I saw a great article about the #joinin community, which is when people share their struggles on Twitter during Christmas. I was going to post my thoughts on Twitter with that hashtag, but I realized it would've been too long, and I didn't do one of those serial tweets because I doubt people would follow along. So here I am, about to post something that I've told some folks offline, but want to tell people about online as well.
For many years, and I mean more than a decade (though I'm not sure exactly how many years, but long enough to make 2018 a notable year, and hopefully a departure from what I've experienced before), the holidays were awful or barely tolerable. Not just one or two holidays, but various ones throughout the year, including a big birthday I celebrated that was nothing like I'd envisioned back when I witnessed others celebrate theirs exuberantly. There are many reasons why the holidays were not stellar or what I'd experienced earlier in my life, and if I know you offline, I'll tell you. I'm not sure I want to share all the details here because it might be too personal, and the Internet has a lot more creeps online than years ago when I started (which is going to be the topic of another post).
Holidays were strained or sad, or I had to work at jobs that barely acknowledged us, at companies that were too broke to even pay extra (though they liked rewarding their executives and laying people off in the process). Even if holidays were not lonely, I detached myself from them and barely tolerated attending gatherings or didn't do anything special at all. I assumed that was how it was going to be, thus I'd have to adjust to the situation.
But things started changing in late 2017. I noticed I had more opportunities to celebrate the holiday season, but I was still in my detached phase, assuming the spike was an aberration. But this year, not only did those events recur, but I was invited to others as well. So when the season began, I welcomed it and just enjoyed what I saw as a bounty of invites that flowed in. And it's not necessarily that I had the actual holidays free, because I've had to work all of them, including the days around them. My work situation is not like other people where we get paid holidays off or where the places are closed (though some places I work are closed), and working the holidays isn't actually a disappointment like it is for other people.
A lot of people would think this occurrence is no big deal because they already have built-in family obligations that are pleasant, and/or already know a lot of social people who are used to reaching out during the season. I have met several people who have never known an unpleasant or disappointing holiday or birthday because they have events to go to or a large enough family to absorb them. Or if they're not close to family, they have a web of friends who they see. So they're probably wondering why someone would celebrate a positive holiday season and note it online.
But having a more positive holiday experience is very meaningful, and it's also proof that just because you might be struggling around this time of year, every year, it doesn't mean it will last forever. Or if you've lost such positivity over the years, as I did, it doesn't mean it's gone forever. It might take years, as it did for me, or you might be lucky...you might experience a temporary setback that is remedied with a move or with other changes in your life that result in a more upward trend. Amazingly, even though we're between two years as I post this, my active season probably won't end until early February. And then I can truly look forward to more good things happening in 2019.
12.26.2018
Spam conversation
A while ago (not too long ago but long enough that I don't remember the exact date...maybe a few months ago), I was at an event (I remember where but don't want to be specific in case the person sees this and knows it's them...because it definitely is) and was talking to someone who seemed interesting. They had come to the event alone and I was surprised that they were so talkative, because usually people seem more shy when they go to something alone. Maybe they spoke more to me because I was volunteering and was in a more central location, which meant that people could easily walk up and ask where the restroom was or just chat a bit before they moved on. But this person really took the time to talk, and since I like talking to people (because I'm merely a fake introvert), I went along. We talked about the suburb they live in and other things that I can't remember.
And it's not unintentional that I pretty much wiped the specifics of the conversation from my mind, because it ended up as spam. Spam is usually encountered via email and social media, when someone hacks your account or when a sleazy person or group gets your email and bombards you with unwanted messages. Well spam conversation is similar. It's where a person is talking to you for a purpose that has nothing to do with you but what you can do for them--more blatantly, to sell you something.
In my case, that person was talking to me because they wanted me to sign up for their services (again, I won't be specific, but trust me, I remember what it is, that it's a service that requires clients). The person was with a reputable company and it wasn't a scam, as spam email often is, but it really blindsided me and annoyed me to the point that I abruptly stopped the conversation. When they continued to try to convince me to at least meet with them to discuss stuff, I bluntly said I'm not interested, and felt like I had been duped. Of course, they gave me their card (which I think I still have as a spam-conversation souvenir) even after I said I wasn't interested.
Basically, people who go to a benign function and use it to get more sales seem like they're there to use people, not to enjoy the function. And having a friendly conversation that masks their true intention--to get a sale--is manipulative and deceptive. So I'm calling that spam, and I'm surprised that I didn't see it coming, probably because the person didn't seem like a salesperson. But that's their skill, I suppose, and why they can afford to live in the nice burbs (assuming that they have a nice house there).
And it's not unintentional that I pretty much wiped the specifics of the conversation from my mind, because it ended up as spam. Spam is usually encountered via email and social media, when someone hacks your account or when a sleazy person or group gets your email and bombards you with unwanted messages. Well spam conversation is similar. It's where a person is talking to you for a purpose that has nothing to do with you but what you can do for them--more blatantly, to sell you something.
In my case, that person was talking to me because they wanted me to sign up for their services (again, I won't be specific, but trust me, I remember what it is, that it's a service that requires clients). The person was with a reputable company and it wasn't a scam, as spam email often is, but it really blindsided me and annoyed me to the point that I abruptly stopped the conversation. When they continued to try to convince me to at least meet with them to discuss stuff, I bluntly said I'm not interested, and felt like I had been duped. Of course, they gave me their card (which I think I still have as a spam-conversation souvenir) even after I said I wasn't interested.
Basically, people who go to a benign function and use it to get more sales seem like they're there to use people, not to enjoy the function. And having a friendly conversation that masks their true intention--to get a sale--is manipulative and deceptive. So I'm calling that spam, and I'm surprised that I didn't see it coming, probably because the person didn't seem like a salesperson. But that's their skill, I suppose, and why they can afford to live in the nice burbs (assuming that they have a nice house there).
12.14.2018
I just had a school cafeteria experience
I wasn't going to write about this publicly, and texted a few people about it, but since they haven't responded, I'll write about it here, because walking around is not enough to process the school cafeteria experience that I just had.
I just started teaching somewhere where I probably know a few people...literally. And they're mere coworkers, not friends (unlike at Daley College, where I would say I work with people who[m] I consider work friends, some of whom I've hung out with outside school...but that's for another, shortly-forthcoming post).
So at this new place where I've taught and will teach again in the new year, I assumed going to the holiday event would be enjoyable. I don't know a ton of people, but I figured I'd meet new people or at least see one of the few I know. I walked into a large room with lots of people eating, standing in line, sitting at tables, and I looked around for one of those known people. Nada. I couldn't see them nor any of the people I'd briefly met since I started. So I got some food and looked for an opening at a table to join an already-established group. I approached a table with four chairs, two of which were occupied. I asked the pair if I could sit there, since I don't know anyone. They looked at me quizzically, then muttered an affirmative. I sheepishly sat down and a bright purple light was shining in my direction, and I dared not move the chair to an unlit spot at the table lest those folks thought I was usurping their cloistered coworker space, so I used that as an excuse to say goodbye, and they barely even nodded in acknowledgement.
I looked around the room and didn't see many available spaces, so I sat at an empty table, near someone else who was sitting alone at another table. Being the social person that I am, I thought of asking the person if I could join them, but they looked too engrossed in eating, and I suspected a repeat of what I'd already experienced across the room, so I sat at the empty table alone, at the corner, figuring that people would fill in the seats next to me. People came in and went, looking at me then walking away. As I was looking towards the entrance for the few people I knew, I noticed a few people came to my table, but sat at the opposite end. I figured I wouldn't get the group experience I was expecting (and not to be naive, but I figured since we all worked at the same place and it was a holiday gathering, that concept would spill over into casual interactions among the crowd), so I just ate and texted a few people about my plight. With no responses from the recipients, I finished eating my meal and walked towards the Big Boss of the place and told them (I'm not specifying gender) that I enjoy teaching there and answered their question about what I taught...thus the first conversation I'd had at the event. I didn't want to leave without a bottle of water, so as I was waiting for the bartender to give me one, I saw a person I'd met a while ago, and said hello. I thought we'd talk about the email they'd sent out that I'd responded to, but they quickly ducked behind a partition and instead of risking standing alone once again, I left.
As I was walking through downtown, I thought this is what people mean when they share their school cafeteria experiences: they sit alone, not part of a group, and no one attempts to befriend them or allows them to sit with them. Usually such people are shunned and they feel awful through those difficult years. My difficulty lasted less than an hour, and I feel better now that I've extricated myself away from there, but for those other people, their ostracism lingers.
And what's ironic about my cafeteria experience is that it took place at a school where some people probably grew up as outsiders. I figured since we're all adults, it would be no big deal to be with people I didn't know, but it ended up being an experience a number of them probably had but hadn't processed it enough to reach out to another solitary table-sitter.
I just started teaching somewhere where I probably know a few people...literally. And they're mere coworkers, not friends (unlike at Daley College, where I would say I work with people who[m] I consider work friends, some of whom I've hung out with outside school...but that's for another, shortly-forthcoming post).
So at this new place where I've taught and will teach again in the new year, I assumed going to the holiday event would be enjoyable. I don't know a ton of people, but I figured I'd meet new people or at least see one of the few I know. I walked into a large room with lots of people eating, standing in line, sitting at tables, and I looked around for one of those known people. Nada. I couldn't see them nor any of the people I'd briefly met since I started. So I got some food and looked for an opening at a table to join an already-established group. I approached a table with four chairs, two of which were occupied. I asked the pair if I could sit there, since I don't know anyone. They looked at me quizzically, then muttered an affirmative. I sheepishly sat down and a bright purple light was shining in my direction, and I dared not move the chair to an unlit spot at the table lest those folks thought I was usurping their cloistered coworker space, so I used that as an excuse to say goodbye, and they barely even nodded in acknowledgement.
I looked around the room and didn't see many available spaces, so I sat at an empty table, near someone else who was sitting alone at another table. Being the social person that I am, I thought of asking the person if I could join them, but they looked too engrossed in eating, and I suspected a repeat of what I'd already experienced across the room, so I sat at the empty table alone, at the corner, figuring that people would fill in the seats next to me. People came in and went, looking at me then walking away. As I was looking towards the entrance for the few people I knew, I noticed a few people came to my table, but sat at the opposite end. I figured I wouldn't get the group experience I was expecting (and not to be naive, but I figured since we all worked at the same place and it was a holiday gathering, that concept would spill over into casual interactions among the crowd), so I just ate and texted a few people about my plight. With no responses from the recipients, I finished eating my meal and walked towards the Big Boss of the place and told them (I'm not specifying gender) that I enjoy teaching there and answered their question about what I taught...thus the first conversation I'd had at the event. I didn't want to leave without a bottle of water, so as I was waiting for the bartender to give me one, I saw a person I'd met a while ago, and said hello. I thought we'd talk about the email they'd sent out that I'd responded to, but they quickly ducked behind a partition and instead of risking standing alone once again, I left.
As I was walking through downtown, I thought this is what people mean when they share their school cafeteria experiences: they sit alone, not part of a group, and no one attempts to befriend them or allows them to sit with them. Usually such people are shunned and they feel awful through those difficult years. My difficulty lasted less than an hour, and I feel better now that I've extricated myself away from there, but for those other people, their ostracism lingers.
And what's ironic about my cafeteria experience is that it took place at a school where some people probably grew up as outsiders. I figured since we're all adults, it would be no big deal to be with people I didn't know, but it ended up being an experience a number of them probably had but hadn't processed it enough to reach out to another solitary table-sitter.
12.05.2018
After more than a decade, I did Nanowrimo again
I did Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) a few times, way back in 2002, 2004, 2005, and I think partly in 2006 (though I'm pretty sure I decided not to finish once I barely got through the month), and I really thought I was done with the whole thing, that I would never attempt it again, and would probably not write fiction again. Weirdly, doing all that fiction writing so many years ago led to non-fiction paid writing, including ghost writing, so it worked out professionally. Then I got into audio, then teaching and other stuff, so I thought fiction was gone from my life forever. At one point, when I started the fake blog (which I'm still doing), I started thinking about "what-ifs" so much to the point that I started writing an actual novel again. I was progressing okay, very motivated but not consistent, when someone at a writing group mentioned Nanowrimo. No way, I said, I'm not doing that, it's too intense and crazy, but at the end of October, I signed up, and started writing furiously on Nov 1. I almost quit after a few days because I realized my schedule was too packed to fit lots of writing in, but after reading some articles online about quitting, I decided not to. So I spent pretty much any free time I had, even if it was at 5 AM before work, writing and writing and writing. Halfway through I was dried out and thought I couldn't proceed. But some helpful people at the Chiwrimo group suggested I not only focus on plot but on developing the characters more, and I found myself writing a lot of interior thoughts and voila, after furiously writing all month, I actually finished a few days early.
I was so wiped out, I was numb. What remained was still a strong desire to write, even if it was just at the fake blog. So I've been doing that. But let me reflect on how this Nano was different than what I experienced early in the century:
1 - I'm way more real now. When I did it in the early years, I was a wannabe. Yes, I'm admitting publicly that I was a phony fiction writer. Even though I did Nano a few times, wrote a lot of fiction in those days even outside of November, took classes, formed a writing group and the Metrofiction website, I was of form and no substance. I wanted to make it, get my book done, find an agent and market, and live the writer's life. Then I got so discouraged going down that phony path, I gave it up and worked in the real world and was a writer, but the practical sort (which is fine with me). This year, I was very into the story and how the characters interacted and developed, and really enjoyed the process. I was frazzled, but the writing was really a part of me and I didn't skip to some impossible future in my head but just enjoyed being creative and working ideas out in the moment. So I can honestly say that I'm not a phony wannabe anymore; I'm a writer who may get published or who may not, but either way I'm still into the story and want to continue working it out. (And I really am a writer and am even in the useless Writers Guild, but I'm not a published fiction writer.)
2 - I didn't feel sorry for myself this time around. If you've read earlier posts on this blog (and I shouldn't mention that because it's embarrassing to see how I used to write here), you'll notice that I did a lot of whining. I whined way more in my journal and in my head, but I was such a sorry sap. And it carried over into Nano when I did it those few times. This time, I didn't feel sorry for myself at all, I just wrote and wrote and went for the goal. No time to ponder, just wrote as much as I could and was very productive. I didn't think about being published or being invited to cool events like those famous authors are (who are introverted and would rather be alone, which is mystifying, but that's for another post), I just was in the moment, which left no room for emotions except from my main character who really went through a lot. If I ever can finish writing the book and edit it effectively, you'll find out what I'm talking about. She starts out one way and ends up another way, and if I were a better writer I'd be able to convey that, but who cares...at least I'm trying. See? I've changed as well. She occupies my mind and her world has become an extension of mine, and I'm not crazy, just have a new companion around who I want to write about.
3 - Nanowrimo is huge now. When I did it years ago, it was an alternative group and corner of the Internet that a lot of people didn't know about. I think I found out about it via blogs, but because social media wasn't around, it didn't explode and wasn't the institution it is now. Now they have lots of money, sponsors and deals, professional authors giving pep talks, groups all over the world, a sophisticated website, a more layered financial and social structure, and a lot more. Back then I felt like we were in a small town, at least those of us outside the San Francisco area, where Nano was established. It's sort of like being in Macao before it was handed back to China: it was a quiet place in the corner of Asia, not the wild development that it is now.
4 - I don't want to do it again. I don't know why I did it 3.5 times back in the day, but now that I've done it again, I really can't handle the experience once more. I might change my mind next year because it's a crazy all-consuming pursuit that puts you on a wild ride of intensity, and my life might need that at that moment, but it really took up all my free time. I didn't even have time to blog here or fake blog elsewhere. I didn't even write in my journal. Any time I had to write was devoted to Nano, and I don't know if I want to lack the breathing space again.
I was so wiped out, I was numb. What remained was still a strong desire to write, even if it was just at the fake blog. So I've been doing that. But let me reflect on how this Nano was different than what I experienced early in the century:
1 - I'm way more real now. When I did it in the early years, I was a wannabe. Yes, I'm admitting publicly that I was a phony fiction writer. Even though I did Nano a few times, wrote a lot of fiction in those days even outside of November, took classes, formed a writing group and the Metrofiction website, I was of form and no substance. I wanted to make it, get my book done, find an agent and market, and live the writer's life. Then I got so discouraged going down that phony path, I gave it up and worked in the real world and was a writer, but the practical sort (which is fine with me). This year, I was very into the story and how the characters interacted and developed, and really enjoyed the process. I was frazzled, but the writing was really a part of me and I didn't skip to some impossible future in my head but just enjoyed being creative and working ideas out in the moment. So I can honestly say that I'm not a phony wannabe anymore; I'm a writer who may get published or who may not, but either way I'm still into the story and want to continue working it out. (And I really am a writer and am even in the useless Writers Guild, but I'm not a published fiction writer.)
2 - I didn't feel sorry for myself this time around. If you've read earlier posts on this blog (and I shouldn't mention that because it's embarrassing to see how I used to write here), you'll notice that I did a lot of whining. I whined way more in my journal and in my head, but I was such a sorry sap. And it carried over into Nano when I did it those few times. This time, I didn't feel sorry for myself at all, I just wrote and wrote and went for the goal. No time to ponder, just wrote as much as I could and was very productive. I didn't think about being published or being invited to cool events like those famous authors are (who are introverted and would rather be alone, which is mystifying, but that's for another post), I just was in the moment, which left no room for emotions except from my main character who really went through a lot. If I ever can finish writing the book and edit it effectively, you'll find out what I'm talking about. She starts out one way and ends up another way, and if I were a better writer I'd be able to convey that, but who cares...at least I'm trying. See? I've changed as well. She occupies my mind and her world has become an extension of mine, and I'm not crazy, just have a new companion around who I want to write about.
3 - Nanowrimo is huge now. When I did it years ago, it was an alternative group and corner of the Internet that a lot of people didn't know about. I think I found out about it via blogs, but because social media wasn't around, it didn't explode and wasn't the institution it is now. Now they have lots of money, sponsors and deals, professional authors giving pep talks, groups all over the world, a sophisticated website, a more layered financial and social structure, and a lot more. Back then I felt like we were in a small town, at least those of us outside the San Francisco area, where Nano was established. It's sort of like being in Macao before it was handed back to China: it was a quiet place in the corner of Asia, not the wild development that it is now.
4 - I don't want to do it again. I don't know why I did it 3.5 times back in the day, but now that I've done it again, I really can't handle the experience once more. I might change my mind next year because it's a crazy all-consuming pursuit that puts you on a wild ride of intensity, and my life might need that at that moment, but it really took up all my free time. I didn't even have time to blog here or fake blog elsewhere. I didn't even write in my journal. Any time I had to write was devoted to Nano, and I don't know if I want to lack the breathing space again.
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