Giving thanks for… liking who I am, right now

Women at Forty had a post about how some people get freaked out about turning 40 because if you don’t have the life you want (or thought you wanted), it may seem like 40 is ‘too old’ to do much about it. The point of the post is that “it’s never too late to be who you might have been” - if you don’t like your life, you can always change it, and rather than being a problem, being older instead often means we have the wisdom and power to make changes that we might not have made earlier.

Although I know that the post is supposed to be encouraging and empowering, there was something about that quote (“it’s never too late to be who you might have been”) that didn’t sit right with me. I’ve been mulling it over and I think what I don’t like is the past tense in the second part of the sentence. For one thing, it doesn’t make sense, grammatically – it IS, in fact, too late to be ‘who you might have been’ because the person you might have been is, by definition, something that cannot exist in the present. I realize that the author is referencing the way people will say, “I could have been…” and the quote is trying to respond to that with “You still can be…” but the grammar is just weird.

More importantly, the way the quote is phrased seems, to me, to emphasize looking backward. That is, it refers to the idea of who you wanted to be in the past, rather than who you are now and who you want to be now. Maybe I’m just nitpicking but I would much prefer “It’s never too late to be the person you want to be” or “It’s never too late to love who you are”. Those both put the focus more on the present.

Regardless of how you phrase it, the underlying point is that many people are not, currently, happy with who they are – and as I thought about that, I realized that I am not one of those people. It’s taken a while but I feel like I’m finally in a place where I can honestly say that I like who I am. That’s not to say that I don’t have flaws or that there aren’t things I’m still working to change. But for the most part, I’m pretty happy with who I am and where I am in my life. And I am deeply grateful that I can say that…

Are you happy with who you are, or still trying to figure out how to be ‘who you might have been’?

Giving thanks for... a table for one

When I was younger, I hated the idea of eating alone in public places. In college, if I couldn't find anyone to go with me to the dining hall, I would just get food and go back to my room to eat; when I graduated and was living on my own, I ordered a lot of take-out. I just assumed that if I sat at a table by myself, everyone else in the restaurant would be staring at me, either feeling sorry for me or wondering why I had no friends (um, yeah, self-absorbed much?). Since I didn't want to sit in my apartment alone ALL the time, I did start going to coffeehouses. I was still pretty uncomfortable but at least there, I could write in my journal or read a book (note: this was also back before there were Starbucks on every corner with everyone sitting for hours with their laptops using the wifi). After a while, I did start feeling a bit less conspicuous. I even remember specifically looking around at the other people who were by themselves and thinking, "Hmmm, they don't seem sad or pathetic - so maybe I don't either..." But I still couldn't imagine going into a sit-down restaurant and eating a meal at a table by myself.

At some point, I realized that the main person judging me for eating alone was me. Admittedly, I didn't acquire that attitude overnight. It took me a while to shake the feeling that if I ate by myself, it meant I was loser with no friends and everyone was staring at me. I started by eating out when I was traveling. In my mind, it didn't seem as sad if I knew I wasn't eating alone because I had no friends but just because I was from out of town. But doing that also helped me realize that no one else cared - no one ever seemed to look oddly at me and I saw plenty of other people dining alone. I also had a similar thought to when I was in coffeehouses, that I wasn't sitting there wondering why they were eating alone or thinking they were losers, so maybe they weren't thinking anything about me either.

Nowadays, I'm generally OK with eating out alone. Not that I'm going to five-star restaurants or anything, but I no longer have a problem telling the host "Table for one, please". Sometimes it helps to have something to read (yay for smarthphones!) but I also make a conscious effort to look around and, in particular, to savor my food. How often do we go to restaurants with other people and focus more on the conversation than the food? That can be great too, of course, but there's something sort of zen about not doing anything but really tasting your food.

I have no doubt there are plenty of people who still think it's "sad" to see any woman eating alone in a decent restaurant but since those would be strangers whose opinions don't mean anything to me, why should I let them stop me from having a nice meal out?

Commiting to Writing, and to Gratitude

In an attempt to jumpstart my creative juices, I decided to join Blogher's National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo), which means I'm declaring my intention to post something each day this month. I had been thinking about doing something like this but was pretty sure that I'd lose steam at some point because I wouldn't be able to think of things to write about. But then I saw a post from one blogger who is posting every day about things she is thankful for and that stuck me as something I could do, and it would be good for me to boot. So here I am...

I'm not sure if I'll follow all the prompts from Champagne to Crayons but the first one is "A blessing" and that seems like a very good place to start (I am now hearing Julie Andrews singing "Let's start at the very beginning..." in my head). The only issue is that I have so many blessings in my life that I am thankful for, I can't really choose just one. Of course there are the biggies: my relationship with J; close friends and family; relatively good health; a secure job that I enjoy. There are also the blessings that aren't quite so vital but certainly contribute greatly to my happiness, like living in San Diego where the weather is always perfect, in a hip neighborhood with lots of great food options; or having access to technology that allows me to see my sister and nephew even though they live on the other side of the world. These are things that I give thanks for on a pretty regular basis.

But today, I think I'll celebrate the 'blessings in disguise', those blessings that seem like anything but good at the time they are happening. For me, a huge 'blessing in disguise' is the fact that my previous relationships were with men who simply were not that into me. Totally sucked at the time - I "wasted" a good ten years of my life being miserable because I wanted more from those men than they were ever going to give me. But today, I thank god that neither of those guys was willing/able to commit to a real relationship because if they had, I think it's probably pretty unlikely that I would have gotten the personal help I needed to rebuild my self-esteem, and I certainly would never have met J.

Thinking about how things so often out in the end helps me keep life in perspective. Nowadays, when something does not go as I had hoped (like when I recently was rejected for an administrative position at my university that looked like it was 'perfect' for me), I find it much easier to truly believe that maybe this means something better is supposed to come along.

What blessings are you celebrating today?

What does it mean to be married?

On Dating Advice (Almost) Daily, Terry responds to a reader who really wants to get married:

Just because you're attracting men who are willing to do everything with you except make it legal doesn't mean all men reject the idea of marriage (not by a long shot). The next time someone refuses to marry you but suggests you bear his children, just say, "No, thank you. I want to get married, and I'm going to hold out for a man who wants to get married and spend the rest of his life with me."

Then walk away.

In the meantime, picture yourself being married, not to some clown who asked you to give birth to his children, but to a man who treasures you and makes your happiness a priority.

What would this marriage look like? Feel like? Taste like? Sound like? Smell like?

Now, I have no problem with the Law of Attraction [my personal M.O. for life includes thinking a LOT about what I do and don't want so if the things I want then happen, who am I to say that it wasn't the 'Law of Attraction' at work?]. But I keep wondering: if that woman actually sits down and tries to picture herself married, does that picture really look different than a committed, lifetime relationship that isn't called 'marriage'?

This isn't a trivial question - it's one I've been asking myself a lot. I have always said that I really don't care about being married, largely because I know a heck of a lot of couples who are in lifetime relationships but who aren't legally married (interestingly, all straight couples). What I do care about is being with someone who is committed to me and our relationship, and by that, I mean someone who fully expects to spend his life with me and is willing to do the work necessary to make sure we stay happy together.

But of course, one has to be careful what one asks for (btw, this should be in huge letters on the front of books about the Law of Attraction!). My relationship with J is pretty much exactly what I'm always said I wanted, right down to the fact that he does not want to get married. It's not a commitment thing - he says he is committed to us, wants to grow old with me, and I believe him. For him, it's a political thing - he's super-libertarian and he doesn't think the government has any business being involved in marriage in any way. He actually has no problem with a wedding (which is good, because I want one, but that's the subject of another post) or being married by a minister, if I were religious (which I'm not), but I don't think we will ever be married in the eyes of the State. And I think I'm OK with that. But once in a while, I'm not sure. And then I start wondering why I'm not sure (did I mention I think a LOT about what I want?) - how would being married be any different than not being married? Am I just reacting to society's expectations? And let me be clear that by 'society', I do mean the nebulous world 'out there' since there isn't a single person who I care about personally that would ever ask me "why aren't you and J married yet?" or the equivalent. But it's hard to fight the subtle matrimania that seeps into every aspect of our lives.

This will surely be a theme I return to a lot, especially with some big weddings coming up this spring. As always, I welcome your thoughts...

Judginess and defensiveness

I used to be incredibly judgmental. Anyone who has met me in the last few years might be surprised to hear that (at least I hope they would be!) but there was definitely a time when I had very strong opinions about the way people "should be", and I wasn't very subtle about letting people know those opinions. I was also incredibly defensive - if I detected the slightest hint that someone thought I might be wrong, I'd get all bent out of shape. It wasn't until I had been in therapy for a while that I began to realize how my judginess and defensiveness were related to each other, and to my low self-esteem. The way I'd describe it is that since I was judging everyone else, I assumed everyone else was judging me, and since I had somewhat shaky self-esteem, I took others' judgment personally (hence the defensiveness), and that often led me to be even more judgy - you know, thinking along the lines of "You think I'm being too sensitive? Well, that's just because YOU'RE insensitive, and stupid". A fun little immature vicious circle.

As I became more comfortable with myself, I found that I was less defensive, and less judgmental - my thinking evolved more into "You think I'm being too sensitive? Why do you think that? Hmmm, no, I don't really agree with that. Well, OK, whatever". There's a bit of a chicken-egg thing here, in that I don't know if my increased self-confidence made me less defensive and therefore less judgmental of others, or if I mellowed out and stopped being so judgmental so I stopped perceiving that others were judging me. But the end result is that today, I'm WAY less judgmental. That doesn't mean I don't still have strong opinions about some things, but I have a much stronger 'live and let live' attitude (and I like to think I've also learned how to express myself more kindly). I've also become, for lack of a better way to put it, much more of an economist, and what I mean by that is that economists study choices but we try to do it in an objective way, identifying the costs and benefits of all the options. As I tell my students, if someone makes a different choice than the choice you would make, it just means that they value the costs and benefits of that choice differently than you do. Rather than thinking about their choice as 'wrong', it's far more productive to try to understand how and why they value those costs and benefits differently.

Which brings me to the real point of this post. I think because of my own history, I am acutely aware of it when I hear other people being judgmental. And whether I agree with their opinion or not (though admittedly, more so when I don't), I don't like it and it sort of makes me want to avoid those people. And to be perfectly honest, that is one of the reasons I haven't posted anything on this blog in the last couple of months. Because although I still consider myself very much a quirkyalone, I am now also in a capital-R Relationship. And I am happy - incredibly, sappily, didn't-know-relationships-could-be-like-this happy. And in the context of this blog, where I have talked a lot about being happily single, and that I know is read by at least a few in the 'happily single' community, I feel a little guilty about being so happy in my Relationship.

The problem is that over the last few months, I feel like I keep encountering a bizarrely judgmental attitude from those in the single community where anything that suggests coupledom might have some benefits, or singledom might have some costs, is taken as heresy and the writer is suspected of buying into matrimania. It's a very black and white attitude. The clearest example is a recent guest post that Simone Grant wrote for Single Women Rule about how she sometimes thinks that life would be easier with a significant other around. She wasn't saying life would instantly be perfect if she were coupled, or that she wanted just anyone in her life, but Keysha of SWR felt the need to add her own response to Simone's post, basically suggesting Simone is buying into some relationship myths. Anyone who has read Simone's own blog (which rocks, btw) should know how stupid that is.

This bizarre judginess has made me really hesitant to write anything here about my relationship. And I don't think I'm the only one feeling this way - in June, Sasha Cagan, the original Quirkyalone, wrote a really thoughtful post about how she actually wants a relationship, a post that she felt hesitant to even write; over at The Unmarried Estate, Therese writes about her decision to get married and says, "I can’t help feeling guilty – like I am betraying the Unmarried Rights community or the feminist community or something."

Because I feel this guilt too, I've avoided this blog. But the more I've thought about it, the more annoyed I've gotten that I feel this way. So I'm back. I know I'll be returning to this topic - and I know that I will be choosing my words super-carefully whenever I talk about my relationship - but the bottom line is that even though I'm now a quirkytogether, I don't think what I have to say has really changed, since I've always thought about this blog as being about people having the right to be happy being whatever they want to be. I'm not going to promise to post super-often or all that regularly (because I always get myself in trouble with promises like that), but I'm not going to avoid posting either. Go ahead and judge me, if it makes you happy...

Dating a father

In honor of Father's Day, I'm finally getting around to a question that Zandria posed a month or so ago: would you date someone who has a kid? Her answer is 'probably not', and I think that might have been my answer as well when I was in my 20's. As I got older, my view started to change. It's partly that I think how a man approaches his responsibilities as a father can tell you a lot about him as a person (and potential partner). But it's also that as I became more and more sure that I don't want kids of my own, the idea of dating someone with kids actually became more appealing. That might sound odd but the way I see it, dating someone who already has kids means a) it's less likely to be a big deal that I don't want kids myself and b) I get some of the perks of having kids around without any of the responsibility. Still, if you had asked me a year ago, I would have said that, all else equal, I'd probably prefer to date someone without kids because it just seems like kids make things more complicated.

Well, now I'm dating someone who has joint custody of his 15-year-old daughter, meaning that she lives with him half the week (the mother lives across town and they are very good friends). I have to admit, when we first met, this freaked me out for numerous reasons. A teenager? Half the week when I basically don't get to see him (and that includes Friday and Saturday nights)? An ex who not only is very much around but who is a good friend and whose extended family is basically HIS family? Let's just say that this has not been the smoothest ride. But he's an amazing father and to me, his dedication to his daughter speaks volumes about him. It's also reflected in the fact that his daughter is a really great kid so there's been no drama - as far as I can tell, she's completely secure in her dad's love for her so I think she knows there's no reason to resent me. I haven't met the ex-wife yet but we've had many conversations about her and he's always so honest and upfront about their relationship that I'm feeling OK about that too.

But the main point I wanted to make is that, as someone who had a pretty full life before I met this guy, I've found that dating a dad (at least one who has joint custody) has one huge benefit that I never considered before: I get a lot of space. As one of my friends put it, it's kind of like having a long-distance relationship without the expense of plane tickets! It's not that I never see him during the time he has his daughter, but I'm definitely not spending 24-7 with him. I realize that for a lot of women, this would be a cost but for me, it's definitely a benefit. The thing is, I know that if a guy actually wanted to spend 24-7 with me, I'd probably be turned off by that; at the same time, if a guy didn't want to spend 24-7 with me, I would probably feel insecure and rejected (hey, I have never said I'm not neurotic!). But with this relationship, I get to feel like he wants to spend more time with me but can't, for reasons that have nothing to do with how he feels about me, so I get the space I need without feeling insecure about it (admittedly, it also helps that he is awesome about checking in with me on the days that I don't see him).

What I find particularly interesting is that if it were up to me, I'd spend more time with him than I currently do even though I know that would be bad for me in the long run. In past relationships, I've tended to 'lose myself' a bit; in this relationship, I'm basically forced not to, and I'm glad. I wish I could say I was strong enough not to need the forcing, that even if he were available, I would make sure to carve out time for myself and to maintain all my other important friendships, but I'm honestly not sure what I would do. So it will be interesting to see what happens as his daughter grows up - she is starting to be more independent (she'll have her driver's license by the end of the year) and he'll have more time to spend with me. Hopefully, I'll be smart enough not to lose this balance...

Karma

I'm a big believer in karma. When people do things that annoy me, I honestly believe that what goes around, comes around (as a professor, this attitude is particularly useful for remaining calm with students!). But karma can work in good ways too and when I'm faced with challenges, it gives me strength to believe that there is a bigger plan; as long as I'm trying to be a good person, things will work out eventually. For example, I tend not to have regrets because even if things haven't gone the way I'd like, I can usually see that if X (bad) hadn't happened, Y (good) might not have happened either.

This is on my mind tonight in particular because I spent a good bit of time this past week with my ex. We are supposedly still friends but I got home from spending the afternoon with him and all I could think was, "Oh my god, I cannot believe I wasted so many years on this guy!" It's not so much that I don't know what I saw in him - he's still smart, funny and charming, like he always has been. But now I also see all his flaws, and I can see that they were always there. Basically, I now realize just how insecure I must have been, and how low my self-esteem must have been, to have been so infatuated that I overlooked all these other incredibly annoying things about him [and yes, I know that overlooking someone's flaws is typical in relationships but a) according to him, we were never really dating or in a capital-R Relationship and b) we're talking seven years].

But even as I sit here dismayed/embarrassed/incredulous that I was ever so into this guy, a part of me knows that if it hadn't been for that whole experience, I would not be the person I am today. If he hadn't left me a sobbing incoherent mess (repeatedly), I would not have gotten the help that I needed to deal with the issues that led me to want him the first place. If he hadn't made me feel so needy and insecure, I would not have worked so hard to be confidently independent, and I would not have grown to the point where I can now say with confidence that I will never choose someone like him again.

I will also admit that a big contributor to my reaction this weekend is that my current relationship is so vastly different, and the contrast is both painful and wonderful. If I had to go through the hell that was my ex in order to find my way to this relationship on the other side, well, then I guess I can't regret the hell. I just keep thinking of one of my favorite songs, "Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts:

I think about the years I've spent just passin' through.
I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you.
But you just smile and take my hand,
you've been there, you understand
it's all part of a grander plan that is comin' true...

Every long lost dream led me to where you are.
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
pointing me on my way into your loving arms.
This much I know is true:
that God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you.

Now if I can just figure out what lessons I'm supposed to be learning from certain challenges I'm facing at work, I'll be all set...

Do I have to stay single to prove I am happy being single?

I've started dating someone. It actually has taken me a while, and a lot of false starts, to even write that sentence, partly because I don't want to jinx it (things are definitely still in the beginning stages), but partly because I'm not sure how I feel about admitting that I'm dating someone on a blog that, to this point, has been so much about being happily single (of course, if you're the type that only defines 'single' as 'not married' then nevermind). But after some hard thinking, I realized that I shouldn't need to be single to promote the idea that one can be happily single. And more generally, I think of this blog as being about everyone's right to be happy being whatever the heck they want to be, without other people making a bunch of assumptions about them, and I shouldn't need to be single to champion that.

My hesitation to share the fact that I'm dating is, itself, an indication of how hard I think it is for people to accept that one CAN be happily single. My biggest fear is that people will say, "Oh, I knew Jenn was just in denial all that time she was saying she was perfectly happy being single. She just hadn't met the right guy yet; NOW she's really happy." What crap. Anyone who says that just doesn't get it. I'll probably tackle this in more detail in a future post but the reality is that if I hadn't grown to the point where I was perfectly happy being single, I don't think I'd ever have developed the self-esteem I need to have a truly healthy relationship. God knows my past relationships weren't healthy and I wasn't happy. And I'm already finding that simply being in a relationship at all is bringing out insecurities I thought I had conquered. But whereas past boyfriends made me feel like a needy freak when I voiced those insecurities, I've grown enough to choose to be with someone who helps me confront those insecurities head on, in a mature way. I'm also finding it easier to be more assertive about what I need from him because I know I'm just fine on my own - after all, if this relationship isn't better than staying single (which I already know is pretty darn good), then what's the point?

Self-confidence and He's Just Not That Into You

I saw the movie He's Just Not That Into You last weekend and basically hated it. CAUTION: there's sort of a spoiler ahead so if you haven't seen the movie but plan to, feel free to stop reading. On the other hand, I don't think anything I write here can really be considered a 'spoiler' because do you really not know how it's all going to turn out?

The only storyline I found somewhat appealing was the one with Jennifer Aniston and Ben Affleck - she basically issues an ultimatum and actually follows through with leaving him when he won't marry her after 7 years together. They get back together when she realizes that having a man who loves her and who IS committed to her even if he doesn't want to pin the label of marriage on that commitment, is more important than having that label. I would have felt the movie was actually worth my money if they had ended with that and shown a couple that was truly happy and committed without being married, but I guess that's too much to ask for.

Part of what was so disappointing is that I'm actually a huge fan of the book. I know there are plenty of women out there who think it's too simplistic but like Miranda in the SITC episode where the phrase first appeared, I find the idea liberating - forget the games, give up the drama, just accept that he's not into you and move on. In the book (but, I felt, mostly missing from the movie), Greg Behrendt makes the point repeatedly that we all deserve someone who recognizes our fabulousness, that if someone is not acting like he's into you, you deserve better. And the first time I read that, I did my impression of Carrie Fisher in When Harry Met Sally - you know, where she keeps saying "you're right, you're right, I know you're right" when Meg Ryan tells her that her married boyfriend is never going to leave his wife. We all know that we are supposed to be with someone who thinks we're fabulous and that we should walk away from anyone who doesn't treat us as we deserve to be treated. However, what Behrendt doesn't tell you in his book (and CERTAINLY is not shown in this movie) is how to do that, how to stop wanting someone who isn't into us, how to actually walk away and let it go.

The problem is that you have to have a certain level of self-confidence to shrug it off when someone (who you presumably are into) is not that into you. There's an irony here that took me years to appreciate: if you think you're awesome, it's a lot easier to accept that someone else doesn't think so. It's not personal, it's not damaging to your own self-esteem, so you don't need to dissect it, you can just let it go. And the even more ironic catch-22 is that the more you chase after people who are not that into you, the harder it is to find that self confidence, but actually BEING with someone who believes you're fabulous - or simply surrounding yourself with supportive friends who always make you feel great about yourself - can't help but make you feel more self-confident.

I wish they made more movies that showed that!

Happy New Year!

Today, the internet is full of bloggers making resolutions (nothing like announcing your intentions to the world to create accountability!) and I'm tempted to add my list to the mix. But everything on my list really boils down to only one thing: balance. Life in 2008 was definitely out of balance; it was all about work. Fortunately, I love my work (shouldn't there be some other word for work when it doesn't seem like work?), but I want life in 2009 to include a lot more. I want to get back in a kayak more regularly, I want to get away from the computer more often, I want to meet new people and re-connect with old friends. With everything going on in the world, particularly with the Obamas moving into the White House, 2009 has the potential to be an amazing year. I hope it lives up to that potential for all of us...

High school memories

Since I've joined Facebook, I've gotten a bunch of friend requests from people I haven't seen since high school. Some are people I'm genuinely excited to hear from, people I have occasionally thought about over the years and wondered what happened to them. Some are people I wasn't all that close to and/or didn't know well (i.e., I haven't thought of them since graduating) but I don't really mind 'friending' them because I have generally friendly feelings about them. But a small handful have been people I didn't like then and can't really imagine why they would even ask to be my 'friend' now, other than they just want to have as many 'friends' on Facebook as possible. I generally just ignore these requests but for some reason, they nag at me. Some part of me feels bad, partly because I suspect they don't have the slightest clue why I'm ignoring them.

I'm a big cliche
The problem is, I hated high school. I know I'm not alone in feeling this way, but my guess is that anyone who knew me in high school would be slightly surprised to hear me say that. Back then, I was the poster girl for well-rounded over-achiever: straight-A's, choir, student government, mock trial, you name it. And of course, I was a cheerleader dating a football player (though not the quarterback, thank god). What did I possibly have to hate about high school?

Well, as anyone who has seen Can't Buy Me Love knows (yes, I loved Patrick Dempsey long before he was McDreamy), the only high school cliche more persistent than the cheerleader dating the football player is that the kids who are all friends in grade school go their separate ways in junior high and high school, forming stereotyped cliques that all have their own table in the cafeteria. And for reasons that I still don't understand after years of therapy, I was not accepted into the "cool" clique when we hit junior high. I spent most of 7th grade being a tagalong, trying to figure out how to fit in with girls I had been BFFs with just the year before. By the start of 8th grade, I mustered up the self-respect to find some real friends and tried to get comfortable with my new group but a part of me never really let go of what happened. Then junior year, I made it onto the varsity cheerleading squad and suddenly people who hadn't talked to me in four years were asking if I wanted to get together. But I was always so aware of the shallowness and two-faced-ness of most of the "in crowd" that I just never trusted them. At the same time, me being a cheerleader seemed to make my smart friends (with whom I still had a bunch of AP classes) less comfortable around me. So other than my football player boyfriend (who I still think of as probably the most decent guy I've ever dated), my last two years of high school were pretty lonely.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying I don't have some great memories of high school, and I like to think that my experiences then made me a much more compassionate person today. And I know that it was all twenty years ago and I'm sure most people have changed (though would it be terribly snarky of me to say these are not people who ever struck me as the type to be very introspective so I sort of think there's also a good chance they have not changed all that much?). But even if they are now the most amazing people in the world, if the only thing we have in common is shared memories of a time I don't even care about remembering, am I obligated to let them back in my life?

When does 'dressing the part' become simply 'dressing'?

Classes start next week which means I've started my annual August ritual: staring into my closet wondering, "What am I going to wear when I teach?" Before anyone thinks that this really should be the least of my worries right now, let me point out that I've been working at my computer for the last three weeks, pretty much straight, stressing about getting my classes put together, so taking a break to stare at my closet isn't me being shallow, it's me trying to avoid carpal tunnel and the need for bifocals!

Actually, I hadn't really started thinking about my wardrobe until I saw a post on Stepcase Lifehack about work and style that is part of their summer giveaway. Part of the reason it caught my attention is that this IS something I think about every year. I've always 'dressed up' to teach; of course, in academia, 'dressing up' could mean simply not wearing a tee-shirt and flip flops, but for me, it usually means wearing nice pants or maybe a skirt, shoes with at least a little bit of heel, and a tailored sweater or top. I'm a Banana Republic/Ann Taylor kind of girl anyway, so it's not like this is a big stretch, but given my druthers, I'd still rather wear jeans or capris.

However, by some point in the semester, 'nice pants' does usually mellow out to include my dark jeans (note to any guys who are confused reading this: dark jeans are still dressier than regular jeans), and I get a little less anal about what I wear. What I've realized is that each year, that point - the point where I decide it's OK for me to dress a little less nicely - gets earlier and earlier. And this year, I'm not really sure that I even care. That's not saying that I intend to go to class next week in shorts and a tank top. But the main reason I've always dressed up to teach is that I think it helps me to establish my position of 'authority'. That is, since I look younger than I am, I've always worried about students not taking me seriously as a professor, and dressing up is one way I can make it clear that I am not 'one of them'. But as I get older, I seem to be worrying less about that. Duh, you're thinking, that only makes sense, since as I get older, I must look older so there's less to worry about. But I think it's more that as I get older, I am more confident and more comfortable being a professor. I feel less need to 'dress the part' because it's no longer a 'part' I'm playing, it's simply who I am. The upshot is that what I wear isn't about looking older or more authoritative, it's about looking like the competent professional that I am. Who happens to wear a lot of Banana Republic...

Related posts:
When do you become middle-aged?
Managing social media and multiple personalities

The Anti-Procrastinator

I have an odd problem: I refuse to procrastinate. OK, I realize that to most people, that doesn't sound like a problem, but let me explain... I am probably one of the only people who made it through four years of college and almost five years of graduate school without ever pulling an all-nighter. The closest I came was the night before my senior econometrics project was due when I went to bed at 3am and got up at 6am (so I did learn what people mean when they say that at a certain point, it's just better to stay up!). Ironically, the night before I was supposed to leave Madison to drive to San Diego, I stayed up all night to pack up my apartment (which I hadn't done because I was trying to get my dissertation turned in), but I feel like that doesn't count because it wasn't work-related and if my boyfriend weren't driving, I could have chosen to just leave a day later. But I digress...

The reason I've never had to pull an all-nighter is because I have a HUGE aversion to doing things at the last minute - for reasons I can't explain, it just stresses me out more than pretty much anything. As you might imagine, I've developed some pretty good time management skills, which is one reason why being an academic works so well for me. But lately, I've been wondering whether my obsession with not doing things at the last minute actually reduces my stress - I suspect it may just move the stress forward in time. For example, classes start in three weeks, right after Labor Day. Given what I need to get done, this should be plenty of time, especially since I know that I don't have to (and even shouldn't) have every single lecture planned out precisely (and really, given that I have my syllabus done and the first couple lectures nailed down, I could pretty much spend the next three weeks at the beach and the world would still not fall apart). And yet, I've been sitting here at the computer for four days straight now (yes, that would mean the weekend), and not sleeping all that well, going over and over my To Do lists, bizarrely worried that I'm going to run out of time.

I know this is partly because I'm basically prepping two new classes but it's also just what I do. I guess the upside is that chances are good that I probably will get everything done that I need to do with time to spare, and then I'll be able to truly enjoy those last few days of summer. And of course, I'm still managing to find some time to blog so I guess I can't be that stressed...

When do you become middle-aged?

A couple of posts over on Blogher have me thinking about the terms we use for people of various ages. Myrnatheminx is looking for BlogHers of a certain age who aren't "Mommies" and Msmeta asks Where are all the middle-aged women bloggers? The comments to Msmeta's post include a lot of people trying to define 'middle-aged', and actually evolved into a separate group blog for midlifers.

But at 37, it just doesn't feel right to call myself middle-aged. Yeah, I know, given average life expectancies, I could be technically quite close to the middle of my life (or with the way I've been avoiding exercise, well past it!), but I don't feel middle-aged. But I don't feel 'young' either. So what do you call people in the 30-ish to 40-ish age range? I usually just refer to myself as a '30-something' and leave it at that. But what happens when I turn 40? I guess I could call myself a Gen Xer (which, according to Wikipedia, includes anyone born from 1965 to 1982) but I'm not crazy about the connotations associated with that.

The thing is, all of those terms carry connotations, stereotypes, images in our heads that inform how we think about the person to whom we are referring. That's what labels do, for good or for bad. Calling myself 30-something is a shortcut for all the things I think that means, most of which I usually think are good (that is, when I hear '30-something', I picture someone who has grown past the immaturity of being 'young', who is somewhat more settled, who has some idea of who she and what she wants, though perhaps hasn't attained all of it yet). Actually, as I write this, it occurs to me that maybe the key is that when I start seeing the good things about the middle-aged label, that's when I'll know it fits. Right now, 'middle-aged' feels too old, too over the hill, but I can imagine a day in the future when it will feel more like it means wisdom, confidence, contentment. So I guess that's when I'll become middle-aged...

I know I'm not perfect, I just think I am

My sister, who works in human resources, was recently talking about some of the interview questions she asks prospective employees. One I thought particularly interesting was, "Tell us about a mistake you've made and how you handled that." As she talked about the answers she had gotten from a few recent interviewees, I found myself wondering how I would answer that particular question. It seems obvious that the 'right' answer is NOT, "Hmmm, I can't think of any", and yet, I honestly couldn't think of any example I might relate in a job interview (I'm the first to admit that I could go on for days about the mistakes I've made with guys I've dated but I'm assuming that's not the kind of mistake she was asking about). I'm not saying I'm perfect - I think it's more that I have a way of 're-writing history' in my head. And then I saw an article at GreaterGood about raising optimistic kids and it explained my way of seeing the world much better than I had ever seen it articulated before (I apologize for the somewhat long quote but I think it's worth it):

According to Seligman and other researchers, how optimistic or pessimistic we are amounts to how we explain life’s events, be they good or bad. There are three basic dimensions to an explanation: permanence, pervasiveness, and personalization. The OPTIMISTIC way of understanding why something GOOD happened would explain:

The cause of what just happened as Permanent (so it will reoccur);
And Pervasive (it will affect many other circumstances, too);
And Personal (I made it happen).

On the other hand, the PESSIMISTIC way of explaining why something GOOD just happened would illustrate that:

The cause of what just happened is Temporary (something short-lived caused it – probably won’t happen again);
And Specific (affecting only this situation);
And Impersonal (I didn’t have anything to do with what happened, other people or the circumstances did).

The reverse is also true when something bad happens. A kid trips on the sidewalk and skins her knee, dirtying her new dress. The pessimist thinks: “I’m so clumsy – I’m always tripping everywhere, and now I look stupid.” The cause of her fall is (1) permanent—she sees it as a personality trait, and therefore it is both (2) pervasive and (3) personal. On the other hand, the optimist thinks: “Dang! Someone oughtta fix that crack in the sidewalk!” She’s thinking that a flaw in the sidewalk, not her own inherent clumsiness, caused her to trip. That crack is (1) temporary; (2) specific to that moment; and (3) impersonal—she had nothing to do with it.

I am not sure how or why, but somewhere way back as a kid, I learned to be a complete optimist when it comes to school and work. When good things happen, I see them as the result of something I did, but when bad things happen, I don't (hence my inability to think of any real mistakes I've made). But what I find even more interesting is that while I think I've always been this way about school and work, it is only recently that I have been able to apply the same mindset to my personal life and social interactions. That is, for most of my life, when bad things have happened in my personal relationships, I have been all too willing to believe that there was something about me, some personality trait (and therefore something pervasive and personal), that was the cause of the problem. It's something I've done a lot of work on in the last few years, and I believe that today, it's probably safe for me to call myself an optimist about my personal life as well, but I just find it interesting that it took me this long to see that this attitude, which comes so naturally in some arenas, can apply just as equally to other areas of my life.

Related posts:

• Choice and responsibility: self-help or just good economics?
• Multiple dimensions of confidence

Choice and responsibility: self-help or just good economics?

A recent post on Zen Habits talks about taking responsibility, pointing out that many people fail to take responsibility for their lives; everything is someone else's fault. As a teacher, I see this all the time in my students (the excuses are generally more creative than 'the dog ate my homework' but they are excuses nonetheless). But as an economist, I have a hard time dealing with people who take this too far. Economics is the study of choices and what I try to get across to my students is that economists simply don't believe one can ever say, "I had no choice". Sure, some decisions are so trivial (do you get up when the alarm goes off or hit snooze?) or so easy (your money or your life) that we may not think twice about them but they are still choices - other people (or even you, on a different day) may choose a different option and when you do one thing when you could have done something else, then it's a choice to do what you did, conscious or not.

Usually when someone says they "had no choice", what they really mean is that the consequence of the alternative was so awful that the choice was obvious. But while it may be horrible to consider disappointing your parents or losing your job or even dying, that doesn't mean you have no choice about going to college or working overtime or handing over your wallet. Now I'm certainly not advocating that students drop out of school or employees tell their bosses to to jump in a lake. My point is just that when you realize that all your actions are choices, it's harder to play the victim, to avoid taking at least a little responsibility.

I don't want to sound like an unsympathetic hard-ass. I'm as likely as the next person to bitch and moan when faced with choices that suck. But the upside of seeing that everything is a choice is that although you can't avoid some responsibility, it also means you gain a lot of control, over the good AND the bad. As I like to tell my students: being between a rock and a hard place isn't fun but at least you have options! Making good decisions requires being clear about the costs and benefits of your options but first you have to recognize that you HAVE options. I often think that if I can just get this one idea across to my students, to get them to REALLY believe it, then I will not only have taught them some economics but I will have helped them to become better people.

Multiple dimensions of confidence

I am a pretty direct person. If I'm curious about something, I will usually ask; if I'm upset with someone, I will talk to them about it; and my colleagues know that if I have an opinion at work, I'm not shy about sharing it. I'm not always comfortable doing this but I don't think I'm obnoxious about it (or if I realize later that I might have been obnoxious, I usually go back and apologize). But when I read Zandra's story about striking up a conversation with a guy at the gym, my first thought was, "Wow, I could never do that!" I also recently discovered Holly Hoffman's blog and she's had a few posts in the last month about confidence at work and with guys. All of which has me thinking about why it is that in some situations, I seem to have oodles of self-confidence but in other situations (primarily involving people I don't know but would like to), I might as well be back in junior high. Obviously, fear of rejection has something to do with it - it's easy not to take it personally if a waiter gets annoyed with me for saying my steak is over-cooked but detachment is a lot harder if I say hi to someone and they look at me like I've got two heads. At the same time, online dating has taught me to have a pretty thick skin and I think I've gotten pretty good at handling 'rejection' in that forum. So why does the idea of trying to talk to strangers seem so difficult? And I don't mean just guys - anytime I'm in a situation where I don't know anyone (for example, professional conferences), I find it incredibly difficult to meet people. Once I've been introduced to someone, I can make small talk until the cows come home but there's just some switch in my brain that flips from self-confident to insecure when I have to meet new people on my own. Does anyone else have these sorts of isolated insecurities?