Tuesday, February 23, 2010

You Can't Make Spaghetti in a Crockpot...and 9 Other Important Life Lessons

When I was younger and didn't know much, I always figured that eventually all my questions about life would be answered. Imagine my shock now that I'm nearing 41 and have realized that not only have my questions not been answered, but that every day brings new questions. So I'm trying to take my life lessons where I can, and hopefully put them to good use. The last week has been an especially good one for learning things I probably should have known already. So I thought I'd share a few of the should-have-been-obvious ones that nevertheless took me real life experience to learn:
  • You can't make spaghetti in a Crockpot
  • If you put a vase of tulips on the kitchen table, your cats will believe it is their own personal salad bowl
  • You can't get rid of cobwebs on a 20ft cathedral ceiling by throwing barbie dolls wrapped in hand towels at them
  • Plants don't water themselves
  • In FaceBook world, time passes at approximately double what it does in the real world (as in, "Oh crap! I've been on FaceBook for an hour??!")
  • Every mother has, at one time or another, eaten the cold, greasy, leftover crusts of her child's grilled cheese sandwich
  • It you expect a kid to be a pain in the butt, he will be
  • There is no magic to make the heartache go away
  • Sometimes the best thing to do is just sit with your friend while she cries her heart out
  • The more I know, the less I understand

Monday, February 8, 2010

It's All Chemistry to Me

A couple months ago I wrote a blog post titled "Why It's Important to Cheat on Your Spouse." It was a tongue-in-cheek perspective on how to put the "spice" back in your marriage. I suggested remembering your spouse as the person they were when you first met. Seemed to make sense to me: after all, who doesn't remember that amazing spark you felt when you first met the person you were destined to share a roll of toilet paper with? I figured that a little mental "time travel" back to when you first met your DH or wifey could, perhaps & with a little luck, bring back that spark.

And so lo! As I was reading this morning's paper (yes, I am one of the few who still subscribes to a daily paper) and came across an article that completely solidifies my rather nebulous assertion that it's all about the spark. "Why I Get a Kick Out of You" (above-the-fold, Health Section, LA Times) details how scientists have found a cocaine-like reaction in the brain when love "works its magic." So that heart-pounding-head-thumping-hands-sweating-inability-to-think-clearly condition that overwhelms when you meet "the one" is actually on par with illegal drugs! (well, that explains alot...)

Study participants (whom had been in romantic relationships at least one month but no more than 17 months) were put into MRI machines to scan their brain while they were shown pictures of their romantic partner. In case after case, the part of their brain which houses the reward and motivation systems was flooded with dopamine--with the attendant side effects of excessive energy, losing sleep, euphoric feelings and separation anxiety.

All of this was sort of "no duh" to me. After all, most of us have experience that obsessive passion that comes with the beginning of a new relationship. But what struck me about the scientific study, however, was that when they studied the brains of people who had been married for 20 or more years, 30% of those in long-term relationships had similar output of dopamine.

So you can look at it in a couple of ways: 30% of people are just as passionate about each other as the day they met (or at least one of the partners is; the study didn't specify if both felt that way about each other), 70% of people have fallen somewhat "out of love" with their husband or wife, or their love has changed through the years from passionate to companionable.

Those 30% are really lucky. I wonder if they realize how lucky? I'm a romantic by nature, but after a decade+ of marriage, I wondered if it was possible for anyone to even remember what it was like to be "in love"--much less feel it every single day. When I read that it is still possible after years of marriage and its attendant ups-and-downs to be just as in love with the person as the day you said "I do," well, I decided I want me some of that!

So how do you take a so-so marriage out of the doldrums? Is there even a way to regain the passion? I wish the study had said whether or not those 30% who are still madly in love with their spouses had ever gone through a patch when the thought of being single again held particular appeal. Since it didn't, I'll have to go on my gut instinct that those people really just chose well--and figured out a way to work through conflicts without jeopardizing their relationship.

So back to taking the marriage out of the doldrums (I've always loved that word, no idea why). According to the article, the people who were still passionately in love were still dong those "little things" you hear so much about. Yeah, blah-blah-blah. We've all heard it. But it is surprisingly difficult to keep those "little things" going after you've been committed to someone for a while.

So here's your cheat sheet, as it were:
  • Call or text during the day to say hi.
  • Pick up a thoughtful gift "just because."
  • Listen and be supportive.
  • Use a kind voice when speaking to each other.
  • Do things together--even taking a walk in the evening strengthens the bonds between couples.
  • Take a class together, just for fun. The excitement you'll feel about learning something new may transfer to your spouse, helping you recapture what brought you together in the first place.
  • Know and respect what your spouse values: their careers, their spiritual beliefs, their political leanings, their hobbies and interests.
  • Be a friend to your spouse
  • And sex! Sex! So important to a relationship--perhaps the most important thing. The hormones oxytocin and vasopressin are released during sex. And these two hormones are what causes humans to bond with each other.
Personally, I'd add another: spend time with couples you know who are in the 30%. Of all my friends, I can think of three right off the bat who have the sort of marriage I've always envied. So with luck, by spending more time with these friends, both my hubby and I will see how they interact with each other and perhaps learn a bit about how to keep the passion in a relationship, through years and kids and finances and illness and all the other things that turn red-hot chemistry into lukewarm mush.

So while I am putting my own advice to work ( i.e.: remembering what it was like with my husband when we first met) I'm going to also put into practice some of the suggestions from this morning's article. Like most couples I know, my husband and I are committed for the long haul--but wouldn't it be nicer if that long haul was filled with passion, excitement and joy, rather than just that shared roll of toilet paper?


Thursday, January 28, 2010

The World's Most Annoying--and True--Saying

"Hard work beats talent if talent doesn't work hard."

Man, oh man! Was there ever a more eye-rollingly obvious phrase? It's right up there with "penny wise, pound foolish," another phrase brilliant in its banality. Both phrases sum up common-sense in a way that people simply don't like to hear: that success takes hard work.

The heck you say! No, really. We've all known people with an innate talent--perhaps they're astonishingly good with numbers. Or a brilliant writer. Or a phenom on the field. An artist who's talent--even at a young age--simply awes. Over time, we see them reach a certain level of success and then--bam! It's like they hit a block wall. With the passage of time, the potential they had sort of leaks away. And then... they're gone. On to whatever life they're going to lead--without the success their early talent hinted at (and in some cases, even promised).

Because talent only takes you so far. There's a certain arrogance that comes with true talent--a sort of "How could they not want me?" that is implied with the oohhs and ahhhs gifted people grow up with their whole lives. Hearing how "terrific" you are for being able to do something can actually be limiting. There comes with those compliments a sense that you're already so "good" you don't need to work on it any more...and in the meantime, the people with less talent--in some cases, much less talent--surpass you because, well, they're taking what bit of talent they do have and working harder than you.

And for those who have the true talent AND put every ounce of themselves into working hard to not only maintain but grow that talent...well, for them, the sky truly is the limit.

So what to do? If you've got one of those preternaturally gifted kids, how do you encourage talent without, well, ham-stringing them into thinking they're "so" good they don't have to keep working at it? Or, how 'bout this scenario...you were one of those lucky enough to be born with a gift, and then you squandered it? Truth is, I'm no genius (what??? You thought I was, didn't you? wink wink). But it seems to me that it's never too late (another trite phrase, I'm fulla 'em today) to rediscover that talent, that gift, and do something with it.

Because I'm no expert on child-rearing, I'm going to dispense with the "here's how to raise your super-talented-kid-so-they-don't-turn-into-an-insufferable-brat" advice. Instead, I'm going to spend a little bit of time with the later scenario--the one where you were the one who got bypassed by the less-talented but harder-working masses. And at the risk of sounding uber-arrogant, I know of what I speak, because I was one of those talented kids who let it get away from me, in part because I figured that I was good enough (better than most).

I was a very talented writer as a kid. My mom has kept some of my old stories from kidhood, and I read at them and am astonished that I could write so stinkin' well. But as I grew up I didn't pursue "writing" as a career--I ended up in public relations, which I thought would be much more glamourous than sloggin' it out as a lowly staffer or intern on a magazine. I did use my writing skills in public relations--mostly to write puff pieces on how "Product A" would not only change your life, but it would make you smarter, sexier, and better endowed to boot. But the ha-ha was on me--I burned out on the hard-core PR after 10 years or so. That natural gift for descriptive passages and visual writing was stupefied by years of "state-of-the-art," "ground-breaking," and "target demographic." Ughhh!!

(Side note:I still do write marketing pieces, website text, and news releases for a variety of small clients, so if one of my wonderful clients is reading this, the aforementioned "puff" pieces don't pertain to you. I also write articles for on-line publications and the once-in-a-while article for a small print magazine that "pays" me in copies. Lucky me--my mom always asks for one)

Like many out there who hit the "40s" (eeee gads!), I find myself re-evaluating what I want to do with my life. And I'd like to finally pick up what I neglected/rejected so long ago. I can't be the only one out there who wishes they'd pursued a particular talent with more vigor when they were younger. There is no reason that at 40 or 42 or whatever age you can't find a way to resurrect that talent and do something with it--something worthwhile that makes you want to get out of bed each morning. (Now, granted, if you were the top football player on the 1980 Pop-Warner team or a Rockette circa 1988, your options may be a little limited in the post-40 world.)

So after much thought, research, and intuition here are the steps I'm pursuing to finally turn "hard work beats talent if talent doesn't work hard" into my own personal motto. They're writing-specific, but I figure they can be adapted into whatever you're trying to "re-capture."

1. Brush up on my writing skills. I've been writing PR & marketing pieces on and off for nearly 20 years, and I've gotten into some habits that may be making my writing a bit...tedious. I'm taking a writing for magazine class online this spring.

2. Find someone--or "someones"--to be accountable to. My goal is to transition into magazine writing; however, unless I am forced, it is easy for me to fall back into old habits and simply stick with what I know. Taking a class will--if nothing else--make me accountable to someone outside myself (because I'm far too easy on myself)

3. Detail my goals. I'm in this stage right now. I know I want to write for magazines, but I need to narrow it down. What kinds of magazines? What sort of topics? What knowledge do I have that I can share--and who wants to buy it? These and countless other details (yuck--details, not my fave subject) need to be thought through in order to create realistic goals for myself.

4. Work at it every day. And by "it," I mean spending a set amount of time every single day--every day--following through. (Working hard...ha! There is is again...) I'm going to work on "my" writing every day for 2 hours a day. So from the magic hours of 8:30 - 10:30pm every day, I am going to focus on my writing career.

5. Begin to think of myself as a "writer," rather than "someone who writes." It sounds like a non-existent distinction, but truth is, until you begin to see yourself in a certain way, it is easier to put off your dream. It's like saying, "I'm going to get fit" or "I'm going to stop smoking." As long as you have that "going to" qualifier in front of it, you'll find it easy to put off or set aside what you know you really need to do. "Someone who writes" writes when they feel like it or has the time. A "writer" writes. Pure and simple. Under any conditions. Under all circumstances. They write because it is who they are. When I begin thinking of myself as a writer, I think I finding the time to actually write will be easier--or if not easier, more important. Make sense?

So the phrase "Hard work beats talent if talent doesn't work hard" is a bit annoyingly obvious, but also completely and totally true. As someone who thought for years that talent on its own was enough to get by, I'm now changing my way of thinking. Whatever happens over the next few years will be determined in large part by how much hard work I'm willing to do--not just whether I had the ability to do it.

And next I'll get on that other annoyed sigh-inducing phrase "penny wise, pound foolish." (wink, wink).








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