In Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell describes a concept (originally from Annette Lareau's research) called Entitlement. (Both Gladwell and Lareau lowercase it, but I'm capitalizing it to differentiate from the generic.)
Entitlement, in this context, is a sense that you're totally allowed to ask people in authority stuff. If you have a question, you can totally ask. If you need some accommodation, you can totally ask for it. If an authority figure is miss informed, you're totally allowed to set them straight. This concept is brought up in the context of child-rearing. According to Lareau's research, middle-class families tend to raise their children to have Entitlement, whereas working-class families tend not to and the parents themselves are more likely to quietly defer to authority. (I'm normally not comfortable talking about "class" like it's a Great Big Thing, but it's an essential part of this concept and relevant to my personal observations about my own experience.)
I've been thinking very hard about this, because I had a solidly middle-class upbringing (my own room, an allowance, chores and responsibilities on principle rather than out of necessity, family vacations, music lessons, extracurriculars, going to university was a given), but I don't have Entitlement. I don't feel like I'm allowed to ask, I feel like I'm imposing and breaking from What's Done when I ask. I feel like the people in authority know exactly what they're doing and are doing it for a very good reason (and, as I've blogged about several times before, it both scares me and pisses me off when they don't know exactly what they're doing and don't have a very good reason).
So I'm trying to figure out why this is.
My first thought is that my parents didn't raise their children to have Entitlement because they themselves weren't raised that way. Their upbringing was most definitely working class, and I can't imagine my grandparents had any time to do concerted cultivation. But here's where it gets bizarre: I think my sister (just under three years younger than me) has Entitlement. I wanted to be a musician, I signed up for music class in high school and only joined the more advanced school bands when specifically asked to do so by a teacher. My sister wanted to be a musician, she joined a band and later helped start another couple of bands, playing actual gigs and even making a CD. Could it be because I'm Gen Xish and my sister is pure Gen Y? Could it be that my parents had become familiar with more middle-class parenting techniques by the time my sister came along? Or could it simply be a difference in personalities?
My second thought was that my Entitlement had been bullied out of me, but upon further reflection I realized that I had less Entitlement than I was expected to long before the bullying started. My first pertinent memory is from when I was 3 or 4 years old, in Montessori school, in what would now be described as junior kindergarten. I wanted to play with these beads, and I was told that I wasn't allowed to play with them because you have to be able to count to 10. (The counting was relevant to how one played with the toy, but I forget how exactly.) This confused and frightened and baffled me, because I could totally count to 100 at the time. But it never occurred to me to tell the teacher that I knew how to count to 100, I just assumed they had some big grownup reason I didn't understand and slunk off to metaphorically (and perhaps literally) curl up and cry. Years later, while going through some papers at my parents' house, I came upon my old Montessori school report card. One of the comments was something to the effect that I didn't show the teachers what I could do and what I had learned, worded in a way that made it clear they expected me to take the initiative. Reading this, I was flabbergasted. I had had literally no idea whatsoever that the teachers might have wanted me to show them what I could do. The thought never occurred to me. I would never - not even with the benefit of adult retrospect - have come up with the idea myself that the teacher wanted me to take the initiative of showing her that I could count to 10. I always assumed that if grownups wanted something from me, they'd ask. So it seems I never had Entitlement in the first place.
I'm not sure if my parents tried to instill Entitlement or not. (They did specifically try to prevent any sense of small-e entitlement.) If they did try to instill capital-E Entitlement, it wasn't nearly to the same extent as the parents described by Lareau. In the example cited by Gladwell, parents taking their nine-year-old son to the doctor told him "You should be thinking of questions you might want to ask the doctor." Not just that he can ask, that he's allowed to ask, but that he should. As though it's something he has to do to Be Good. My parents might have told me that I was allowed to ask questions, or they might have assumed that I knew I was allowed because no one told me I wasn't, but they never would have made a point of telling me that I should think of questions to ask. On the other hand, when I did find myself in a situation where an adult or authority figure unexpectedly tried to get me to express my thoughts or opinion or preferences, I'd become frightened. The first time I ever got a hamburger at Harvey's and they asked me what I wanted on it, I thought it was a trick. Throughout childhood and adolescence and even early adulthood, whenever authority figures unexpectedly asked me for an opinion or feedback or what I wanted, I'd panic (figuratively) and not be able to come up with a satisfactory answer. Part of this is introvert brain - I don't always instantly have words for things that I'm not expecting to have to articulate or that I've never given a moment's thought to - but there was also an underlying fear that even though they were asking what I thought, they didn't genuinely mean it. I thought asking for what I really wanted was Not Allowed, and they actually wanted me to just quietly and passively go along with what they intended (as Lareau describes the working-class children and parents as doing.) The panic would be because I wasn't able to guess at what the authority figure intended, and I thought I'd get in trouble for giving a wrong answer.
Of course, there's also the possibility this whole thing is so generational it doesn't apply to me at all. I've noticed that in general pure Gen Y people are better at Entitlement than I am. I've talked to a few other people who are X/Y cusp and they don't think they were parented into Entitlement either (although there wasn't a large enough sample size to rule out the possibility of working-class influence). But Lareau's book was published in 2003, so the research was done probably shortly before then. The kids she studied are 15-20 years younger than me, so maybe the parenting techniques used on them are completely inapplicable to me. But the fact remains that I do see Entitlement in people of all ages around me - and in my own sister - and I don't have it. There must be something somewhere in there.
I'm not completely lacking in the ability to do Entitlement. I've been able to do it when it's really truly important. For example, when I applied for translation school, I wasn't informed of the date of the entrance exam and didn't find out I'd missed it until two weeks after the fact. I took the initiative of contacting them and asking if there was anything that could be done, and was granted permission to write the exam independently. I got it done because it had to be done and I had to be the one to do it. But if it can get away without being done, I can't work up the nerve. I clearly remember being terrified to ask my high school music teacher if I might possibly swap the size XL band shirt I had somehow ended up with for a size small and would totally have spent four years passively wearing an unflatteringly large shirt if I hadn't heard that one of the guys really needed a bigger shirt.
I'm only recently starting to see how acting with Entitlement is helpful not only to me but to the people I'm dealing with. I'm learning this mostly from observing my Gen Y colleagues. They walk in with Entitlement and look competent and professional, where I looked like a shy, nervous child. There have been a few cases where I was given more responsibility than usual and had to act with Entitlement or other people's work or the product delivered the client would have suffered, and my Entitlement ended up having a positive effect for everyone. When I do act with Entitlement, it always ends up getting mentioned positively on my performance reviews. And when I was recently responsible for training one of our summer students (Why, hello Impostor Syndrome! I haven't seen you in a while!) I couldn't have done it properly without her Entitlement. So it does seem to be something I need to be a proper grown-up. But it doesn't come naturally, and I'm not sure exactly why.
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Friday, August 07, 2009
Things They Should Invent: search and replace throughout every file in a folder
The translation request contained 26 files. Three different translators translated them. My job was quality control, which, in cases like this, also means ensuring internal consistency. Each of the three translators might have, perfectly validly, chosen a different way of expressing a certain concept, but I had to make sure that concept was expressed the same way in all 26 files. There were four such phrases that each occurred once in every document.
You can tell the word processor to search for every instance of A in a document and replace it with B. I want to be able to tell it to do the same thing with every instance of A in every document in the folder. An acceptable alternative would be to do so in every open document. (In other words, I'll totally go to the trouble of opening all 26 documents at once to save the work of having to do all the corrections manually.)
You can tell the word processor to search for every instance of A in a document and replace it with B. I want to be able to tell it to do the same thing with every instance of A in every document in the folder. An acceptable alternative would be to do so in every open document. (In other words, I'll totally go to the trouble of opening all 26 documents at once to save the work of having to do all the corrections manually.)
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Things Sims 3 Should Invent: get a new lifetime wish after you've completed your first one
So Sim-Eve is at the top of the law enforcement career track and Sim-Roarke is the CEO of a mega-corporation. And they're nowhere near being elders. (I started them as young adults.
So now what?
Sure, they still have their day-to-day goals - Eve wants to write a book and Roarke wants to befriend Jared Frio - but the game really would be better if they had another big crazy lifetime wish completely unrelated to the first, like becoming a star athlete or something.
So now what?
Sure, they still have their day-to-day goals - Eve wants to write a book and Roarke wants to befriend Jared Frio - but the game really would be better if they had another big crazy lifetime wish completely unrelated to the first, like becoming a star athlete or something.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Wherein I am the idiot
Scott Adams asks his readers to describe the idiot who is preventing them from accomplishing their biggest goal.
I thought on this, and realized that for realistic goals (i.e. no win-the-lottery kind of stuff) the idiot is always myself and my neuroses.
Looks like I have my work cut out for me.
I thought on this, and realized that for realistic goals (i.e. no win-the-lottery kind of stuff) the idiot is always myself and my neuroses.
Looks like I have my work cut out for me.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Teach me how to dust my bathroom
My toilet and the baseboard in my bathroom are dusty. I can't quite swiffer or vacuum the dust off because it has been wet or has been exposed to humidity.
How do I clean the dust off?
The best method I've got so far is dampening an old dishtowel and wiping the dusty areas, then rinsing the dust off the towel and repeating until the towel needs to go in the laundry. But that takes for freaking ever and puts a lot of towels in the laundry. I want better.
How do you deal with this in your own home?
Be specific, none of this "soft cloth and mild detergent" crap household advice sites post - tell me specific brand names for products and precisely what kinds of equipment you use.
How do I clean the dust off?
The best method I've got so far is dampening an old dishtowel and wiping the dusty areas, then rinsing the dust off the towel and repeating until the towel needs to go in the laundry. But that takes for freaking ever and puts a lot of towels in the laundry. I want better.
How do you deal with this in your own home?
Be specific, none of this "soft cloth and mild detergent" crap household advice sites post - tell me specific brand names for products and precisely what kinds of equipment you use.
Saturday, August 01, 2009
Are people more likely to take after their same-sex parent?
The researchers have found beautiful women have more children than their plainer counterparts and that a higher proportion of those children are female. Those daughters, once adult, also tend to be attractive and so repeat the pattern.
This whole article and this whole scientific study seem to be based on the assumption that beautiful women have beautiful daughters, and the attractiveness of the father isn't particularly relevant, as though it's not worth considering that a daughter might inherit her father's physical traits. I wonder if that's a flaw in the study, or if that's actually true in the world in general?
If it is true, that would piss me off. I take after my father, and it isn't quite the look I'm going for.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Eddie Izzard once again raises the bar for both awesomeness and lunacy
In January, Eddie Izzard raised the bar for human awesomeness everywhere.
Now he's just outdone himself. He is running over 1,000 miles around the entire UK to raise money for a charity called Sport Relief. That's a marathon a day for over a month.
The man is well into his 40s, has been in training for only four weeks, and apparently already has a hamstring injury going in.
He's a looney.
I must send money.
This is particularly interesting as a fundraising strategy because it's so excessive. If Eddie hadn't done anything at all for this charity, no one would have noticed. If he had donated some money or done a benefit gig or autographed some spare merch and donated it to be auctioned off, people would applaud his generosity. If he had run a single marathon and tweeted a sponsorship link, he would have gotten a huge wave of donations (he has half a million twitter followers and a marathon is inherently impressive) and that would have been considered above and beyond in and of itself. But instead he's Terry Foxing it (plus one leg, minus cancer, plus 25 years of age, minus years of athletic training = you do the math) with insufficient preparation. This is ridiculous. He's going to be miserable. He probably already is miserable. He might do permanent damage.
And this is why I feel moved to donate.
Not because I want Eddie to suffer, but because I like Eddie and I don't want his suffering to be in vain. I'm not so very into athletic charities, and I never feel particularly inspired to donate when people (even people I know personally) are running marathons or climbing the CN Tower. That's suffering too, and I don't want those people to suffer either, but it's a reasonable amount for self-inflicted suffering - a few hours and then you can go home and go to sleep and never run again in your life if you don't want to. But Eddie runs a marathon, then has do it again the next day, and again the next day, for an interminable month.
So he's getting a donation out of me (and I'll probably donate more out of sympathy if he ends up having to quit early), but I'm also going to have to reflect carefully on my donation standards. I don't want to make a world where you have to do something this crazy and painful to move people to raise money.
Which, now that I think about it, might be the intention behind this lunacy in the first place.
You canstalk follow Eddie's progress here and here, and donate here.
Now he's just outdone himself. He is running over 1,000 miles around the entire UK to raise money for a charity called Sport Relief. That's a marathon a day for over a month.
The man is well into his 40s, has been in training for only four weeks, and apparently already has a hamstring injury going in.
He's a looney.
I must send money.
This is particularly interesting as a fundraising strategy because it's so excessive. If Eddie hadn't done anything at all for this charity, no one would have noticed. If he had donated some money or done a benefit gig or autographed some spare merch and donated it to be auctioned off, people would applaud his generosity. If he had run a single marathon and tweeted a sponsorship link, he would have gotten a huge wave of donations (he has half a million twitter followers and a marathon is inherently impressive) and that would have been considered above and beyond in and of itself. But instead he's Terry Foxing it (plus one leg, minus cancer, plus 25 years of age, minus years of athletic training = you do the math) with insufficient preparation. This is ridiculous. He's going to be miserable. He probably already is miserable. He might do permanent damage.
And this is why I feel moved to donate.
Not because I want Eddie to suffer, but because I like Eddie and I don't want his suffering to be in vain. I'm not so very into athletic charities, and I never feel particularly inspired to donate when people (even people I know personally) are running marathons or climbing the CN Tower. That's suffering too, and I don't want those people to suffer either, but it's a reasonable amount for self-inflicted suffering - a few hours and then you can go home and go to sleep and never run again in your life if you don't want to. But Eddie runs a marathon, then has do it again the next day, and again the next day, for an interminable month.
So he's getting a donation out of me (and I'll probably donate more out of sympathy if he ends up having to quit early), but I'm also going to have to reflect carefully on my donation standards. I don't want to make a world where you have to do something this crazy and painful to move people to raise money.
Which, now that I think about it, might be the intention behind this lunacy in the first place.
You can
Brilliant Ideas That Will Never Work: childfree ring
This idea started here and was enhanced by this.
Childfree people don't want to be in a relationship with non-childfree people, and vice versa. There's just no point. However, reproductive goals don't always naturally come up in conversation, and it's really presumptuous and kind of creepy to bring them up early on in a potential relationship. ("Want to go for coffee sometime?" "Sure, but I won't bear your children.") This could have the unfortunate result of people ending up emotionally attached to people who would make unsuitable partners. You might be well on your way to falling in love before you discover that one of you wants kids and the other doesn't, so the relationship will necessarily have to end.
Solution: a universally agreed-upon visual signal denoting one's childfree status. It would work the same as a wedding ring. You wear it and anyone who cares can look for it, see that you're childfree, and proceed accordingly. It doesn't necessarily have to be a ring, but it should be subtle, visible, and unisex.
The flaw in this plan is that since a childfree ring is worn only for the benefit of potential mates, wearing one implies that you're on the prowl. After all, if you're in a relationship, the general public doesn't need to know that you're childfree - whether you're CF or not, you still won't bear their children. Not everyone might want to walk around at all times wearing a symbol indicating that they're on the market. (I certainly wouldn't!) But then if you don't wear it all the time, you'll have a romantic comedy meet-cute with the guy in front of you in line at the grocery store and fall in love before you both discover that you're CF and he wants 12 kids. So I wouldn't wear it (although I'd have supermarket guy reading my blog before we got too serious anyway), and if not everyone wears it then it won't work.
Actually, now that I think about it, people who are in the market for a relationship should all blog. Not about looking for a relationship, but about everyday stuff. If I were looking for a relationship and a potential partner read my blog, they'd discover that I'm CF and urbanist and recovering catholic, they'd get a sense of my politics and tastes and neuroses and sense of humour, so any core incompatibilities would be identified immediately and incompatible partners could reject me before I even noticed they were looking. It would be much more efficient.
Childfree people don't want to be in a relationship with non-childfree people, and vice versa. There's just no point. However, reproductive goals don't always naturally come up in conversation, and it's really presumptuous and kind of creepy to bring them up early on in a potential relationship. ("Want to go for coffee sometime?" "Sure, but I won't bear your children.") This could have the unfortunate result of people ending up emotionally attached to people who would make unsuitable partners. You might be well on your way to falling in love before you discover that one of you wants kids and the other doesn't, so the relationship will necessarily have to end.
Solution: a universally agreed-upon visual signal denoting one's childfree status. It would work the same as a wedding ring. You wear it and anyone who cares can look for it, see that you're childfree, and proceed accordingly. It doesn't necessarily have to be a ring, but it should be subtle, visible, and unisex.
The flaw in this plan is that since a childfree ring is worn only for the benefit of potential mates, wearing one implies that you're on the prowl. After all, if you're in a relationship, the general public doesn't need to know that you're childfree - whether you're CF or not, you still won't bear their children. Not everyone might want to walk around at all times wearing a symbol indicating that they're on the market. (I certainly wouldn't!) But then if you don't wear it all the time, you'll have a romantic comedy meet-cute with the guy in front of you in line at the grocery store and fall in love before you both discover that you're CF and he wants 12 kids. So I wouldn't wear it (although I'd have supermarket guy reading my blog before we got too serious anyway), and if not everyone wears it then it won't work.
Actually, now that I think about it, people who are in the market for a relationship should all blog. Not about looking for a relationship, but about everyday stuff. If I were looking for a relationship and a potential partner read my blog, they'd discover that I'm CF and urbanist and recovering catholic, they'd get a sense of my politics and tastes and neuroses and sense of humour, so any core incompatibilities would be identified immediately and incompatible partners could reject me before I even noticed they were looking. It would be much more efficient.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Why doesn't breast milk go bad?
Serious question. I know it's the natural way to store and dispense milk, but at the same time it's milk that's being kept at 37 degrees. What specifically prevents it from going bad? (Or, if it's more accurate to phrase it this way, what causes it need to be refrigerated when removed from the body?)
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Good thing I don't have to drive anywhere
Me two weeks ago: "I have an idea! I'll add some vodka to all this lemonade I'm making!"
Me a week and a half ago: "Lemonade is boring. I'll put it in the back of the fridge and forget about it."
Me an hour ago: "Hey, there's some lemonade in here!"
Me half an hour ago: "You know, I'm feeling awfully mellow..."
Me a week and a half ago: "Lemonade is boring. I'll put it in the back of the fridge and forget about it."
Me an hour ago: "Hey, there's some lemonade in here!"
Me half an hour ago: "You know, I'm feeling awfully mellow..."
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Things They Should Study: do linguistic innovation and fashion trends diffuse along the same paths?
My only basis for this hypothesis is a very small sample of empirical evidence. If I pick up fashion ideas from someone, I also pick up word choices from them. I've also noticed that people who might be picking up fashion ideas from me (it sounds egotistical to assert definitively that they are, but there are one or two things I was definitely wearing first) also pick up word choices from me.
Of course, this is all complicated by multiple languages and genders and looks. I pick up all kinds of words and phrases from people whose clothes I'd never wear.
Of course, this is all complicated by multiple languages and genders and looks. I pick up all kinds of words and phrases from people whose clothes I'd never wear.
What I would write if I were a journalist
If I had access journalist-calibre resources and research skills, I would do a search of as many media sources as humanly possible to find every instance of "Assuming X% interest", "Assuming an X% return" or synonymous in personal financial advice articles written in, say, the past 10 years before the current economic crisis.
Why? Because I have a hunch that the interest rate assumption was most often 10%. I'd conservatively estimate that the average was close to 8%, although I wouldn't be at all surprised if it approaches 10%.
So why is this relevant? Because, since the economic crisis, especially in reference to the Madoff thingy, I've seen commentators saying that people should have seen that something was wrong because returns were so high, citing returns of around 14%. I can google up this Margaret Wente article and distinctly remember hearing it discussed on Metro Morning around the same time (that would be either Andy Barrie or Michael Hlinka), but I know I've seen it elsewhere too.
Now, I would never have invested in the Madoff thingy because I have no risk tolerance and because I wouldn't have understood how it was supposed to have worked. However, I would have considered those factors personal faults, not indications that there was something wrong with the investment. And despite the fact that I'm so excessively cautious about investment, it never would have occurred to me that the 14% return was a sign something must be wrong. Even if I'd known it was significantly exceeding market averages, I would have just assumed that these people know how to invest properly.
Why would I have thought this? Because I've heard the phrase "Assuming 10% interest" bandied about so often. I've seen it casually and thoughtlessly mentioned in so many financial advice articles that I'm always surprised when I see a more sensible (but still higher than I could ever achieve) 7% used instead. In literally every conversation I've ever been in about what we'd do if we won the lottery, someone would mention investing some portion of the winnings at 10% returns and living off that forever. When I've asked people how, exactly, you get 10% returns, my question has been waved off with an implication that if you know how to invest like a proper grownup, it's easy.
Now, I do see that 10% makes the math easy. However, it doesn't appear to be especially realistic. But I wonder if its pervasiveness as an example led people to take on more financial risk than they can handle with the assumption that they should be getting that level of returns?
Why? Because I have a hunch that the interest rate assumption was most often 10%. I'd conservatively estimate that the average was close to 8%, although I wouldn't be at all surprised if it approaches 10%.
So why is this relevant? Because, since the economic crisis, especially in reference to the Madoff thingy, I've seen commentators saying that people should have seen that something was wrong because returns were so high, citing returns of around 14%. I can google up this Margaret Wente article and distinctly remember hearing it discussed on Metro Morning around the same time (that would be either Andy Barrie or Michael Hlinka), but I know I've seen it elsewhere too.
Now, I would never have invested in the Madoff thingy because I have no risk tolerance and because I wouldn't have understood how it was supposed to have worked. However, I would have considered those factors personal faults, not indications that there was something wrong with the investment. And despite the fact that I'm so excessively cautious about investment, it never would have occurred to me that the 14% return was a sign something must be wrong. Even if I'd known it was significantly exceeding market averages, I would have just assumed that these people know how to invest properly.
Why would I have thought this? Because I've heard the phrase "Assuming 10% interest" bandied about so often. I've seen it casually and thoughtlessly mentioned in so many financial advice articles that I'm always surprised when I see a more sensible (but still higher than I could ever achieve) 7% used instead. In literally every conversation I've ever been in about what we'd do if we won the lottery, someone would mention investing some portion of the winnings at 10% returns and living off that forever. When I've asked people how, exactly, you get 10% returns, my question has been waved off with an implication that if you know how to invest like a proper grownup, it's easy.
Now, I do see that 10% makes the math easy. However, it doesn't appear to be especially realistic. But I wonder if its pervasiveness as an example led people to take on more financial risk than they can handle with the assumption that they should be getting that level of returns?
Sunday, July 26, 2009
I'm having a relativity crisis
I did my first practicum seven years ago. That's a quarter of my life!
When I did my practicum, I was 21 years old. Seven years before then, I was 14 years old. The difference between 14 and 21 is HUGE. The difference between 21 and 28 not so much.
This is weirding me out more than it should.
When I did my practicum, I was 21 years old. Seven years before then, I was 14 years old. The difference between 14 and 21 is HUGE. The difference between 21 and 28 not so much.
This is weirding me out more than it should.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Things They Should Study: is there a correlation between childhood stuffed animals and materialism?
When I was in Grade 5, our teacher played John Lennon's Imagine for us. I listened to the song, following along the lyrics sheet, briefly scandalized by the use of the word "hell" but agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiment. Until we got to the line "Imagine no possessions." Then I was scared: this man obviously wanted to take Smurfy away!
Smurfy is, as you might have guessed, a toy smurf. He has been with me my whole life, and for a good chunk of my life was my best friend - for a few dark years, my only friend. When the world gets too scary, Smurfy is there. After a long day being tormented by my bullies, I'd go to my room, cuddle up with Smurfy, and all would be right with the world. I still have him, and to this day there is a certain shade of comfort that only he can bring.
I'm sure only the most cold-hearted curmudgeon would characterize my relationship with Smurfy as materialistic. And yet, he is, strictly speaking, an object, a material possession, that I am emotionally attached to. The rest of my possessions I like for their function, perhaps combined with their aesthetics. With the exception of a few difficult-to-fit-and-discontinued pieces of clothing, I could do without them or replace them without blinking an eye. But Smurfy I need, and another stuffed animal can't do the job nearly as well. The emotional attachment to an object is there, developed at a very early age.
I know John Lennon didn't really want to take my Smurfy away. I know most people wouldn't characterize a child clutching a stuffed animal as materialistic. I know that whether people characterize me as materialistic will vary according to how much they like me and what point they're trying to prove. And I'm not suggesting or even hinting that parents should deny their children stuffed animals so they don't become materialistic - I would never deny another child the comfort that Smurfy has brought me.
But I can't help but wonder, does this emotional attachment to an object early on lead to materialism later in life? Or, conversely, does it reduce materialism because ordinary consumer goods will never be your best friend like that one stuffed animal is?
Smurfy is, as you might have guessed, a toy smurf. He has been with me my whole life, and for a good chunk of my life was my best friend - for a few dark years, my only friend. When the world gets too scary, Smurfy is there. After a long day being tormented by my bullies, I'd go to my room, cuddle up with Smurfy, and all would be right with the world. I still have him, and to this day there is a certain shade of comfort that only he can bring.
I'm sure only the most cold-hearted curmudgeon would characterize my relationship with Smurfy as materialistic. And yet, he is, strictly speaking, an object, a material possession, that I am emotionally attached to. The rest of my possessions I like for their function, perhaps combined with their aesthetics. With the exception of a few difficult-to-fit-and-discontinued pieces of clothing, I could do without them or replace them without blinking an eye. But Smurfy I need, and another stuffed animal can't do the job nearly as well. The emotional attachment to an object is there, developed at a very early age.
I know John Lennon didn't really want to take my Smurfy away. I know most people wouldn't characterize a child clutching a stuffed animal as materialistic. I know that whether people characterize me as materialistic will vary according to how much they like me and what point they're trying to prove. And I'm not suggesting or even hinting that parents should deny their children stuffed animals so they don't become materialistic - I would never deny another child the comfort that Smurfy has brought me.
But I can't help but wonder, does this emotional attachment to an object early on lead to materialism later in life? Or, conversely, does it reduce materialism because ordinary consumer goods will never be your best friend like that one stuffed animal is?
Like red but not quite
I own very few pink clothes. In fact, apart from subtle pink eyeshadow (which really is the best neutral for green eyes) I have very few pink things in my life. And for every one of those things I can tell you exactly why I got it despite the fact that it's pink.
My best colours are red and purple, so you'd think I'd have some pink in there as well. But I don't. Why?
Because pink is for girls.
I totally internalized this attitude and haven't even thought about it critically until just now, but my whole life pink has been spoken of disparagingly. It's for girls, it's for babies. Parents throw up their hands in despair when their toddler/preschooler daughter wants to wear girly pink things. People complain of the Barbie aisle being an explosion of pink. If a woman is behaving ditzily and happens to be wearing pink, you can be sure that the pink will be mentioned when the story is retold. Whenever I've been shopping and a salesperson has suggested something pink, I've said without a second thought "No, I'm not really a pink person." Why not? Because I'm not pretty, because I'm not ditzy, because I'm not a dainty blonde.
You know what? Fuck that.
As we all know, dissing or opposing or disparaging or rejecting things because they're allegedly girly leads to a society of assholes. I'm not going to be someone who does that. I don't actively like pink the way I actively like makeup and heels and the other femme trappings I loudly embrace, but my reasons for claiming to dislike it are not valid, so I'm going to give it an equal chance.
I hereby resolve, from now on, I will not relegate pink to a colour of last resort. If I see a suitable clothing item in pink, I'll give it just as much consideration as I would if it were red or purple. I also resolve that to add at least one new pink item to my wardrobe within the next year. (Q: Why such a long timeframe? A: Because I can't reasonably plan on finding a suitable item in any one given colour in any one given season. I'm trying to be realistic.)
If you also find yourself in the position of having automatically and unreflectedly rejected pink because it's for girls, I encourage you to do the same.
My best colours are red and purple, so you'd think I'd have some pink in there as well. But I don't. Why?
Because pink is for girls.
I totally internalized this attitude and haven't even thought about it critically until just now, but my whole life pink has been spoken of disparagingly. It's for girls, it's for babies. Parents throw up their hands in despair when their toddler/preschooler daughter wants to wear girly pink things. People complain of the Barbie aisle being an explosion of pink. If a woman is behaving ditzily and happens to be wearing pink, you can be sure that the pink will be mentioned when the story is retold. Whenever I've been shopping and a salesperson has suggested something pink, I've said without a second thought "No, I'm not really a pink person." Why not? Because I'm not pretty, because I'm not ditzy, because I'm not a dainty blonde.
You know what? Fuck that.
As we all know, dissing or opposing or disparaging or rejecting things because they're allegedly girly leads to a society of assholes. I'm not going to be someone who does that. I don't actively like pink the way I actively like makeup and heels and the other femme trappings I loudly embrace, but my reasons for claiming to dislike it are not valid, so I'm going to give it an equal chance.
I hereby resolve, from now on, I will not relegate pink to a colour of last resort. If I see a suitable clothing item in pink, I'll give it just as much consideration as I would if it were red or purple. I also resolve that to add at least one new pink item to my wardrobe within the next year. (Q: Why such a long timeframe? A: Because I can't reasonably plan on finding a suitable item in any one given colour in any one given season. I'm trying to be realistic.)
If you also find yourself in the position of having automatically and unreflectedly rejected pink because it's for girls, I encourage you to do the same.
Pseudo-Kosher
Whenever I have cow milk and goat milk in the fridge at the same time, one of them goes bad way before it should.
I'm pretty sure it's not a rule of Kosher not to mix cow and goat milk (they seem like they'd be equally-hoofed?) but doesn't it sound like one?
I'm pretty sure it's not a rule of Kosher not to mix cow and goat milk (they seem like they'd be equally-hoofed?) but doesn't it sound like one?
Currently pissing me off
A good part of my politics are based on the thought "What if [bad thing] happens?" I want mechanisms to be in place so that I, and everyone else, can get through the bad thing without too much damage.
But it pisses me off when people work against me politically on the sole or primary basis that they find the "What if [bad thing] happens?" approach pessimistic, and choose to believe that [bad thing] won't happen, because, golly, it just gets them down to plan for bad things! So because of this, they don't want to sacrifice a negligible amount of money or convenience to help build a safety net.
This is particularly irksome because in my adult life the two things I've been most pessimistic about that people have most tried to change my mind about are the following:
1. What if the Great Depression happens again?
2. What if I buy a condo and then soon afterwards unexpectedly need to access the assets invested in it but the value of the condo has dropped in the meantime?
I've been worrying about these things since...I guess it would be 2003, when I read Ten Lost Years and when I started looking at what goes into buying a condo. People tried like crazy to convince me not to worry about them, not to make life decisions based on these possibilities, and certainly not to waste our tax money insisting on a social safety net that would get everyone through these disasters.
And then, a year or two ago...they kind of happened.
And yet, when I'm pessimistic, people still try to talk me out of it and work against addressing it politically.
But it pisses me off when people work against me politically on the sole or primary basis that they find the "What if [bad thing] happens?" approach pessimistic, and choose to believe that [bad thing] won't happen, because, golly, it just gets them down to plan for bad things! So because of this, they don't want to sacrifice a negligible amount of money or convenience to help build a safety net.
This is particularly irksome because in my adult life the two things I've been most pessimistic about that people have most tried to change my mind about are the following:
1. What if the Great Depression happens again?
2. What if I buy a condo and then soon afterwards unexpectedly need to access the assets invested in it but the value of the condo has dropped in the meantime?
I've been worrying about these things since...I guess it would be 2003, when I read Ten Lost Years and when I started looking at what goes into buying a condo. People tried like crazy to convince me not to worry about them, not to make life decisions based on these possibilities, and certainly not to waste our tax money insisting on a social safety net that would get everyone through these disasters.
And then, a year or two ago...they kind of happened.
And yet, when I'm pessimistic, people still try to talk me out of it and work against addressing it politically.
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