Books Read - Winter 2012

11. I Hate to Cook by Peg Bracken
10. The Acrobats by Mordecai Richler

9. The Street by Mordecai Richler

8. The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz by Mordecai Richler

7. The Cookbook Collector by Allegra Goodman

6. Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy

5. The Way of All Flesh by Samuel Butler (audio book)

4. Make the Bread, Buy the Butter by Jennifer Reese

3. The Egoist by George Meredith

2. Middlemarch by George Eliot

1. Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope

2011 Reading Statistics

In 2011 I read...

29 Books

18 Fiction
11 Non-Fiction
---6 of which were Non-Narrative

9 Books for my Nineteenth Century English Literature Course
all of which I read twice, but only counted here once

2 Canadian Books
(it didn't help that my course books were outside of this category)

2 Books on Penguin's Top 50 List
12 Total Books read from Penguin's Top 50 List so far (24%)

Books Read - Autumn 2011

7. North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell*

6. Here Comes Trouble by Michael Moore (audio book)

5. Bleak House by Charles Dickens (a second time)

4. Germs, Guns and Steel by Jared Diamond (audio book)

3. Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman

2. Bleak House by Charles Dickens*
1. Digital Fortress by Dan Brown (audio book)

Books Read - Summer 2011

7. Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
6. Have a Little Faith by Mitch Albom
5. The Giver by Lois Lowry
4. The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender
3. Vanity Fair (a second time)*
2. Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood**
1. Vanity Fair by W.M. Thackeray*

Kindness Forbidden

A couple weeks ago, my coworker made an announcement when I got back from my lunch break. "Pam and I have decided that you are not allowed to bring baking in to work anymore. And when the other girl brings in stuff, we're not going to have any. And we're going to go for walks on our lunch break." They are trying to eat healthy and lose weight. I was a little stunned by their announcement though. There are two aspect to my feelings, and I'm not quite sure which should win out.

A) I want to support their goals. I don't want to tempt them to eat junk food when they are trying to be healthy. And if my "kindness" is detrimental to them, then it's not kind.

B) I share my baking to show that I care. I feel that by preemptively rejecting my goodies, they are rejecting me and my attempts to be kind. And it was surprising to be told that I am "not allowed" to do something by people who have no authority over me.

Consideration A isn't a new thought to me, and as a result I haven't been sharing treats as much as I used to (though it makes me feel stingy and un-caring). I might bring in cookies or cupcakes once a month... or two or four (2-4 months, not 2-4 times a month). I think it's a good, caring thing to do - something that makes people feel happy and contributes to morale. But to some people it's detrimental... and now my feelings are hurt and I feel unappreciated and awkward about future sharing.

Theme

The theme of my summer was "Not Good Enough." I'm not good enough at work (despite telling me that I've improved greatly in the past few months, my manager gave me a majority of "needs improvement" ratings on my annual review - marking me as one of the worst employees we have). I'm not good enough at being there for my friends (two friends moved this summer, and I didn't help; another wrote me a letter about how she regrets how we've grown apart). I'm not good enough at spending time with my family (Mom wishes I lived closer). I'm not good enough at keeping house (cooking and cleaning are impossibly hard). I'm not good enough at writing for my English course - or reading for it, for that matter (after getting a lower-than-expected mark on my paper, it took me over two months to make it through Vanity Fair).

Even when the results are fine, I still receive criticism. At work, the store manager told us that next time they'll get more people keying inventory because we were too slow - but it seemed to me that we were so caught up that we were often waiting for more numbers to come in. Still not good enough. My correspondence course tutor told me that my 2092 word paper was too short, when the required length was 2000 words and I had to cut it down to get it there, afraid of running too long. Still not good enough. If even meeting or exceeding expectations is unsatisfactory, what does it take to be sufficient? It seems impossible.

This feeling becomes exponential: once the idea is planted, I am more likely to interpret new circumstances in a way that reinforces it. And it's really hard to kick. But I've been trying. I counter "I'm not good enough" with memories of Justin telling me "Good job, Michelle!" or a coworker saying "I think you do a bang-up job." But I'm still living under the shadow of insufficiency.

Aye

I've discerned another excuse for the selfishness I discussed recently. It's my defense against manipulation. Nowadays there are so many schemes that try to convince me to further someone else's interests. "If you buy a newspaper subscription, the company gives me money for college." "If you host a Tupperware party, your friend can get more free stuff." Everyone who works for commission or under a quota tries to further their cause by getting me on board. It's fine and even great when I want the product they are offering - when I've been wanting to host a Tupperware party and buy a newspaper subscription, when their interests are in line with mine and the transaction is mutually beneficial. But I need my "selfishness" to protect me from all the times when that is not the case. When someone else's success is tied to my participation, they become less interested in whether or not I want what they are selling; they want me to want it, and many will resort to some level of manipulation to ensure that I cooperate. Since they do not have my best interests at heart, I need to.

Ouch

A week or two ago, while walking to the mailbox, I found myself thinking about what it's like to be any particular person. I think there's a special feeling associated with being me, with being you. Our perspectives have been shaped by our unique circumstances and our interpretations thereof, and this affects our outlook in every moment. And I wondered what it feels like to be you, and I wondered what you would think about how it feels to be me.

It's painful to be me. Old disappointments tarnish my present expectations, and a grim cloud of depression hangs over it all. I don't notice this pain all the time - busyness often distracts me, but I see it when I look back and when I slow down. Situations like massages and pedicures let it rise to the surface. This emotionally ill feeling is my predominant memory of my first massage, probably five years ago, and looking back I wondered at the state I must have been in to warrant that. Repeated experiences and recent introspection have made me realize that it's not exactly that I was in such a painful place then - that ache is always within me.

Silly Pants McGee

It's been my new task lately to get the mail at work. When the girl who used to do it went on holidays, I filled in. Although she's back now she's been busy, so I've kept doing it. I like it; I enjoy getting out of the building for a little walk in the middle of the day, and having a break while still being productive.

The walk gives me a few minutes to think, and sometimes these thoughts surprise me.

The other day I discovered that I am afraid. I am so afraid that I am going to screw everything up and lose it all. I'll say something that comes out wrong or be unfair in my expectations, and everything will crash down. I feel like I just live on the brink. It will be all my fault, but I won't be able to avoid it. Impending doom.

P.S. Justin chose the title. I was stumped. So was he, so he made something up. Maybe that's what he thinks of my fear of impending doom. I find that comforting.

Every New Home Needs Granulated Garlic

My brother bought a house, and is in the process of taking possession and moving in. It's an exciting time for him, and by extension, for the rest of the family.

I hear that when my Dad discovered my brother's intentions to buy himself a house, he asked, "What's wrong with living here with me?" My brother responded, "I should probably move out of my parent's house before I'm thirty." Good point. And apart from a semester when he rented a room in another city for a work term, this is his first time really on his own. (When he moved away for school, Dad moved too to provide him with a place to live. Although Dad's not home much and my brother basically has the place to himself, it's not the same.) It's an exciting time.

Mom and I were talking about this big step a few weeks ago, and talking about how we can help him out. "One thing I really appreciated when I moved out," I said, "was that you gave me spices." It can be overwhelming to have to buy the myriad of spices that a kitchen needs right off the bat, and one Christmas she gave me filled spice jars of everything our family tends to use. "We could do that for him too!" So when I last visited her, I brought along my extra spice jars and the spices I've bought large quantities, and we raided the extra spices in her freezer as well and came up with a good assortment of spices for my brother.

She went to visit him last week, to see his new house and bring him all the household things she has been accumulating for him. Among those gifts was the spices we assembled for him, and she reported back to me that he was really excited and grateful to receive them. He put them into the cupboard right away, although nothing else was unpacked yet. He appreciated it. I had also given him a bottle of dish soap and a couple homemade dishcloths (other things I consider immediately essential when you move out), and she reported that he had those ready by the sink, though he hadn't even been staying there yet.

"I'm glad he liked our idea," I said to Mom, referring to the spice gift. And she gave me all the credit for it. "You came up with it all on your own." So I changed my statement to: "I'm glad he liked the gift of spices that we collaborated on." But although I insisted on sharing the credit with her, I also take his gratitude personally. I suggested spices, and he was glad. I gave him dish soap, and he moved it in first and thought of me as he unpacked it. I gave and he was grateful. I was appreciated. And that feels good.

Thank You Cards

Dear Grandma and Grandpa,

Thank you for the birthday money. I used it for...

What do Grandma and Grandpa want to hear? What do they want me to use their monetary gift for? Especially when all the income goes into an account, and then all the expenses come out of it, and I'm not using this exact money for one particular thing - the answer to what I did with their gift is not really straightforward. Should I say it went towards rent and groceries? No, too quotidian. Dental bills? Not positive enough... and I don't think I want to get into that. Savings? Too practical and under-valued. Soda and yarn and candy and books? Too frivolous.

They will want to hear that they have benefited me by giving me something special, something I value and may not otherwise have - and something they understand and approve of. Something that makes them feel good about giving me birthday money.

Meow Meow Meow Meow

I really really like Pop Tart Kitty.

Aye Eye Aie

I have been noticing lately just how egocentric I am. I generally think of myself first. And it's not just a matter of selfishness; there are a few reasons for this.

First, it's a issue of budgeting my limited emotional resources. Can I handle this? How will this really affect me? How much will it take to rise to what is expected of me? Can I keep this up? Will the benefit someone else gains outweigh the cost to myself?

When you're full and replenished, you can give easily and barely notice the cost. When you're empty and exhausted, every effort is a sacrifice that probably won't be noticed or appreciated. Everything that you give, leaves less for basic existence.

The widow's mite... she was generous with her limited resources, not knowing how she would survive. We never find out what happened to her. Is it a healthy, reasonable lesson?

Additionally, I was taught to be reflective, and this generally involves asking, "How does this affect me? What is my experience here?" Me, me, me. And a story is only mine to share and ponder to the degree that it affects me. For instance, my blog is about my thoughts and experiences. Wouldn't it be weird otherwise? But is learning to be reflective just learning to be egocentric? Surely not...

...And it's not like this is working out so well for me...

Lucas

So as I previously mentioned, the pastor officiating Katie & Patrick's wedding used to be a close professor of mine. I went to a little school, so you really had a chance to get to know some of your profs. Lucas and I went on a mission trip to Mexico together, where he lent me a blanket. I helped out with the neighbourhood kids club he hosted with his wife. He taught me College 101, Life of Christ, Small Group Leadership, and Teaching Children. It was him I consulted about speaking in chapel about depression, and after that short query I ended up spending the rest of the lunch hour in his office, telling him about the issues going on in my family. He even offered to be a father-figure to me. And I remember how much I cried when he told us he was leaving. He was important to me.

Since then I've lost touch. Well, I still know where he works and lives, and I could probably find his phone number - but I haven't known what to say so I haven't said anything. I'm a different person now that the one he knew. She loved Jesus, and sought to be a woman of prayer and humility. I have given up - and along with giving up religion, I felt like I had to give up most of my Christian acquaintances. What would we have in common anymore?

For this reason I was apprehensive about seeing him again, apprehensive about what to say. It turned out to be okay. He accidentally called me Denise, but then told me about how he often thinks of me and appreciated how I was always so nice to him. And beyond that there wasn't much more time for conversation. We never got into the intense "how are you" that I dreaded. And everyone agreed that he was the most adorable wedding pastor ever.

He invited me to stay in touch. A part of me wants to, but a part of me still doesn't know what to say. And this situation made me realize that this guardedness defines not only renewed connections with old acquaintances, but many of my relationships - and even myself. I am too tired for/of reflection and introspection to be able to put much effort into it, and that just leaves me floating on the surface. I'm not even able to wish for more. I feel awkward talking with those who haven't seen my progression because I don't want to dwell on what lies beneath the surface, and I am not entirely comfortable with it. When I don't disillusion them, though, they are led to believe that I am the same as I was when they knew me - and that just becomes deceitful. I don't want to keep people at arm's length... except I do.

Dear Starbucks,

Dear Starbucks,

I love you. You are better than Tim Hortons because, although your drinks are exponentially more expensive and their tea is good too, when I need somewhere to go and sit, to work and think, they are not welcoming. They have hard chairs in which I must sit up straight, and they put up those "20 minutes or it's loitering" signs that make me so sad. You're even better than the library, because I can't have beverages there, and I have to sit up straight and keep my feet on the floor. When I come visit you, I can curl up in a comfy chair and stay as long as I want - and use the internet! You're the bestest, and I'm grateful.

Love,
Michelle