I don't understand anyone who sits still while talking on the phone.
I don't speak to people on the phone often, but when I do, you can bet that while I'm talking, I'm also emptying a dishwasher, sweeping the kitchen floor, folding laundry, or doing any number of mindless chores in need of completion.
I can't imagine why anyone would just sit there and talk. It's like they're trying to be unproductive.
Director JJ Abrams has announced that there will be gay characters in future Star Wars films.
““When I talk about inclusivity it’s not excluding gay characters. It’s about inclusivity. So of course there will be gay characters.”
“I would love it. To me, the fun of Star Wars is the glory of possibility. So it seems insanely narrow-minded and counterintuitive to say that there wouldn’t be a homosexual character in that world.””
My first thought:
I felt a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of bigoted, small minded, homophobic voices suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced.
I love it when the news can ruin a bigot's day.
Caught in the Middle is a contemporary musical that journeys through a day in the life of middle school children. Touching on their, teachers, home work, lunch, "going out", bullying, friendship, and resolution. Don't miss the world premier of this wonderful show. Tickets will be available at the door. Or email vculligan@att.net to reserve at will call. Payment will be accepted at the door.
"Caught in the Middle"
March 18 & 19 at 7:00pm
March 20 at 4:00pm
Tickets: $12.00 adults, $6.00 students
Saint James Episcopal Church
19 Walden Street, West Hartford
This simple rule - which I live by on a daily basis - has brought me great happiness and peace and allowed me more time to do other, more meaningful things.
I offer it to you:
If someone is experiencing good fortune or unexpected luck, and it comes at no expense to me or anyone for whom I care, I celebrate that person's luck and fortune and feel no resentment toward that person whatsoever.
This is a rule that few people seem to embrace. I live in a world where people are constantly demanding equity in all things, even when the application of equity would only serve to hurt someone else and not change the life of the person complaining in any way.
A few examples:
if my friend and I are speeding down the highway in separate cars, driving side by side. A police officer pulls me over for speeding and issues me a ticket while allowing my friend to drive on without any consequences, I am happy for my friend. I may be upset about my ticket, but it has nothing to do with my friend's good fortune, and I will not begrudging him of his good fortune.
_____________________________
If my boss attends my weekly production meeting and nitpicks all of my ideas and my team's progress, but then she misses my colleague's weekly production meeting because she left the office to attend her daughter's dance recital, I am happy for my colleague, who managed to avoid a hassle that I was forced to endure.
I'm not whining about equity. I am celebrating my colleague's lucky break.
If the boss continues to attend my weekly production meetings for the next two months while repeatedly missing my colleague's meetings for a variety of reasons - illness, car trouble, meteor strike, narcolepsy, disinterest - I remain happy for my colleague his good fortune. I feel no resentment toward my colleague or even my boss for the lack of equity in the situation. I may be annoyed with the boss for her repeated interference in my meetings, but that annoyance has nothing to do with my colleague's good fortune. I am only happy for him and make no effort to demand equity, as it would only ruin my colleague's good fortune.
_____________________________
If I have 26 fifth grade students, and the second grade teacher across the hall only has 16 students, I am not angry at parent-teacher conference time that my colleague has five fewer hours of conferencing that I do. I may be angry about having 26 students in my class in general, but that has nothing to do with my colleague's good fortune or the lack of balance between our classrooms. I am only happy for her good luck and small class size.
If I then discover that while I am required to provide parents with a 30 minute parent teacher conference, the principal in another elementary school in my district only requires her teachers to conduct 15 minute conferences, I am not angry that those teachers have less work on their plate than me, nor am I clamoring for equity from my own principal. I may wish for shorter conferences (in reality, I don't), but I remain happy for my colleagues in the other school regardless of my position, because demanding that they conference for 30 minutes doesn't change my life in any way.
_____________________________
If my friend - who happens to already be wealthy thanks to a sizable inheritance - wins the lottery and pockets another $750,000, I am thrilled for my friend. His good luck has no bearing on my life or my own level of happiness. I might expect him to pick up the check more often than me, but I am nothing but pleased with my friend's unexpected windfall.
_____________________________
Every day, I watch people get angry, annoyed, outraged, and upset by a lack of equity that offers good fortune to others at no expense to themselves. They whine. They complain. They foment discord in boardrooms and living rooms and cubicles and classrooms.
Stop it. It only makes you unhappy, unlikeable, and unbearable.
Seek equity when equity truly matters. Fight for equity when that equity can make a difference in your life or the life of others.
But when someone experiences good fortune or luck at no one's expense, leave them alone. Move on with your life. Don't attempt to eliminate their good fortune or expect the same good fortune to be bestowed upon you. Stop wasting precious time on nonsense.
Be a happy person.
There are moments in my life when I feel disconnected from pop culture.
I actually take a little pride in this last one.
Also, my wife claims that I wouldn't be able to pick her out of a lineup of brunettes either, which isn't true but contains the ring of truth in terms of me and my general awareness of detail
Another example of my cultural blindness was my inability to explain the hashtag #TBT. I would see this hashtag from time to time on social media, almost always accompanied by a photo, but I had no idea what it meant, and frankly, it was never accompanied by something so compelling that I felt the urge to look it up.
But a couple weeks ago someone used the hashtag orally (which is always always always a bad idea), so I was forced to ask this meathead what he was talking about. He explained to me that #TBT stands for Throwback Thursday, an opportunity (excuse) to post old stuff to your social media accounts.
It wasn't Thursday when the meathead spoke this hashtag aloud, though further research indicates that the hashtag is often used on days other than Thursday now.
So behold, my first #TBT, a photo of me and my crew members and friends, taken circa 1992 in a McDonald's restaurant in Brockton, MA. If you're aware of my biography, this is the McDonald's where I worked while awaiting trial for grand larceny, and it's also the McDonald's where I was robbed and brutally tortured by gunmen.
Good times.
My daughter and I pulled this book off her shelf last night, written by a former student named Maddie and given to Clara when she was born seven years ago. It's been hiding in the back between other books.
My wife taught Maddie as well. One of those rare students who was blessed with having both of us as teachers.
I just adore Maddie's inscription to Clara, and she does as well.
It is quintessential Maddie.
No one tells you when you become a teacher that former students will remain in your life long after the school year has ended, and they will continue to touch your heart in so many ways years later. It's not quite as valuable as medical insurance or a pension, but in terms of benefits, it's close.
Just over the course of the past two weeks, I've been contacted by two former students.
One of these former students decided to look me up ("It's 3:30 in the morning right now, and I randomly googled you.") and discovered that since he left my classroom, I've published novels, written musicals, and launched a storytelling career.
Back when he was in my classroom, I was still a struggling writer without a credit to my name. He was surprised to see all that I had done since he had moved on.
He is currently attending Albertus Magnus in New Haven, CT. He's studying business management and is playing on their basketball team. He's considering playing professional basketball in Europe in two years. His email was inspirational and sweet, and it made my day.
Last week the other former student - now a senior at Suffield Academy - visited my classroom to inform me that he has the lead in their school play and invited me to be in the audience on opening night. He performed in my annual Shakespearean production - King Lear that year - and credited that performance as the birth of his love for acting.
Elysha and I will be in the audience in April when he takes the stage.
Incidentally, Maddie - the author of No Socks No! - attends Eastern Connecticut State University. She's a communications major with concentrations in advertising and public relations. She's also a double minor in history and digital and art design.
No surprise. She was a remarkable student in elementary school, and she remains one today.
She graduates in May. If you have any job offers, I'd be happy to pass them on to her.
I have never entered a strip club.
Sitting beside my male friends and watching women who want nothing to do with me remove their clothes has never appealed to me.
Unified public, unsatisfied arousal is just not my thing.
I attended a bachelor party at a strip club once, but when we arrived at the establishment, I told the guys that I would be waiting in the car, reading Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle. They thought I was crazy, but when I told them that they could drink and carouse all they wanted, and I would be happy serve as their designated driver, they relented.
The one exception to my avoidance of strip clubs took place about 25 years ago in a McDonald's crew room, but in that case, it was sadly a strip club of my own making.
Here is the story:
If you know me at all, you know that an enormous part of my mental energy is directed at my relentless fear of death.
It is more constant and overwhelming than you could ever imagine.
And perhaps for good reasons. Two near-death experiences (one and two) involving paramedics and CPR and an armed robbery that resulted in a gun to my head and the trigger being repeatedly pulled might understandably change a person's view of death.
As a result, my hope is for immortality. My plan is to never die. While this may seem ludicrous, my ability to believe in its possibility is necessary to get me through each day without collapsing into an existential meltdown.
So here's some good news in that regard:
Two researchers from the University of Pennsylvania have designed a test that utilizes the eight most predictive questions related to American life expectancy to determine a person's probable lifespan. “These are the most important risk factors that we have solid evidence for,” says Lyle Ungar, professor of computer and information science at the University of Pennsylvania.
He adds: “If you’re in a happy marriage, you will tend to live longer. That’s perhaps as important as not smoking, which is to say: huge. So feel free to give yourself a little bump if you’ve got a happy relationship."
I took the test, and I was pleased to see that my life expectancy - before the happy marriage bump (which I have in spades) - is 95.
Not quite immortality, but perhaps enough years for the scientists to find the magic elixir.
Or at least to find a way to download my consciousness into some hard drive somewhere, which would be good enough for me.
I didn't care about Japanese history all that much. I especially didn't care about the history of Japan pre-1900.
But someone who I trust recommended this video to me, and now I recommend it to you. It's unusual and unique and captured my attention in ways I never imagined it could. It brought history to life, but in a way I have never seen before.
Give it a minute. If you're not hooked, shake your fist at me. Wish me ill. Leave an insulting comment on my blog. Move on.
I don't think that's going to happen.
I love Flossie Dickey.
I'm sure she wasn't trying to be obstreperous in this interview, but I'm glad she was. The reporter speaks to her like she's a child, and then she and the director speak about her as if she's a houseplant. It's condescending, insulting, and stupid.
I only wish Flossie Dickey would've punched each one of them in the nose.
Charlie is starting to come around to Star Wars. His sister is not a fan (only because the boys at school love Star Wars), so he has assumed the same position out of blind loyalty. But he is beginning to crack.
Eventually we'll watch the films together and enjoy them.
Another thing that will sadly change in regards to Charlie and Star Wars (but hopefully not too soon): He doesn't call the movie Star Wars.
He calls it Star Whores. It's hilarious.
Out of curiosity, I looked to see if there is a movie called Star Whores.
Of course there is. Actually, it was the an adult sci-fi comedy pilot that never went beyond a pilot. The IMDB description of the show goes like this:
Follows the adventures of Commander Nymphette and her droid, Six-of-Niner, aboard the SS Deep Thruster.
Reading the IMDB page for this TV series is quite entertaining. I won't share all of the amusing tidbits found on the page except for these two:
Strikes me as a tad informal.
For the record, I also have an IMDB page (which I rate as one of my greatest accomplishments ever). I'm listed as a writer for the film Unexpectedly, Milo, which is currently under development.
I'm hoping that someday soon, we will move past development and into production. And with people other than Big Jim and Ken and his dad.
These two circles say it all.
I wanted to tell stories. I was afraid to tell stories. I didn't know if I could tell stories. I was afraid to discover that I wouldn't be able to tell stories. I knew that standing on a stage in New York City to tell stories meant exposing myself to public failure.
So I decided to tell stories. Despite crushing self-doubt and enormous fear, I went to where the magic happens. And it did.
These two circles apply to so much that I have done in my life. The farther I stray from my comfort zone, the better my life gets.
This is also exactly how my wife became the consummate and beloved host of Speak Up, our storytelling show.
She wanted to have an integral and public role in Speak Up, so she knew that she had to host our show. But she didn't want to be the host of the show. She didn't want to speak to large groups of strangers. She was afraid to speak to large groups of strangers. She physically shook when speaking to large groups of strangers. She had nightmares about speaking to large groups of strangers. She didn't think she would be very good at hosting our show.
Then she decided to host our show, and it's no exaggeration to say that she is in many ways the face and the heart of what we do.
I tell a story at every one of our shows, and yet people see me in public and often say, "Hey, you're married to the Speak Up girl."
Yes, I am. You have clearly forgotten about me and my story, but you remember her, and I don't blame you one bit.
In this week's episode, Rachel and I discuss boy bands, men's grooming, and the age old question about size mattering.
You can listen here or - better yet - subscribe to our podcast in the iTunes store or wherever you get your podcasts.
And if you like the show, please consider leaving a review on iTunes. It helps readers find the show, and it makes me feel even better about myself.
A recent Infographic on thank you notes caught my attention:
It's a lovely infographic, but I disagree with the process of decision making that it outlines.
Instead, I would like to propose my own rules about when you can write an email and when you must send a physical thank you note.
When determining whether an email or an actual thank you note is required, ask yourself the following questions:
If NO, send an email. Not only is it more efficient, but it allows you to say more in less time.
If YES, answer the following:
If NO, send an email.
If YES, consider sending an email. If you're still uncertain, answer the following question.
If NO, send the email.
If YES, grudgingly send the thank you note.
When these rules are unavailable to you, you can always rely on this one question to arrive at an equitable solution:
If NO, send an email.
If YES, send a thank you note. Or better yet, eradicate this person from your life entirely if possible.
I sent an email in lieu of a thank you note about 90% of the time. I am capable to write far more meaningful and memorable things in an email than I can in a thank you note, and I usually do. As untraditional and impersonal an email may seem to some, if done right, it can be far more meaningful and impactful than a small piece of card stock with 3-5 scribbled sentences.
When I send a physical thank you note, it's almost always in situations that still demand a physical thank you note (in response to gifts, for example, though even then, I will send an email to close friends) or when the recipient is likely to be offended by the email and his or her response to the email will be more troublesome to me than the actual writing of the thank you note.
It should also be noted that if you are a person who thinks that a thank you note sent via email is never acceptable, you should know that you are a dinosaur. You are slowly but surely becoming extinct. You may enjoy your thank you note perch high above the masses, but please know that the world is moving on without you.
Most of us understand that it's the thought that counts. It's a lesson we were taught as children, and it remains true today.
The thought - contrary to arcane and dwindling belief - does not require ink, envelope, and postage to count.
A man in Hawaii is facing criminal charges for blocking the construction of a telescope on a mountaintop. His trial is being delayed because even though he speaks perfect English, he is insisting on being tried in Hawaiian, which happens to be the official language of Hawaii.
The only problem:
No judge speaks Hawaiian, and only about 8,000 people in the world speak the language, so finding jurors who speak the language would be almost impossible. So the man is insisting that the trial be conducted through an interpreter.
The man's guilt or innocence is not my concern. My bone of contention lies in the NPR report on this case. Specifically, this exchange between NPR host Rachel Martin and the defendant Kahookahi Kanuha:
MARTIN: It's my understanding that more than a generation ago, the Hawaiian language was almost gone. It had almost been wiped out.
KANUHA: Yes.
MARTIN: What brought it back? What's to account for the resurgence?
KANUHA: Yeah, so in the early 1980s, actually, it was estimated that there were less than 50 speakers under the age of 18. It was almost guaranteed - approximately guaranteed - that within - within 20 to 30 years, perhaps, the language would be dead. And so what they did was they implemented a preschool system, and it's known as Aha Punana Leo. And as the kids graduated from preschool, those families wanted them to continue their education in Hawaiian language. And that's what created that push and the pressure for the implementation of Hawaiian immersion programs and ultimately, within the last 30 years, we have taken those numbers from less than 50 to about 8,000 or so.
I will never understand the desire to preserve languages and fight against their extinction.
Languages are not birds or animals or plants. They are not integral parts of an ecosystem. They do not carry the potential for life-saving medicines. They do not preserve biodiversity.
Languages are human constructs. They are a means of communication that developed differently across the globe only because of geographic limitations on humankind thousands of years ago. They are not in need of preservation. In fact, I think they are in need of eradication. The sooner human begins drill down to one worldwide language, the better off we will be. The ability to communicate freely and openly to anyone in any corner of the globe would be a remarkable feat of human progress.
The process of achieving a single, worldwide language begins by allowing languages to die rather than spending time and money preserving them.
“Of the estimated 7,000 languages spoken in the world today, linguists say, nearly half are in danger of extinction and are likely to disappear in this century. In fact, they are now falling out of use at a rate of about one every two weeks.
Some endangered languages vanish in an instant, at the death of the sole surviving speaker. Others are lost gradually in bilingual cultures, as indigenous tongues are overwhelmed by the dominant language at school, in the marketplace and on television.
”
The good news in this report is that languages are dying at a rapid clip. But the New York Times - and many other publications - use words like endangered and extinction to describe the precarious state of languages, as if their elimination hurts the planet or humankind.
It doesn't. It only serves as one small step in bringing us closer.
It's important to note that I am not promoting the active eradication of languages. I'm not looking for people to intentionally eliminate languages. I just don't think them worthy of preservation.
This also doesn't mean that I am overlooking one of the primary agents in the elimination of languages. The genocide of the Native Americans of North America, for example, wiped out hundred of languages in the process. I am aware that all too often, the eradication of a language was accomplished through forced subjugation and genocide. Obviously, this is not the kind of action for which I am advocating.
Languages should die of natural causes. And they are.
A report in Science magazine from 2014 indicates that the primary agent responsible for the eradication of languages today is economic growth. As previously isolated and otherwise struggling communities of people begin to interact with the world economically in order to raise their standard of living, they begin to adopt the primary language of commerce, and over time, their original language falls away and dies.
This makes sense. People want to be able to communicate as fluidly and inexpensively as possible. They want to understand and be understood. When you realize that participation in world markets will improve your lives of your future generations, you will engage in that market as fully as possible.
This includes language.
My hope - and my expectation - is that somewhere in the distant future, humankind will continue to winnow down from the approximately 7,000 languages today to a handful of languages and perhaps even one. And I don't care what language we eventually settle on. I'm not looking to preserve English as the language of the world. Whichever language rises to the top is fine by me.
The language is irrelevant. It's singularity is paramount.
The sooner human beings across the globe share a common tongue and can speak without barrier or misunderstanding, the better off we will be.
Don't seek the eradication of language. Just don't invest in its preservation. Spend your time and money on more important matters. Implementing a preschool program on the island of Hawaii in order to teach children a language that was nearly extinct and is useless outside of Hawaii strikes me as a terrible waste of resources.
Oh, and in case you were curious, Kahookahi Kanuha was granted an interpreter at his trial, and last month he was found not guilty of obstruction.
I'm happy Kanuha isn't going to jail. If you read the reports from the trial, it's clear that he was acting with noble intent.
I just hope he doesn't use his newfound freedom to promote a language that clearly wants to die.
I know it's my kid, but it's so damn cute.
Want some advice on how to create? On how to get things done? How to accomplish your goals?
There's nothing better than this from writer and storyteller Dan Kennedy:
“You have to encourage yourself. I woke up with this weird urgent need to tell everyone that. We have to travel with our own fuel onboard.”
This is not the first time that I've quoted Dan on this blog. He says a lot of smart things.
In case you missed my previous posts, they include:
"When people tell me they don't have enough time to write, I tell them to throw a trashcan through the window of a bank or airport."
"There are people who write every now and then. And there are writers who are people every now and then."
"Most movies about life depend on giant change, chapters ending, chapters beginning. Real life depends on sticking with things."
"When it comes to work, you're gonna end up doing what you want to do. Period. Spend 10 minutes or 30 years fighting it if you insist."
"Buy books for yourself and for other people."
In 1995, I stood in front of a speech class at Manchester Community College and argued that women should be eligible for the military draft. I posited that women's failure to demand this responsibility undermined their fight for equality.
My professor awarded me an A for the speech (I still have his notes and the grade sheet), but my classmates did not react favorably to my ideas. The idea that women might be drafted into the military and sent to war did not sit well with many of them.
Last year, in episode 5 of my podcast Boy vs. Girl, I made the same claim. I argued that women are just as capable of serving in the military as men, and that they should be fighting for equal responsibilities as well as equal rights. I argued that when one group of people are required to risk their lives for their country and another group is not, inequality is inevitable.
My podcast cohost, Rachel Leventhal-Weiner, was uncertain about my proposal, neither opposing it nor agreeing to it.
Last week - 21 years after I first made this argument in a college classroom - two senior United States military leaders said that women should be required to register for the draft now that the Pentagon had opened all combat roles to them.
“Although the move would be largely symbolic — the draft has not been used since the Vietnam War — it would represent another step in the military’s shift toward viewing men and women as equals.
At a Senate hearing on women in combat, Gen. Robert B. Neller, the commandant of the Marine Corps, said he believed that “every American who’s physically qualified should register for the draft.” Gen. Mark A. Milley, the Army chief of staff, said he agreed.”
I have just three things to say about this:
I saw Springsteen on Wednesday night. After watching him perform for almost four hours, I felt so fortunate to have seen him sing and play almost a dozen times over the course of my lifetime.
As I exited the stadium, I thought, "That man can never die. No one does it like him. No one will ever do it that way again. We need that man."
It got me to thinking:
If the Gods were kind and just, they would allow humankind to choose immortals. Human beings who we decide are so universally unique and beloved and needed that we can freeze them in time. Stop their aging process. Hold them as we have them now and forever more.
And it's not like we need an infinite amount of immortals. Let's say that we get ten names. Ten immortals to keep with us forever.
This is what I proposed to my friends as we left the stadium.
Who would those ten people be?
I added the stipulation that the person needs to be alive today. While someone like Abraham Lincoln might be deserving of immortality, once a person is dead, they cannot be brought back.
Given these parameters, which ten people deserve immortality? Who would we choose to keep in place forever?
Bruce Springsteen is on my list.
I have yet to find a second name worthy of inclusion.
In this week's episode, Rachel and I discuss Girl Scout cookies, Valentines Day, and the use of the word schlong.
You can listen here or - better yet - subscribe to our podcast in the iTunes store or wherever you get your podcasts.
And if you like the show, please consider leaving a review on iTunes. It helps readers find the show, and it makes me feel even better about myself.