Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 119

Questionable restroom feng shui

I’m sure there is an excellent reason to place a chair and side table in a restroom directly opposite the toilet, but I can’t think of one and found this particular arrangement a little disturbing.

Don’t let the internet decide

New York’s Ulster County’s second annual Ulster Votes I Voted Sticker Contest is another reminder of the silliness of asking the internet to make a decision for you.

During the month of July, people have the opportunity to vote for their favorite sticker design. This year, the contest had eight finalists from the county between the ages of 13 and 18. Hudson Rowan’s sticker has gathered about 51,300 votes, a whopping 93 percent of the total votes.

“Politics right now in the world is all kinds of crazy,” Rowan said, “and I feel like the creature that I drew kind of resembles the craziness of politics and the world right now.”

Are you surprised that Rowan’s image is the most popular choice by an overwhelming margin?

No other entry has received more than 3% of the vote.

Have the folks in Ulster County so soon forgotten Britain’s request for citizens to recommend and vote to name their new Antarctic survey vessel back in 2016?

The winner of that particular contest:

Boaty McBoatface.

The British decide to go in a different direction, naming it the very boring Sir David Attenborough.

Or my favorite:

When VHI viewers chose The Horace Mann School for the Deaf as Taylor Swift’s next concert location.

VHI threw out those votes after learning that 4chan and Reddit were involved in making a school for the deaf the top choice. Swift instead donated $10,000 to the school and Horace Mann students received tickets to Swift’s next local performance.

The internet has a way of complicating things if you’re not careful.

I actually voted for Hudson Rowan’s design, of course, but not because I wanted to be silly or annoy officials in Ulster County (though both of those reasons are completely valid). The purpose of the “I voted” sticker is to establish a cultural norm of voting by indicating to nonvoters how many of their neighbors completed their civic duty.

I think Hudson Rowan’s sticker will do that job best. It’s going to be hard to miss the sticker once planted on voter’s shirts and jackets. It may frighten small children and annoy some of the more conservative officials of Ulster County who are attached to traditional iconography, but I also think that it’ll do the job quite well.

My storytelling anniversary

On July 12, I went to Boston with a friend to complete in a Moth StorySLAM. I told a story about taking Clara to her first New England Patriots game and a moment shared in the gloaming.

It marked my eleven-year anniversary in storytelling.

On July 12, 2011, I went to New York City to tell a story on a Moth stage at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe.

The Moth is a nonprofit organization dedicated to the art of storytelling. They produce shows around the world in which people stand on stages and tell true stories live without notes.

My friends initially directed me to The Moth and its podcast and suggested that I become a storyteller. “You’ve had the worst life of anyone I know,” one friend said. “You’ll make a great storyteller!”

It hasn’t been the worst life by far, but it hasn’t always been easy.

So after some hemming and hawing, Elysha, and I made out way into New York City so I could tell what I thought would be the one and only story of my life. I told a story about pole vaulting in high school.

Happily, miraculously, I won the StorySLAM.

In truth, a lot of things came together for me that night, though I didn’t realize it at the time.

For decades, I had been writing stories – both fiction and memoir. I had already published my first two novels, and I’d been blogging about my life for nearly a decade when I took that stage. Though I didn’t know it at the time, I had a deep and fundamental understanding of story when I took that stage.

For more than a decade, I had also been working as a wedding DJ, speaking extemporaneously to hundreds of strangers at a time every weekend. I understood how to use a microphone and my voice to command attention, and I had absolutely no fear of public speaking, which allowed me to speak with confidence and adjust my story on the fly in response to audience reaction.

I’d also been teaching for more than a decade, telling stories and desperately trying to hold the attention of the worst audience in the world:

Children.

My teaching career is predicated on deep and lasting connections with students. One of the primary ways I do that is through story.

I had also been on stage many times before. As a Boy Scout, I was often the one onstage at meetings and camp, delivering announcements, entertaining my fellow Scouts with skits and jokes, and filling silences with amusement. My primary means of garnering a girl’s attention was through story. I learned early on that speaking about my embarrassments, failures, and stupidity made people – including girls – like me, so I did it a lot.

I didn’t understand any of this until years later, but in many ways, I had been training for that night all my life.

The next day, I wrote a blog post about my experience, which included these words:

“I know it sounds a little silly, but in the grand scheme of things, the birth of  my daughter was probably the most important day of my life. Next comes the marriage to my wife, and then the sale of my first book, and then maybe this. It was that big for me.

Perhaps I’ll tell more stories in the future, and The Moth will become old hat for me, but on this day, at this moment, I couldn’t be happier.”

I was remarkably prescient while writing that post. It seems as if I already knew that I had found something special.

And I was right. It was a big night for me. Since that night:

I have competed in 97 Moth StorySLAMs, winning 56 of them.I’ve competed in 31 GrandSLAM championships, winning 9 of them.I’ve told stories for The Moth and many others shows in cities around the world to audiences big and small.

In 2013, Elysha and I launched Speak Up, our own storytelling organization. We’ve produced more than 100 shows since our inception, in theaters, museums, libraries, synagogues, outdoor venues, and last night on the lawn of the Hill-stead to an audience of more than 220 people. During the pandemic, we produced our shows virtually, finding an audience around the world. We produce a podcast. Partner with companies and nonprofits to help them share their visions with the world.

The craziest thing of all is how storytelling has allowed me to build a career in consulting and coaching. Today I spend my days working with Fortune 100 companies, small businesses, hospitals, attorneys, the clergy, photographers, entertainers, and many more. I help these people and organizations with storytelling, marketing, advertising, corporate communications, and public speaking. I’ve had opportunities to teach at Yale, Harvard, MIT, Boston College, Brown University, and so many more. I’ve worked as a substitute minister for church services. Taught storytelling at yoga and retreat centers. Helped members of the Mohawk nation tell better stories in their native language. Taught Santa Clauses to tell better stories to children on their laps. Taught storytelling for dating.

None of it was expected. I could have never predicted what might happen eleven years ago when I drove to New York City to tell that first story.

That is the most important thing to remember.

You never know how your life can change when you try something new. Exiting your comfort zone and doing something hard or scary or uncertain or terrifying or seemingly ridiculous is oftentimes the very best thing you can do for yourself.

Comfort produces complacency.

Fear limits our horizons.

Assuming that you can foresee your future or chart a definitive path for your life is an assumption filled with ignorance and hubris. You cannot possibly know what you are capable of doing or achieving without venturing into strange and uncharted territory.

My plan was to tell one story. As a result of that decision, doors opened to me that I could’ve never imagined. My life changed forever.

I hope it happens again.

I hope it happens for you.

Writing on Wattpad.

These are my children, post breakfast, both writing fiction on Wattpad, an online publishing platform used by millions of writers all over the world.

Clara is also listening to Taylor Swift, of course.

They are supposed to be getting ready for a day at camp.

It’s hard to complain.

Clara has almost completed her first novel. She hasn’t yet posted it on Wattpad and won’t let me read it.

She’s also begun a second novel. She’s deigned to share a little of it with me. Her father. The internationally bestselling author of six novels and two books of nonfiction. Why share it with me?

Now she’s writing a third novel on Wattpad. She’s slowly accumulating followers and views, including me. Her handle is “DaughterOfAthena698” if you’re interested in checking it out.

Seeing the success and excitement of his sister, Charlie has begun his own novel. The two spent a solid two hours on Sunday hashing out characters and plots before Charlie dove in.

Charlie won’t tell me his WattPad handle because he doesn’t want me reading his book until it’s finished.

None of this makes any sense to me. I’d allow readers to watch me write my books word by word if they wanted. My need for immediate feedback is immense and overwhelming. Perhaps it’s the result of growing up playing video games in arcades. Always knowing my score.

I might also be overconfident and unconcerned with the opinions of others, which is both a good and bad thing depending upon the circumstance.

Despite their unwillingness to share their work with me, I’m quite proud of my kids. Thrilled, even. Following in the step of their father. Joining the family business. Spending summer days writing and discussing their writing with each other.

It’s kind of amazing.

Still, they are also quite annoying.

The answer to banning books

Given the recent, increased propensity of book banning by fragile, foolish parents and stupid, opportunist politicians, the Brooklyn Public Library is offering a free library card to anyone in the United States ages 13 to 21 who wants to check out books digitally.

The program is called Books UnBanned.

Librarians are the best.

Barnes & Noble is also pushing back on this wave of book banning, featuring a table of recently banned books in their stores.

Booksellers are the best, too.

I suddenly find myself hoping that maybe, someday, one of my novels might get banned by cowering parents or pandering politicians who are afraid that my stories might infect the minds of small children and suddenly transform them into something unspeakably tolerant and disturbingly progressive.

I’d imagine that the inclusion of a same-sex kissing scene, a functioning Ouija board, a transgender teenager, a gender-neutral restroom, or the assertion that Confederate generals were traitorous scumbags might be more than enough to get a book banned these days.

I’ll see what I can do.

The end of the world

When human beings in the future ask why our society collapsed, the answer will be social media.

“They all met. The result was disastrous.”

Rainbow flags to you and you!

My rainbow flags arrived!50 glorious rainbow flags, perfectly sized for a standard envelope.My original plan was to mail the occasional rainbow flag to Pete Menjares, President of Seattle Pacific University, after his university refused to hire anyone from the LGBTQ community. At the graduation ceremony in May, students took the stage and handed Menjares a rainbow flag in lieu of shaking his hand.I loved this simple form of protest. A polite but public display of dissent. I wrote about it three weeks ago and decided to participate in the protest via the US mail by sending Menjares my own rainbow flag.Before my flags arrived, however, I read about Bishop Robert McManus’s decision to strip the designation of “Catholic School” from Nativity School in Worcester, MA because the students voted last year to fly pride and Black Lives Matter flags outside their school and refused to take them down.I wrote a letter to Bishop McManus reminding him that leaders of his church raped thousands of small boys over the course of decades, and that the church knew about these sexual assaults, did little to prevent them, and covered them up. I suggested that as a result of this criminal and evil behavior, perhaps Bishop McManus and his church had lost the right to tell children what is right and wrong.It occurs to me now that perhaps he should receive a rainbow flag, too.I know there are many other bigots in the world to whom I could send a rainbow flag, but these are the two bigot who I’ve written about here, so until someone else raises my ire enough to prompt me to write, these shall be the bigots to whom I send a rainbow flag today and occasionally in the future.Today’s flags will be sent with a simple letter that states:Dear________________,Stop obsessing over sex. It’s creepy. People who try to dictate how others should have sex are creepy and weird. Knock it off. There are lots and lots of real problems in this world. Trying fixing one of those and stop worrying about who loves who.Warmly,Matthew DicksTheir addresses, in case you were wondering, are the following:Seattle Pacific UniversityAttention: Pete Menjares, President3307 3rd Ave W
Seattle, WA 98119Dioceses of Worcester, MABishop Robert McManus49 Elm St.
Worcester, MA 01609

Things We Should’ve Had Long Ago

Some things rightfully take time to invent:

Rocket ships. Nonstick frying pans. Pez dispensers.

But some ideas are so simple and obvious that it’s kind of astounding that it took so long for them to be invented.

My list of those inventions includes:

Sticker adhesive on stampsWheels on suitcasesGrids on the back of wrapping paperAlarms on refrigerator doorsApple’s allowing customers to choose their own hold musicSelf adhesive envelopes

Anything to add to the list?

Optimists thrive

I support optimism at all times. Whenever possible.

Relentless optimism if you can manage.

My optimism has admittedly occasionally annoyed, irritated, and even offended people. Earlier this year, someone asked me how I was doing, and when I responded with, “Great!” she said, “Everything is always great with you. Great this. Great that. Do you ever have a bad day?”

She was clearly having a bad day.

But my argument for optimism is simple:

Two people agree to attend their friend’s fusion jazz concert at the end of the month.

Person A optimistically assumes that the evening will be lovely, even though their friend has no discernible musical talent.

Person B pessimistically assumes that the evening will be dreadful and endless.

At the end of the month, both arrive at the small theater, take their seats amongst a scant crowd, and experience one of the worst musical performances of their life. Fusion jazz played on a cowbell is not good. Their friend’s choice to also sing – which was entirely unexpected – makes it even worse. The entire performance, which lasts more than two hours, sounds like a howling cat being clubbed to death by an empty can of soup.

Person A and B both leave the theater annoyed, frustrated, and suffering from headaches.

Person B was correct. The night was dreadful and endless.

But Person A – the optimist – spent the entire month wrongly thinking that the evening would turn out well. For 30 days, Person A moved through life absent any dread about the future, blissfully ignorant of the horrific evening that lay before them.

Person B, on the other hand, spent that month worried about the performance. Dreading the evening. Ominously counting the minutes until its disastrous arrival.

Both people suffered the same awful evening, but Person B also suffered a month of dread and gloom. For Person B, the pessimistic assumption that the evening would turn out poorly infected the rest of the month. Person B suffered more because of their assumption that things would turn out poorly.

Person B was correct, of course, but being correct came with a price. That price was increased levels of stress and angst.

I have a chapter in my new book, “Someday Is Today,” on the importance of optimism. It’s titled, “Pessimists Die Only Knowing That They Were Correct. Optimists Thrive.”

Optimists are happier people. They may be incorrect about the future at times, and even a little pollyannaish, but the lead up to that future is far more delightful.

It turns out that optimism might also be good for your health.

According to a new study of nearly 160,000 women of different races and backgrounds, higher levels of optimism are associated with a longer lifespan and a greater chance of living past 90,

In fact, healthy lifestyle factors, such as the quality of diet, physical activity, body mass index (BMI), smoking and alcohol consumption, accounted for less than a fourth of the association between longevity and optimism, according to the study in the Journal of the American Geriatrics Society.

This also isn’t the first study to find a strong link between longevity and optimism. A 2019 study found both men and women with the highest levels of optimism had an average 11% to 15% longer life span than people who practiced little positive thinking. In fact, the highest-scoring optimists were most likely to live to age 85 or beyond.

The results held true, the study found, even when socioeconomic status, health conditions, depression, smoking, social engagement, poor diet, and alcohol use were considered.

I may not eat as many vegetables as I should, but I’m offensively optimistic. I might just live forever.

If you’re not an optimist, fear not. There is hope for you. Studies of twins have found only about 25% of our optimism is programmed by our genes. The rest is up to you.

If you want to become an optimist, it’s entirely possible.

Look for positivity in this world. Focus on human advancement and societal improvements. Try to balance the bad news with some good. Remind yourself of your own successes, both large and small. Cultivate hope for your the future.

If you can do so, you’ll be a happier person. Your chances of living longer increase dramatically. People will enjoy spending time with you.

Maybe, if you’re lucky enough, you’ll even trigger some sour puss into a tiny tirade about your perpetually, relentlessly optimistic disposition.

Don’t be late.

“Being late is not only a distraction, but it sends a selfish message that your time is more important than everyone else’s. It’s difficult to ever count on people like that.”

– Bill Belichick

Truer words have never been spoken. Being late is stupid.

Sadly, it’s sometimes unavoidable, too. Just last week, thanks to unexpected traffic and a miscommunication, my friends and I arrived five minutes late to a Moth StorySLAM and failed to get our names into the hat.

Incredibly disappointing. Completely my fault.

But I’ve also attended well over 150 Moth events in my life. Competed in 96 Moth StorySLAMs. This was the first time I’d ever been late for any of them. I hated being late. I felt stupid for being late. I spoiled the evening for my friends. But I also knew that I’d never been late for a Moth event before, despite needing to drive into New York City or Boston to attend these events.

It was stupid to be late that night, but my track record is exceptional.

Still, Belichick is correct. Being late, at least with any frequency or regularity, is selfish and disrespectful. It indicates your belief that your time is far more precious than anyone else’s time.

It’s also completely correctable. It’s not hard to be on time. It’s simply a matter of conscientiousness:

Pay attention to the time. Be realistic about travel time and the possibility of traffic. Leave early. Place the needs of others ahead of your own. Be a decent, kind, and respectful human being. Get your ass out the door, even if your shirt is wrinkled, the gift isn’t wrapped, or your hair is a mess.

You should’ve done those things earlier. Don’t make others suffer because you didn’t.

If you’re consistently, persistently late, you suck at life.

Happily it’s utterly and instantaneously correctable. Just fix it. Today. Decide today that you will be on time for all things. Then try like hell to make it true.

Someday is today.