Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 491

The rebels haven’t gone anywhere. They just suck now.

I tend to be a person who resists conformity and rejects tradition in favor of personal preference and a desperate attempt to preserve individuality and perhaps even enhance it.

In reflecting upon the recent revisions of our rock opera, The Clowns, I came to realize that I have been crafting the play around an issue that is at the core of my being, and one closely aligned to my resistance of conformity. 

At its heart, The Clowns is a play about the decisions that young people must make upon entering adulthood. Will they give up their childhood dreams in favor of something more realistic, probable and conventional, or will they hold on to the dreams of childhood even when all hope seems lost?

Most important, who is nobler? The people who dare to dream in the face of unlikely outcomes and potential ruin or the people who modify, compromise or otherwise alter their dreams in order to earn a living, support a family and more closely align themselves with societal norms?

Offstage, I find that most people eventually succumb to the latter, favoring conformity, conventionality and tradition over the dreams of their youth, and in many ways, sensibly, albeit tragically, so. 

It’s a question I framed in a post from a few years ago entitled Where have all the rebels gone? I wrote:

I tend to be someone who constantly wonders where all the rebels have gone. I cannot understand what causes the adolescent hellion, the twenty-something non-conformist and the teenage idealist to suddenly accept, embrace and surrender to the traditions and mores of modern society. I marvel at people who are my age; former activists, dreamers, militants and all-around challengers of authority, who have become so thoroughly invested in suburban conformity, expectations of appearance, the etiquette of the masses, and an overall concern with the opinions and values of the majority that they have begun to resemble the conservative, staid, judgmental, risk-free nature of their parents.

These are questions that have plagued me for some time. I suspect that it is why I have slowly been crafting our play in this direction, in order to address these issues, albeit unknowingly.

After years of postulating and searching, I am here to report that I’ve found all the rebels. Unfortunately, they didn’t go anywhere. 

A paper in this week’s Science magazine seeks to demonstrate how a person’s personality is constantly changing and evolving, and though most will acknowledge changes between the past and present, we mistakenly assume that these changes have ceased to take place and our personalities and belief systems are set in stone. The research indicates otherwise. Despite our belief that we have achieved our personality apex, we will continue to change throughout our entire lives. It’s what’s known as the “end of history illusion.”

From a TIME magazine report on this issue:

The older you get, the less you believe you have changed or will change. This finding isn’t surprising: for years, researchers have confirmed the common-sense idea that one’s personality and preferences become more stable with age. At 80, your grandfather will likely disparage whichever political party he opposes with more ferocity than he did at 65. As the Science research explains, even young people feel their current qualities are good qualities. They find it hard to imagine their beliefs and values could significantly change — even though most of us actually change our views often as time progresses.

It would appear that I am still surrounded by the rebels, but they simply are no longer rebels. Their beliefs and values have undergone enormous transformation over the last twenty years, and as a result, many of them have become their parents.

This is not to say that my belief system has not changed in the last twenty years as well. It most certainly has. I can list any number of ways in which the person I am today is vastly different than the person I was two decades ago. 

But I also believe that my refusal to abide to tradition and convention and conform to cultural expectations has not dissipated. At least I like to think it hasn’t. I may be more subtle at times about the ways in which I reject these conventions, opting for precision over brashness, but reject them I continue to do.

I am also not the only one. One of the most nonconforming people I know (and this may come as a shock to anyone who knows her) is my wife. She is an undercover nonconformer, disguising her frequent rejections of tradition and convention with a patina of pleasantry, politeness and popularity. People adore my wife with a fervor I have rarely seen. She is a kind, generous person who puts everyone around her at ease and genuinely cares about their wellbeing. Yet she is also is less conforming than almost everyone I know. She has found a brilliant balance between the rejection of conformity and her ability to navigate the world without raising a stir.

It’s quite remarkable.

I suspect that I cannot be an undercover nonconformer like my wife, mostly because I am not as kind, thoughtful and measured as she. 

But don’t let her fool you. She remains a rebel. To start, she married me, which may have been the most nonconforming act of her life.

When I first told my close friend that I was dating Elysha, he laughed, assuming that I was joking.

Elysha Green date Matthew Dicks? Not in a million years.

Not only was the match unlikely because the seeming difference in our personalities, but my wife is Jewish, and I am decidedly unreligious. Almost every person in my wife’s family has dated and married within the faith, When I attend family gatherings, I am often the only non-Jewish person in the room.

Yet not only did my wife marry me, but she almost never dated a Jewish man. Instead, she opted for Gentiles and heathens while her family (and most Jewish families in general), did otherwise.

My wife has also embraced the Christian holidays like Christmas to a degree that would make many Jews uncomfortable. Rather than attempting to prevent our children from falling in love with the trappings of the Yuletide season (and risk losing them to the marketing appeal of Christianity), she has wrapped our children in the same joy that she now has for the Christmas season. As far as I know, she is the only member of her family to ever have a Christmas tree in her home, and our children are the only ones in the family visited by Santa Claus each year.

Yet this is just the tip of the iceberg in terms of her nonconformity. Like me, my wife tends to lean toward logic, personal preference and individuality in many things. She simply does these things with more grace than me. While I am refusing to wear neckties and making wardrobe decisions that are oftentimes questionable at best, my wife has forged her own sense of style that causes people to take notice.

Someone once referred to it (before we were married) as the “Elysha Green look.”

The difference between her style and mine is simply that she looks a hell of a lot better than me. While my wardrobe decisions cause me to be viewed as a troublesome nonconformer, Elysha is viewed as chic and stylish.  

These are just a few examples of my wife’s nonconformity. I am lucky enough to be married to her, so I see these moments of resistance every day.

So there are still rebels in the world. Our numbers are simply dwindling under the unrelenting pressure of change. The people who once swore that they would never become their parents are becoming their parents with greater rapidity, leaving people like me on the outside, looking more and more unenlightened by the day.

Where have all the rebels gone?

They have gone nowhere. Like generations before us, my generation was not as special as we once thought. We did not upend society and change the world forever. We simply joined it. Slowly and methodically, with an inevitability that we never saw coming.

A few of us remain, but if the research is correct, we may soon fall as well. I cannot see that ever happening to me, but neither did my comrades in arms. Conformity, convention and tradition has crept into every fiber of their being in a way that would appall and disgust the teenage versions of themselves.

It’s probably happening to me. The process is simply slower. I’m a slightly tougher nut to crack. 

It’s like Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Resistance, I fear (or at least according to science), may be futile.

Author Jarrett Krosoczka wins over my students in less than 20 minutes. I’m STILL trying to win them over.

I played this video for my students last week as part of our Writer’s Workshop, and they were overwhelmed with inspiration.

Literally.

They were blown away by author and illustrator Jarrett’ Krosoczka’s ability to overcome difficult childhood circumstances while remaining positive. They couldn’t stop talking about the degree to which he dedicated himself to his craft at such an early age. Some of them pulled notebooks from their desks and started writing the novels and children’s books the instant the video ended.

One of my students referred to Krosoczka as his newest hero, which I found mildly disconcerting considering  he has yet to refer to me in those terms.

Whatever.

Another student said, “Mr. Dicks, you need to show us more stuff like this.”

I’d like to, but there simply aren’t that many Jarrett Krosoczkas in the world. But I assured my student that I’d keep my eyes open. 

My new favorite person in the world

My children absolutely adore each other. If you feel the need to tell me it won’t last forever, shut the hell up.

My wife and I are extremely fortunate in that our older daughter, Clara, is head over heels in love with her brother, Charlie. In the seven months that Charlie has been with us, Clara has yet to demonstrate a single moment of jealousy or anger towards him. Not one.

Instead, she says things like, “Isn’t Charlie adorable?” and “I love my beautiful baby brother so much!”

This is not what we expected when Charlie was born, but we are thanking our lucky stars every day. As a result, these are two of my new favorite photographs of my kids.

  

I’ve been showing these pictures to friends and colleagues over the past couple weeks (almost always when asked), and at least a handful of people have taken a look and said things like, “You just wait. Things will change between the two of them,” and “Just wait until he can walk and talk. Then all that love will be out the window.”

I will never understand why some parents feel the need to constantly mitigate and attempt to erode the enthusiasm of parents with children younger than their own. These are the same people who seem to take pleasure in telling pregnant mothers and the parents of newborns that they won’t sleep well ever again and that their days of seeing a movie in an actual theater are over.

They say things like, “Just wait until she can walk,” and “Middle school is going to be hell,” and “That toddler cuteness won’t last long.” They take pleasure in reminding new parents about the expenses associated with parenting, the frequency of childhood illnesses and the amount of energy that children demand on a daily basis.    

I cannot tell you how many times a parent has warned me about the degree to which my life would change with children, and rarely in a positive way. Their warnings almost always center on the future loss of sleep, money, freedom and peace of mind.

As a result of this experience, I have dedicated my life to counteracting these miserable naysayers. I make it a point of telling new parents about the joys of parenthood whenever possible. I talk about how happy my children make me every day, and how watching them grow up has been one of my greatest joys. I actively refute the negative claims of these scoundrels at every turn and have become slightly belligerent at times in an effort to preserve the hope and joy of new parents.

I’m also sure to warn these pregnant mothers and parents of newborns about the army of parents who are apparently so unhappy with their own lives that they must ensure that everyone around is not too happy, too hopeful, too joyous or too optimistic. 

Honestly, what kind of person listens to a father describe his children’s loving relationship and then thinks it’s a good idea to tell him that it won’t last long?

Even if it’s true, why not let me find out for myself? Why cast a pall over this precious moment in the life of my family? It’s not as if these warnings will inoculate me from future sibling strife. I’m not going to be better prepared for future brother-sister battles because of these spiteful, petty warnings. These admonitions serve no useful purpose other than to mitigate the positivity of the moment for a parent like me.

If you are one of these parental naysayers, please do us all a favor and shut the hell up.

If you are not one of these purveyors of pestilence, please do the new parents of the world a favor and make it a point to share some of the joys of parenting with these people. You don’t need to purposefully attack the nattering nabobs of negativism like I do (though you can’t imagine how much fun it is), but at least offer an alternative view of parenting. Talk about the happiness that your children bring to your life. Be specific about the moments that have brought you the most joy. Remind these parents about why they chose to become parents in the first place.

Also, tell the doomsayers that I sleep more now with children than before they were born. Tell them that I saw ten movies in the theater last year and more than twenty during my daughter’s first year of life.

And please let them know that while it’s true that we have less spending money because of our children, my wife and I have used that money to purchase some of the most happy and blissful moments of our lives, so it’s been money well spent.

Best photos ever (from an author’s perspective)

MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND has been chosen by the town of Townsend, Massachusetts for their One Book One Town promotion for 2013.

I couldn’t be more honored.

One Book One Town encourages residents of a town to come together and read the same book over the period of a couple months with the goal of promoting discussion about books and literacy in general. 

If you’re in the Townsend area on Thursday, February 21, I will be conducting a workshop at 6:00 PM at the Townsend Public Library for anyone interested in the writing process or thinking about a career in writing.

Immediately following the workshop, I will be speaking to the general public about my book, telling some stories and recommending books that I have recently enjoyed. This will begin at 7:30 PM.

You can register for both of these events on the library’s event page.

Yesterday the town’s library director sent me photos of their display.

Best photos ever.   

  

 

The reason why soda drinkers are more depressed than coffee drinkers is obvious.

According to the research by the National Institute of Health, people who drink four cans or more of soda daily are about 30 percent more likely to be diagnosed with depression than people who don’t drink soda. Coffee drinkers are about 10 percent less likely to develop depression than people who don’t drink coffee.

The NIH offers no explanation for this phenomenon, so I would like to offer my own:

Non-coffee drinkers (we are most certainly in the minority) continually find ourselves in the midst of conversations with coffee drinkers about coffee. These conversations can range from their need for the coffee, the taste of a specific brand of coffee, the cost of procurement, the location where their coffee has been purchased, the device in their home that produces coffee, the various accouterment associated with coffee and a myriad of other topics surrounding their beverage of choice.

For the non-coffee drinker, these constant bits of communication about a beverage can often amount to a verbal assault on our auditory senses.

Of course soda drinkers are depressed.

We feel left out of these conversations. We find ourselves isolated. We are  in many ways cultural outcasts. We watch drive by dozens of Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts and independently own coffee shops each day, knowing that these are places that bring coffee drinkers so much joy, and yet we find no solace in their interminable presence. They exist as continual, concrete reminders of an ever-growing aspect of our culture from which we are excluded.

Of course we are depressed.  

Most, though, we worry about the future of a culture that makes coffee a primary topic of conversation on a regular basis.

You think I’m kidding, coffee drinkers. You think I’m being facetious.

I’m not.

You never shut up about the stuff.

Of course soda drinkers are depressed.  

He must be thinking about the upcoming Patriots playoff game

Resolutions that didn’t make the 2013 list

In deciding upon this year’s New Year’s resolution, several were discarded for a variety of reasons. Among them were the following:

Set a new personal best in golf.

I may have excluded this from my list simply because I am afraid that it is not possible. My lowest score for nine holes is a 46, and my lowest score for 18 holes is 95. Without lessons or a dramatic increase in the amount of playing time, I just don’t see myself improving these scores without an enormous amount of luck.  

Launch a podcast related to teaching.

I already plan on launching a podcast related to writing in 2013, so my idea of bringing three teachers (my wife, my friend and me) together to discuss education and answer questions of parents, students and fellow teachers might turn out to be fairly simple once I learned about the process, but it may not. Even if I manage to streamline the technical aspects of the process, it will still take time to record. As a result, I thought that one podcast this year would be more than enough. If the second manages to get off the ground, it will be a bonus.

Deliver a TED Talk.

While the idea of delivering a TED Talk remains something that I would like to pursue in 2013, the amount of content that I already plan on producing is so large that I felt that some ideas had to be left off the list. A TED Talk was one of them. 

Write and perform a 5-10 minute standup comedy set in 2013.

I would like to attempt standup comedy someday, but once again, the amount of writing, storytelling and podcasting that I have planned for 2013 is already more than enough.

Launch a proposed business venture with a close friend.

A friend and I have a possible business idea on the drawing board that we hope to launch in 2013, and we are already in discussions about it, but it may take more than a year to accomplish, so I have left it off the list for now. 

Read a specific number of books in 2013.

Readers suggest this resolution to me every year. Three years ago I established the goal of reading a dozen books published within the same calendar year (and achieved the goal fairly easily), but that goal was set in order to force me to read more current material.

My attitude towards overall reading has always remained the same:

Read as often as possible in 2013. The number of books doesn’t matter if I am reading as much as I can. Therefore no resolution is needed.

Make one mortgage payment from poker profits.

I paid for our honeymoon with poker profits, and I’ve always wanted to make at least one mortgage payment via poker, but the amount of playing that I do today is limited because of my writing schedule. Also, the online poker environment became decidedly more challenging with the US restrictions on online gambling in 2010. While I am fairly certain that I could earn enough money via poker to make at least one mortgage payment if I dedicated time to the endeavor, it turns out that writing is simply more profitable.

The math lesson on Christmas morning was not my idea. I swear.

This early morning hug and kiss were one two of the best moments of my Christmas morning.

But the teacher in me also loved the moment ten minutes later, when my daughter refused to open any more presents, opting instead to practice her numbers on my computer.

I never thought I would be spending part of my Christmas morning explaining to my daughter how to form numbers above nineteen, but that’s exactly what we did while gifts remained unopened under the tree.

Don’t get me wrong. It was weird and slightly disconcerting, but it was also kind of amazing, too.

Best use of duct tape ever

I received a gift in the mail last week from a former student. Here it is.

At first I thought that she has simply seen the Patriots logo, been aware of the versatile nature of duct tape and decided it would make the perfect gift.

If this had been the case, I would be have been quite happy with the gift.

But she transformed a great gift into an unforgettable, top-10 of all time gift by adding the following to the accompanying note:

Mr. Dicks, use this to shut the hollering mouths of the Jets, Giants and especially Dolphins fans in your classroom.

The principal informed me that duct taping the aforementioned children’s mouths was not appropriate (something I also suspected), but that’s okay.

When it comes to gift giving, it’s always the thought that counts.