doing.)

    Can I believe in an audience here that is holding me accountable? That will expect rigorous thoughts, call me out when I don’t think well?

    Let’s hope.

    , ,

  • But am I really a Rebel?

    In the Blog Trouble post, I noted that I was a firm Rebel according to the Rubin Tendencies. But then, I immediately doubted myself.

    When it comes to rules, at least formal rules like laws, I am compelled to follow them. Feeling like I might not have, or that someone might THINK I didn’t, can cause me extreme anxiety.

    In fact, what I’ve learned as I’ve gotten older is that I often BELIEVE that things are law when, in fact, they are subject to interpretation and/or negotiation. For example, deadlines, particularly at work. But also, rules about cancellation terms, bill amounts, coupon expirations, etc. There are so many small areas where “it doesn’t hurt to ask“ if you can have what you want instead of what the ”rules“ require— but it often never would have occurred to me to ask for an accommodation.

    How do I make sense of this contradiction? That, generally, I push back against what people want from me UNLESS I believe there is an applicable rule, in which case I follow it perfectly?

    I think it fits under the Rebel tendency to focus on acting in accordance with identity. I identify as a “good” person— one who acts morally and is an upstanding member of society. Pretty hard to be an upstanding member of society if you break a lot of laws, right? So then, if I perceive a rule or law, it is a requirement of my identity to comply with it.

    Interestingly, speeding laws don’t seem to be “real” according to my identity…

  • Blog Trouble

    I am realizing that, with writing, I have A LOT of thoughts. What I don’t have is a writing habit. I’ve had one in the past— at least a journalling habit— which I lost in my twenties, probably to the internet. If I’d started a blog then, I’d probably be famous now! But, here we are. I’m an aspiring writer without a writing habit.

    Based on writing advice books, I don’t think my problem is that uncommon— most writing advice does seem to start with ‘you must write’— so I’m trying to not beat myself up over it. But what can I do to fix it? Here’s what I’m going to try:

    1. Dedicated writing space- I’m fortunate to have a pretty desk that I don’t need to use for work from home, so it can be a 100% writing space. The usual problem is that other stuff is piled up on it, but I’ve been working over the last few weeks to just keep it clear, so hopefully that will help! The secondary problem is that I don’t have a chair for it— for now, I’m wheeling over my work-from-home chair to use, but I think I might bring an extra dining room chair upstairs, just so that there’s one less hurdle to use it every day. I may need an ergonomic keyboard for this set-up someday, maybe that’s something I can use as a reward for regularly posting?
    2. Time to write- I think time to write comes in two flavors. There are folks who are working, and have to care for young children and take care of their home, and they really have very little time to write. There are other folks who have leisure time available, but are distracted by other ways of using the time. I most definitely fall into the latter category. Despite working full time and plenty of social and leisure activities, I definitely have time to write. The problem is doing it! I’m going to try building it in as a morning activity, coupled with coffee drinking. Hitching it to coffee means it will happen every day! The challenge here is getting out of bed without spending a silly amount of time screwing around on my phone.

    I think that’s it? I’m actually not planning on tracking or doing firm rewards for a certain number of days writing/words written/posts published— I’ve found that those efforts are derailed as soon as I have a busy week and can’t track. I’m hoping the writing/coffee habit will be enough to easily restart the habit anytime a busy week knocks me off track.

    Actually, the more I think about it, the more I think that’s the right approach (for me). Years ago, I took Gretchen Rubin’s Habit Tendency quiz, and I’m a firm rebel. We don’t respond well to either outer or inner obligations— meaning, meeting up with a friend is a bad commitment method (I tend to resist ongoing commitments that I don’t have control over), and ‘making a date with myself’ doesn’t work either (I’ll just blow myself off if I feel like it!). For Rebels to build habits, it has to become part of identify. So…. writing is just ‘what I do when I drink coffee in the morning’— it’s as simple as that!

    ,

  • Reading to Write: We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves by Karen Joy Fowler

    WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS

    I heard about this book in The Shit No One Tells You About Writing podcast. If memory serves (I’m linking the podcast episode below, but haven’t re-listened to it to confirm), I think Karen Joy Fowler was promoting a newer book, Booth, but they discussed this book and the fact that the publisher included a major spoiler on the book cover, which the author would not have chosen to disclose to readers that early.

    All this to say, I knew going in about the major spoiler, and I hadn’t been able to resist reading the cover to see what it was. And that meant I read it watching to see how she had kept Fern’s identity/nature a secret, and why Fowler thought it was important to share it later.

    I think it was wise authorial decision, given that a major theme is stated explicitly toward the end of the book: “… the significant, the critical finding of their study, the finding everyone was choosing to ignore, was this: that language was the only way in which Viki [a chimp raised with humans, like Fern] differed much from a normal human child.” (pg 288) Most people would find it easier to ignore this finding, and so the best way to make that hard to do is to hide from the reader the identity of Fern, so that the similarities seem obvious to them.

    But then, when that point is made, and the reader believes that chimps and humans are essentially identical EXCEPT for language, what are the consequences of that finding? I think the crux of the issue is whether language is only an activity we do, a means of communicating, or whether it is a signifier of something more. Is language necessary for consciousness? Is it evidence of consciousness? And is consciousness really the thing that makes us human?

    One could argue that it is our humanity, our kindness and consideration for each other, that makes us human. What, then, do we think of Fern, who loves her family, but who also has a streak of cruelty that seems to be common to her chimpanzee nature. But, but, that too is not necessarily a difference between us and chimps. Our treatment of chimps, of other animals, is evidence that we, too, have a mean streak, a capacity for cruelty that, once exercised, becomes stronger. So, where then is the difference between us?

    What I most enjoyed about this book is the moments when the narrator makes us ponder our own behavior, the reflections caused by the few dissimilarities she notes between chimp and human behavior:

    “If chimps used money and we didn’t, we wouldn’t admire it. We’d find it irrational and primitive. Delusional. And why gold? Chimps barter with meat. The value of meat is self-evident.” (pg 228)

    What is the value of intellect, of consciousness, of the abstraction made possible by language, if it allows us to make up things like money, participate in a collective delusion, that makes us worse off?

    “… humans are much more imitative than the other apes.

    For example: if chimps watch a demonstration on how to get food out of a puzzle box, they, in their turn, skip any unnecessary steps, go straight to the treat. Human children overimitate, reproducing each step regardless of its necessity.” (pg 202)

    This seems to me to be the cause of both ritual and of time-wasting bureaucracy. We seem by nature to be unable to cut to the chase, to value the performance of completely unnecessary steps.

    And finally:

    “I still haven’t found that place where I can be my true self. But maybe you never get to be your true self, either.” (pg 298)

    I love this breaking of the fourth wall to address the reader (which I think happens at least one earlier time in the novel as well). Maybe we’re all chimpanzees trying to fit into human society. Rosemary has the benefit of being able to cite studies that elucidate the ways she is different from her chimpanzee sister, as well as ways that she was influenced by growing up with her sister that made it difficult for her to socialize with human children. The rest of us? We’re each different, and often feel that we need to perform, act a certain way, to ‘fit in,’ but we don’t have the benefit of research to show exactly how different we are.

    Reference to podcast: https://podcasts.apple.com/ca/podcast/how-to-be-creative-during-difficult-times/id1530250126?i=1000554330865

  • Reading to Write: Spare Writing in Foster by Claire Keegan

    Today was Politics & Prose’s member sale, so I swung by to buy another stack of books, ignoring the pile I already have waiting to be read. I picked up Claire Keegan’s Foster from the remainder table— I’m not sure why it was there, as there were full price copies on one of the main tables. (Someday, I’ll berate myself for underpaying authors I like, once I understand better how sales and discounts impact the author’s royalties.)

    I came home, not yet ready to face the other doorstopper books I’d picked up, so I decided to read Foster. It was as delightful as all the book jacket blurbs had led me to expect it to be! In maybe an hour or two, I had read the whole thing. Despite the short length, it was not lacking in nuance, in emotion, in deep characterization.

    From a writing perspective, one thing that jumped out to me is how much could be said between the lines of what the narrator is sharing, versus what the people around her are saying about or to her. For example, after her father drops her off, the narrator is wondering why he hadn’t said goodbye. But her aunt and uncle talk at/to her and each other, and decide that she’s probably upset because her father forgot to leave her bag of things behind.

    I wonder whether these shorter, novella length books will be more of a trend as attention spans have weakened and we’ve all grown accustomed to tweet-length comments. It’s certainly possible to have a complete story arc, character growth and development, and deep emotional impact without writing 100,000 words. So should we aim for this? Cheaper to publish, more accessible to folks with limited time to read. There will always be market for big books too, but these shorter books could be a growing niche.

  • Reading to Write: Interiority as shown in The Life of the Mind by Christine Smallwood

    Last week, I submitted the beginning of the novel I’m working on (referred to for now as ‘Trust’) to the NAD writing group. I mostly got the feedback I expected— that it was a better beginning than where I had originally started, but there was good feedback on plot points that weren’t laid out clearly, ways I could better populate the space and flesh out the setting and overall environment, choices to consider about language/formality. But! There was also a strong note on including more interiority.

    To some extent, I wonder if my writing without substantial interiority is a reflection of my own lack of an inner monologue. It is actually the way I experience the world! But, that’s not what the average reader comes to a book for. If I want to write it from the perspective of someone without an inner monologue, I’d have to work to make that really clear— because it isn’t that I don’t have an inner life, it just isn’t expressed initially through language.

    Anyway, this weekend, I read The Life of the Mind by Christine Smallwood. I don’t remember where I got the referral to buy it— I’m going to guess it was The Shit No One Tells You About Writing podcast, but it could have also been on The Garrett. Anyway, either way, it was a great read, and an absolute master class in interiority.

    There was very little plot— mostly chatting with a handful of people. If I needed evidence that plot isn’t crucial if the writing and concept are strong, this is perfect. But more importantly for this week’s project, it was driven by her interiority— her unique, self-criticizing perspective on everything that was happening around her. I felt a bit bad for her partner— he seems almost to be an afterthought, she doesn’t seem to worry about his feelings about her at all— it is everyone else’s perspective that she dwells on.

    Despite the small amount of true plot, it was a rich, engaging, intellectual book. I truly enjoyed it and, while I think that level of interiority would be inappropriate for the story I’m currently working on, it’s a great reference when I feel like I’m going too far.

    ,

  • Why do we have midlife crises?

    Listening to The Atlantic’s ‘How to Talk to People’ podcast, the episode from May 30, 2022 titled ‘Starting Over When You Think It’s Too Late’

    This podcast episode blew my mind on a few fronts.

    First, Angie Kim was a lawyer, a consultant, and I think a few other things before trying her hand at writing. She directly addressed both the economic situation that gave her the freedom to try different things, as well as the fears that she was failing family that had supported her through school. She also didn’t start writing, or even consider it, until she was in her forties. This so directly addresses my concerns about not being able to support our life here financially from writing, and my fears that as an older writer, I’ve missed the boat. It was super powerful to listen to her just peeling away those worries, talk about her own impostor syndrome around teaching writing, in just a very relatable way.

    Second, the discussion with Hannes Schwandt talked about the U-shaped human happiness curve. Across many demographics, in multiple countries, happiness dips in middle age. Hannes interpreted this to say that we need to rebrand the midlife crisis, that it may just be a normal developmental stage like puberty, and calling it a crisis isn’t helping anyone.

    What I’m curious about, is what the biological/survival underpinning for this might be. As discussed in the podcast, this is the age when we’re beginning to build expertise, and it seems foolish and/or wasteful to throw away that effort and embark on a completely different career. So the recommendation they made was that we should look for slight tweaks or shifts in what we do, to see if we can enjoy ourselves more. Hannes would definitely not have recommended that Angie Kim give up her lawyer gig in favor of novel writing!

    But why would humans have evolved so that this middle aged dissatisfaction was so prevalent? Is there some real value being added there? Could it be that the urge to shake things up, to do something new is crucial? Perhaps this urge evolved so that we didn’t coast in complacency all the way to our death— after becoming good at things in our 20s and 30s, we want to keep trying to one-up ourselves, find new ways to grow, learn, and conquer the world around us.

    At least for me, it seems like a compelling argument/interpretation. It would certainly explain my need to explore and expand beyond my current career scope.

  • Choosing Is Hard

    The hardest part of intentionally building a life might be the suffering we experience when we have to choose to NOT do a thing.

    I just found an interesting, local reading group at a nearby library. Two books, two meetings in July, neither of which I have a current conflict for. On environmental topics, which I care about.

    So, why am I not going?

    Well, I have a list a million miles high of other books I want to read. Neither of these two books particularly appeal to me. Doing this would take time from other things that I have made a priority.

    Sigh, and looking at the events again, I’m debating whether I want to go to just the second one?

    Because there’s a tradeoff here. I do want to meet people in the community. This is a way to meet people who like both the environment and reading, so two things I’m interested in. So maybe I’ll go.

    Just the second one.

    Choosing is hard.

  • Restarting – New Trouble

    A really important addition to the list of chosen troubles is a heavy focus on gardening.

    What this has looked like so far is:
    1. Going to the Friends of the National Arboretum plant sale and buying a ton of plants for the front yard.
    2. Working hard to identify invasive plants, especially in the back yard, and get them out. Even some natives that are too aggressive are getting the boot!
    3. Moving plants that we like to better spots. There were a ton of bulbs on the side of the house, they’ve gotten separated and scattered throughout the new plant beds in the front yard. Tyler also moved an azalea that was driving me nuts in the front of the house due to color asymmetry around the front door. Really excited to have that fixed.
    4. Taking a class on hydroponics with Tyler, and jumping right in with a Facebook Marketplace purchase of a tower garden.
    5. Celebrating the volunteers in our vegetable garden from last year, and adding a few more plants to the mix.

    I have enjoyed this so much, and it’s been a great activity that Tyler and I both enjoy, but contribute different things to the overall project. There aren’t many topics we’re both interested in, so it’s good that we found one!

    There’s a lot more that we have planned:
    1. I’d like to create maps of the front yard, marking out what is growing where. Mostly, this is a tool to help my memory. I’ve been super frustrated to find how poor my memory is for plants! I can’t remember names of them at all, and there’s always a scramble when I order new plants, trying to figure out where I intended to plant them.
    2. A joint project between Tyler and I will also be a printed catalog of what we’ve planted and the type of care it needs. I’m hoping he can create a sort of digital form that I can fill out, and we can then format it into a pretty sheet of some sort.
    3. So much more hydroponic growth! It’s really nice to have an easy to use, ready-made planter, but we’d like to DIY one as well to see how difficult it is— the instructor who taught us made it seem very simple!
    4. We have grand dreams of someday creating a rooftop garden, or using the space over the garage to grow more plants. Definitely longer-term planning there, not a this-year execution.

    It’s been super exciting to spend so much time outside, working to make our yard both more beautiful and productive of food and supportive of wildlife. The weather has been really supportive this spring, with lots of pleasant temperatures and low humidity. But rainfall is way below average— so hopefully that will catch back up soon.