deep and serious thoughts

Being right and humble pie

A few thoughts from my Saturday...

"Would you rather be right, or effective?" Every time I meet with our controller, those words stare me in the face from the wall of her gorgeous, light-flooded corner office, and I find myself fixating on them. I don't know why they just popped back into my head, as I sit here on our patio staring out at the palm trees, but they're stuck in my mind so I'm going to word-vomit out some thoughts. Hold on tight! 

I'm the kind of person who has a bad, bad tendency to need to be right. In seventh grade English, we were having an organized class debate about some reading or other - I don't even remember what - and I could not stop arguing my point. I was right. I was right, I WAS right. No form of emphasis can capture how utterly confident I was in my certitude that I had taken the correct side of the argument, and I was willing to die on that hill, status and popularity and other classmates' feelings be damned. Needless to say, my team "won" the debate, and after class, my teacher pulled me aside and suggested I talk to my mother about joining the high school debate team. As a thirteen-year old. Ummm, right. 

I did, eventually, join that high school debate team, and I was a damn good debater - undefeated as a novice, successful on the national competition circuit, and consistently placing high in my first and early second year. At a few tournaments, I made my opponents cry...an achievement of which I remain dubiously proud, even to this day. 

That sort of half-ashamed pride in my argumentative ability trickles over into my personal life, too. I am far too reluctant to back down - famous in my family for needing to get the last word in, to prove my point, or to twist the knife. I am vicious when confronted unjustly by friends or partners, gifted with a colossal vocabulary and cursed with the kind of temper that stays dormant or suppressed for far too long and explodes out so violently as to be near-cruel. My family has a name for these sorts of flare-ups, after an incident in high school when I eviscerated a close guy friend, over the phone (while they all eavesdropped on another phone, of course), for falsely accusing me of being dishonest about some prom drama, of all things. Now, when I go off, they call it "John Doe'ing" someone (name, obviously, redacted to save that poor guy's dignity a decade later). Since that high school lash-out, I've only John Doe'd a half a dozen times, but each one lives in my memory: distinct moments of mingled shame over losing it and satisfaction in my ability to stand up for myself in my own righteousness. 

I ramble so terribly, yikes - let's bring it back to that statement on the wall. "Do you want to be right, or effective?" I've been mulling over my desire to be right, and I think it stems largely from the fact that being right, being correct, traditionally earns one praise, accolades, gold stars and merit badges. I am a junkie for pleasing people and achieving highly - always have been, always will be. You have to be right to get high test scores, to pass pop quizzes, to clear audit review notes or adhere to finance policies and procedures. Doing things right is a source of comfort, of safety, of success. But there's a difference between doing things right and being right, and I often don't adhere to that brightline. 

Of late, my job has really hammered this point home, as has my personal life. Long story short, I John Doe'd a bit a few weeks ago on someone who was being hideously unfair, and the residual anger and sense of irreproachability has lingered. Professionally, I'm working with a few people at work who are not subject-matter experts in what I do, and who remain reluctant to admit that. All of these smaller situations have combined, I think, to make me feel like I'm right more often than not - and I am right, in these specific situations. 

Moral of the story though, in order to be effective in these scenarios, I'm going to have to put that in my back pocket and shut the eff up. I'm right, yes, but I don't know it all and I can't control others' response to the fact that I AM right. And in these scenarios, it's better to serve myself up a double helping of humble pie, acknowledge that there are other ways to get where I need to go, and bite my tongue rather than proving my point. This, for me, is anathema, which I've touched on before here; I take pride in my intelligence and grasp of what I do, and not using (let's be honest, flaunting) that expertise is hard for me. That said, it's a lesson I'm trying hard to take to heart, and hopefully having it down on "paper" here will help me adhere to that principle as effectively as possible. 

Wish me luck, I guess?! 

Ruminations on the future of MinneapoLiz (and a few funny photos)

A serious meditation below, but please enjoy the collection of outtakes from this Thanksgiving, when all Jodester wanted was a "nice photo of all three kids together," and we gave her these. Sorry Mama Bear! We love you!

Lately it seems like every time I sit down to write anything, it leads off with the caveat of "I'm sorry it's been so long, blah blah blah BUSY STRESSED SO MUCH TO DO" - and that's really started to bother me. I'm trying very hard this year to say what I think, in the spirit of being open, so here goes: I think a big side effect of this move and new lifestyle is that the importance of this space for me is starting to dim a bit. I still love to write, and I still find it incredibly cathartic and gratifying to put something out here that seems to perfectly encapsulate what I'm thinking at any given time. Those times, however, are less and less frequent as my workdays are busier, my social life is more fulfilling, and my life in general is lived more off the page than on it. 

This is a shift I didn't foresee. Since the moment I sat down and started writing this blog, it took on a momentous significance in my life. I used it as an anchor point of sorts - a place to process a major career shift, a lodestone and confessional while working through a horrible breakup, a digital exercise book that forced me to chronicle and create in equal parts. I treasure the memories I've captured here, and the different ways that blogging has forced me out of my comfort zone. 

Why the sudden apathy, then? For the first time in a long time, my precious 24 daily hours are rife with other, more appealing ways to spend my time than writing. Unlike my previous job, I actually work full days here - and in the lulls in my day, I take lengthy walks and explore Stanford, or pop into a yoga class, or get lost in the art museum(s) on campus. After hours, I'm cooking and feeding a very hungry and effusive roommate, or spending time nurturing nascent friendships, or devouring books in our hot tub, or indulging in the kind of shenanigans that are so quotidian that they're hardly "blog-worthy." 

In short, although this is getting really long, I'm happy, but in a different way than I've been for a long time. I'm happy in the mundane, unremarkable way that doesn't need to be voiced to be manifest. Maybe a better word would be content? I am at stasis - a point of equilibrium where, though life isn't perfect, it's balanced. Apparently, part of that balance bears the implied consequence of much less writing. 

I think a lot of this silence comes down to discipline (or a lack thereof), frankly, and that disgusts me to a certain degree. An anecdote: in second grade, I vividly remember our teacher trying to explain the word "lack" to the class by making us go around the circle and say something we lacked. While other seven-year-olds offered up things like "crayons," "trucks," "chocolate milk," I, being a precocious enfant terrible, threw out "I lack discipline." I couldn't understand why every adult in the room laughed, but the statement has held true all my life.

I am not a naturally disciplined person - it takes an enormous amount of effort and fortitude to change a habit or check off an onerous to-do list. Once I commit to something, though, and get into a routine, I tend to cling to it with a tenacity that would belie the lack of discipline I claim. Writing this blog has been one such instance - I built a very rigid process out from 2014-16 in which producing blog posts was a part of my day as inexorable as brushing my teeth. That changed in 2017, along with so many other momentous changes. While I feel like I should want to get that back, I'm not sure I entirely do - which leads us to this massive rumination. 

I don't know if I'll keep blogging for the immediate future, let alone forever - I miss writing when I don't do it, but do I miss it enough? Is the cost worth the benefit? Do I gain enough from this investment of time and energy to justify forcing myself to make it a priority again? This doesn't even scratch the surface of my thoughts on this topic - vanity and self-importance, privacy versus authenticity, honesty against the desire to protect others. We'll see what shakes out in the next several months, but for now, I'm going to promise myself (and you) at least this: no more apologies for my absence, and no more excuses for why I'm not writing. 

Thanks for enduring this extremely self-centered essay, and for being here and who you are! I appreciate you!

"You are building the most fabulous life."

Happy Thanksgiving, campers! Today, I'm grateful for all of you. 

I am, as always, thankful for my fantastic friends and above all the love and support of my family. This year, however, I'm ruminating on something a little bigger than in years past. 

2017 has brought enormous change for me, and I am beyond thankful that it has been so positive across the board. Had you asked me last Thanksgiving where I would be this year, I would have probably shrugged and assumed it would be living in downtown Minneapolis, working at Travelers, hanging out with the same people, maybe dating, maybe not. Instead, I live in California with two of my best friends, working for one of the most renowned academic institutions in the world. I wake up every morning to palm trees, never wear a coat, and weekend in wine country. And I am happy - incandescently so. 

A friend of mine once commented on an Instagram photo, "You are building the most fabulous life!" The phrase has tuck with me for the last few years - especially in light of my 2017 resolution to be intentional in all things. It's been a mantra, at times when my life hasn't felt so fabulous. I'm thankful, though, that choosing to be intentional, to step out of my comfort zone, and to keep building that fabulous life has led me to where I am today. I am grateful that taking a huge leap has been as easy as it has been, and that I can truly say today that I'm this happy and fulfilled by my life. 

So on this Thanksgiving, here's to the friends I've made and lost, the family that has had my back through everything, the roommates who make me smile every day, the abundance of delicious California wine waiting for us on tonight's Thanksgiving table, and to you - today, may your hearts be as full as your plates!

four years!

Four years ago I signed up for a Squarespace two-week free trial. I taught myself to code a website (in the most rudimentary and experimental of fashions). I picked out a blog name, wrote a cheesy, oh-so-basic bio, and hit "new post" for the very first time. 

MinneapoLiz is four years old today. Looking back, I can't believe I've been writing this blog for as long as I was in high school, and in college, and at Travelers. Four years is a solid timespan, campers...the kind of timespan that typically culminates in diplomas, or graduation parties, or commencement ceremonies. Here I sit, though - no diploma in sight, no recognition or celebration or graduation to the next step forthcoming - and I find myself contemplating just what this blog, in all its iterations, has given me instead.

Reading back through four years of posts, it almost feels like this continual chronicling of my life has been a collegiate progression. My "freshman year of blog," with awful formatting and cheesy rambling about playlists and the boyfriend and finding my way. A sophomore year of growing pains and breakups and, oh god, most basic of all basicness, starting the Brunch Challenge. And a junior year of friends and travel and drinking and socializing way too hard, way too often...and loving every minute of it.

Three years of very distinct life phases, which bring me here to this "senior year" of sorts. As with college, "senior year of blog," for me, heralded a sea change. I've never lived away from Minnesota, with the exception of my (similarly monumentally significant) four years of college. Here I sit on the balcony of my California apartment, watching palm trees swaying in the breeze and smelling the salt of the bay mingle with wildfire smoke and my coffee. And had you asked me this time last year, or the year before, or, goodness, the year before that whether I would ever be here in this place, I don't think I could have even conceived that it was possible. 

And there you have it - a shift which, I think, really just goes to show how much I've grown. It's like sitting in the stadium on graduation day, black gown sticking to my sweaty shoulders, remembering what it was like to sit in this same crowd of my classmates during the Freshman Welcome Mass. I vividly, viscerally remember that moment - looking back with nostalgia and pride at the evolution and adventure of the last four years as I sat there at the end of it all. With this blog, I have put four years' worth of nostalgia down on paper, virtual though it may be, and I can revisit "freshman year of life" with a click of a mouse. I can look back at brunches with girlfriends, vacations with my family, inside jokes and stressful days and my continual stumbling quest for happiness and fulfillment, and, with awe, see how far I've come. 

From where I sit, that's the most beautiful thing about what I've done with this space. As I always say on this day, I'm incredibly proud to have kept this space up for as long as I have, and to have committed to continually experimenting and re-evaluating and challenging my own conceptions of what I can do here. Happy fourth anniversary to my beloved blog, and to all of you, thank you so much today and every day for reading, reacting, and giving me so much joy in this bizarre, lovely adventure.

40 Days of Dating

I know I promised lots of life updates coming up here, but in between the last two nights of "Bachelor in Paradise" (#TeamKristina) and a few hectic days at work, I haven't felt like taking the time to do justice to my life lately. Instead, I revisited an old favorite, and wanted to share it. 

Have you guys heard of 40 Days of Dating? It's a social experiment-slash-blog written in 2013 by two graphic designers, Jessica Walsh and Timothy Goodman, about how they dated for 40 days to try to overcome their respective relationship issues. Jessica falls too hard, too fast, and always for the wrong men. Tim, on the other hand, is a classic serial dater and commitment-phobe. Their daily dates, including couples therapy, a weekend trip to Disneyworld, and plenty of ups and downs along the way, charmed me the minute I discovered it in 2013, around day 18's publication.

I read breathlessly along the first time through, convinced they were going to end up together. (Spoiler alert: they don't. Jessica is happily married to someone else now - see their wedding here. BOOOO.) That said, they are both incredibly candid and vulnerable throughout the series, and being able to read their respective thoughts and intentions, along with how the other perceived them, was a fascinating dive into human experience. 

I remember re-reading the series probably two years ago, and stumbled back on it yesterday to marathon through it again. Some of the things that stuck out most to me now are that I'm officially older than they were when they did the experiment in the first place...a weird and kind of unsettling feeling, given their respective focus and obsession with dating. I'm just kind of...not, and that makes me feel like I'm doing things wrong. 

Second, this section on online dating, from a portion of Jessica's Day Nine entry: 

"We no longer search for romantic partners, we shop for them. Just like when looking online for a new pair of shoes, one can sort men by highest rated, size, popularity, even by color. While I admit it’s all very practical, I have to wonder if it’s caused me to miss out on spontaneous interactions or chance encounters."

You guys, it seriously messed with my head a little bit. I HATE online dating. As I've chronicled numerous times, I'm utterly terrible at it, and it always comes to feel a little dirty and cheap to me. This, I think is why - I am a consummate consumer, but the act of searching for a partner the way I search for a deal at J.Crew is repellent to me. 

Third, I really love and identify with their Day Five activity of illustrating their past relationships. See art (and ones I especially identify with) below: 

It all made me wonder if certain tropes and kinds of hindsight have a certain universality to them - if everyone has a person who was too good to them, or, conversely, has someone to whom they regret being too good. If there's always "that guy from New Years" or something. 

Finally, I love the stark, bold, graphic nature of the site. Tim and Jessie visually curated their way through their 40 days, with hand-drawn art, snippets of iPhone messages and chats, and photos of souvenirs, tickets, and ephemera. The way the art came together created a powerful third character in their relationship - how they both distilled and perceived their relationship, and expressed it together. 

Tim and Jessica released an "extended cut," of sorts, in the form of a book in 2015. I'm tempted to pick it up and read it, and to see how much extra info they popped in there - who knows? That said, if you've got a spare few hours and a desire to play fly-on-the-wall in another pair's relationship, it's super interesting. The added element of self-awareness, knowing this was an experiment with a fixed end date, just added to the tension and self-examination present throughout. 

They've done another project, 12 Kinds of Kindness, and I think you can all probably guess what I'll be reading later on tonight!