NaBloPoMo 2010 Day 7 -- Uncertainty

Life is funny. The longer I live, the more I believe that the only thing about life that is certain is the uncertainty of life. We plan for things, and they don't work out as planned. Some of us pray for certain results or opportunities or outcomes, and it doesn't end up as we envisioned. Sometimes, we're minding our own business and something falls into our lap.

I can look back on various times in my life before I was married and since. Before we had Keegan and since. I wanted things to turn out; I tried to set things up to work out as I wanted. And it didn't come to fruition as I wanted or how I thought it would. I take solace in knowing that even when things didn't work out as I might've hoped, I didn't "miss out." I enjoyed the times I had where I was and being used in the ways that I was used.

All of that sounds sort of vague. Maybe it is. The details aren't really the important part.

Don't get me wrong, I get disappointed when things don't work out the way I hoped. It's not like I'm sitting around hoping to win the lottery or some other outlandish possibility. We're talking about job opportunities or relationships or financial situations. I tend to withhold my enthusiasm about things that I hope for. It's nothing more than a defense mechanism to limit the pain of disappointment. But that's a lie. You can't limit your disappointment. You may limit the number of people who know about your disappointment, but you don't limit your disappointment. Even when I don't tell someone about my hopes or dreams or expectations, I still know what they are. I know what I hope for.

This isn't the forum to share all of my hopes and dreams, but I can tell you that there are people who know what those things are. I will continue to share them with those people. I would encourage any of you to do the same. You're going to dream and hope. I think part of being human is to dream for something different, better, grander, etc. Share those things with people who will breathe life into your hopes and dreams and who will walk along side you if certain things don't come to be as you wanted.

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 15 -- Words

We heard a good message this morning at church about the power of words. David said that the average person speaks 16,000 words each day. (Jen would argue that I might do that in a week.) Regardless, we speak a lot of words over a lifetime, and they have an impact on those who hear them. Speaking words of encouragement is not something that comes naturally to me. Having a child though magnifies the importance of developing that skill. You would think that having a wife might, but what can I say? I'm not perfect. Not by a long shot! I'm not proud of that; just being honest.

But having K-Man around really does make messages like this morning's hit me in the face. And it's not just about saying words that build him up. It's as much about avoiding words that retard his enthusiasm. I need patience to deal with his off-the-charts energy. I'm not wired that way. I'm also not 3 years old. I need to adjust my reactions to things because it's not fair to him to expect him to have that much self-control. When I examine this, I generally come back to my selfishness. I get caught up in what I want to do or not do. It doesn't apply just to Kee's demands on my time either.

David made another good point this morning about the words we say. It's not just about words we say to others. We also need to stop saying a lot of the negative things we say to ourselves about ourselves. Is there a more powerful influence on our psyche than the words we let fly in our own heads? I think not.

NaBloPoMo 2009 Day 5 -- Our mailman

I work out of the house, and my office currently is at the front of the house. There is a park across the street, so I get to watch our neighbors walk their dogs. I saw a coyote on a cold morning in February -- probably the one that ended the existence of our former cat.

But one of the things that has stood out to me all year is the timing of our mailman. As most of you know, during a week absent a federal holiday, the mail is delivered 6 days per week. Five of the six days the mail comes no earlier than 5:00 p.m. On the sixth day, the mailman drops off the mail around 2:00 p.m. When mail is delivered, one would probably assume that the sixth day of mail might be Saturday. You'd be wrong. Ironically (perhaps in the Alanis Morrisette sense of irony), the sixth day is not Saturday. In fact, it's not any one day. It's one of three days -- but not the same day each week. For some reason -- that I have yet to determine -- on either Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday, the mailman delivers the mail earlier than every other day of the week. But never the same day each week. Why? Is he just bored with the usual route, so he mixes it up once a week but never the same day to take the "mixing it up" to the next level?

I like nothing more than my routine. When routines go awry, chaos ensues. Chaos is bad -- except in theoretical physics courses and summer camp games! The variable rate mail delivery schedule upsets my routine. It means that there is no routine for three days a week or that there are 2 days each week when there is an unnecessary routine. More importantly, why do I care?

I just saw a hilarious scene in the HBO show "Curb Your Enthusiasm." Larry David, the star of the show, is visiting the cemetery site where his mother is buried. His father is with him to show him the new tombstone he bought for his former wife. After he reads the tombstone, Larry notices that the inscription reads "Born - Sept 18, 1920" and "Past Away Oct 21, 2001." Larry proceeds to chastise his father for misspelling the tombstone by using "past" instead of "passed." The punch line isn't that it was a mistake the widower failed to catch, but rather that it was cheaper to go with "past" over "passed" because the cost was $50 per letter. He saved $100 using the shorter word, and most people think it means the same thing anyway. To me, that's funny. (Now you have a little insight into my personality. Feel free to block my number if you must.)

Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!

There is a scene towards the end of K-Man's currently favorite movie Polar Express where Santa is about to select one kid to receive the first gift of that Christmas. One of the kids (voiced by the same guy who played "Eugene Felnic" in Grease) obnoxiously tries to get Santa to bestow the honor on him with a Horshack-like chorus of "pick me! pick me! pick me!" Of course Santa doesn't pick him. He picks the boy who is quietly taking it all in as he comes to terms with Santa's existence. I much prefer to be that latter boy.

But I am in the midst of doing some networking that requires me to talk about how "great" I am, and I am suffering from some cognitive dissonance about the whole thing. The dissonance comes not from whether I really think I am that good. I do. It comes from a belief that going around telling everyone about how good you are (like a Big 12 South team trying to convince pollsters) is unappealing at best. It feels so fake. Rather than be the annoying guy asking to be picked, I'd prefer to let my work speak for itself and "get picked."

But I'm told it's not as passive a process as that. I need to actively sell what I can do and how I can benefit another organization. That's just sort of how it works. So I guess I have no choice. But to be believable, I need to find some level of congruence on what I believe about myself and the manner in which I convey that to others in this networking process.

What is holding you back?

What is holding you back?

I was talking to someone today, and this question came up. My problem is that the answer to that question has so many layers. I tend to overanalyze things. The phrase "paralysis by analysis" comes to mind to a certain extent. But that doesn't completely capture it. Some of what holds me back goes back to what I shared on Sunday. I tend to see obstacles and rather than take a shot at something different, I stick with what I know -- warts and all -- because there's a certain comfort in the known.

Now if I was talking to someone else who was thinking about what was holding them back, I would be encouraging them not to let doubts about the unknown prevent them from taking a chance on something that may better suit them. So why can't I give myself the same permission? Or why won't I give myself the same permission?

What holds you back?

6 quirky things

I have been tagged by h to share 6 quirky things about myself. The hard part is limiting the list to 6 because I have a long list of hang-ups, um, quirks. See how many you can find that fall into the Freudian column of "anal-retentive."

So without further ado:

1) I always blow my nose after I take a shower. First thing. Something about the heat of the shower just loosens up the nasal contents. And post-shower, they must be eliminated. If I reach for the shaving cream or razor before blowing my nose, this alarm goes off in my head telling me that things are amiss.

2) I don't use dressing on salads. Waiters always do a doubletake when I say "no dressing." You have no idea how many waiters or fellow patrons have recoiled and blurted "No dressing?" like I was choosing not to breathe.

3) The clock in my car is set 10 minutes fast. My alarm clock beside the bed and my watch are set 5 minutes fast. I hate being late. This helps prevent that. The clock in Jen's car is not set ahead. Oh, I'm not going there ....

4) When I get a new CD, I have to open it up as soon as I get in the car and listen to it. For the younger crowd that only downloads music, let me explain. See CDs are these things that were like records .... Wait, um, records were these things that you played on a record player with a needle .... Oh, nevermind.

5) I hate it when papers are stapled and the pages are not flush together in the corner where the staple is. When the pages are all messed up or fanned out and then stapled, it just looks like you don't care. People should care about how pages are stapled together. As an attorney, I deal with a lot of paper and a lot of stapled sets of paper. A while ago, my assistant copied some documents and put them in an envelope to send to a court and to opposing counsel. At the last minute, the client wanted to change something so we decided to wait a day to send the documents, so we held back the copies that had been made. I took the envelopes from my assistant to avoid inadvertent mailing (shut up, I confessed my anal-retentivism above. It could happen. Why not prevent it if you have the chance?) So the next day, on a lark, I opened the envelopes just to see what she was planning to send. The stapling was atrocious. (Yes, stapling can be atrocious people.) Fanned pages just stapled. FANNED! Then I flip over the document to see that the copies had come out of the copier that way (you can tell this because the staples from the copier close differently then that double-humpbacked way they do on your traditional Swingline model.) So, I'd identified a lack of attention to detail but maybe not a stapling deficiency on the part of my assistant. The documents in the court's copy were the same way. Not acceptable. You think I'm anal-retentive. You don't want to cross a judicial version of anal-retentive. Trust me. So I walk over to my assistant and show her one of the copies with the crazy stapling. You know what she says? "Yea, I saw that."

Don't tell me that! You saw that these things were coming out of the copier all cock-eyed, but you just threw them in the envelope anyway? At least fake ignorance. So I nicely tell her that we cannot send out copies that look like this even if they come off the copier like that. This sends an impression of me, the other attorney on the case, and the firm in general. No can do. (I didn't actually say "no can do" -- THAT would sound so condescending.)

6) For all my anal-retentiveness, I keep a messy office. At work and at home. I just pile things up and work on what's at the top. When things from the bottom or middle of the pile require attention, they get moved to the top. See, look for yourself:


So those are 6 of many quirks. Now, I get the opportunity to pick others to provide 6 quirks about themselves. I tag Randel, Caroline, John Mark, Sean, and Matt.

Nourish

I am switching up the playlist on the blog for a while. This is a collection of songs that I have labeled "Nourish." I've had this list for a while but decided the time was right to add it. Given some of my experiences in Scotland and some other things I/we are praying about, this list is resonating with me right now. I figured why not share it with the handful of people who visit the site? Be nourished.

(Photo: sunset over Paisley, Scotland)

Memories

Do you ever wonder why you remember some things -- even the most seemingly insignificant tedium -- and fail to recall details of the more momentous occasions? Perhaps the seemingly insignificant is really the momentous.

My earliest memories date back to living in married housing at UF when my Dad was finishing his undergrad and graduate degrees (right across the street from the law school I would attend some 23 years later -- cue the theme from The Twilight Zone). My first memory is looking at myself in the mirror in my room at our UF apartment and realizing that was "me" in the reflection. Could that be more narcissistic?

I can also remember one of the first days I wore underpants. (This one is pretty significant.) I recall getting some instructions before I went out to play -- something along the lines of "if you have to go to the bathroom, come home and go and then you can go back outside." Later, I was playing at the playground with a bunch of other kids. I could sense the need to excuse myself and take care of my business the way "big boys" do, but come on people, I was playing at the playground, and I was two and a half (or 3 - I don't actually recall). So as you may imagine, after it was too late, I realized that there were a few extra ounces in my shorts. Off I ran, turd in tow! I was beside myself with terror. Afraid what my mom was going to do to me for soiling my shorts after her very clear and reasonable directions. Why didn't I just go home when I felt the first sphincter twitch? When I reached the apartment, I am sure I was a weeping mess with a fecal jiggle in my pants. Despite my worst fears, my mom showed me mercy and simply cleaned me up, gave me some new briefs and sent me back out there. (I have no doubt that this episode is the seed of my anal retentive personality. Shut up.) Jen can attest that my response to that situation is typical of my response to mercy even now. I don't appreciate the mercy; I much prefer to beat myself up for doing whatever I did to get myself in the situation from which mercy rescued me. (How warped is that?)

Another memory of mine is from playing little league when I was 8. It's sort of two memories really. I can only recall one at-bat from all of the games that I played that season. It was a double that I hit to right-centerfield. What I remember is how true I hit the ball. I caught it right in the sweet spot. The bat was a wood bat my Dad bought for me at Sears. At the time, Sears sold bats marketed by Ted Williams (then, his head was still attached). This was a 26-inch model that was painted kelly green. I remember that we won the game, but the score evades me. And I recall that I was awarded the game ball that day. The other part of my memories of that first little league season is stealing the sign that the coach of the Dodgers team was using to tell his kids to steal. As a catcher, that came in handy. (NOTE to any would-be coaches reading this. When an 8-year-old can steal your sign, you need to put more effort in disguising your intentions.) He did the same thing every time, he took his hat off and wiped his forehead. If I didn't have an 8-year-old arm with the accompanying accuracy (or lack thereof), my discovery would have been much more helpful.

These memories say something about who I am. If you can figure that out, please let me know, so I can benefit from your insight!

More about me

Back in July, my firm asked all of the associates to take a behavioral assessment that was supposed to measure how we operate at work. (Aside: I highly recommend the CD How We Operate by the band Gomez. You can check out a tune from that CD on the playlist that runs on my blog.) I have a master’s degree in counseling psychology, so I am very familiar with a variety of psychological and behavioral assessments. One thing that they all have in common is that the results depend on the truthful responses of the one completing the assessment. For that reason, many tests of this sort include built-in measures for untruthfulness or inconsistent responses. At the presentation of the results today, I heard no information concerning any measure to double-check for such responses. (I’m not saying that the people I work with would lie on an assessment like this, but I think some naturally might try to respond to the questions in a way that they think the partnership wants to hear – to present themselves in a way that might get the partnership to look more favorably at them. I don’t think that would be surprising to anyone – many people want to please their employers.)

So anyway, I know all of you are curious to know how I came out on this test given my past performance on that internet personality test. There really were no surprises here to me, but you may find some off the summary information humorous. Of course, if my neuroses can bring a smile to your face, far be it from me to take from you such joy.

1) Openly challenges world around him.

2) Impatient for results . . . and is far less productive when doing routine work.

3) Private.

4) Communication is direct, to the point, and sometimes brusque. (That one made me chuckle. It's funny because it's true.)

5) Little interest in small talk.

So now you know a little more about me. Just remember that this is supposed to represent how I behave in the workplace. So any of you on the Scotland trip, don't fret.

News Flash: I am reserved.

I recently took one of those freebie online personality tests. I have two degrees in psychology, so I am always curious to see how the latest version summarizes who I am. The most recent one I took goes by the name "Personal DNA." After you take the test, they give a couple of color-coded maps that show the various facets of your personality. Here's a map to my personality. Don't get lost!

Reserved Analyst

According to this test, I am a reserved analyst. For the most part, the summary is a fairly good encapsulation of my personality -- to the extent one's personality is static and can be captured in a single statement. Here are the high points of my Personal DNA:

Your attention to detail, confidence, sense of order, and focus on functionality combine to make you an ANALYST.

You are very curious about how things work, delving into the mechanics behind things. Along those lines, how well something works is usually more important to you than what it looks like. (You would think this might mean that I was good with my hands, but alas, if something needs fixing, I am only good at writing checks to the "guy.")

You find beauty and wonder mainly in concrete, functional, earthly things.

You are very aware of your own abilities, and you believe that you will find the best way of doing things. (Some might say that I am a control freak!)
Accordingly, problems do not intimidate you, as you believe in yourself.

You trust yourself to find solutions within the boundaries of your knowledge. (That's true. If I can't figure it out, there really is no solution!)

You don't spend a lot of time imagining how things could be different—you're well-grounded in the here-and-now.

It is important for you to follow a routine, and you prefer the familiar to the unknown. (If it ain't broke, don't fix it. For example, there's no need to try something new at a restaurant when I know I like the grilled chicken sandwich.)

You are balanced in your approach to problem-solving, not letting your emotions hold you up. (Emotions only cloud one's judgment. I am such a hopeless romantic!)

You prefer to have time to plan for things, feeling better with a schedule than with keeping plans up in the air until the last minute. (This is why road trips boil down to getting to the destination as fast as possible with the fewest number of toilet breaks. We don't need to get sidetracked with antiquing or stops at the various outlets on the way. Or stopping to eat for that matter!)

You do your own thing when it comes to clothing, guided more by practical concerns than by other people's notions of style. (Does owning 18 sweatshirts count as a "style?")

You are RESERVED – you aren't someone who always needs to have others around, and you find you can handle most situations on your own. (I do like my alone time.)

You can be very happy spending time alone, and enjoy your own thoughts and ideas. (Is self-absorption a sin?)

You find it difficult to understand why some people get so emotional and tell everyone else their problems. (This may explain why I am a lawyer and not a psychologist.)

You believe that if you want to get something done, it is best to do it yourself. (None of you may want to hang out with me after reading all of this.)

In your experience, other people are not always completely dependable, so you generally rely on yourself and only a few close others. (That's the proper subject for a whole separate post.)

Despite your independence, you are not a closed-minded person who makes hasty judgments about others. You know that it isn't always easy to walk in other people's shoes. (Being empathic is a gift that my wife demonstrates for me on a regular basis. I have a lot to learn, but I try.)

At times other people's feelings are puzzling to you, and you wish that people were more rational. (Is that so wrong?)

Your vision of the world is complex – your values are not set in stone. Instead, you are able to change your beliefs as you learn new information. (The Lord is still molding me.)