Woman are cold

My friend, who happens to be a physicist (so you know he’s smart) believes that women have a four degree comfort zone and men have a 20 degree comfort zone, and this explains why women are so often cold in an air conditioned environment. 

I agree with this hypothesis. I have expanded slightly on his theory by identifying the average temperature ranges for both men and women.

In my experience, women seem to be most comfortable in a 68-72 degree environment, whereas men seem just fine in temperatures ranging from 60-80 degrees.   

I have not conducted a formal study to determine if my friend’s theory is correct, but I know this:

In my four decades on this planet, I have never heard a man express the need for a sweater, jacket or wrap upon entering an air conditioned space. but I have heard a hundred thousand million women express this exact sentiment. 

This has been enough evidence for me, but lo and behold, there is actually some research that supports this belief. Findings suggest that there is a significant difference in heat perception between men and women on average. While studies have found that women's actual core body heat is slightly higher than men's, women's extremities tend to be a lot colder.

In 1998, researchers at the University of Utah added a layer of subtlety to science's understanding of gender and body temperature. As had been found in previous studies, the researchers observed women tended to possess higher core temperatures than men (97.8 °F vs. 97.4 °F). Their hands, however, were consistently colder. A lot colder. While men registered an average hand temperature of 90 °F, the mean hand temperature for women was just 87.2 °F.

Similar studies have also found this to be true for women’s feet as well. Apparently this reduced temperature in a woman’s extremities accounts for greater sensitivity to changes in air temperature.

Thus the constant need for a sweater.

What will forever remain a mystery to me is how often a woman finds herself in need of a sweater and doesn’t have one. If you’ve spent your entire life shivering in movie theaters, restaurants and banquet halls, why would you ever leave the house without an additional layer?

I suspect that I’ll find no answer to this eternal conundrum.

If you can fly, fly.

I’m not complaining about having to stop for these geese, who were crossing from one side of the road to the other. It took less than a minute to allow them to pass, and frankly, it was kind of cute to watch.

But have these stupid birds forgotten that they are capable of flight?

Perhaps if there had been some baby geese included in the flock, I would better understand their decision to walk, but these were all full grown geese.

Fly, damn it.

 

Which would you prefer: The super supportive or hyper-critical spouse?

My wife and I attended a storytelling performance recently. A guy in his late twenties took the stage and told a story. He made great efforts to be funny but was decidedly not.

We were sitting behind his girlfriend during the  performance, and she spent much of the time laughing.

Elysha later said that she was happy for the guy. She thought it was good that he had someone in his life who thought he was funny and loved him for who he was.

I disagreed. I could not disagree more. I saw this as a tragedy. The guy clearly wants to make people laugh, but he has hitched his wagon to someone who shares his same unfortunate sense of humor.

Either that or is so blinded by love that she cannot see clearly.

As much as I suffer when Elysha tells me that something I have written is ineffective, unfunny, potentially offensive or lacking wit (which happens quite frequently) , I value her honesty and taste beyond measure. The last thing I want is a blind cheerleader, assuring me that everything I say and do is wonderful.

Elysha disagrees. She sees a value and a sweetness in this girlfriend’s unwavering support of her guy.

I ask you: Which would you prefer? The hyper-honest, often critical spouse who seeks to help you improve or the super supportive spouse who loves you for precisely who you are, warts and all?

And don’t tell me that you’d opt for some middle ground between the two. No easy answer allowed.

It’s one or the other in this exercise.

Choose. 

Best question of the week

On our way to Boston, we passed by a minivan on the Mass Pike. My wife looked over at the van and then back at me.

“Do you think that anyone puts a ‘Baby on Board’ sign on their car for something other than irony?”

My wife may deny it, but she is an exceptionally funny person.

Why am I willing to look less presentable than my female counterparts?

All may be true, or none may be true. You tell me.

I have worn the grubbiest of clothes for Skype chats with book clubs, whereas my female author friends, based upon a sample of recent tweets and Facebook posts, would never think of doing such a thing.

Is it because I am a man and will therefore be excused of my wardrobe indiscretions more easily?

Or is it because I am a man and am less concerned (rightfully or otherwise)about my appearance than the average woman?

Or is it because I’m just an idiot who should make more of an effort to appear presentable?

Or am I simply assuming far too much based upon an admittedly tiny small sample size?

I’m honestly not sure which is the case, but my gut tells me that if my hair was a mess or I was wearing pajamas during a Skype chat, I would be excused as quirky, amusing or typically male, whereas if my female counterpart did the same, an entirely different set of labels would be assigned.

Thoughts?

Are the machine guns really necessary?

My son was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, playing with this tow truck. It looked cute, with large eyes in the windshield and a smile on the bumper.

 

Then he pressed down on the roof of the cap, and out popped a twin pair of machine guns from the sides.

Still the inquisitive, anthropomorphized eyes. Still the smiling, anthropomorphized bumper. Just some added fire power in the event that a disabled motorist refuses to pay for services rendered.

 

I’m not entirely opposed to toys like this. Your average Star Wars spaceship or action figure will undoubtedly be equipped with weapons of some kind, as will any number of similar toys. I’m fine with that.

But were machine guns really needed on this smiling, happy, anthropomorphized tow truck?

Bookish days of yore

I noticed this on my key ring today. It’s like a historical artifact. A reminder of a bygone day.

Throw it away? Leave it as a reminder of a time since passed? Sell it on eBay?

Bare-breasted women are perfectly fine but Dicks was offensive?

Though my most recent novel, MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND,  is published in England (and doing quite well), I’ve never had the pleasure of visiting the country.

But it has come to my attention (through its publisher's recent defense) that The Sun, a popular British tabloid newspaper, publishes large, color photographs of topless women on Page 3 (so ubiquitous that it is routinely capitalized) every day.

When I say popular, I mean popular. The Sun has the ninth-largest circulation of any newspaper in the world and the largest circulation of any daily newspaper in the United Kingdom.

Other interesting facts about Page 3:

• After polling its readers, the Sun also instituted a policy of only featuring models with natural breasts.
• Up until 2003, The Sun could legally publish photographs of 16 and 17-year old girls.
• The Sun also has an official Page 3 website, Page3.com, which is one of the most trafficked websites in all of the United Kingdom.

After reading all this, I am confounded.

This the same country where I was required to change my last name because my publisher feared that Dicks would be considered too offensive.

Bare-breasted women intermingled with the important news of the day is apparently just fine with British audiences, but a book with the word Dicks on it, even if it’s clearly a last name, would be too much for them to bear.

I don’t pretend to understand the British psyche, but I’m also not sure if it’s even possible to understand.

Snoozing

What’s cuter? The two kids sleeping in the back seat or the doggy in the car seat between them?

Do racists long for the good old days?

I’ve often said that my father was born 100 years too late. My father was a cowboy in ever sense of the word. When I was a child, he spent more time on a horse than not.

He once brought a horse into the dining room to eat off the table.

He would’ve fit perfectly into the Old West. I suspect that if given the choice, he would’ve opted to be born at least 100 years earlier. 

With that in mind, I’ve been obsessing over this question for the last week:

Do racists regret the fact that they weren’t born during a less enlightened time in human history? Do they lament the days of segregation or even pre Civil War slavery? If given the choice, would they have wanted to be born in a time when they would still possess supremacy over African Americans?

I’m asking in all seriousness.

While I’m at it, what about the bigots who oppose same-sex marriage and homosexuality in general? Delaware is on the brink of becoming the eleventh state to legalize gay marriage, and an NBA player just came out of the closet to near-universal praise. 

Are bigots lamenting the days when they could still use gay slurs as a means of insult?

Are they bemoaning the fact that so many television shows and movies portray gay people as normal? 

Do they wish they they had been born in another time in history when their bigotry was the norm?

I wrote a poem. I need a critique. Please help.

I wrote a poem about my son today. I’ve been working on it for three days, including about an hour this morning. I’m ready to hear what people think.

Suggestions?

The second line was especially troubling for me (I’ve written it about three dozen ways), as was the transition from the second line into the third line.

I also need a title.  I have many options. I like none of them.

______________________________________

Untitled

Watching my baby boy crawl across the polished kitchen floor,
low to the ground like a Marine traversing a field of barbed wire, 
thinking he’s making his way to me,
his Daddy. 
only to realize that his target
was the rogue Cheerio
on the floor beside my sneaker.

Random thoughts and observations from a weekend spent with authors and readers

Booktopia, the annual weekend retreat in Vermont that brings authors and readers together, has come to a close. Hosted by Ann Kingman and Michael Kindness, producers of the Books of the Nightstand podcast, it has become one of our favorite weekends of the year. As I sit at my dining room table on Monday morning, I reflect back on some of my thoughts and lessons from this amazing weekend.

________________________________ Two authors compared the release of their books as a wedding day. I must assume that this is a female thing.

I think of a book release more like opening day of the baseball season.

Let the competition begin.

________________________________ Steve Yarbrough and I have identical writing processes. Identical. I feel like slightly less of a hack today thanks to Steve.

________________________________ I heard three writers talk about how their first books brought validation to the time spent away from families, friends and other pursuits, as well as self-assurance about their standing as a writer. I suspect that this is also a more typical female reaction.

Sometimes the arrogance, selfishness and self-centeredness of the average American man makes life a little easier.

________________________________ Listening to Nichole Bernier talk about how she finds the time to write with a large family and other obligations was a lesson for all. She doesn’t watch television. She apologizes for her messy house. She has given up on running a marathon. She strips her life of things that do not contribute to the pursuit of her goals. It’s impressive. Possibly insane. But that’s the life of a writer.

So many times I hear would-be writers say they just don’t have the time to write. I asked this question at a writing session this weekend:

Would you rather get out of bed at 6:00 AM every day for the next year and have no book written at the end of the year or get out of bed at 5:30 AM every day for the next year and have a book in your hand when the year is finished?

Everyone can sacrifice 30 minutes of sleep in pursuit of their dream.

________________________________ Author Jon Clinch and I have a book idea that will hopefully expand the base of male fiction readers.

This should be easy, since none exist.

This is an exaggeration, of course. Of the approximately 100 Booktopia attendees, there were was a solid five or six who were not female.

________________________________ A tip I learned while listening to Will Schwalbe speak to readers during one of his author sessions:

Will asks just as many questions of his audience as they ask of him. It’s a generous and genuine way of engaging people in the discussion and something I should do more often.

________________________________ I was both surprised and entertained by the debate over how readers and authors should handle online reviews of books. It was one of my favorite moments of the weekend. For a few seconds, I thought we might have actual fisticuffs, which would’ve been AWESOME.

A Booktopia rumble.

I think Ann Kingman would’ve kicked all our asses.

I have my own opinions on the subject and will save them for a post later this week.

________________________________ It’s often said that publishing is a small world. It’s true.

It turns out that author Will Schawlbe is my editor’s former boss. Unfortunately, Will was too much of a gentleman to offer me any embarrassing stories about Brenda.

Also, author Amy Brill has been serving on The Moth’s advisory council for years and is telling her first story onstage on Tuesday night. Sadly, Amy and I kept missing chances to chat this weekend, and I didn’t learn about her Moth connections until after she had gone home.

________________________________ I listened to two female authors speak about the challenges involved with balancing their writing life with their various other roles, including those of mother and wife.

I found the inclusion of the role of wife interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man talk about the demands associated with his role as a husband.

I’m not sure what this means. Perhaps men simply don’t speak so openly about these demands as often. More likely women are more thoughtful and considerate than men.

I’ll continue to think about it.

________________________________ Combining 19 people at three separate tables on one $600 check was a terrible decision by our waitress. Failing to inform us of this lunacy prior to doing so was inexcusable. Explaining that we could each pay cash or simply divide the total by 19 was insulting.

Yes. I’m still annoyed about this.

________________________________ A couple of years ago I wrote a post about all the jobs that I’ve had over the course of my lifetime. After listening to author Chris Pavone speak on Saturday night about the multitude of jobs that he has held during his lifetime, I’d love to see him write a similar (albeit considerably longer) post.

________________________________ I have always believed that one of the best questions to ask a person when getting to know them is about the path that led them to their current job. Paul once again proved me right on Saturday night. His paperboy-turned-wholesale produce manager was one of my favorite stories from the weekend.

________________________________ My wife is not afraid to speak in public. In a few weeks, she will be hosting our first Speak Up storytelling event at Real Art Ways.

Still, I was shocked when she rose from her seat in the audience on Sunday morning, walked over to Booktopia co-host Ann Kingman, and demanded the microphone so that she could thank Ann and Michael for the incredible weekend they give to us each year.

I was less surprised when she became verklempt while speaking and had to tag-team her closing remarks with author Nichole Bernier. She’s as easy to make cry as Ann Kingman.

Still, had you told me that my wife would spontaneously offer the closing remarks for Booktopia 2013, I would’ve thought you crazy.

________________________________ Both of our children slept through the night for the three nights that they spent with the in-laws. Charlie even napped fairly well.

   

________________________________ I left Vermont thinking that if I didn’t have to spend so much time writing, I might be able to read as often as these crazy book fanatics. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

A question about female criticism that is likely to get me killed.

I am only asking, so please don’t kill me.

There seems to be an enormous amount of angry, female criticism of Sheryl Sandberg’s LEAN IN on the Internet. Tweets, Facebook posts, blog posts, commenters.

I can’t help but think that if a man wrote a similar book suggesting that men engage in a paradigm shift at work, the typical male critique would be something more like, “No, I disagree. That guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. That’s not for me.”

There’s nothing wrong with disagreeing with Sandberg’s premise (I have yet to read the book, so I have no opinion), but the criticism coming from women strikes me as so angry and outraged.

Can you disagree with the woman without simultaneously attempting to tear her down by disparaging her career, her wealth and her parenting choices ?

Again, I’m only asking. Perhaps my perception of the situation is entirely wrong.

I’m sure you’ll tell me if it is.

It’s disgusting either way, but which is worse?

This photo was taken by author and photographer Deborah Copaken Kogan in Claire’s, an accessory store found in malls across America.

Which is worse? The company that sells a product as vile as this or the person who purchases it for his or her daughter?

I’m honestly not sure.

Was the destruction of the Death Star an inside job? Also, how did Luke Skywalker dodge the stigma of incest so easily?

If you haven’t seen the recent conspiracy video suggesting that the destruction of the first Death Star was an inside job perpetrated by the Empire, you should.

The video also got me thinking:

Luke Skywalker is one unlucky son-of-a-bitch.

In the span of just a couple years, his father tried to kill him multiple times and he fell in love with his own sister.

And I don’t care if he didn’t know that Leia was his sister. He still thought that she was hot. He still put a move on her. They still kissed. 

How did he manage to dodge the stigma of that so easily?

If I were Han Solo (and I like to think I am), I would’ve never let him live it down.

 

WWMD (or maybe WWMDD)

A friend recently employed the following strategy when she found herself looking for a solution to a problem:

WWMD: What Would Matt Do?

And it worked. She asked herself what I would do, and almost immediately, a solution was found. 

I was thrilled. I told her I wanted to make WWMD a thing. A viral sensation. A new decision-making stratagem.

She agreed.

There’s a possibility that she wasn’t being entirely sincere.

Still, it worked for her, so perhaps it could be the next big paradigm in business and life management 

Maybe I could launch a podcast where listeners could ask, “What would Matt do?” and I would respond accordingly.

We could be onto something.

I say “we” in hopes that you are as excited about this as I am. Or perhaps in hopes that using the word “we” will trick you into being as excited about this as I am.

Either one is fine.

But which is better?

What Would Matt Do? (WWMD) or What Would Matthew Dicks Do? (WWMDD)?

Thoughts?

Oh, and if you’d like to pose a question, go right ahead. No need to wait for the podcast and possible network television show. I’m here, waiting.

Competitive, creative to-do listing: Which do you think is best?

I used to think that this to-do list was the best ever. In response to its greatness, I produced a series of my own creative to-do lists.

The first one was good.

The second was even better.

Frankly, I thought both were spectacular.

No one seemed to agree, and the idea fizzled. Or maybe I just forgot to keep making lists.

I forget.

Maybe I’ll start making lists again. It was fun, but when you’re the only one having fun, it often ceases to be fun.

Either way, this list is possibly better than the first. It has some ridiculous items, but the more realistic items are fantastic.

#6 is my favorite. I will do this. Soon.

Please settle a bet between my wife and me: Did you ever walked the railroad tracks at least once as a child?

Yesterday, I wondered aloud how the railroad companies keep snow off the tracks. It turns out that they use plows attached to train engines to clear the tracks.

Before I was able to check Google for the answer, Elysha suggested that the tracks might be heated.

“No,” I said. “Can you imagine the amount of energy that would be required to heat all that track? Besides, haven’t you walked the train tracks before? They’re not even warm.”

“No,” she said, looking at me like I was insane. “I’ve never walked the train tracks before.”

I feel like I spent half my childhood walking along railroad tracks. Balancing on the rails. Placing  pennies on the tracks to see what would happen when the train passed over them. Racing across train trestles.

It was just something that kids did.

Something that most kids did, I argued. Perhaps not today with increased parental vigilance and the tragic restrictions on childhood freedom, but twenty years ago or more, when children were still allowed to roam free, didn’t most of you walk along the train tracks at least once?

I say yes. I say that Elysha is in an extreme minority of people who have never even stood on the railroad tracks.

She disagrees.

Please settle this bet for us.  

Do you know anyone who smokes?

As Connecticut debates a ban on smoking in cars with children, The Daily Beast offers a list of establishments where smoking is still permitted.

I’m frankly stunned that any of these places still exist.

I’m even more surprised that young people continue to start such an expensive, destructive and stigmatizing habit.

I know a lot of people. I am blessed with many friends.

I don’t know a single person who smokes. 

I see smokers all the time, standing outside buildings, sitting on park benches and walking the golf course, but I can’t think of anyone who I know personally who smokes.

Not one.

This leads me to wonder:

Has there been a self-imposed segregation of smokers and nonsmokers in this country?

Less than 20% of Americans smoke. Has this ever-shrinking percentage of the population hunkered down into tiny smoking enclaves? Have they formed small tribes of nicotine-stained addicts who isolate themselves from the general population when it comes to social interaction? Is there any social circle in America that contains a true blend of smokers and nonsmokers?

Or am I simply an outlier? Is it strange that I don’t know any smokers on a personal level?

Odds would seem to indicate that better than 1 in 6 of the people who I know are smokers, but if you asked me to find three people whose names I know who also smoke, I don’t think I could find more than one.

Is this normal?

More importantly, what does it say about the socially isolating nature of smoking?

If I want to convince a teenager not to smoke, should I focus on the health risks, or should I simply explain that smoking reduces the potential of your social circle by more than 80%?

For a teenager, a reduction of that size in potential friends and dates might actually seem more menacing.

Are the lessons learned by working your way through college worth the cost?

I didn’t exactly work my way through college in the way that this recent New York Times piece discusses, but it was close. Though I graduated from college with debt, it was less than a one year’s worth of tuition, and it was primarily the result of my need to student teach during the final semester of my college tenure.

Unfortunately, that final semester turned out to be quite expensive.

With the exception of that final semester, however, I worked my way through college, and I would argue that I learned more from that experience than if my parents had paid for my education.

While attending college, first at Manchester Community College for three years and then at Trinity College and Saint Joseph’s University for another three, I worked 45 hours a week managing a McDonald’s restaurant.

It was not easy to squeeze in that many hours into a full class load, but I managed. I worked on Monday, Wednesday and Friday from 4:30 AM until 1:00 PM before heading over to the college for afternoon and evening classes. I also worked from 4:30 AM until 2:00 PM on Saturday and Sunday, bringing my total number of hours each week to at least 45.

I also tutored in the Trinity College Writing Center for 10 hours a week, mostly on Tuesday and Thursday but also during some evenings as well, especially near the end of the semester when final papers were due. 

In 1997, just as I was beginning my first year at Trinity, I also launched my DJ company and began performing at weddings throughout Connecticut. During my final two years of college, I was booked for 23 and 45 weddings respectively. 

All of this was necessary in order to pay my bills and defray the cost of school. I paid for my three years of community college without any financial assistance, but my academic achievement and participation in student government resulted in a two-thirds scholarship from Trinity College (and by extension, Saint Joseph’s University).

I continued to work in order to pay for the remaining tuition, in addition to books, college fees and living expenses (I owned a home off-campus). I attended both schools simultaneously and ultimately earned a Bachelor’s in English and a teaching certificate in elementary education.

It was only during my final semester of college, which was comprised entirely of student teaching, that I was forced to take on a student loan. While that loan was considerable, it was a tiny fraction of my total education cost.

The six years that I attended college while managing a McDonald’s restaurant and running my business were some of the toughest years of my life, but I came away from that experience with a work ethic, an understanding of the important of efficiency and a level of self confidence that I would not possess had my parents put me through school. In fact, for all the classroom learning that I achieved in that time, I believe that I learned the most from having to pay my own way and support myself.

Whenever I hear a friend complain about the stress of their job or the difficulty of the work, I think back on those six years of college and smile.

I managed a fast food restaurant to profitability, launched a small business, and graduated in the top 5% of my college class. It was not because I am smart or or gifted or lucky. I worked incredibly hard.

Nothing since then has ever been more difficult.

I am not as laid back as some people believe. I simply know how much harder life can be.

Knowing all this, I can’t help but wonder:

What should I do when my children are ready to attend college?

If I am able, should I send them off to school without any concern about tuition costs? Or should I require them to work as I did, in order to learn the same lessons as me?

One of the cruelest things ever said to me was spoken by my best friend as he was graduating college and I was preparing to move into my car. He said, “It’s a shame you didn’t go to college right out of high school and do things the traditional way. You would’ve loved taking classes and living on campus. You were made for that stuff. You would’ve been a great college student.”

He didn’t say it to hurt me, but it still hurts to this day.

While I have great appreciation for my path to my college degrees, I never had the opportunity to attend college with people my own age and live on campus. College began humbly for me when I was 24 years old with an evening class called (unbelievable if you know my history) On Death and Dying. At that point I owned a home and was on my way to being married.

Living in the dorms was not a possibility.

How might my life be different had I experienced a more traditional four years of college like almost every one of my friends and colleagues?

Is the lesson learned by working your way through college worth the cost?

I’m still not sure.