Here’s what’s happening right now. The husband is scraping
pumpkins with his fingernails. Why? Why, because we were so lame and laggard about
buying pumpkins that the only ones he could find were painted. Consequently, he
is scraping off the paint, in preparation for carving them. And I am watching.
I mean, after handing him a scrubby and a steel wool pad to try. I’m not
completely unhelpful, just ultimately so.
Last weekend was a long weekend for us. It kicked off
Thursday morning, when one of us, I’m not saying which one, because it would be
cruel, microwaved the butter. This wouldn’t have been a problem, except that
this was special, European (French) butter, imported in an aluminum foil
wrapper. As A. A. Milne might have written, this person “did like a little bit
of butter for [his or her] bread.” And wanted it softened. Didn’t remember, at
the unseemly hour of before school began, that metal and microwaves don’t mix.
The result was a noticeable pop, and a ball of flames inside the
thousand-year-old microwave we’ve moved six times.
As is so often the case, especially with people, nothing
seemed wrong with the microwave when you looked at it. However, mid-morning,
when I wanted to reheat my coffee – I know, yuck, reheated coffee; what kind of
connoisseur am I? Answer – no kind – the defects became apparent.
I’m liking this damaged people, damaged microwave analogy. I
could really run with it. But is it what I want to get into? The point is, if
there is a point, that once you get to know even those microwaves that look fully
functional, those microwaves with deluxe features, even those combination
convection oven-microwave ovens, their defects become apparent. So while you’re
busy crossing the street to avoid those microwaves that are shouting
obscenities and weaving in your path, the ones that usually cause the most
trouble are those ones that short circuit from the inside. If you don’t unplug
them, they’ll burn down your house.
Dark.
Anyhoo. Off we went to Boston, to visit colleges and
friends. The trip to Boston was a success on several levels. One important one
was that we all survived the weekend at our friends’ house without having any
horrible intestinal illnesses. I
was kinda anxious about descending upon our friends A & T for the weekend,
since we are four, and they are two. And the bathroom is one. But the real
anxiety was the traumatic stress I suffered the last time we four stayed with A
& T. To wit, the current 11th grader was then in preschool and her
sister was still sleeping in a Pack ‘n Play; some time in the late evening,
the preschooler commenced vomiting, which she continued doing every forty-five
minutes or less until we managed to load ourselves into our car and head back
out the Mass Turnpike at 7:30 in the morning.
I have never recovered from this terrible experience. The
guilt of inflicting ourselves on our friends. The whole thing was just, you
know, yucky.
So I had residual apprehension about the four of us
going there again, even though, mirabile
dictu, this didn’t cause our friendship to end, even though A & T
remained undeterred in their decision not to have children. Perhaps this
episode underscored for them the rightness of this choice. I can’t say. What I
can say is that, while since then, I have slept under their roof and
they under ours, this particular sleeping arrangement had not occurred in the intervening
twelve or thirteen years.
Now, we have cancelled out the past, with a successful
visit, during which nothing untoward happened, unless you consider the children
observing the adults acting like, uh, children, children who drink lots of
beer, untoward.
All of this dwelling on the dark and negative, Readers, has
a point. The point is that sometimes negative thinking can lead to success. I
was reminded of this by a recent piece in the NYTimes, “The Problem With
Positive Thinking.” This piece reminded me of two things I’ve learned. One, that
an idea worth writing about once is worth writing about repeatedly. It’s worth
revisiting, like Boston. Or your
fears. This is good news, don’t you think? I do. Two, this idea that “the key
to success is to cultivate and doggedly maintain an optimistic outlook,” has
often prevented me from feeling like I can succeed. You see, I have a bit of a
problem with the cultivation and doggedness of optimism. For a long time, I
tried to convince myself that I am, at heart, an optimist. And I may, indeed
be. However, I am learning that this buried nugget of optimism is not what my
closest and dearest friends associate with me. It may be too well-buried.
For example, just this weekend, gathered ‘round the dining
room table with our friends, spurred by a glass or two of Italian wine, I remarked that I think I’m fairly optimistic.
“You are?” One of my so-called friends said, in an insulting
tone of incredulity.
I
said, “Well, it’s true that the husband and I often have different reactions to
the same stimulus.” Well, those weren’t my exact words. Who can recall exactly
what one says when one is drinking Italian wine? More or less, I said that for
example, when I see our dog lying with his head on his paws, I’m filled with a
terrible feeling that he’s bored and unstimulated. “Look at that poor,
miserable doggie,” I’ll say, and feel that I have to do something to make him
feel better. The husband, on the other hand, comes into the room, looks at the
dog in the same pose and says, “Look at how happy he looks.” Then he goes off
to play the piano, or do a crossword puzzle, without a nagging feeling of guilt
and failure.
I have felt much shame about that negative tendency in
myself, thinking it has doomed me to failure. However, the beauty of this
article was that it revisited this idea and declared it untrue. It turns out
that positive thinking can cause a person to relax , to lose energy, and
therefore to lose motivation.
Now, this idea isn’t actually new. Two of my favorite
psychologists, Carol Dweck and Heidi Grant Halvorsen, PhD, her onetime protégé,
are big into how your mindset affects your ability to achieve success. HGH,
PhD, in particular, has examined the ways that accepting your tendency towards
pessimism can help you attain success. In other words, if you’re going to be a
negative thinker, use that to your advantage, by figuring out what obstacles
may interfere with you reaching your goal, and how to overcome them.
According to this new article in the NYTimes, the best approach to a goal is twofold, a technique called
“mental contrasting.” In mental contrasting, you balance positive and negative
thinking. You envision a positive outcome; but you also consider the potential
obstacles. You are, in short, hopeful, but also realistic. I think I’m that.
Maybe. After my morning affirmations.
One key to the success of mental contrasting as a tool,
however, is that you must be going for “reasonable, potentially attainable
wishes.”
Hmmmm. How the heck are we to know what’s reasonable and
potentially attainable for us? Beats me. I guess that’s another article. C’mon,
NYTimes, help me out!
By the way, I lasted five days without a microwave. Three of those days
we were out of town.
Where to begin? I guess I'll start with the oldest thing, which is your last family visit to our house. These things happen with small children. A and I have barely given it a second thought. Lots of people have thrown up at our house! And if there were ever an advertisement for the benefits of spawning, your kids are it. Both are intelligent, funny, and polite, which all children should be if they possibly can be.
ReplyDeleteSecondly, I assume that I am the insultingly incredulous so-called friend, but as you said, it's difficult to remember exactly who said or did what. I consider myself pretty optimistic, too, which is maybe why I've had such little success - if, that is, you count success in gold bars. If you count it in happiness, I'd say I'm in the 1%. What that might mean to the psychologists is anyone's guess but mine.
- T
I can't recall who was insultingly incredulous - but likely it was you! Or, perhaps I took a little creative license there, for humorous effect. I'm not above that.
DeleteI'm so sorry that we weren't the only ones to throw up at your house.However, I'm gladthat you've hardly given it a thought. I'm so glad I've thought about it repeatedly for many years. How healthy and optimistic of me...
Thanks for the kind words, T! I'll feel comfortable barfing in your house in future