Mostly, I love being asked for a favor. Usually, they're so easy to fulfill. You feel like the good guy and the other person gets what they need. How can you go wrong with that? What gets tricky is when you are asked to do a real favor. For me, that means anything that has me getting up before 6 or leaving the house before 9 am When you're a night owl, you see how the world favors early birds. Early to bed, early to rise, early bird specials, blah, blah, blah. Night owls get a bum rap. We're wastrels, second class citizens. At best they we're watching Leno, at worst we're carousing into the wee hours. But the brunt of the judgment is reserved not for what we do at night but for what we're don't get done in the morning. Admit it, most people think if you're not up by 8, you're pathetic. Now you don't see us night owls dissing people who start fizzling at 4 pm, do ya? And how often do you hear people talk about they're steam running out mid-afternoon. Not from me. That's when I get going.
Anyway, I digress. So how to handle the request for a real favor? The "will-you-take-me-to-the-airport-at-5:30-in- the-morning" type of favor from someone who hasn't taken you to the airport for 3 decades? The kind of favor that leaves your jaw hanging. And the weird thing, is that my first response to that kind of favor -- and probably a lot of people's is to say yes, without hesitation. Because you put yourself in their shoes and you assume that no one would make such a request unless they had absolutely no other choice. So how can you say no to someone in that position?
The real question is, after you agree to something that really puts you out -- and in my case it meant that for the whole rest of the day I felt like I had had only 2.5 hours of sleep because I had had only 2.5 hours of sleep -- do you moan and groan first before you say yes or do you just say yes. Now I know, because I've surveyed people at work, that those who of you who are better than me (and that woudl be most of you, as one of my children often reminds me) would say that if you agree to do a favor, you should do so without squawking.
Now I might have been saintlike about the whole thing if anything but waking up early was at issue. Taking someone to the airport is really not such a big deal. You talk, you catch up. Hey you even earn a chit for future favors. (and there's nothing that can make you feel more secure than knowing that you're on the plus side of these things.) But I had to get up at 5AM!!! So I guess I wanted to make sure that I was getting full credit. So I had to clarify almost immediately: "Now you're aware that I go to bed at 2? Now you are aware that my partner works the swing shift?" (In other words, you're aware that this is a HUGE favor?)
This is not the true Jew way of doing a mitzvah. I know this because I went to Jewish day school And for those of you who're not sure what that entails, it means you spend twice as much time in school as other kids and carry a curriculum that includes Jewish philosophy, Talmud, Mishnah (you can look both of those up, suffice it to say they're the reason there are so many jews in the legal profession) and that you have to do Israeli dance during recess (to Pioneer music with lyrics about irrigating the desert, I swear). In yeshiva, you are taught the degrees of piety everyday. The good person gives to someone who knows the donor. The better person gives to someone who doesn't know the donor. And the best person doesn't know to whom he is giving, nor does the recipient know the donor. You just give to give.
But hey. I'm not perfect.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
money as life
Things, things and more things, bombarding every sense. Year end giving, holiday tipping, cars that start making weird noises in the cold, heating bills, coats with holes, snow removal, tuition bills. It makes me anxious just to list them. But I don't think that scarcity of resources is the only thing that makes money such a source of worry or friction. I think that more than perhaps anything else, our attitude towards money is a mirror into one's soul. Having to think about it, therefore, means having to stare down at the bones of our values, or perhaps the ugly zits of our being. And for those of you readers who have no soul acne, my apologies. This rant may not apply.
Truth is, we rarely find ourselves probing the baggage we have around money. If you don't like sex or you hate your mother, off to the shrink with you. But if you freak out about your upcoming car inspection or tend to undertip, no one will question your sanity. It's perfectly acceptable to be concerned about not having enough money since not many of us are so flush that we can afford to be nonplussed when faced with having to expend more than is coming in.
But although there are certainly situations when a bad decision or a faulty timing belt may mean some serious belt-tightening, I venture to guess that the majority of money neurosis is tied less to having to do without and more to something much deeper.
I've known many people who love to spend top dollar. They search out the highest quality, most expensive product to buy. The $450 lawn chair, the $150 wallet, the $3000 speaker, the $5000 bicycle. I understand that. It's what the Cadillac was to the old man with the white shoes. It means you have the best and that you deserve the best. For many of these folk, this buying power is first generation.
Then there are people like me -- obsessed with getting the best deal. I would never buy anything full price and might torture myself for days if I bought something and then found it for less.
Sometimes I attribute this to love of serendipity. If something is a good deal, then it was meant to be. Sometimes I think it's guilt for having the good fortune to live like so few can in this world. I know I have this lovely chair, rug, shoes, bike, car, computer, house....but HEY I got it wholesale.
As the child of Holocaust survivors, I also have this fear that just because you're comfy today, doesn't mean that you can count on that tomorrow. It's not that I think that Nazis will seize my bank account. But it does mean that I think that having money in the bank, or even in hand for that matter, is meaningless. It could all be gone with one nuclear bomb. I admit that I think the next 911 is just around the corner in the form of an apocalypse that will level the playing field. Only the hardy, the brave and those with very useful skills will survive. So maximize whatever you have now. It won't last.
It's a terrible thing that the wealthiest amongst us tend to be the cheapest as well. Logically, it should be the other way around, but it rarely is. I think it's because they are more immersed in the world of things. They can renovate their bathrooms, they can buy a subzero stove, they can afford the softest sweater and the lightest tent. They can get the highest fidelity audio system and the most exquisite gourmet meal. At every turn they know how much awaits them -- but only if they retain their wealth. And so they feel -- more than the rest of us -- how much there is to lose without these things. The golf clubs that won't hit as far, the flat screen tv that with duller colors , the car without heated seats, the sheets that feel rough at 250 threads per inch, and the public school that won't offer easy entry into the Ivys.
And why is it exactly that makes it less taboo to ask your friend about her love life than her paycheck. Raise your hand. How many of you know how much anyone earns outside of your own household. Why is that? Is it that we define ourselves by the size of our paychecks? Is it that the number is so finite, so definitive, so crass -- like wearing a pendant around your neck that lists your weight and height? Do we fear the shame of learning we make more than someone who works far harder than we do? Are we afraid we will be jealous and then judging if we find we earn less? All the above?
Truth is, we rarely find ourselves probing the baggage we have around money. If you don't like sex or you hate your mother, off to the shrink with you. But if you freak out about your upcoming car inspection or tend to undertip, no one will question your sanity. It's perfectly acceptable to be concerned about not having enough money since not many of us are so flush that we can afford to be nonplussed when faced with having to expend more than is coming in.
But although there are certainly situations when a bad decision or a faulty timing belt may mean some serious belt-tightening, I venture to guess that the majority of money neurosis is tied less to having to do without and more to something much deeper.
I've known many people who love to spend top dollar. They search out the highest quality, most expensive product to buy. The $450 lawn chair, the $150 wallet, the $3000 speaker, the $5000 bicycle. I understand that. It's what the Cadillac was to the old man with the white shoes. It means you have the best and that you deserve the best. For many of these folk, this buying power is first generation.
Then there are people like me -- obsessed with getting the best deal. I would never buy anything full price and might torture myself for days if I bought something and then found it for less.
Sometimes I attribute this to love of serendipity. If something is a good deal, then it was meant to be. Sometimes I think it's guilt for having the good fortune to live like so few can in this world. I know I have this lovely chair, rug, shoes, bike, car, computer, house....but HEY I got it wholesale.
As the child of Holocaust survivors, I also have this fear that just because you're comfy today, doesn't mean that you can count on that tomorrow. It's not that I think that Nazis will seize my bank account. But it does mean that I think that having money in the bank, or even in hand for that matter, is meaningless. It could all be gone with one nuclear bomb. I admit that I think the next 911 is just around the corner in the form of an apocalypse that will level the playing field. Only the hardy, the brave and those with very useful skills will survive. So maximize whatever you have now. It won't last.
It's a terrible thing that the wealthiest amongst us tend to be the cheapest as well. Logically, it should be the other way around, but it rarely is. I think it's because they are more immersed in the world of things. They can renovate their bathrooms, they can buy a subzero stove, they can afford the softest sweater and the lightest tent. They can get the highest fidelity audio system and the most exquisite gourmet meal. At every turn they know how much awaits them -- but only if they retain their wealth. And so they feel -- more than the rest of us -- how much there is to lose without these things. The golf clubs that won't hit as far, the flat screen tv that with duller colors , the car without heated seats, the sheets that feel rough at 250 threads per inch, and the public school that won't offer easy entry into the Ivys.
And why is it exactly that makes it less taboo to ask your friend about her love life than her paycheck. Raise your hand. How many of you know how much anyone earns outside of your own household. Why is that? Is it that we define ourselves by the size of our paychecks? Is it that the number is so finite, so definitive, so crass -- like wearing a pendant around your neck that lists your weight and height? Do we fear the shame of learning we make more than someone who works far harder than we do? Are we afraid we will be jealous and then judging if we find we earn less? All the above?
Friday, November 23, 2007
Real estate pornography
OK. Here's my dirty little secret. I have a thing for celebrities -- and a thing for real estate. Fear not, I'm not a celebrity gossip slut. I have my standards. I don't do Lohan, Britn'y, or anyone connected with reality tv. Last year I somehow started getting weekly copies of Us Magazine in the mail. No one knew why. 6 months later they stopped as mysteriously as they had started.My heart filled with glee when I saw the plastic wrapped gaudy cover sticking out from under the bills and junk mail each week. What pure delight to flip through those vacuous photos with a bowl of ice cream perhaps. No matter that 4 minutes later, feeling slightly nauseous from the scent of perfume ads and too much nothing, I would feel satiated and want to bury the rag in the recycling bin (knowing selfishly that i would deprive another of this guilty pleasure, but wanting all evidence out of my sight). Usually I'd hide the offending rag at the bottom of some New Yorkers and pretend it never happened.
My other vice consists of lusting for New York real estate. My favorite -- and this is just disdainful I know -- are those modern glass highrises filled with sleek, minimalist furniture. Don't worry, my reality check radar is set on high: My older daughter lives in a 5th floor walk-up with 2 roommates for nearly $3K. I used to love crashing at her house when she lived elsewhere, but in this apartment one can't help but be very conscious of the precious real estate one's body takes up. If I'm in the non-bedroom area (which is the living room, dining room, kitchen), no one else can be. Having more than one guest at a time is not really an option. One bedroom is only slightly larger than a twin size mattress. The computer monitor in that room sits in the window, the TV in the closet. A special mini-mouse had to be bought from a specialty shop appropriately named "Tiny Living" (great store, btw).
Last week my younger daughter sent me a link to a blog that feeds both these nasty habits: realestalker.blogspot.com is filled with loads of photos and details on celebrity real estate, mostly in NY and CA. I freely admit that I spent far more time that I am willing to admit reading every archived post from when the site was launched last year. That 'Your Mama' blogger is quite entertaining must be an opinion shared by others, as apparently a TV show is in development.
If you're still reading this, you're probably eager to check out that nasty site -- so I won't hold you here any longer. Enjoy!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
lust, caution
I don't like to read reviews in detail before I go see a movie, but often I want to find out if it's worth the time and the $8.50. That's where Rotten Tomatoes (which I've added to my pull down list of search engines) comes in handy. You can get a quick sense of the 'thumbs up' to 'thumbs down' ratio of a film reflected in links to dozens of reviews. Scanning the headers is a great way to get a spoiler-free review. You'll get a quick summary of the film's strength or weakness without getting too much information.
I think it was on Rotten Tomatoes that I read that Lust, Caution was a lesser Ang Lee movie, but that even a lesser Ang Lee movie was well worth the watch. I agree.
One has to respect a movie that slowly and carefully tells a richly crafted but simple story. Even in the absence of any voice-over, the viewer strongly feels the presence of the outside narrator telling the tale. The success of simple tales often depend on how well they convey the universality of the human experience they depict. The sadness of death; the joy of falling in love, etc. A movie that purports to be about passion must skillfully provide a "shortcut" of sorts that tricks us into feeling that strong emotions are warranted -- even though we may have only met the character 10 minutes earlier. Lust, Caution made me think alot, but it did not make me feel enough. The title makes me think that shortcoming was intentional, but I think the movie would have been stronger with more heart and less head.
I think it was on Rotten Tomatoes that I read that Lust, Caution was a lesser Ang Lee movie, but that even a lesser Ang Lee movie was well worth the watch. I agree.
One has to respect a movie that slowly and carefully tells a richly crafted but simple story. Even in the absence of any voice-over, the viewer strongly feels the presence of the outside narrator telling the tale. The success of simple tales often depend on how well they convey the universality of the human experience they depict. The sadness of death; the joy of falling in love, etc. A movie that purports to be about passion must skillfully provide a "shortcut" of sorts that tricks us into feeling that strong emotions are warranted -- even though we may have only met the character 10 minutes earlier. Lust, Caution made me think alot, but it did not make me feel enough. The title makes me think that shortcoming was intentional, but I think the movie would have been stronger with more heart and less head.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Attention to detail
Every job asks that you have this. No one will admit that they don't. It's maybe one step up from saying you drink too much. Yeah, I don't really pay attention to details. They're too boring. It's not worth my time to be painstakingly careful. Sorry.
Truth is, we're not all detail-oriented people. More correctly, we don't all pay attention to the same details. But some of us just tend to cut corners more than others. We're just not wired that way. And I, for one, am ready to shed my shame, along with the fact that I'm not a morning person. In fact, the world would probably be a safer place if more people felt safe admitting that they needed to be double-checked -- needed to be proof-read, needed to have someone inspect the bolts they just installed, or the meds they just prescribed. You know, you can be a very talented person -- who just happens to live in the big picture.
And note here, that one should never assume having a DOP for the job is always a plus. The DOP, by virtue of her over-attentiveness to minutiae, is sometimes like a camera permanently set up closeups. Not so good for the breathtaking mountain shots.
But if you do want to hire a DOP -- and some jobs demand it -- how can you make sure you're getting one since no one will admit to being a non-DOP? I've always been a fan of the trick questions. Here are some suggestions:
1. Do you enjoy bird-watching (most DOPs don't)
2. How do you rate yourself as a gift wrapper? (non-DOPs are big fans of the gift bag)
3. Have you ever cooked anything using a recipe from the Silver Palate Cookbook (with a minimum of 25 ingredients, not a big fave amongst us non-DOPs)
Are you a DOP or a non-DOP?
Truth is, we're not all detail-oriented people. More correctly, we don't all pay attention to the same details. But some of us just tend to cut corners more than others. We're just not wired that way. And I, for one, am ready to shed my shame, along with the fact that I'm not a morning person. In fact, the world would probably be a safer place if more people felt safe admitting that they needed to be double-checked -- needed to be proof-read, needed to have someone inspect the bolts they just installed, or the meds they just prescribed. You know, you can be a very talented person -- who just happens to live in the big picture.
And note here, that one should never assume having a DOP for the job is always a plus. The DOP, by virtue of her over-attentiveness to minutiae, is sometimes like a camera permanently set up closeups. Not so good for the breathtaking mountain shots.
But if you do want to hire a DOP -- and some jobs demand it -- how can you make sure you're getting one since no one will admit to being a non-DOP? I've always been a fan of the trick questions. Here are some suggestions:
1. Do you enjoy bird-watching (most DOPs don't)
2. How do you rate yourself as a gift wrapper? (non-DOPs are big fans of the gift bag)
3. Have you ever cooked anything using a recipe from the Silver Palate Cookbook (with a minimum of 25 ingredients, not a big fave amongst us non-DOPs)
Are you a DOP or a non-DOP?
Monday, November 5, 2007
Obnoxious-ometer
I'm embarrassed to admit that I've always been a big fan of analyzing people in term of two defining values: People who play golf and people who don't. People who live to work and people who work to live. People who love the Internet and people who don't really care. Recently, I've started thinking about dependency and independency.
Most people have some of both and behave differently under different circumstances. We may be extraordinarily self- sufficient at work, for example. Assertive, take charge, even control-freakish. Then at home, with our partners, we may be far more needy, wanting someone else to take care of us so we can feel coddled or even babied.
What fascinates me is how we react to this imbalance in others. Are you particularly allergic to needy people? People who need more of the spotlight than others, people who make a big mess out of their lives and then need others to clean up the mess?
At the risk of sounding like a pop psychologist,I think one's own reaction to neediness in others is always tied to one's own neediness. Maybe the more we wish we could be out about our inner big fat baby, the more we resent others who so unreticently exercise their right to be one.
Sometimes I think the world would be a better place if everyone wore little visible devices on their sleeves that measured insecurity, neediness, or even shyness. If you saw someone acting rudely, but you noticed he had a high shyness index, you'd be more likely to cut him some slack. And perhaps when you saw the insecurity meter flashing on that know-it-all egomaniac, you'd think to yourself "golly, this guy's just a quivering puppy who just needs a hug."
Or not.
Most people have some of both and behave differently under different circumstances. We may be extraordinarily self- sufficient at work, for example. Assertive, take charge, even control-freakish. Then at home, with our partners, we may be far more needy, wanting someone else to take care of us so we can feel coddled or even babied.
What fascinates me is how we react to this imbalance in others. Are you particularly allergic to needy people? People who need more of the spotlight than others, people who make a big mess out of their lives and then need others to clean up the mess?
At the risk of sounding like a pop psychologist,I think one's own reaction to neediness in others is always tied to one's own neediness. Maybe the more we wish we could be out about our inner big fat baby, the more we resent others who so unreticently exercise their right to be one.
Sometimes I think the world would be a better place if everyone wore little visible devices on their sleeves that measured insecurity, neediness, or even shyness. If you saw someone acting rudely, but you noticed he had a high shyness index, you'd be more likely to cut him some slack. And perhaps when you saw the insecurity meter flashing on that know-it-all egomaniac, you'd think to yourself "golly, this guy's just a quivering puppy who just needs a hug."
Or not.
Documentaries on Isolation
Wow, 4 movies in one week. Into the Wild confirms yet again that Sean Penn is one of Hollywood's most gifted actor and director. The casting on that movie was sooo good. Scenes with Hal Holbrook made me cry. Rainey, the old hippie was initially on the set as a river rafting consultant. He and Sean hit it off and Sean offered him a major part. He never acted before but he was great. Sean also wrote the the screenplay. Such an intense man -- no wonder he smokes 4 packs of cigarettes a day.
Every year I always attend at least one film from the Northampton Independent Film Festival. Sunday's Dhamma Brothers was perhaps one of the best documentaries I've ever seen. The film was about bringing the 10-day Vipassana Insight Meditation course into an Alabama prison and how it transformed some of the most violent prisoners within that system. It was so well done -- showing not only the effect of this intense training on the men, but also the respect they earned from the prison staff. The in-depth profiles of some of the prisoners invoked deep emphathy for these warehoused humans, many who committed horrific acts they took full ownership for. Having sat for 10 days twice (ten years apart) I am in awe that these men were able to embrace this discipline so fully, maintaining their practice for years (even after they were forbidden to do so by the chaplains who feared the effect of Buddhism on their flock).
Every year I always attend at least one film from the Northampton Independent Film Festival. Sunday's Dhamma Brothers was perhaps one of the best documentaries I've ever seen. The film was about bringing the 10-day Vipassana Insight Meditation course into an Alabama prison and how it transformed some of the most violent prisoners within that system. It was so well done -- showing not only the effect of this intense training on the men, but also the respect they earned from the prison staff. The in-depth profiles of some of the prisoners invoked deep emphathy for these warehoused humans, many who committed horrific acts they took full ownership for. Having sat for 10 days twice (ten years apart) I am in awe that these men were able to embrace this discipline so fully, maintaining their practice for years (even after they were forbidden to do so by the chaplains who feared the effect of Buddhism on their flock).
Saturday, November 3, 2007
51 Birch Street
This rich documentary is about so many things: judgment, marriage, siblings, fathers and sons, aging and death. Initially intended just to capture footage of aging parents, 51 Birch Street became much more than a family movie when director Doug Block's mother died unexpectedly and his father almost immediately remarried his secretary with whom he worked 40 years earlier. In the course of helping his father pack up the house for an impending move to Florida, boxes of his mother's diaries are uncovered and their content completely re-writes the history of his parents' 54-year marriage.
I watched it twice. Fascinating to see how easy it is to judge when you don't have all the information. And so moving to understand the capacity of humans to change -- even after 50+ years.
Make sure to watch the bonus features on the DVD -- particularly the deleted scenes and award ceremony. The website, 51birchstreet.com, is also worth checking out for its stories that other people share about their parents, tips on capturing your family for posterity, and rules on documentary-making.
I watched it twice. Fascinating to see how easy it is to judge when you don't have all the information. And so moving to understand the capacity of humans to change -- even after 50+ years.
Make sure to watch the bonus features on the DVD -- particularly the deleted scenes and award ceremony. The website, 51birchstreet.com, is also worth checking out for its stories that other people share about their parents, tips on capturing your family for posterity, and rules on documentary-making.
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