Tuesday ramble: gifts

I've thoroughly covered the topic of gifts on this blog. I've covered it in the context of my personal experience and that of some friends, and I've invoked studies and outside perspectives about gift-giving and receiving. Let me rehash all this, in reverse order (you can find the links somewhere on these pages):

Outside perspectives and studies:

• Miss Manners generally writes that one should not ask for a gift or feel entitled to one, and that one should be gracious when receiving a gift. I say "generally" because I'm sure that Miss Manners has, or would, make exceptions for inappropriate gifts. In fact, she definitely has (see: bringing "gifts" to parties where "bring nothing" is requested). Also, gifts are "free," i.e., not given in the spirit of quid pro quo. Giving entitles you to nothing.
• Carolyn Hax recently wrote that she generally agrees with the graciousness concept, times have changed and the act of receiving gifts is no longer free. The fact that material gifts take up space and come at an environmental cost calls for a reconsideration of the way we gift.
• Time did a piece a few years ago on how gifts do not always have the effect intended by the recipient. People often don't like getting particularly grand gifts because they feel like it puts them at an obligation to the giver (see: Miss Manners' point about quid pro quo).
• Yet, there is still a social value to gifts. Sometimes a gift, when done right, is better than a gift certificate.

My personal experience:

• I've received more than my fair share of thoughtful, appropriate, and welcome gifts. These can take the form of a book I'd never have thought to read, but I'm glad someone drew my attention to it, or something someone brought me back from a trip as a sign s(he) was thinking of me. It could be something I didn't know I needed that I ended up using all the time.
• I've clashed with mom over turning down her gifts. There was a disconnect between my circumstances (no basement) and priorities (less crap) and hers (who knows, you might need it some day).
• I clashed with RM over many things, including turning down his gifts, particularly after I'd explicitly asked him not to give them. Even the gifts that were not inappropriate in and of themselves were inappropriate because I had drawn a boundary that included "no gifts."
• I've received gifts that I didn't know what to do with, but weren't worth clashing over. Just like there's a spectrum of social situations where it makes sense to accommodate or compromise rather than clash--accommodating an aggressive talker on a very short flight when you don't have a book anyway is on the opposite end of that spectrum from accommodating an aggressive talker who is living in your house and claiming your time every evening--there's a spectrum that ranges from regular to one-off gift-givers. That said, I hate sending stuff to the landfill, so receiving a gift that I have no use for is almost an anti-gift. In cases where it's something for which I don't want to create more demand (eg, animal products) or that has more intense environmental consequences (toxic chemicals), it's really an anti-gift.

Why bring this all up now? The short answer is, I found myself thanking my coworker for not having gotten me a t-shirt. He'd been to a cat show over the weekend and saw a shirt that made him think of me, but he figured I wasn't really a t-shirt person. I thanked him for not getting the shirt (I'm neither a t-shirt person nor not one, but I definitely have more t-shirts than I know what to do with).

I've also--as I've told you--been on a self-perpetuating decluttering kick. It started out with one area of the house or maybe one category of stuff, and then, one thing led to another and I've managed to get my house to the point where there's barely anything in here that I don't want or need (or think I may not ever need). And I'd really like to keep it that way. In a sense, it's "academic"--it's not like I had clutter spilling over furniture; it was all hidden in corners and storage spaces, or even spare rooms. But there's a feng-shui, spiritual aspect to not having excess stuff around, sapping your emotional energy. It's the converse of what personal finance advisors tell you about deciding whether to buy something: think of the total cost rather than the sticker cost, where the total cost includes the space you'll have to find for that thing and the time you'll spend cleaning it, or, perhaps, the hassle of having one more thing to pack and unpack if or when you move. And the environmental cost, of course (production, disposal). Gifts may not bear a sticker cost, but they do bear those other costs.

So, especially now that I've recycled my electronics and donated my old clothes, furniture, and other stuff, and I can pretty much find everything I want to when I want to, I'm very sensitive to extra stuff. And I'm also at the point where I either have everything I need or I'll quickly go out and buy it, unless the thing I need is something so specific that no gift-giver is going to randomly figure it out. Which brings me back to the RM factor, or what I'll call the arrogance factor of gift-giving.

RM, as you may recall, would get very excited about "surprising" me, and not just in inadvertent, creepy ways or by amazing me with just how annoying he could be. And even from the beginning, I tried to discourage this sort of thing because he was in no position to surprise me: he didn't know me well enough to know what would make for a pleasant surprise. Of course, it didn't occur to him that I wouldn't necessarily be pleasantly surprised, just as it didn't occur to him that he was in no position to get me gifts that I wouldn't dislike. At first, I felt genuinely bad, because he was trying. Then--after I discouraged him--I just got annoyed.

Sometimes it was unquestionable arrogance (he would bring me chocolate candy after I specifically asked him not to bring me chocolate candy). I rewarded his arrogance by ignoring the candy, which, upon my rejection, he placed on the table so as to tempt me subtly. Sometimes it was clueless arrogance, as in the case of the pearl earrings. They were not only inappropriate, but misguided in a really ironic way: he went to the jewelry store and described me to the shopkeeper, who helped him pick out the earrings. It did not occur to him that--even as he and the shopkeeper agreed that the earrings fit my personality perfectly--I might already have a set (or two or three or ten) of pearl earrings. This kind of thing went on and on: he would try to figure me out in a very simplistic way, and--I repeat, despite my asking him to quit giving me gifts--find gifts based on his conclusions. I have a lovely Bohemian crystal displayed on my bookshelf (that a friend brought me from abroad), therefore he should give me a faux Bohemian crystal conference freebie he probably found around the house.

But let me quit piling it on atop RM, because who the f* cares. And let me also point out that any of us may put thought into a gift that may still fall flat. The bigger point is, intelligent gift giving requires a more complex thought process than "Susie likes dogs, so she must want dog paraphernalia." And even if she does like dog paraphernalia, maybe she already has as much as her apartment can hold. This feeds into the even bigger point, made earlier, that gift giving needs to be intelligent in this day and age of small living spaces and environmental awareness. Gone are the days of harmless tchotchkes; in are the days of, everything in your space best have a purpose or a meaning. That means that "no gifts" really means "no gifts." Not to put too fine a point on it, sometimes the best gift is no gift. When that's not an option, the best gift is well-thought out and attuned to the recipient's tastes, circumstances, and values. If you're not in a position to suss those out, the best gift is probably still no gift.

Gift-themed ramble

As I've succumbed to blog creep, a number of recurring themes have emerged beyond 'mom' and things Jewish and Russian: things single, public transportation etiquette, gifts. I was thinking about this last one recently because with the gift I told you about in the roundup, there are now two wallets I'm complimented on whenever I whip out either. Also, Wendy came bearing gifts--which she totally didn't have to do--and they are lovely/useful. Actually, some of the best books that I've read over the last few years were gifts (many from Wendy, too)--books worth their weight in gold because I'd never have picked them up on my own, yet I'm very happy to have read them. And while gifts that are great really are great, I genuinely believe in it's-the-thought-that-counts--and the thought adds value to the gift. [Those of you who have already figured out that this is going to lead to a few swipes at RM can pat yourselves on the back]. Not only do I love the wallet that Marcela gave me, but I love that my friend was thinking of me on her vacation, and I love that my friend, with a fabulous sense of style, knew me well enough to pick out something I would love. I thanked Marcela again for the wallet, and she wrote, "I definitely put thought into something that you would like instead of some knick knack that would just collect dust." Which means a lot. When I look at the things on my shelves and walls, they reflect that thought--they reflect my friends--as well as my own travels and experiences. Need I bring up the contrast between the beautiful Bohemian crystal that Heather brought me from Prague, and the conference freebie imitation crystal that RM placed on the dresser in the upstairs hallway, in imitation? The former reminds me of a friend who is far away, and the latter creeps me out (and yet the hoarder in me can't bring myself to toss it--it'll be in my next Freecycle box).

You don't always get gifts right, even when you try, but even having the right idea in mind makes a huge difference. It's funny because I hate to slam people for any kind of gift--especially because my mother slams people for almost any kind of gift--and yet I love slamming RM for everything gift related that he ever did--mainly the fact that he continued to give them after I made it clear that doing so was inappropriate, but also the fact that the gifts themselves were completely inappropriate. It goes back to the idea that it's the thought that counts--in his case, the thought was misguided. In the vein that I was annoyed with RM for trying to manufacture intimacy--and I just mean platonic intimacy--I was duly annoyed at his gift giving to that end. That epiphany that hit as I was returning home from a friend's party--it was the week after the pearl earrings incident, so RM's manufactured intimacy was on my mind--I was thinking of how long I'd known the friend, the fun things we'd been through together, and also how he was there when I had a minor breakdown after an overdue but fraught breakup, and how RM thought he could just pop into my life and decide that we were close friends. And further that with regular (and inappropriate) gifts.

Going back to what Marcela said, and to the other beautiful/useful/readable things that people have given me that now have a home in the house, the best gifts are not only about the thought, but reflect thought, and also reflect actual friendship: they (often) work because the givers know you well and know what you would want to display/use/read. To give not-quite-credit where it's due, RM later told me, the first time we had it out--after he first saw the dissonance in our respective concepts of the roommate relationship--he put a lot of thought into the earrings: he described me to the person at the jewelry counter in order for that person to suggest an apt gift. In that case, the 'thought' needed to take a step back (and the person behind the counter, if provided the right amount of detail, should have told him not to get his roommate jewelry). Do you know how sick to my stomach I felt when I opened that box? It really was worse than when he tried to give me a foot massage.

I realize that not every needs to be deeply thought out. The baked goods I gave my neighbors for the holidays and the gift card I gave the mail carrier, who can't receive cash, were intended to convey community rather than friendship. But when I do choose gifts for friends, I think about them--who they are and what they may find useful. The gifts reflect my having thought about the recipients, as people. Of course, you're not always right and you'll occasionally choose something that will collect dust--all you can do is try. The whole point of this ramble is that gifts reflect a relationship, not the other way around. I hated RM's gifts because they reflected his attempt to manufacture a relationship. I love my friends' gifts because they reflect who they are, who I am, and the connection and understanding between the two. And I love when I get a gift right for the same reason. Then again, I'd never know, because, as mom would say, they're probably just being polite.

Saturday rambles--updated

Jezebel ran a piece on regretting motherhood, and New York Magazine ran one on happily childless women. Nearly all of their thoughts resonate with me (ironically, Condi Rice's thought resonates most and Ashley Judd's resonates least) in some way or another. Unlike Condi, I am not a very religious person, but I nonetheless "at some very deep level believe that things are going to work out as they're supposed to. The key is to be open to that and to appreciate the life that you've been given." [Update: see also the New York piece about not being sure.]

Saturday ramble

You've heard me go on and on and on about gifts--how graciousness is generally good, but sometimes problematic. Sometimes=when the gift is inappropriate, not when you merely dislike it. It can be inappropriate because it is too intense, intimate, or expensive in proportion to one's relationship with the giver, (and/)or it could be inappropriate because of overt intent or hidden undertones--whether it's an expectation of quid pro quo, or an attempt to influence the recipient in an unwanted way. It could be a combination of all of the above. I've received gifts from men that are inappropriate because they were given after I explicitly told these men to stop giving me gifts, and in those cases I mustered the courage to overcome the expectation of graciousness. My mother, in her more functional days, often tried to push gifts on me--clothes, furniture--that I did not want or have room for, and they were inappropriate because there was an element of control: she, not I, would decide what I wore and how I furnished my house. And how much money would be spent on those things. Oh, the pushback when I bought a new suit for a job interview, when I could have gone to Goodwill! And--just as when I mentioned in passing that I was getting a (paid) haircut--who did I think I was? I was, am someone who, unlike my mother, leaves the house and interacts with people professionally and socially, and has a lot of hair. I invest in a decent haircut, or I have to deal with my hair every day. My well-meaning friend (WMF) once said something similar: "I would never spend that much money on a haircut." 

But I digress. I'm here (partly) because my WMF just gave me, not for the first time, some thrift-shop finds that were a bit small for her. Now, I have no problem with thift shops; I shop at them myself. And I had no problem the first time she did this, but now that it's becoming a habit, I want to discourage it (and I think my lack of graciousness may have done the trick). I don't want her to buy stuff thinking that if it's too small, she can just give it to me. I don't want to deal with it. I don't want or need other people to buy me clothes. Clothes are a personal thing--they have to work for you, as I often told my mother as she tried to convince that whatever item of clothing she was pushing on me was very in-style. It doesn't matter if something is the trendiest thing ever; if it doesn't fit your body or your personality, don't wear it.

As with mom's gifts of furniture, these were items I was unwilling to pretend I wanted. I didn't want WMF asking after them (i.e., was I wearing them) and I certainly didn't have room for them in my closets and drawers. We eventually got to 'okay, well then give them back to Goodwill,' but not before WMF tried to convince me that this cardigan would look perfect over a black dress. Because I'm a terrible person, I bitched to two mutual friends about having to fight off these gifts. Both not only agreed that the items were unattractive and not me, but appreciated my frustration with WMF, even as she meant well. I told Camille about WMF's over-a-dress idea.

A.: The whole reason I wear dresses is so I don't have to match clothes. I don't want to wear anything over my dresses. I want to put on a single thing and go.
Camille: You sure do. [Shaking her head.] She doesn't know you very well at all.

yes, it's another roommate post, and he's not even here

I've berated my mother--in person and on these pages--for her lack of graciousness in accepting gifts, not only because it's rude, but because I genuinely believe in valuing the thought behind any gift and accepting it as a token of someone's thinking of you. I've enjoyed, however, not only that sense of appreciation that my friends are thinking of me, but also the practical benefits of the gifts my friends have given me over the years, largely in the form of beautiful objects that fill my living room. One of these is a Bohemian crystal egg that Heather brought me back from Prague.

So let me belabor the point: this Bohemian crystal egg is both beautiful-- it's beautifully made, interesting, classy, etc.; and when I see it, I'm reminded of Heather, and of the fact that she thought of me while she was in Prague.

At this point, you may be putting two and two together, one of the twos being the title of this post. Where is this going?

Well, I came home the other night and saw a Bohemian-style egg on the hallway dresser at the top of the stairs, next to the vase on the same dresser. I don't know whether it was some sort of gift from my roommate, but that would be what creeps me out about this: I don't want my roommate to give me gifts; I want my roommate to understand that we are Not Friends. I'm not that concerned, though, because I don't think he bought it: it has the look of something you get for free at a conference (in terms of a cheesy corporate logo carved into the front of the egg). It is also not especially nice (it lacks the luster of real crystal, and has a big "made in China" sticker on the bottom). Which, I repeat, was a relief: I'm glad my roommate didn't go out and get me a nice Bohemian crystal. And I'd normally feel bad about, pardon the cliche, looking a gift horse in the mouth-- I guess had it been a friend that went to China and brought me a fake Bohemian crystal, I still would have valued it. But in a way, I'm kind of insulted that roommate, well-meaning as he is, would equate, or perhaps expect me to equate, a conference freebie with a genuine object of beauty. Which brings me to the next issue: I'm not sure how to handle this: do I ignore it? Does he expect a thank-you? Am I required to provide said thank-you? Am I expected to leave it there or otherwise incorporate it into my decor for as long as he's in the house? Is this what I get for berating my mother for berating Misha for giving her an actually beautiful wood-carved object from Georgia, which she felt did not match her decor? After all, her reasoning was that Misha was over all the time and would notice if she didn't hang it up on the wall, so may as well be clear right away that she didn't like it rather than leave him wondering.

I certainly don't plan on berating my roommate, nor lecturing him on the difference between an actual Bohemian crystal and a conference freebie or explaining why I'd rather not display an object with a corporate logo. It would not be onerous to leave it on the dresser-- it does kind of match the vase. I don't especially want to thank him for it, but that, too, would not be onerous, except that I want to discourage gifts.

I'm now going to ask you to put two and two more together. You've been listening to me kvetch about my roommate, and some of you have already asked whether I need a roommate. As I've said, I'm managing the situation, and I don't mind having kvetch fodder. I'm used to it. And it's absolutely worth it. Two months after-tax rent would fund a trip to Paris; three, a trip to Ljublyana. This is all academic, because it's more like two will fund my gate and fencing needs, but I still think in terms of travel, and as long as a couple months' rent is the equivalent of a trip, and roommate's quirks and antics remain blogworthy but not disruptive, it's a no-brainer.

On gifts

When I read Robin Givhan's column on Saturday, I didn't find it particularly post-worthy, but last night's roommate episode changed that.

As I've established more than once on these pages, I'm a say-thank-you-and-appreciate-the-thought person when it comes to gifts, so I feel guilty, not to mention awkward, rejecting one. Of course, the pivotal issue wasn't the gift as much as the giver and my relationship to the giver, but it was also the nature of the gift, in relation to that relationship. If you follow me. While I'm not so traditional that I believe that gifts of jewelry are only appropriate between the married and engaged, my relationship to my roommate is not one that allows for such gifts. It--maybe--would have been slightly less inappropriate if it had been closer to my birthday, but the fact that it was a full month later, and any reasonable person could be expected to acknowledged that he missed my birthday, and move on, made it even less appropriate. An appropriate, and welcome, gift for the nature of our relationship would be his buying some toilet paper for a change.

He put me in a very awkward position, but I refused to let him define our relationship toward friendship by foisting this box on me. I have never misled him; it's true that when he first moved in, I showed him around, invited him (i.e. bought him a ticket to) a fundraising event at which I was volunteering so he could try out different area restaurants, etc. But in my language, that was 'welcome to the neighborhood,' not 'be my new BFF.'

I don't want to go all Deborah Tannen on you, but there is certainly a communication gap here. There's a name for this phenomenon, but it escapes me, so you'll have to settle for an analogy. Say you're pretty softspoken, but you're talking to someone who tends to yell. You model what you see is the appropriate volume, but the other person thinks, 'I can't hear her, I'd better talk louder,' and you think, 'now it's worse, I'd better speak more softly to set an even stronger example,' except that the other person thinks the same. And that's pretty much what's happened here: I go out of my way to define my relationship with my roommate as nothing more than neighborly, and he then goes out of his way to be my friend. I retaliate by being even clearer in my boundaries; he reacts by challenging those boundaries. Which pisses me off even more, and makes me want even less to do with him.

In a way, it almost makes me understand my mom better: I understand why she sometimes snaps. Of course, in her case, there's a lot more going on, but a constant refrain is, 'how many times have I told your father..." Meanwhile, I can see how he tunes her out. Of course, often when I interact with my father on an issue that involves getting things done (say, switching gates at the airport), I get extremely frustrated with him and get the impression that he just doesn't listen. It's like that song--angry anymore. I'm willing to summon as much patience as I can for my dad; I don't see why I should have to for my roommate.

I missed another good opportunity, today, to flat-out tell him to back off. And I blame him.

I'd just gotten in; it was pretty late. He came in a few minutes later, just as I was sitting down to my dinner of celery with hummus. Because I was starving and it was instant. We exchanged pleasantries. He was about to go for a run.

RM: Am I still a decent roommate?
A.: Sure...
RM: Okay.

What I wanted to say was, "You're a great roommate. Great. The issue is your trying so hard to be my friend." And I was perfectly willing to say it-- just not in a drive-by fashion. Why would you bring something like that up, if you wanted a real answer, when you're about to leave the house and I'm holding a celery stick?

Getting through this guy's thick skull is like trying to communicate with Gracie: nothing works. Except I can't even spray him.

Matching appreciation

This has been my weekend to catch up on house stuff (and yard stuff starting today: it was just too windy yesterday). I opted to give Pandora a break and listen to some spoken-word, and on came this relationship consultant. Most of what she said didn't make a lot of sense to me, but one concept really, really clicked. She talked about figuring out what you have to give and want to give in a relationship, as well as what you want out of a relationship, and then figuring out whether that matches with what the other person wants to receive, and what they have to give. Otherwise, there's a disconnect, and people feel unappreciated even though they are giving.

What was remarkable was that she went on to provide examples that were straight out of my roommate saga.

Now, I have moved on from the roommate saga. To be clear, I'm still sufficiently scarred so as to not even think about getting another roommate, regardless of the pay freeze and threat of government shutdown (and the rise in property taxes that has added nearly $200 to my monthly payment). That said, roommate is but an annoying memory. Nonetheless, when a situation begs for a roommate-based analysis, I'm not going to walk away from it.

She--Alison Armstrong--went on to say that, for example, you may love to surprise people, but for some people, surprises are a nightmare. RM loved to surprise me--it wasn't so much a nightmare as, I don't give a f* about the things you think are going to surprise me, like seeing you in your whites. I think surprises can be awesome when they work, or presumptuous when you don't know someone well enough to make sure that whatever the substance of the surprise is works for them. RM also missed the mark with gifts--especially after I specifically asked him to stop giving me gifts. There he was, expecting appreciation, and demonizing me for not rendering any, and there was I, wishing he'd stop giving me stuff. The only gift I wanted was to be left alone, and that was the one thing he was unwilling to give. Am I succeeding in making my point? The issue isn't RM's cluelessness, but that disconnect that develops when someone refuses to understand that another doesn't want what he is trying to give.

Another example that AA gave was, you may love to share home-cooked meals with people you love, but your partner just likes restaurants. It's not just a shared interest thing; there's going to be a deeper fault in the relationship because one party will be unable to give.

Anyway, her talk brought to mind a couple of other scenarios, one years-old and one recent. I think I've written about this guy I kind-of dated many years ago who really, really wanted to help me carry my groceries. Even though I was the one with the car. And was otherwise quite happy to carry my groceries on my own. Now that I think about it in the context of what this woman is saying, other elements of that 'relationship' make sense--there were other times where he was very insistent in offering to do things that were very unappealing to me (such as drive my car back to my house the next day so I could drink more at the party we were at), and his insistence would just infuriate me, because I felt that he wasn't listening.

On a less intense note, I've continued to collect fence-building estimates, and the range is actually impressive--the two highest are twice as high as the lowest. But I digress. The very professional gentleman who provided the highest bid emphatically informed me that the foreman of his crew speaks English. Which is not a bad thing to figure your customers might care about; it just happens that I don't. Similarly, there's nothing inherently good or bad about the specifics of what any person might want to give (well, the pearl earrings that RM tried to give me were inappropriate, but that's a bad example). It's more an issue of being open to the fact that what one sees as a wonderful gift may not be what another wants (conversely, one may be utterly blind to simpler things that another really wants). And pushing for the other person to appreciate something just because you're giving it--and I'm not talking here about one-time, material gifts, in which case you should just appreciate them, provided they are appropriate, because they are given. On the level of the Gifts that one brings to a relationship--home-cooked meals, housework, financial security, etc.--it's so important to make sure that both people in that relationship are happy to receive what the other is willing and able to give.

Saturday morning roundup and ramble

Judith Warner, too, thinks little of Michael Moore's latest endeavor, for different reasons:

"...to reach people you had to meet them where they were. Respect them. Acknowledge their social norms, beliefs and practices. Find common ground. Build on shared human aspirations — for safety, for dignity, for a better life for one’s children — then discover how those shared aspirations might reasonably translate into ending practices that cause suffering.

“If you come in and say, ‘You are awful people,’ people tune out and say, ‘Who do you think you are?’” she told me, speaking first from Senegal, where she has lived for the past 35 years. “Making people feel bad about what they’re doing doesn’t work; they only get defensive. What does work is getting people to discuss together what are their rights and what they mean. It’s not just a question of blaming and shaming people but educating and empowering them.”"

So, so true.

This guy's awesome. This guy is not. Governance takes competence. Gail Collins comments:

As a nation we seem to be overstocked on dreams involving fame and fortune, particularly the ones that come untethered to any plans for actual achievement. Every time a TV show holds auditions for a new singing or dancing or top-modeling competition, the streets are stacked with people who appear to have no particular talent or training but are confident that they can make it to the top, thanks to the critical dream factor.

And maybe they have a point. When President Obama told the nation’s schoolchildren that success requires hard work, a reality TV star named Spencer Pratt retorted that it was actually quite easy. He makes millions of dollars every year playing himself on “The Hills” and attending a large number of nightclub openings. This was not something Pratt had to study for.

I'm sorry, but if you're looking to soft drinks for your dose of antioxidant--yes, that singular is intentional--you're beyond help.

The $23,000 Ghandi pen is much, much more ironic than the Che shirt, no matter where the proceeds are destined.

Some people are only funny when they're not trying to be, i.e. by virtue of their very existence as a public persona.

These jokes are horrendous, but I'm more horrified by some of the comments/lack of sense of humor of some of the commentators. Not because they don't like the jokes, but because they think that some things, in this case health care, are beyond humor. You have to lighten up. You just do.

I laughed last night at something not funny: I was at a party, and someone asked about (M), who had RSVPed but hadn't arrived. I said she worked unpredictable hours; was she still at the same job where she was when this person last spoke to her? I said, no, she's elsewhere, doing human trafficking. The person gave me a horrified look. I said, "I mean, she's not doing human trafficking..." The person said she knew--the horrified look was about the unpredictable hours that would keep someone in the office until 9pm on a Friday. I thought the whole exchange was pretty funny, even though trafficking is no joke. But sometimes you have to laugh.

***
The party was a blast. Just like old times--when Tasha, the hostess, was one of my roommates. See, I'm friends--good friends--with many of the people I once lived with. These friends didn't spend as much time trying to be my friend as my roommate does.

Languages came up, as they do when you've a roomful of Peace Corps volunteers. I realized, as I had earlier in the week for an unrelated reason, that I missed class so much it hurt. But I'd have to do some self-study before I went back.

***
Af. [who is Jamaican]: Jamaican rum is the best.
A.: I don't know-- I really like Central American rum. I still have some Flor de Cana, as does Marisa, from even longer ago. And that rum that Tasha brought back from Honduras was good, too.
T.: I did gifts then? I've stopped doing gifts.
Af.: You did, because I remember trying that rum, and it was good.
A.: I still have the alpaca scarf you brought me back all those years ago-- I love it because it's warm and doesn't itch.
T.: I stopped doing gifts shortly after that because it's hard to get good stuff, and I was determined not to buy people crap. And then, of course, what do they have me doing for Peace Corps? Helping people sell crap. I tried steering them toward making quality things, but they wanted none of it; they wanted to make cheap trinkets for tourists who didn't care enough to consider quality. I tried. Now I'm back to buying crap, because I know it's someone's livelihood.

***
It was a beautiful night--it had rained while I was a the party, but I missed it. It was beautiful beforehand, too. I walked down to Tasha's from the office. I was so excited about the fierceness of my handbag: large enough to hold the big tupperware container of quesadillas that I'd made upon special request, plus the tupperware from my lunch, plus the gym clothes I was taking home to wash, plus the bottle of wine in the bottom. I was so caught up in the fierceness that I didn't consider what a pain it would be, literally, to carry all that for half an hour. I was already in pain-- Sam had us do calf raises, which definitely mean pain. He always ends class asking for questions, comments, concerns and advice with women. I'd be happy to share from negative example, but I'd imagine he's already beyond anything I'd advise him not to do based on the barnlike behavior I've encountered in my dating adventures. But I digress.

After the party, I walked to the metro. Some days, seeing that your train is coming in a minute--when it's late enough that it could be 19 minutes--is manna from heaven. This wasn't one of those nights--I probably could have stood to wait a few minutes--but it was, nonetheless, heavenly not to.

I boarded. The conductor, upon reminding everyone to use all available doors, asked, "what's going on with the last two cars??" He continued: "Multiplication lesson coming up: there are six cars, with three doors on each. That makes 18 doors. No matter which door you use when you enter, you'll still exit on the same platform." Shrug. If they're going to be giving metro etiquette lessons, I'd suggest starting with higher priorities, like ceding seats to the expecting and elderly.

Saturday morning roundup

Egypt's revolution is a big. f*ing. deal. Watching things unfold across the region feels like watching the Soviet Union collapse all over again, only, in my case, with much better appreciation for what it all means. But there's just as much hope, uncertainty, awe, potential (including potential pitfalls), and emotion. Speaking of emotion, Hank Stuever talks about that a bit here. I tend to cringe when someone tries to word-play by using "revolution" and "televised" in the same sentence, but it's subtle enough here that you can side-step the cliche. He also ends with an excellent question:

It's times like this that you both appreciate and pity ABC's Christiane Amanpour, who has patiently described the intricate nature of the Arab world to television audiences for how many years now. In return, most of us still pronounce "Iraq" like the Aflac duck. We love revolutions and giant parties, but will we have the patience to pay close attention to what happens next?

India's food crisis worsens; experts cite neglect of agriculture.

Charles Blow outlines which demographics stand to lose (hint: all but one). Also getting screwed: the District of Columbia. To understand the reasoning (note: I did not use the word "logic") behind the screwing, those of you in LA might have suited up and gone to the screening of "Atlas Shrugged".

Gail Collins on upstate New York's latest sex scandals.

Gifts do help relationships work, but it's not the kind of gifts you see advertised.

Friday evening roundup and follow-up ramble

See the oceans of respect for the late Anthony Shadid.

You think our politics are f*ed up? Check out what this Dutch far-right party pulled. If that happens here, I'll definitely submit myself as an immigrant job-stealer.

Big dairy is afraid and pathetic.

Why and how the President might grow a pair.

You know the story but check out the tweet and the comments. You people do realize that a lot of users of birth control are married? In which case abstinence and "self-control" are even less relevant.

What is it with guys these days? Don't blame women for your hormones.

A college professor wishes her female students would broaden their horizons and write about something other than men. In related news, here's a dating advice book I would actually read. I agree that the 'blame feminism' nature of many dating books is abominable. In heart-warming dating news, a woman marries on her hundredth birthday.

This tomato thief was really confused.

***
I've updated my Tuesday ramble about gifts (and other actions) that were not only unsolicited but deliberately discouraged. Added to RM's sins the second and third gifts of chocolate, since I'd politely asked him to quit giving me chocolate (and he, of course, thought I was being coy).

Boxing Day Roundup

Ross Douthat writes the column I was thinking of writing after yesterday's car ride rant. This excellent article further illuminates one of the situations Mr. Douthat discusses (not the one about how you'd have to be a moron to suspect that someone who takes advice from Larry Summers and Robert Gates is a closet Marxist-Leninist, and how Obama is somehow both that and a corporate pawn, but the one about how you can choose symbolism over results but that helps no one). And how anyone who was paying attention has no business being shocked.

Oh, Catholic Church--why don't you deal with your epic child molestation problem and then go telling people what's "morally unacceptable".

There has been a slew of articles about how everyone's toning down Christmas (decorations, gifts, etc.) and another slew just about gifts and how silly they are and then again they are good for something after all. I'm not going to search for them or post them because my parents' computer is brutally slow and you get the point.

What's wrong with just being polite?

My parents both like to remind me from time to time that I have failed at a lot of things. Regularly, although not often, one or both will wax nostalgic about how they had such high hopes and drove me around to so many different lessons, and yet nothing stuck. I say 'nostalgic' because the tone is less bitter, more investigative, slightly mocking, and quite lighthearted; it's a tone a parent would use to tell a child about his or her first attempts at standing up, walking, using language. Much like that kind of reveling in the past, it never gets old (to them).

They've probably been doing it all my life, but I noticed it for the first time several years ago, when I was feeling particularly sensitive and, call me a wuss, but for some reason it upset me. I did not emotionally benefit from hearing my parents laugh about how in spite of their best efforts, I entered adulthood talentless. I didn't say anything then, because saying these things to my parents, as you can tell in earlier blogs, is like saying them to a brick wall. Their behavior would not change, but perhaps I would have incurred a lecture on how I was too sensitive, and so, every once in a while, I tune out while one or both parents verbalizes their stroll down memory lane. It goes something like this:

"We tried to expose you to that; you know, we tried to expose you to everything... dance, skating, art-- oh, you brought home the most hideous sculpture from art class once-- what else?" ...and so on.

I don't remember what brought this on the other day. I had called her, because, having apparently caught on to the fact that I don't read most of her spam, she has taken to calling me to tell me to check my e-mail and to call her when I have. A friend of a friend of hers has discovered Google Video, so she'll forward videos of elephants giving birth and such. She leaves an incredulous 'where are you' message on my voice mail practically every Wednesday night, along with instructions to watch whatever video she has sent, as she still, however many Wednesday nights into my class, has not caught on the fact that I have class on Wednesdays. So I called her, and something I said triggered the 'we tried everything with you speech,' and it annoyed me.

Sometimes I think about retaliating, i.e. saying the same kind of thing to her and accusing her of being too sensitive when she complains. I really think the woman has no idea that there are things people don't bring up with her out of respect and sensitivity. She didn't seem to react well over the holidays when I gently reminded her that she had crashed my IRA account.

Case in point: My mother is convinced that she gives amazing gifts, and maybe she does. Most people say thank you, some write a thank you note, and in either case, profess the suitability of the gift. That's what people do. My mother does not do that, especially with close friends and family. A friend of hers brought her a gift from Georgia (the country) of what I thought was a beautiful wooden carving; she responded by screaming at him about how it doesn't match her decor at all and what was she supposed to do with it, as my dad and I sat back horrified. She brags about what a great gift-giver she is, perhaps because no one else is rude enough to give her a similar lecture. While she does have some concept that people sometimes say things out of politeness, she seems to think that that politeness is only addressed to others.

Almost a year ago, c. 2pm: Mom: What an ugly blazer!
A.: I really like it.

Hours later, Jason shows up.

Jason: I love that blazer!
A.: Did you hear that mom? Jason loves the blazer.
Mom: Jason must be a very polite person.


Over five years ago; I'd returned from a wedding in England. My parents had picked me up at the airport and brought me to their house. I was going through my suitcase to retrieve some gifts I had brought them, and took out the dress I'd worn to the wedding.

Mom: Ugh, TELL ME you did NOT wear that dress to the wedding! That is the ugliest dress ever made.

A.: Actually it went over quite well. Apparently it was even voted second-best dress.

Mom: Oh, people were just being polite.


About a year and a half ago at my parents' house, my mother asks me about a wedding I'd gone to a month before. I offer to show her the pictures, which the bride had posted online. I'm in one of the pictures.

Mom: WHAT is that you're wearing??
A.: A dress.
Mom: It's just awful!
A.: Other people seem to like it.
Mom: They're just being polite.


At this point, my question is, what's wrong with just being polite?

Big, varied Monday evening roundup

Citizen volunteers keep an eye on domestic violence judges.

It's not compassion fatigue but that other thing they explain at the end of this article that differentiates my giving behavior from my mother's: I'm more likely to give to homeless shelters and other homelessness organizations, but I'll walk right by most people on the street; she'll do the opposite.

Why the Solyndra debacle won't cost the government as much as you think and shouldn't spell the end of investments in sustainable energy.

Yeah, there's a limit to what can legitimately be itemized out of a base airfare. I've redeemed three round-trip frequent flier tickets (from American Airlines), and all those taxes and fees were included all three times (I did pay $30-$50 in other fees, but that's less than a tenth of what BA is charging outside the base fare).

Organic strawberries aren't (sigh) always organic.

I love that the New York Times has written about three DC shows, but I wish they'd cast a wider net to include one or two more really good ones (like "The Habit of Art"). I don't disagree with the article's substance: I enjoyed "The Liar;" didn't go to "Imagining Madoff" precisely because I figured it would be meandering; and I didn't go to "Macbeth," because, as much as I believe in innovation, I hardly see the point of Shakespeare without the language. Not saying people shouldn't try it; just saying it's not my thing.

Check out BBC's photos of the day; the smiling kid in the floodwaters is especially compelling.

I found Atul Gawande's piece on coaching fascinating, especially from the perspective of writing. I don't know how many writers have coaches, but the very process of writing usually entails a lot of the coaching elements he talks about, where editors play the role of coach. They don't work their magic in real time, which makes sense: unlike surgery or singing or sports, someone can go in after the fact and make suggestions. It's not quite the same because it's about improving the product, not the technique, but it's about providing that second set of eyes.

I love the MacArthur Foundation's guidelines for genius: “originality, self-direction and capacity to contribute importantly to society.”

Y'all know I've always loved Miss Manners, but this column gives me a new appreciation for her work. I really identify with those hosts, and it's just such an awkward situation because people are trying to be polite. They operate in a different paradigm, partly brought about by the fact that people don't host the same way anymore. I was trying to explain this to a friend who said that if I didn't feel like hosting an AVD party that year, I should make it a potluck. I don't have a problem with potlucks, but they're a whole different thing and they're not what I conceive as a party where one has guests. I know it's old-fashioned, but I feel that when I invite people to an event, I agree to be the host. That means they don't have to worry about anything. Some gifts may be appreciated but not necessary (flowers or wine), others are flat-out unwelcome. As Miss Manners makes very clear, it's quite rude to bring substantive gifts because you're messing with what the host has put together. It's unfortunate that people don't see it that way, but it's true. One person I know brought brownies to a baby shower some friends and I were hosting; it was kind of annoying because we had plenty of dessert--I just can't imagine why someone would do that without checking with the hosts.

Now some of you may be thinking, "but you're a mess, and you're always scrambling before the party starts." That's true, but bringing extraneous things doesn't help (unless we've arranged that beforehand). I also appreciate it when people call and ask if there's anything specific they can pick up. But that's different from bringing a dish that has nothing to do with what the host is doing. And I've also learned not to rely on it (more than once, the people who have offered to bring something substantive have ended up not being able to make it; that's fine, but where does that leave you if you figure them into your menu plan?). All this to say, it's nice to ask, but it's also nice to take the host at his or her word when the word is, "please don't bring anything."

RM update

He's getting pushier, and I'm more and more determined to draw the line.

My mistake was being too mindful of his feelings early on, emphasizing that it wasn't personal, but it is inherently personal: there are people I want to spend time with, and he's not one of them.

Some time last week, he said, kind of offhand, "you know, I see you as a sister." I thought about what to say to this. He continued, "As a friend, you know." I didn't want to flat out say, I am not your friend, so I thought, in which time, he left. Later, he was downstairs, upset. I refused to feel guilty: he's not going to push me into a corner, and then make me feel bad about pushing back. For me, friendship is something that develops over time. You can't make it so by declaring it.

On Friday, he said, "Thank you for sharing your house with me. Hopefully one day I'll be able to reciprocate." It would have been the perfect opportunity to say, "I'm not sharing with you, I'm renting to you." But I didn't think fast enough.

So today, he gets back from his trip. I'm in the kitchen, hands dirty. I go and take the trash out--oh, and did you know that there is art in my alley way? An artist from Richmond drove by once and thought it was so beautiful that he came back to paint it. But I digress. I return, and he's standing there, with open arms. I walk right by.

He brings out a box. The week before, he'd asked me when my birthday was; I'd said early May, relieved that it was a safe distance past, that he wouldn't feel the need to do anything about it. But I was wrong. He got me a birthday gift. I was uneasy. I opened it, thanked him for it, really, truly wished he hadn't. Walked to the market, walked back, and returned the box to him, said that I was really sorry and appreciated the thought, but it was too much and I didn't feel comfortable taking it. But it's just a small gesture, he said. But it didn't feel right, I countered. Well, in that case, he understood, and apologized for making me feel uncomfortable. Later, he came back downstairs, said that the friendship he feels for me is real, is genuine, and I said I understood, but didn't feel right accepting that kind of gift (a small set of pearl earrings) from him. He took it well.

Another mistake on my part was teaching to the test, if you will: I thought, okay, he's incapable of getting it, so I'm not going to try to make him understand; I'll just find workarounds. If he doesn't bother me, it's fine that he doesn't understand that we are not friends. And this is where that's gotten me. Hopefully, the rejection of the earrings will be a step in the right direction.

There's a great line from The Bourne Identity, toward the very end. I don't remember it exactly, but the gist is, "I don't pay you to kill-- I pay you to be invisible!" I've applied that in many ways to my work life (people who could do my job, i.e. technically perform the functions, are a dime a dozen; what really helps the people I work for is not having to handhold me). It's like the housecleaner that annoyed the crap out of me in November: there are plenty of people who could clean a ceiling fan; I was hoping to hire someone that wouldn't have to be specifically told to clean the ceiling fan, since it's part of the house and it's filthy. But I digress.

Where this is pertinent to RM is, I don't want a friend. I don't want gifts--both in the passive sense, and in that I actively do no want gifts. I want him to live in the house and be my roommate. I don't want human interaction that is anything beyond superficial. That's how Kevin and I lived together for over four years, and in spite of that, we actually became friends.

Setting the mood

As if you needed more reasons to hate this bull$hit holiday, MP Dunleavey has come through for us:

The problem is that Valentine's Day... has grown from being a celebration that once aspired to some meaning, to being a trashy, materialistic extravaganza.

Think about how much pressure there is to participate:

Every schoolchild, practically, is expected to make or send cards to their classmates or bring treats to class.

Some single women feel so left out on Valentine's Day that they've been known to send flowers to themselves, so they won't look like losers.

And don't assume couples are happier: For many, Valentine's Day is a yearly excuse to have a nasty fight, with partners feeling unloved . . . because they didn't get a stuffed bear or some candy. What?

What makes this ritual even more puzzling is that Valentine's Day doesn't even have a good story (see: Christmas, Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July) or spooky ghosts and pumpkins. In fact, we don't even know the story.

Note this baffling summary on The History Channel's Web site: "But who is this mysterious saint and why do we celebrate this holiday? The history of Valentine's Day -- and its patron saint -- is shrouded in mystery."

Basically, throughout the millennia, February was always a slow shopping month. Then, because a couple of early Christian martyrs (both named Valentine?) might have died for love, a holiday emerged.

I'm not making this up. I found the following stories on Wikipedia and in a U.S. Census Bureau release:

* A priest secretly married lovers in defiance of a Roman emperor's decree and supposedly was executed for it.

* Another man, as legend has it, was rejected by his mistress, and -- you'll like this -- he carved out his own heart and gave it to her. Yech.

Last year, Valentine's Day-observing Americans spent an average of $123 on gifts, according to the National Retail Federation... If my husband spent $100 on gifts instead of putting it into our emergency fund -- a far greater gesture of love -- I would make him eat the oil bill for breakfast.

[A]s a country deep in debt, we don't need to spend billions of dollars on tokens of affection.

Addendum to "The Gift of Fear" post

The takeaway is indeed that the social expectation that women be nice, accommodating, and receptive to interaction, is a precarious one. But I was slow to deal with those situations, and I'm not much influenced by social expectations. I maintain that, had I been under those influences, I would have gotten out worse. Even absent the social expectation, there was an interpersonal expectation: you don't need social pressures to not want to hurt someone's feelings. And manipulative people expertly exploit your very human inclinations to not confront them.
I've written about this exhaustively with regard to gifts: there's not only a social expectation to accept gifts graciously, but an interpersonal one. Nobody wants to throw a gift back in someone's face. I never thought I'd throw a gift back in someone's face, but when I did, it was the right thing to do.

Thursday Evening Roundup and RM update

Happy Punctuation Day!

Didn't get that job you'd apply for? It's only natural to blame the Jews. By the way, if you thought for a second that Middle Eastern politics were getting any less intractable, here's a reality check. Of course, perhaps you also saw or read Qaddafi's speech.

The debate over universal health care evokes the struggle for national parks, or "socialized nature," as some might call them.

The Georgetown Waterfront scene-in is disappointing, lacks the personality of the previous ones. And I disagree with the teacher-- attention to detail can exist and evade expression through clothing.

I found this article very interesting, especially in light of that MSN article I posted a few days ago. With that article, I talked about the elusive middle ground in the realm of body image: you can be conscious without being obsessive. I understand the spectrum, having gone from being oblivious (the first thirty years of my life) to suddenly obsessive and recently reverting to healthily conscious. The issue is in the discourse: there's no socially acknowledged middle ground-- you're either weight-conscious or carefree, and the latter is now cool. For me, it's been almost liberating to have to think about what I eat. I grew up learning to eat fast so I could manage to put away the amount of food that my parents through at me; I had to make excuses for not eating more at any point. I never needed that much food. It was actually pretty unhealthy to eat the way I did, even though I ate primarily healthy food. I still ate too much. It's liberating to eat just enough, to think, "do I need this or even want it?" I recall a video clip--perhaps I saw it on a flight--of Paris Hilton shopping. She was binge-shopping: indiscriminately pulling things off the rack. Makes sense, I guess-- binge now, have your stylist sort later. Most of us don't have that luxury, and in a way, that's a good thing: you have to think, do I need this in my closet? Do I want it? I'd love the luxury of being able to afford the really good stuff, and that holds in my analogy, but I think there's something to be said for eating mindfully. And having to think about how overeating will have an immediate impact on how I fit into my clothes alters the cost-benefit analysis of addressing emotions with food--it adds a clear cost. It's a good thing to think twice before turning to food out of boredom, frustration, or the slew of emotions that being around my mother brings out in me.

Anyway, I thought it was telling that the writer in the Times piece talked about how until you start keeping a food diary, you have no idea how much you're eating and it's easy to think that you don't eat a lot. Couple that with this study, which found that the vast majority of obese people don't realize they're obese.

Speaking of food, RM had brought back a box of chocolates from his last trip. Rather than handing it to me, he put it on the dining room table. I felt no social obligation to acknowledge it as a gift or even recognize it as such, because I've made it clear to him--after being gracious the first time and less so thereafter--that I'm cutting back on chocolate. Yesterday, he said, "I'm trying to tempt you subtly this time." I replied that I wasn't tempted at all, and it's true: I couldn't care less about the chocolate. I just don't want it. I still *like* chocolate--I have chocolate almost every day--but I don't want over-processed, high fructose corn syruped chocolate. It's just not appetizing.

Of course, the bigger issue is whatever the hell RM was thinking: why would you do that? Why would you give someone chocolate when they've made it clear they don't appreciate gifts of chocolate? Isn't that just disrespectful and manipulative, especially if it were tempting? I mean, if I were deliberately keeping something out of my house, why would you bring it in? Look, dude: you're not going to win me over. You're not going to win me over to the cause of extroversion; you're not going to persuade me, with your bubbly personality, that I was wrong all along and I really want to be your friend. And there are people from whom I do appreciate all gifts, including boxes of chocolate, and you're not one of them, so back off.

On a happier dessert-related note, these are so much more exciting than cupcakes:

Don’t let the door slam you in the @$$ on your way out

On pg. 52 of the November 6 issue of Express is an interview with Walter Lamond, who has a blog of dos and don't for his (unborn) son: a primer on human decency. Over the last few weeks, inspired by that book/blog, as well as the Times piece on restaurant staff dos and don'ts, I developed a guide to roommate dos and don't. It's mostly based on my experience over the last six months, but a couple of issues inspired by other roommates have made it in there.

***
Respect my boundaries and my privacy. Don’t come into either of my rooms without knocking, and if you knock and hear me say ‘yes,’ do not sit down and make yourself comfortable.

Outside of my rooms, make yourself at home, since you are. Don’t ask me if you can use the Tupperware—that’s what it’s there for. But don’t make yourself so at home that you feel free to zip up your pants as you’re leaving the bathroom rather than before (I’d put this in the creepy category, but lots of guys do this). Along those lines, keep your door closed when you’re getting dressed, even if you’re just zipping up.

Don’t be nosy or even vocal about my personal habits. I don’t constantly want to field comments about how I eat healthily. Nor do I want to hear my roommate (this was a different roommate) say, “I’d never guess how smart you guys are based on the crap you watch on tv.” I don’t make comments about your eating habits (if you don’t have something nice to say…). Along those lines, since you don’t cook, my being organized about the food I buy, cook and eat may seem like an “eating plan” to you, but it’s kind of what I have to do so my food doesn’t go bad.

No need to be overly effusive when offered food. Also, no need to accept food you have no interest in consuming. I won’t take it personally; I will, however, be disgusted at the sight of half a cookie with a bite mark in it on a plate on the dining room table.

My presence in the house does not indicate a willingness to spend the evening with you.
Our relationship is one of business, not affection; the basic assumption is that the person you live with will want to spend time at home without your being a part of her evening.

Be attentive to signals. The most obvious is whether or not your roommate wants to talk (hint: one-word responses mean that person doesn’t want to talk). That extends to content: if, every time you’ve asked your roommate what she did at work that day, she’s said something like “nothing interesting,” and every time you’ve asked her, in the morning, what she has planned at work that day, she says, “I’m enjoying not thinking about it until I get there,” that might be a sign that she doesn’t want to talk about work.

If you do want some of your roommate’s time, make sure you get the roommate’s say on the matter. Don’t just hijack them while they’re in the middle of something, and then act hurt when they prefer to go on with what they were doing.

Don’t make your guests my problem in any way, i.e. if you’re going to disappear to get your things together before going out, don’t leave the guest downstairs to make (painful) small talk with me.

When I have guests, don’t annoy them. Don’t interrogate them. Don’t do the peacock show-off thing. They don’t care what a long day you’ve worked or with which celebrities you’ve crossed paths. Nor do they want to hear your commentary on whatever we’re watching on tv. In fact, guests or no guests, I don’t want to hear your commentary on whatever I’m watching. Or on the conversation I’m having, since I no longer watch tv in your presence.

Another thing not to be: creepy. Don’t stare. Don’t touch your roommate’s feet (don’t touch your roommate, period). And don’t stock your cabinets and your side of the fridge with foods you never would have bought in your life, just because you see that your roommate has them. Don’t read notes I’ve left for myself. They’re not private, or I’d not have left them in the common areas, but it’s just creepy to deliberately take the time to read something that’s clearly not meant for you.

Don’t be manipulative. Don’t go sit elsewhere in the same room and whimper. Don’t slam doors or pout. If you can help it, don't be a moron.

Don’t give gifts regularly. Sure, Kevin and I would bring one another stuff from travels, particularly when those travels entailed caring for the other roommate’s cat. But frequent, ‘just because’ gifts are just creepy (especially when you say, “this is because I came home late”—remember, we are not friends). If a gift is in order, opt for an appropriate one (Kevin and I would opt for tea, Trader Joe’s gift cards, etc.). Pearl earrings-not appropriate. Immitations of things I have around the house-not appropriate.

Also regarding “don’t slam doors or pout”: your roommate welcomes your constructive feedback. If she’s doing something that bothers you (apart from rejecting your overtures of friendship), by all means, tell her. But pick a good time—and this goes the same for any conversation you want to have with your roommate. Don’t just blindside her and start talking.

On the flipside of that, don’t take feedback personally (and then go on to overcompensate—see below). Asking you to clean out the crumb tray is not a personal insult. Similarly, if I thank you for cleaning, I’m not saying I’ve now seen the light and do want to be your best friend after all.

Pay rent, on time. If you’re going to forget and pay rent late, upon being reminded, don’t forget five months in a row. After the first two forgettings, you may want to start leaving notes for yourself in your planner.

Rent’s not the only thing your roommate shouldn’t have to remind you about more than once. So you didn’t know how to recycle—fine. But once your roommate asked you several times to recycle, do it. Same with disposing of anything with traces of food on it into the covered trash. And so on. Don’t make your roommate repeat herself to the point where she decides that your skull is so impermeable that taking stuff out of the trash is less work than asking you again.

Do apologize; don’t overcompensate. Neither of us is a perfect being, and both of us do things that inconvenience the other. If you for got to pay the rent, or left the cat out, say you’re sorry and move on. Don’t make excuses or try to convince me it didn’t happen. Don’t look around for gratuitous services to do. Picking up my laundry, when I’ve set it down to get the hand towel from the bathroom, and taking it downstairs is just going to annoy me, and certainly isn’t going to make me forget about the late rent. Apologizing for the late rent, rather than saying things that make it sound like I’m unreasonable for requesting the rent, is going to make me forget about the late rent.

Use resources judiciously; turn the lights off when you leave a room. Recycle.

Respect generally accepted quiet hours. Just because your roommate is generally up by 6:30am on a Saturday, doesn’t mean you should assume she is, thus coming in and making lots of noise, until you see that her door is closed.

Do not take it upon yourself to wake your roommate up if you think she may have overslept. Your role is not that of alarm clock. On the same note, engage in no other acts of paternalism. If your roommate has left the house, you don’t need to think about whether or not she took her key, and you certainly don’t need to martyr yourself by staying home until she gets back, just in case. If you do, don’t then cite it as an example of how considerate you are.

Conversely, if you’re leaving the house, don’t assume your roommate is going to be home when you get back. Take your key, or at least ask her whether she has plans to leave.

That’s one example of the ‘when in doubt, ask’ principle. Don’t guess, and don’t try to surprise me. You don’t know me well enough—nor are you insightful enough—for a surprise to be a good thing. When you bought the pearl earrings, you thought that would be a great surprise. It was certainly a surprise.

Speaking of unwelcome surprises, don’t lead me to believe that someone’s breaking into the house. If you specifically tell me that you’re going to be out of town on a given evening and you change your mind, let me know before you come in and set off the alarm.

Don’t try to help without my permission—If I’m doing something (like changing a bike tire), don’t try to grab it out of my hands. It might be polite to ask (once). It’s not polite to insist once I’ve made it clear that it’s something I’d prefer to do on my own. However, do take initiatives on basic things (changing the battery on the smoke detector, etc.). RM does this, but I once had a roommate who would wait until I got home to inform me that the battery needed to be replaced. It was after 9pm and she’d been home since the afternoon. Oh, and I don’t mind putting away the dishes most of the time, but I don’t appreciate coming home from a business trip to a full dishwasher, when you’ve had at least several days to clean it out. And when you do clean or fix something, don’t strut around like you deserve a medal.

Significant cleaning aside, no one should be able to tell that you just used something, because you shouldn’t leave any signs, such as hair in the shower drain, stains on the counter, crumbs in the crumb tray (or worse, on the couch), etc.

Here’s another one inspired by a different roommate: do not ever use people dishes—especially mine—to serve a cat (or other animal).

Well, now that we’ve gone through all that… goodbye, and don’t let the door slam you in the @$$ on your way out.

Xmas eve roundup

Two perspectives on Allepo.

Why there's nostalgia for the Soviet Union in spite of its victims.

Evan Osnos on tyranny:

Tyranny does not begin with violence; it begins with the first gesture of collaboration. Its most enduring crime is drawing decent men and women into its siege of the truth.

Our horribly unjust justice system.

Just two excerpts from Coates' must-read "My President Was Black."

Barack Obama’s victories in 2008 and 2012 were dismissed by some of his critics as merely symbolic for African Americans. But there is nothing “mere” about symbols… Burning crosses do not literally raise the black poverty rate, and the Confederate flag does not directly expand the wealth gap.

and

Historians will spend the next century analyzing how a country with such allegedly grand democratic traditions was, so swiftly and so easily, brought to the brink of fascism. But one needn’t stretch too far to conclude that an eight-year campaign of consistent and open racism aimed at the leader of the free world helped clear the way.

Why I still haven't managed to muster compassion for Trump voters:

But the istina of the 2016 campaign is that Trump’s base was heavily dependent on racists and xenophobes, Trump basked in and stoked their anger and hatred, and all those who voted for him cast a ballot for a man they knew to be a racist, sexist xenophobe. That was an act of racism.

That and this (on the Jewish family that did skip town early because they were smeared by Fox and Breitbart).

Would we have Pizzagate had we responded to gamergate?

You--provided that you'd rather live--want a female doctor.

It's hard to undo climate rules, fortunately.

I recently had reason to revisit these two articles, which I blogged about at the time. This reminded me of the second in particular, in that... the Post wants me to feel bad for these people and I kind of do but I don't. I have trouble responding with compassion (and outrage) to the man who pushes wheelchairs at National and sometimes can't afford to get home. But "I'm a stay-at-home mom of four and can't afford xmas gifts for my kid?" Get a job. If I had four kids I couldn't afford shit either; we all make our choices. And the mom who's kid wants a Playstation? Guess what? I asked my parents for a Nintendo when I was a kid; they told me to make the money for it myself, and by the time I did, I changed my mind (and more importantly, learned that things have opportunity costs--not a bad lesson).

I do and don't hear this. I think vast differences in income can be a challenge on either side. I've not been in a serious relationship where I've vastly outearned the man--I've probably been on any number of dates where I did, but no information would have come out to broadcast that fact. I don't agree that men, generally, are turned off by ambition and outspokenness; plenty are, but who needs them? Also, her other article on 'manly men' is awful--there's a clear line between manliness and intrusiveness and disrespect for boundaries.

Everything about this screams red-flag, even as I don't doubt the benefits of nursing.

More things not to do when dating or trying to.

Dr. Nerdlove on how not to text and other dating truths:

When it comes to dating in all of its forms, there’s one universal sin: being boring... There should be substance behind your texting – something meaty that the other person can sink their conversational teeth into. It could be something crazy that’s happening or a question that prompts a conversation. You could even be texting just to flirt, because flirting is inherently fun. But if all you’re doing is just killing time, then you’re killing the attraction as well.

 and

Rolling into the conversation cock first is a signal to others. Under the most charitable reading, you’re someone who’s so blind to social conventions and emotional intelligence that it’s amazing you’re allowed out of the house. At worst, it’s a giant neon sign that you don’t see the person you’re texting as a person. For all intents and purposes, you’re signalling that you see them as an especially elaborate sex toy and you’re hoping to jerk off inside them.

Pair with this from Ask Polly:

What you experienced is a very personal form of terrorism: Some coward (or group of cowards) resented you and your friends because you had the audacity to take up space and behave confidently while also being sexually attractive. You had more power than they could bear. They hated you for that power, and hated that you didn’t give a fuck how they felt about you.

And while we're reading Ask Polly:

I also think it’s important and smart to invite single people to so-called couples gatherings. That’s just normal, honestly, even if a world of lazy couples tends not to see it that way. Single people need to get invited to do “boring” things, too. A lot of single people love boring shit, but because they’re single, they’re forced to go out on the town a lot, sometimes much more than they actually want to. Supporting single people no matter what, embracing and including people without kids when you have kids — this is just part of being a solid friend. And not to sound harsh, but none of us know when we could end up single again. Shit happens. Defying the stupid-ass ways our culture sorts us into categories is important. The more you break those boundaries and shake things up, the better your social life will be.

To give better gifts, don't overthink it and focus on longterm utility rather than immediate reaction.

See my thread on how (for the bzillionth time) "kasha" DOES NOT mean buckwheat.

I leave you with some holiday thoughts with the extraordinary J. K. Rowling (click and read the whole thread):

But if your life is currently full of difficulties; if you aren’t where you want to be, either literally or figuratively, 5/12

— J.K. Rowling (@jk_rowling) December 24, 2016

Notes on The Gift of Fear

I'd known about Gavin de Becker's "The Gift of Fear" for a long time--I must have seen him on Oprah back when that episode aired, when I was (probably) in high school. Even then, the concepts were simultaneously eye-opening and intuitive. Over the years, various friends read it and recommended it. I wonder whether, had I read it earlier, I might have cut RM's antics off at the start. But I hadn't, and I didn't. I can say that I knew enough that I pared back RM's antics, which could have been a lot worse, and by the time I'd navigated RM's antics, I was better prepared for BE's. Even so, I didn't recognize the BE signs as early or clearly as I might have had I read the book.

You may be thinking, "neither of these guys were a danger to you," to which I say two things: (1) I don't know; RM might have been a danger to me had I been any less assertive, and (2) de Becker states explicitly that these are indicators of manipulativeness, not necessarily danger--and it's manipulativeness that can push you to ignore the instincts that might help you stay out of danger. Consider also the woman who tried to kidnap me--even she probably wasn't dangerous; she didn't intend to harm me. She merely manipulated me verbally into getting into her car, which allowed her to manipulate me physically into being her captive audience for an hour.