Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 510

Plans for the weekend?

For anyone interested and in the area, I will be appearing at the Brattleboro Literary Festival this weekend along with an enormous assemblage of far more interesting and well known authors.

If you’re looking to do something this weekend, you really should consider attending the festival. Brattleboro is a beautiful town and the lineup of authors is extraordinary.

On Friday night, I will be competing in Literary Death Match at 8:00 at the Robert Gibson River Garden (where I gave my very first book talk five years ago). I have never participated in or attended a Literary Death Match, but the YouTube videos of these events make them appear fairly insane, so I’m quite sure what to expect. All I really know is that I will be reading about seven minutes of my own fiction and will be judged on my performance by a former Literary Death Match finalist and (brace yourselves) Jane Yolen and Stuart O’Nan. 

So no pressure.

If they approve of my performance, I move onto a final round, in which I honestly have no idea what might happen.

It should be interesting.  

Then I will be speaking again on Sunday about my books and my writing process at the same location at 11:00 AM.

On Saturday I will be squeezing in as many author talks as possible with my wife, my in-laws, some friends and anyone else who would like to join us. So if you plan on making the trip to Vermont (or already live there), let me know when you’ll be arriving in Brattleboro and perhaps we can get together for lunch or to take in an author’s talk together.

Plants can smell. Plants can see. Now plants are capable of evading predators and determining friend from foe.

I have always secretly hoped that someday we would discover that plants are just as sentient as animals, and as a result, the ethical vegans of the world would be forced to come to terms with the fact that when it comes to food, they are no less murderous than cow and chicken-eating people like me.

I posted that paragraph back in July upon learning that plants have a sense of smell. And this was on the heels of learning that plants can see as well. 

This week we learned that certain plants are capable of evading enemies and discerning friend from foe.

Marine scientists at the University of Rhode Island School of Oceanography recently discovered a species of phytoplankton that actively avoids being eaten.

The scientists observed that the phytoplankton, called Heterosigma akashiwo, swam away from zooplankton, its natural predator, yet remained undaunted by the presence of predators with an appetite for other things.

I realize that this is a microscopic form of plant life, but it’s a plant, damn it, and it’s running away from the bad guys and determining who is safe to hang out with based upon their appetite.

This is some advanced stuff.

I’ve said it before: It’s remarkably arrogant for us to think that we fully understand the true nature of any living thing, including plants. To simply assume that the carrot you are eating is incapable of experiencing thought or pain or existential suffering is foolish. As scientists are continuing to discover, plant life is capable of far more sentience than we could have ever imagined.

So eat up, my ethically vegan friends, while there is still time. It won’t be long before we discover that the acorn that landed on your head was purposely thrown at you by an oak tree with a not-so-great sense of humor.

Background TV sucks. It turns out it’s bad for kids, too. But mostly it sucks.

The song “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” is about a couple who are struggling to stay together. In hope of salvaging their relationship, the boy reminds his girlfriend that regardless of their differences, they still both kind of liked the film Breakfast at Tiffany’s, so at least that’s something.

My wife and I have many things in common. More than most couples, I dare presume. But if our interests, preferences, predilections and political affiliations suddenly shifted away from each other someday, I’d like to think we would still share a complete and total hatred for background TV, and at least that would be something.

There has never been a single moment in our home when the television was on without someone watching.

Not once. Ever.

We find background TV distracting, mind-numbing, wasteful and inane. We cannot understand it and refuse to abide by it. There have been times when we have purposely avoided visiting the homes of friends who have televisions on in the background throughout the day.  

I bring this up because TIME magazine recently reported on the prevalence of background TV in American homes and its apparent detrimental effect on children.

Even if we aren’t actively watching TV, most of us leave the set on in the background. But that may have detrimental effects on children in the home, according to a new study published in the journal Pediatrics.that this week

This was the opening paragraph of the TIME story, which goes on to explain that the average American child is exposed to four hours of background television a day, and the impact from this exposure is not good. While further research is required to confirm the results of the study, the data seems to suggest that children exposed to background television experience higher rates of obesity and have greater difficulties with executive functioning and self-regulation.

None of this is good, but it did not surprise me. Did anyone actually believe that allowing a box to blather away throughout the day, unmonitored and unregulated, would be good for kids?

What surprised me the most about the TIME piece was the first sentence:

Even if we aren’t actively watching TV, most of us leave the set on in the background.

Is that true?

My wife and I watch very little television to begin with, and we also watch TV almost exclusively at night, after the children have gone to sleep, so perhaps our opportunities for background television was severely reduced already. But do most Americans leave the television on in the background when not actively watching it?

I find this hard to believe.

Then again, the average American child is exposed to four hour of background television a day, which is more television than I actively watch in a single day. So maybe it’s true. Maybe everyone leaves their televisions on in the background.

If so, what the hell is wrong with you people?

More important, I guess I was right. If Elysha and my interests truly do diverge in some cataclysmic way someday, our continued hatred for background television might serve as our Breakfast at Tiffany’s. With so many people leaving their televisions on throughout the day, we are apparently in the extreme minority.

We’ll have no choice but to stay together or suffer the apparent stupidity of the masses.

The Dutch cover of MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND is unlike any so far.

It’s been interesting to watch the different covers of MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND roll out worldwide as foreign publishers begin to release the book.

With last week’s sale to a Russian publisher, we are now up to 15 foreign languages and counting.

The covers I have seen so far are the following:

I also received a sneak peek of the German cover this week, which I absolutely love, and the Dutch version of the book hit bookstores last week with a cover that I find both intriguing and slightly baffling:

I don’t pretend to understand any of the markets where my books are sold (including the United States), so I can only assume that my Dutch publisher believes that this cover will convince readers to pick up the book.

In truth, I’d pick this book in a heartbeat. The cover is eye-catching and highly evocative.

I’d just be surprised to discover that it’s actually my book.

Add this to my job list. Not this.

Last week I wrote about the many career aspirations that I have when I finally decide to retire from teaching (which isn’t anytime soon).

It’s recently come to my attention that Massachusetts’s Institute of Technology’s Department of Athletics, Physical Education, and Recreation now issues pirate certificates to students who complete the requirements. In order to earn a pirate certificate, a student must pass four physical education courses (pistol use, archery, sailing, and fencing) and take a secret oath.

With this newfound information , I’d like to add “Pirate” to my list of career aspirations.

Here’s one I will never add to the list:

The Italians love Budo

As I wait for MEMOIRS OF AN IMAGINARY FRIEND to begin its ascent up the New York Times bestseller list, I am happy to report that the book, retitled IMAGINARY FRIEND by my Italian publisher, has reached number 10 on Italy’s bestseller list in its first week! 

An Italian reader and journalist was kind enough to pass along this exciting  news, and a similarly kind Italian reader forwarded me this book trailer, which I thought was terrific even though I have no idea what the text actually says.  

I’ve always known the Italians have great taste.

The three day, three month, three year test

Last year the New England Patriots played the Kansas City Chiefs on a Monday night in Foxboro. My fellow season ticket holder could not attend the game for less than acceptable reasons, and I could not find a soul who was willing to attend the game with me.

The freezing temperatures and the probability of arriving back home in Connecticut well after 2:00 in the morning (if we were lucky) deterred anyone from wanting to take the extra ticket and join me.

I hemmed and hawed all day about going to the game alone, knowing that if I went, I would be driving home from the game in the dead of night by myself. I’d also be watching the game from the icy confines of Gillette Stadium without the benefit of a friend’s companionship or a pre-game tailgate party.

In the end, I chose to remain home.

Last week I planned on attending a Moth StorySLAM in Manhattan. I had a story prepared and was ready to make the trip on my own (again, no one was willing to join me), but at the last minute, I chose to stay home. I had spent 5 of the last 6 days on the road, camping with my fifth graders, attending the Patriots home opener and traveling to Troy, NY for a book signing. With so much time spent on the road, I decided that I would be better off staying at home rather than enduring another long, late night drive on my own.

In the past two years, these two decisions represent two of my greatest regrets. I’m completely annoyed with myself for each decision, and I cannot foresee a time when I will not feel this way.

When it comes to making decisions like these, I use a “three day, three month, three year” test.

As difficult as it might be to travel to and from Gillette Stadium or New York City on my own, late at night, will I regret my decision three days later? Though I may be tired or even exhausted the next day, how will I feel about my decision three days from now, when I am well rested? Will I regret not having chosen the more difficult road?

What about three months later? When I look back on the missed opportunity, will that restful evening at home come close to matching what could have been? Will I even remember what I did on the night that I could have spent watching Monday Night Football or telling a story on a Moth stage?

What about three years later? What will mean more to me?

A forgotten evening at home amidst a thousand other evenings at home or the memories from a rare Monday Night football game?

Or the missed opportunity of taking the stage at a Moth StorySLAM and entertaining an audience of strangers with a story from my life? Perhaps even winning the StorySLAM and earning the right to perform in another GrandSLAM?

I am not implying that an evening spent at home with my wife and children is a forgettable, wasteful experience. Those evenings are some of the most cherished moments of my life. But I also believe that we must take advantage of the considerably less frequent opportunities like a Monday Night Football game or a Moth StorySLAM when they present themselves. The time we spend with our families and friends creates the fabric of our lives, but those moments we spend doing things that so many do not punctuate our lives and create the bright, specific memories that last a lifetime. We cannot allow a few hours of lost sleep or chilly temperatures or the promise of a bleary-eyed day at work prevent us from doing those things that so many people skip in favor of an evening in front of the television or surfing the Internet.

When making a decision about whether or not to do something that is hard, we cannot allow the subsequent 24 hours to dictate our decision. We must look ahead, three days, three months and three years, to see how we might then feel about our decision.

Perspective is a powerful tool in decision-making. While we can never know for certain how we will feel, we can predict how hindsight might make us feel. This is what I do when deciding between something that is easy and something that is difficult.

Tomorrow doesn’t matter. I can always survive tomorrow.

Will I regret this decision in three days, three months or three years time?

In terms of last years Monday Night Football game and last week’s StorySLAM, the answer is decidedly affirmative.  

She is her father’s daughter

In one hand is an iPhone, playing an episode of “Charlie and Lola,” a British cartoon that she loves.

In the other is a puzzle that she is trying to complete.

My three year old is multitasking. I couldn’t be more proud.

Pick a career, damn it. Or ten.

I read an interesting piece on Penelope Trunk’s blog on choosing a career that you will like.

Trunk quotes economist Neil Howe, who says that only 5% of people pick the right job on the first try.

He calls those people “fast starters” and in general, they are less creative, less adventurous and less innovative, which makes a conventional, common path work well for them.

If you’re in a career that you despise and are dreaming of trying something new, take heart. Almost everyone makes the wrong choice at some point in their lives.

The tragedy is not changing careers when there is still time.

And there is always time.  

One of Trunk’s suggestions in choosing the right career is to pick a lifestyle, not a job.

I like this suggestion a lot.

My boss often refers to teaching as a lifestyle choice, and I agree. No one will ever become wealthy by choosing to become a teacher, but the benefits that teaching offers in terms of the kind of work we do and the time it allows us to spend with our families makes it an ideal career choice for people who want to make a difference in this world and still spend as much time as possible with their friends and families.

I chose teaching because I had wanted to be a teacher ever since I was a little boy. Perhaps this is because school was a safer and happier place for me than home. Perhaps it was because my arrogant, little boyhood self always assumed that I could do the job better than the teachers standing before me. Perhaps it was because I was the oldest of five children, so teaching came naturally to me. Regardless of the reason, I was blessed with a strong desire to teach at an early age.

In terms of career choices, teaching is actually a relatively safe and stable one. As a writer, I know that not all career choices are nearly as secure. As an example, Trunk writes:

Look at the successful writers you read. Most of them wrote for years in obscurity, risking long-term financial doom in order to keep writing. Do you really want that path for yourself? Rena Subotnik, author of Gifted Grownups finds that most people who are exceptionally creative have to give up almost everything else in order to pursue “creativity with a big C”. For most people, that path is not appealing.

When I was deciding on my career path, I was well aware of the financial dangers that a career in writing presented me. Though my desire to write for a living was just as strong as my desire to teach by the time I was able to attend college, I knew that teaching would afford me a more stable future. Thankfully, the two careers fit together nicely. Though I write every day without exception, I tend to do the bulk of my writing over the summer when the demands of teaching take a two month hiatus.

I’m astounded by the number of young adults who have recently told me that they are still not sure what kind of career they want, or even worse, who seem to have no strong career aspirations whatsoever.

I’m also surprised by the number of people who end up falling into a career that pays the bills but does not resemble anything that they envisioned for themselves when they were younger. These tend to be people who had dreams of pursuing careers in the arts but have abandoned these dreams in favor of more conventional, profitable endeavors.

While I understand the rationale behind these practical decisions, I cannot understand the decision to abandon your dreams entirely. Go to work in sales in order to support your family, but if your dream was to become a painter or actor or musician or animator, don’t just give up. Paint on the weekends. Join a community theater. Start a garage band. Take evening classes in computer animation at a local college.

Don’t just quit. 

Instead, I meet people who are rudderless and directionless, working in jobs for which they have no passion or looking for a job that they cannot identify. When I ask them what they want to do, they shrug their shoulders and sigh.

Literally. 

I have the opposite problem. Despite the many jobs that I have held in my past, I have too many career ambitions. When I retire from teaching someday, the unimaginable idea of never standing before a class of students again will be mitigated by the freedom to launch a new career.

I’m just not sure which career to choose next.

There are the jobs that I have mentioned before on this blog, including professional best man (I had my fourth inquiry about this position recently, but once again the client lived too far away to make the job feasible), life coach (I actually have two paying clients), double date companion and gravesite visitor.

Then there are the more serious careers that I have serious interest in. These include:

Sociologist
Bookstore owner
Behavioral economist
College professor
Efficiency expert
Camp director
Inspirational speaker
Professional poker player
Financial analyst
Firefighter
Therapist

I’m sure I’m forgetting a few.

There are so many careers in this world from which to choose that I cannot imagine finding myself in the position of not knowing what I want to do with my life.

Instead, I find myself wanting to demand that these directionless young adults donate their lives to me. In the unlikely event that I someday die, I won’t have time to do all that I want with my life. If you can’t decide what you want to do with your life, hand your precious time over to me.

I promise to use it productively. 

If a person cannot muster enough passion to choose at least one career path, that person has a serious problem.

As a life coach and a future therapist and inspirational speaker, perhaps I can help.

I am sick. I am going to work. I am stupid.

I’m not feeling well today.

After two days of fevers and chills, my temperature is normal, but I have a dreadfully sore throat and a pounding headache.

Yet I’m going to work again today.

Part of it is the challenge that teachers face when sick. Oftentimes it’s easier to drag yourself into work and teach rather than planning for a productive day with a substitute teacher.

Part of it is the years I spent in jobs without the benefit of sick days, when missing work meant missing pay. When you are living on the edge of homelessness, you can’t afford to miss a day of work, and that mentality is difficult to shake.

Part of it is stupid machismo, which causes me to believe that it will take a hell of a lot more than a few microscopic germs to keep me from working.

Part of it is my inclination towards optimism. If I want to stay home, I need to arrange for a substitute teacher, and that can only happen if I call the night before. But when I am sick, I am often absolutely certain that I will feel better by morning.

In this case, it’s true. I do feel better. But I still feel rotten.

In this particular instance, I also blamed my wife. I told her that in the future, she must take a more hard line approach to keeping me home when I am ill.

“Do whatever it takes,” I told her last night. “You are supposed to be the voice of reason.”

This was stupid, of course, partly because it is not Elysha’s job to convince me to act responsibly, but also because she may actually do whatever it takes to keep me home the next time I am ill, in which case I am doomed.