Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 313

Boy vs. Girl: Episode 26 - Boy vs. Wife and Girl vs. Husband

In this week's episode, Rachel and I talk podcasting and gender with our spouses Elysha and David. 

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.

The worst person in the world

There are many terrible people in the world.

Gossips. Cowards, Bigots. Fanatics. Cheaters. 

The lazy. The dishonest. The passive-aggressive. The violent. 

New York Jets fans.
Men who wear Gucci basketball sneakers.
People who shout out at live performances when the name of their hometown or college is mentioned by the speaker. 
Right-wing Republicans who worship Ronald Reagan while refusing to acknowledge his record on immigration, taxation, government spending, and compromise.

But I've always felt like there is one quality above all others that is the worst, and oftentimes the most dangerous:

The large, fragile ego.

A large ego can be a good thing or a bad thing depending on how the possessor of that ego wields it. But either way, a large ego isn't inherently terrible or especially dangerous. 

A fragile ego is certainly the best thing in the world, but if it's not oversized, it's often only limiting to its possessor.

But the large, fragile ego is a terrible and dangerous thing, particularly when the person possessing the large, fragile ego is in a position of power. These are the men and women (but mostly men) who think highly of themselves but are unable to endure criticism of any kind. These are the egomaniacs who also desperately need to be loved. Adored. Cherished. Admired. 

This is a terrible and dangerous combination.
These are the people who ultimately prove to be vindictive. Vengeful. Unpredictable.

They are administrators and managers and politicians and bosses who will love you one day and hate you the next simply based upon the tenor of your support. They are the leaders who shift their position with public opinion as often as the wind. They are the ones who often ask (or require) others to publicly support their decisions even while knowing full well that these subordinates do not. They are managers incapable of doing their own dirty work. They are administrators who prey on the weak and promote the most frightened, agreeable, or easily swayed individuals. 

I think of them as over-inflated balloons. Handle the enormity of the stretched rubber the wrong way and it will pop. 

They are also terrible and dangerous because of their prevalence. They exist in frightening large numbers. I have known many of these cretins over the course of my life, and I'm sure you have as well.

Worst of all, there's no fixing them as far as I can tell. They are eternally despicable. Forever fragile. Endlessly pathetic. Permanently damaged. No amount of instruction or training or life experience will correct this tragic flaw. They are terrible right down to their bones. 

Avoid these people (mostly men) like the plague.
Vote them out of office. 
Transfer out of their division.
Leave their work group as quickly as possible.
Never marry them.
Do everything you can to keep these people out of your life and out of power.

The reverse nap. The Trump nomination. Female eligibility in the military draft. People thought I was crazy all three times. Now I get to say those four glorious words.

In October of 2012, I wrote about the reverse nap, a self-described practice in which I get up in the middle of the night, work for an hour or two, and then go back to bed. 

Later that month, I wrote about how my reverse nap had already been adopted by a handful of readers.

In February of 2014, I wrote about scientific evidence supporting the reverse nap.

In March of this year, in the New York Times Magazine, Jesse Barron writes about the benefits of segmented sleep.

And what is segmented sleep? Yes, you're right. It's the reverse nap. 

Four years after I write about the benefits of the reverse nap for the first time (and readers think I am crazy), the world is finally catching up to me. 

It's the story of my life:

I have an idea that is new and seemingly bizarre. People make fun of me. They call me crazy.

Years later, the idea is adopted by the mainstream.

I predicted in June of 2015 that Donald Trump would be the GOP candidate for President. Though it hasn't happened yet, the prediction isn't looking as crazy anymore.

In this case, I added four entries to my "I Told You So" calendar for each of the four people who said I was "stupid" and crazy" and "ridiculous." I cannot wait to make those phone calls later this summer (though a Trump candidacy is admittedly a terrifying prospect).

I first argued in 1994 in a speech class that women should be eligible for the military draft and that not making them eligible was a sexist and demeaning act. My classmates thought I was ridiculous and stupid and pie-in-the-sky.

I still have that speech.

Earlier this year, I reiterated this belief and discussed it on my podcast.  

Last week the Armed Services Committee voted to make women eligible for the military draft, just 22 years after I first spoke about this idea in a college classroom. Though this is only a recommendation that must now be passed by Congress, the country's top military brass now agree with the position I first adopted when I was 24 years old. 

My only saving grace is that I am a writer and often record these "crazy" ideas as evidence of my prescience in the face of naysayers.

It's no fun to be told that you're stupid or crazy or ridiculous, but it's always nice to say "I told you so," even if it takes years to utter those four glorious words.

When kids rule the world, it will be a fantastic place. But perhaps not always professional.

The TEDx conference at The Country School where I spoke last week was interesting in that it was run by students to a great degree.

Kids greeted me at the door. Kids organized the ancillary activities taking place in between talks. Kids assisted me with my tech. There were kids onstage reading poetry. The host of the conference was a kid.

Given that my talk was on the importance of expecting more from kids, I loved the high level of student involvement in the conference.

There was no better sign that kids were running the conference than the "reserved" sign that was placed on my seat by one of the student organizers. 

Simple. Effective. But definitely designed by a kid. 

Resolution update: April 2016

PERSONAL HEALTH

1. Don’t die.

Killing it. Not literally. 

2. Lose 20 pounds.

I'm up two pounds in April, primarily due to a book deadline that kept me out of the gym and eating poorly. Only down five pounds now. 15 to go.  

3. Do at least 100 push-ups and 100 sit-ups five days a week.

Done.

4. Practice yoga at least three days a week.

Two rounds of golf and my shoulder feels excellent. I'm going to schedule my yoga retraining in June once school is finished so I can apply myself more fully.  

WRITING CAREER

5. Complete my fifth novel before the end of February.

Done!

6. Complete my sixth novel.

I have two novels that are more than halfway finished and one that is finished but requires a complete re-write. However, it doesn't look like any of these will be my next novel. We decide upon the next book this month.  

7. Write a middle grade novel.

I meet with the editor in May to discuss.

8. Write at least three new picture books. 

I've begun writing a new picture book with one of my students.

I'm also in the process of receiving feedback on my first three picture books, which will help me as I choose my next books to write.  

9. Complete a book proposal for a book on storytelling.

The book is outlined, and most of the proposal is written. Sample chapters are being written in earnest. 
I accidentally deleted about 4,000 words last week. Kill me. Also not literally. 

10. Write a new screenplay

No progress yet.

11. Write a musical for a summer camp

I'm in the process of outlining the musical so my partner can begin work on the songs, 

12. Publish at least one Op-Ed in The New York Times.

I submitted two Op-Eds to the New York Times in April. Both were rejected.

13. Publish an article in an educational journal.

No progress yet. 

14. Submit one or more short stories to at least three publishing outlets.

No progress yet.

15. Select three behaviors that I am opposed to and adopt them for one week, then write about my experiences on the blog.

I spent a week backing my car into parking spots (which initially struck me as insane). I am still writing about my experience. 

16. Increase my author newsletter subscriber base to 1,000.

I gained 3 subscribers in April and 45 since the beginning of the year. My total stands at 957. 

If you'd like to subscribe and receive my monthly writing and storytelling tip, as well as my recommendations and other miscellany, you can do so here:

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17. Collaborate with a former colleague on an educational book.

This project has been cancelled. After meeting with my collaborator, we determined that I am not best suited for this project.    

STORYTELLING

18. Produce a total of 12 Speak Up storytelling events.

We produced one show at Real Art Ways and one show at the Unitarian Universalist Society, bringing our total number of Speak Up events in 2016 to five.  

We have nine more events on the calendar in 2016 (with one or two more possible show), which will bring our total to at least 14. 

19. Deliver a TED Talk.

Done twice over! 

I spoke at TEDxNatick in January. The title of the talk was "Live Your Life Like Your 100 Year-Old Self."
Here's the recording: 
 

I also spoke at the TEDx conference at The Country School in Madison, CT in April. The title of the talk was "Speak Less. Expect More." 

I'll post the recording when it's available. 

I've also been asked to pitch talks to two other TEDx events in 2016.

20. Attend at least 15 Moth events with the intention of telling a story.

In April, I performed in a Moth Mainstage show at Boston University.

I also attended a Moth StorySLAM at Housing Works but did not have my name drawn from the bag. 

I also competed in a Moth GrandSLAM at the Music Hall of Williamsburg in Brooklyn, NYC.

This brings my total number of Moth events in 2016 to seven.   

21. Win at least three Moth StorySLAMs.

I attended but did not compete in a StorySLAM in April. So far I have attended three StorySLAMs in 2016 and only performed in one (and had to go first in the one). 

22. Win a Moth GrandSLAM.

Done! I won the Moth GrandSLAM in Somerville in March. 

I placed second in the most recent NYC GrandSLAM in April. I've had to perform from second position in the last three GrandSLAMs, which sucks.

23. Launch at least one new podcast.

Background work (podcast logo, hosting service, website, etc.) has begun.   

24. Launch a storytelling project that I will otherwise remain vague about here but will become a primary focus of 2016. 

Work on this project will begin in earnest. 

NEW PROJECTS

25. Host at least one Shakespeare Circle.

No progress.

26. Learn to cook three good meals for my wife.

No progress.

27. Plan a 25 year reunion of the Heavy Metal Playhouse.

No progress.

MISCELLANEOUS

28. Replace the 12 ancient, energy-inefficient windows in our home with new windows that will keep the cold out and actually open in the warmer months.

No progress. 

29. Optimize our television for a streaming service. 

Likely a summer project. 

30. Set a new personal best in golf.

I played two rounds of golf in April and shot a 51 and a 55 for nine holes. My nine hole best is 45.

I'm actually playing well despite my scores. I plan to work closely with a friend this year to significantly improve my game.  

I also applied for a targeted practice experiment through a popular podcast with a specific focus on hitting my driver farther. If accepted, I will receive a professional trainer and my progress will be charted via the podcast.  

31. Play poker at least six times in 2016.

I played one game in April. I've scheduled a second game in May. 

32. Do not speak negatively about another person's physical appearance except when done in jest with my closest friends. 

Done. I wanted to tell Elysha about an enormous man on a tiny moped who I saw driving past our home but did not. This was the first moment when I was seriously tempted to violate this resolution. 

Honestly, it's not a difficult goal. Everyone should adopt it.  

33. Post my progress in terms of these resolutions on this blog on the first day of every month.

Done.

Owen: 2000-2016

I lost a friend yesterday.

After a short battle with an indeterminate disease, our cat of died peacefully in our arms yesterday.

Owen was an incredibly healthy cat until his final month, and he lived a life filled with love and leisure. Our hearts are aching today. He will be missed.

Making this loss doubly difficult was the loss that our children experienced. For both of them, this is the first death that they experienced. 

Owen's life was an interesting one.

________________________________

Though he was 16 years old at the time of his death, he only learned his name in his last year of life. 

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About ten years ago, he took a fancy to wool and began eating through Elysha's cashmere scarves and sweaters. He would eat the clothing right off your body if you let him.

One morning he sat in my lap and ate a hole in the front of my wool pants which I only discovered at school after I removed my sweatshirt. I was standing in front of the class, teaching, when a girl in the front row said, "Mr. Dicks. I can see your underwear." 

Assuming a little bit of my waistband was poking from my band, I said, "Knock it off," and started reaching around my waist to tuck in the offending bit of cotton.

"No," she said, pointing at my crotch. "I can see a lot of your underwear. Like a lot."

She wasn't kidding. It was a hole the size of a softball.

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I was putting clothing in the dryer one day while listening to music on my headphones. Once all of the clothing was loaded, I closed the door and turned the dryer on. I walked away, listening to the music blare through my headphones, but just as I was about to turn the corner and leave the room, I heard a bang. Then another. Then another. I removed my headphones and realized what was happening. I ran to the dryer and opened the door. A wet, frizzy, terrified Owen leapt from the dryer and sprinted away.

Had the music been a little louder or I had been a little faster, I shudder to think what could've happened. 

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Owen threw up a lot. He was a cat who loved to eat enormous amounts of food and then purge. He also routinely ate plastic, ribbons, paper, and a host of other items and would later (and thankfully purge them as well. It was only through the purchase of the Bissell Spot-Bot, a small carpet shampoo device that Owen was allowed into any room with a carpet.

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For years, Owen wanted to get outdoors, and it was a constant battle to keep him inside. One day he finally managed to escape for an indeterminate amount of time. When we found him, he was standing by the back door - which was made of glass - desperately trying to get back in. For a cat who took 16 years to learn his name, he learned this lesson quickly. He never tried to escape again

________________________________.

Owen once caught a mouse in our old apartment and would not let it go. He held it in his mouth and made a strange huffing sound as he walked throughout the house with it. Finally, I got Owen to go into the bathroom. I locked myself inside with him and went to battle with him over the mouse, finally extracting the disgusting thing from his jaws. 

It was a battle unlike any other.

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Owen had a brother named Jack who he loved dearly. Jack died back in 2009, and soon thereafter, Clara was born. Losing his brother and suddenly having to share attention with a baby was difficult for him. He lost his mind for a couple years. His grief was palatable and tragic. It was a terrible thing to watch, but eventually, he seemed to accept the loss of Jack and find a new spot on the pecking order that was acceptable for him.

In his last few years, he became a truly sweet and tender boy.

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Owen was easily over-stimulated. Pet him for more than a couple minute and he would bite you. It wasn't a bite born from aggression but from love, but it still hurt like hell. To his credit, though, Owen never bit either one of our kids, no matter how much petting, tail pulling, and hugging they did. He bit Elysha and me hundreds of times, but he knew better than to bite a child.

Owen didn't love Clara at first, primarily due to her constant pulling of his tail and crushing hugs, but over the past few years, the two grew incredibly close. Owen began sleeping with Clara for a portion of the night, and she fell head over heels for the big boy in his last couple years, making his death even more difficult to bear. 

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Owen was an enormous cat. He weighed about 17 pounds. My friends often made fun of me for owning a dog smaller than my cat.

________________________________

Owen and Kaleigh, our dog, got along well unless food was involved.

Kaleigh is an asshole when it comes to food.

Kaleigh is 15 years old, so she and Owen grew into old age together. They weren't best friends but more like amicable roommates with occasional moments of surprising affection. I suspect that she will miss him. 

________________________________

Owen loved us all, but he loved Elysha most of all. She adopted him from the same animal hospital where he died yesterday, and they were together longer than she and I have been together. Owen was fond of sleeping at Elysha's feet every night and lying on her chest when we watched television. He purred so loudly that we sometimes couldn't hear the TV.  He would wake her up with a nuzzle in the morning and do everything possible to sit in her lap when she was sitting. 

It was a love story like no other. 

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Losing Owen was tough on all of us, but the kids have been surprisingly resilient and strong. We told them on Thursday that Owen was sick and could die any day, giving us one more precious day to love him. This was an especially difficult 24 hours for Elysha and me, and at one point, I was weeping. Clara took my hand and said, "Daddy, try to think of all the good memories we have with Owen. Tell me an Owen story and you'll feel better. Stories always make people feel better."

She's so wise and strong for a seven year-old.

Charlie doesn't understand death as well. But since Owen's death, he has said:

"Owen's gone and we can't have him back." 

"Is he gone forever?"

"What does it mean to die."

It hasn't been easy on any of us.

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Owen's last day has hard. Elysha took him outside for a final moment in the sun. The kids said goodbye as they left for school and playdates, unaware that they would never see him again. But they knew that he was dying, so these last farewells were touching and meaningful. 

In his final moments, I told Owen that I loved him, and I thanked him for all that he has given to us and our family. I've known Owen for 13 years, and he has been a friend and companion who I will always remember.

Readers of this blog might know that I do not deal well with death, and this was no exception.

Rest in peace, Owen. I hope I am wrong, and that there is a heaven, and I hope that you and Jack are there now, curled together once again.  

A broken lawnmower, a fifth grade boy, and CragsList.com make me wonder if God is real.

Last Saturday I spoke about teaching at a TEDx conference at The Country School in Madison, CT.

My talk was about the capacity of students and the importance of expecting more from them on a daily basis. As a part of the talk, I told the story of a former student named Jack Murphy who I had hired to be my classroom personal assistant. Throughout the school year, Jack strove to be my best personal assistant ever, constantly asking if there was more that he could do for me.  

One day, after Jack had asked me one too many times if he could help, I said, "Fine, Jack. I have a broken lawn mower in my shed at home. The town dump won't take it, and my wife won't let me illegally dump it. It's been sitting there for three years. Get rid of that lawn mower, and I'll be impressed."

By the next day, Jack had found a person on CraigsList.com who refurbishes broken lawn mowers and had arranged for pick up at my home. I left the lawn mower at the bottom of my driveway, and a day later, it was gone.

And the guy paid me $50 for the broken machine. 

Jack Murphy became the greatest personal assistant of all time. 

On the way home from the TED Talk, I took a bend on a country road and saw three lawnmowers at the bottom of a driveway not unlike my own. They had red and white "For Sale" signs affixed to them. They looked old, not unlike the one Jack had sold for me.  

I laughed. Less than an hour ago, I had been talking about a broken lawn mower at the bottom of my driveway. "That's quite a coincidence," I thought. "They need Jack Murphy to sell their lawn mowers for them."

Then I looked across the street. Directly across the street from this driveway was a garage. 

Murphy's Garage

I was so stunned that I had to pull the car over to the side of the road for a moment. I could barely breathe.   

I'm a reluctant atheist. I'm a person who wishes he believed in a higher power but thus far has been unable to do so. Faith has been elusive for me. God is someone I want to be real but simply can't accept. 

But moments like this - of unbelievable, seemingly impossible coincidence - make me start to wonder if someone is offering me a sign.  

A question I don't want my wife to be asked

My son, Charlie, and I were on our way to our first haircut together. 

From the back seat, he asked. "Why does the car always drive so much faster when Mommy isn't in it?"

In my defense, we were running late. Also, I we weren't exceeding the speed limit by an entirely  unreasonable amount.

Boy vs. Girl: Episode 25 - Income in Dating, Mansplaining, and Tallywackers

In this week's episode, Rachel and I discuss income as a determining factor in dating, the ridiculousness of mansplaining, and our thoughts on the new restaurant Tallywackers and public nudity.

I tell Rachel that her boobs are not very special. It's great.

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.

Firemen became firefighters. Penmanship became handwriting. Great. But there's one gender neutral word I can't support.

Firemen became firefighters.
A serious improvement. I'd rather be a firefighter than a fireman. 

Stewardess became flight attendant.
Also an improvement.  

Policemen became police officer.
A solid choice. I'd rather call a police officer for help than a policeman. 

Mailman became mail carrier. 
Fine. More descriptive, even.

Penmanship became handwriting.
A more modern alternative.  

Waiter and waitress became server. 
I don't love it, but I can live with it. 

Freshmen became first year students.
A little awkward. Not the greatest. But I can live with it if I must.

I appreciate the attempt to create a more gender-neutral language, particularly when so many of these words traditionally skewed male. 

But there's one that I just can't get behind:

Fisherman has become fisher. 

In 2013, Washington state completed a six year process of rewriting their laws so that they were written using gender neutral terminology. Certain words like manhole cover remained because a better alternative could not be found, but fisherman became fisher, and I hate it.

And it's not only Washington who has adopted the new word. Many websites and news organizations acknowledge fisher as an appropriate alternative to fisherman.

I'm not saying that fisherman is the right word. I'm saying that despite it's obvious male slant, fisherman is a hell of a lot better than fisher. 

But I'm open to better options. I asked my students for alternatives, and their suggestions weren't all that appealing, either. 

Fisher person
Fish hunter
Fish catcher

To be honest, they didn't love these ideas, either. They also agreed that fisher was a terrible alternative.

One of them pointed out that a fisher is actually a small mammal that doesn't eat fish.

Another terrible use of the word.

So I'm looking for an alternative to fisher, and until I find one, I think I'm going stick with the admittedly male leaning and possibly sexist word fisherman.

Sometimes a word - even when wrong - just feels right. 

I don't know any professional fishermen - male or female - but I can't help but think that they would agree with me.