Jennifer Wilck's Blog, page 59

Popularity

Welcome to my blog today! I’m hosting The Writer’s Post blog hop this week, which means I get to be the boss and make everyone write about MY topic—cool! [image error] I encourage you all to click on the link below to check out the other awesome writers’ takes on my topic.

This week, the topic is POPULARITY. There are many different ways to look at popularity—what is it? How does one achieve it? Is it a good thing or a bad thing? Does popularity mean valuable? Are there different ways to “be” popular? Does it even matter? These are my prompts. You can examine yourself, cultural trends, and societal pressures; really anything that can relate in some way back to POPULARITY. So, read my take below, get inspired to write your own, and again, click on the link below for more participating writers!

I have to say, I hate the word, “popular.” It could very well be due to my own insecurities, but whenever I hear that something is popular, I automatically take a step back and want to know why. It shouldn’t be that way. According to Google, the word “popular” means “liked, admired, or enjoyed by many people or by a particular person or group.” Sounds harmless enough.

In fact, I like that definition. Popular means liked by many people. Great. So a popular hotel is one that many people enjoyed. It’s probably clean, the staff is probably nice, and it’s probably convenient to lots of places. A popular restaurant most likely has a friendly wait-staff and serves good food. Popular music is played often on the radio and is known by many people. Popular books have been read by many people and have probably gotten favorable reviews. Popular people are liked by many people—they have many friends.

But when I look at things through the “popular” lens, I start to get uncomfortable. I’m not most people. I’m my own person. Sure, I like many things that others do, but I also like different things. Along with popularity comes the pressure to conform. 50 Shades of Gray was a popular book last year. Great. Plenty of friends suggested I read it. I didn’t. I love romance, and I write it, but that kind of book is not my style. Just because everyone is talking about it doesn’t mean I’m going to read it, and it certainly doesn’t mean I’m going to enjoy it.

I remember getting a stomach ache every September when I was a teenager. I subscribed to Seventeen Magazine and every fall they published their back-to-school fashion issue. I hated most of the clothes they claimed would be popular. I immediately had to deal with the problem of how to deal with not wearing what “everyone else” would be wearing. Looking back, very few of my friends or classmates actually wore those fashions, so it really wasn’t a big deal.

As an adult, I’ve surrounded myself with people who are nice and kind. They don’t judge me by external factors, they value me for who I am on the inside. So while I’m still leery of the word, I am willing to consider that there are many contexts to it.

My daughter has a very different definition of “popularity.” To her, popularity equals mean. She speaks derisively about the “popular girls” and their antics at school. She has no desire to be part of their group and in fact, declaring something to be “popular” has the exact opposite effect—she won’t want it if it’s “popular.” While I applaud her individuality, I wish she’d at least consider the actual definition of the word and realize that it doesn’t always mean “mean.”

I’d actually consider her popular because she has a lot of friends. She’s friendly to everyone and for the most part, my understanding is that quite a few people like her. That seems like the definition to me. Perhaps she just needs to get a bit older and wiser.

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Free Pass

Some days, you just need to tell everyone to go jump in a lake. To go away. To leave you alone.

Some days, you need the freedom to speak without editing. To forget about feelings. To ignore the consequences.

Some days, you need to do what you want. When you want. However you want.

Some days, I want to move to Wyoming, where there are more horses than people, where there is more sky than big buildings, where there is freedom to breathe. It’s where I dream of running away (Of course, now I’ll have to find a new place, since you’ll all know where to find me! [image error] ).

When I worked in New York, I would wonder what would happen if, instead of walking from the train to my office, I kept walking. What would happen if I turned left, rather than right. Knowing me, I’d get hopelessly lost and never find my way back (Yes, I know NYC is a big grid, but trust me, I can get lost anywhere). I never actually did it, because there were too many consequences, but I always did wonder.

These days, I don’t often wonder about disappearing into the ether. I’m too invested in my life to want to leave it behind. But there are days that I wish I could disappear for just a short while, where I could get a “Free Pass” for a day. I could use my “Free Pass” to say and do whatever I wanted, without consequences. I could think only of myself, but nothing I did would affect anyone else. I could finally say what’s on my mind without worrying about how it sounds.

I suspect it wouldn’t be nearly as liberating as I imagine it to be. I suspect I’d feel guilty, get lonely and get bored. And no matter how “free” that pass is, I’d pay for it later, in ways I can’t even begin to imagine. So, rather than take a “Free Pass” for a day, I’ll hug my kids, kiss my husband, do what I’m supposed to do, consider others as best I can and bite my tongue. And find a LOT of chocolate.

How Meetings and Dealing with Teenagers Are Similar

I have a board meeting tonight. Now, don’t get me wrong, I usually enjoy going to them because I have many friends on this board and it’s a great chance to see them. We do good work, when we’re efficient, and when we’re not efficient, we certainly mean well. Our hearts are in the right place. But our mouths sometimes get us into trouble (and if not our mouths, other people’s). Kind of reminds me of dealing with my children. They are both wonderful and they have the best of intentions, but sometimes, well…

And so, I thought I’d make a list of how board meetings and dealing with teenagers (or almost-teenagers) are similar. Here goes:

They’re loud. When my daughters are together, the decibel level increases substantially. Each one tries to out-talk the other, and if they feel they are not being listened to, they get louder. They tell us more about school and their friends than probably most kids tell their parents, but their motivation is the chance to get attention. One hears the other telling a story and wants to get in on the action. There is rarely a day that they are quiet, and when they are, it’s never a good thing.

The same is true at board meetings. We start off well at the meetings, paying attention to whomever is speaking, raising our hands when we want to be heard and contributing to the conversations as necessary. But inevitably, as the meeting drags on, and the agenda seems to get longer, we splinter off into smaller conversations. The soft droning buzz permeates the room and everyone talks louder.

They text. Despite all the warnings made by my husband and myself, my kids spend the majority of their home time texting their friends, non-stop. It doesn’t matter what else is going on—watching TV, reading, even doing homework, they are using their phones and electronic devices to have constant conversations with their friends (I swear mom, I was asking her about homework!). We’ve implemented limits—not during dinner, not while we’re talking to them, etc.—but at times it does seem like a losing battle.

Everyone at our board meeting has at least one other job. We’re all busy people and our time is precious to us. We don’t mean to be rude, and we do try to limit ourselves, but texting during the meetings has become somewhat of a necessary evil. Whether it’s to text our spouse that we’re running late, text a colleague to ask a question, or text someone across the table so that we can cut down on the chatter, we’re constantly connected.

They’re passionate. My daughters are very different from each other. I have often joked that when we wanted a second child, God knew what he/she was doing by making sure to give us a very different child than our first, because honestly, I don’t think I could handle two of the same of either of them! They quite often take different positions on things that matter to them, and they are always convinced that they are right. Not only is each of them right, exclusively, but the other one is absolutely wrong. Trying to point out the fallacies in their statements usually results in tears. I’ve learned to wait until they’ve calmed down before pointing out that perhaps the sister is not completely wrong and perhaps there might actually be some similarities between their two arguments. Blushing and sheepish agreement usually follows. Until the next time, when the other can’t possibly be right.

Our committee chairs are passionate about what they do as well. They are convinced that the needs of their committee are important and must be addressed, and rightfully so. They will argue for their committee and the affected congregants, usually with well-thought out reasons and back-up information. Each chair has different methods of doing this, but the end result is usually what’s best for everyone as a whole, although the sparks do make things interesting.

Fairness counts. If my husband hears one of my daughters say “but that’s not fair” one more time, I think he might actually explode. We’ve always prided ourselves on recognizing the differences between our two daughters and parenting them as individuals, rather than as clones. That sometimes means that one gets to do something the other one doesn’t, or one gets to do something before the other one (and not always the oldest first). In general, if you were to keep a tally (and I’m sure both of my daughters have one somewhere), over time everything would even out. But in the heat of the moment, that’s not always obvious and man, do we hear about it.

There is no board member more important than another, and no committee with more importance than any other either. However, it is inevitable that some groups are given more attention at one time or another, or more money to implement programs at a particular time. While our board members are too mature to actually yell “that’s not fair,” there are times when it does seem that way.

But I NEED this! As my daughters get older, they come over to talk to me slightly less than they used to, unless they want something. Then they are all smiles and chatty and polite while they make their case for whatever it is that they absolutely can’t live without. You know that fairness tally they’re keeping? Well, they’re really lucky I’m not keeping a request tally (or maybe I should). I’ve received PowerPoint presentations about the benefits of a laptop and the reasons they wanted a rabbit. I’ve listened to why they need more allowance and had my weekends interrupted with trips to the mall because they have “nothing to wear.” I’ve started quoting words from a song, “It’s not having what you want, it’s wanting what you’ve got.” And hiding.

Our board has a limited budget from which to work and no built-in cushion for anything extra. Our eyes are bigger than our stomachs, and we’re constantly having to do more with less. At budget time, our meetings go for hours as we haggle over every cent, trying to keep costs down but still have money for the programs we need. If my children ever attended these meetings, they’d learn some valuable begging lessons. I’ll never let them accompany me. Ever.

And so, when my husband looks at me and says, “Another meeting tonight?” and lists all the things I’ll be missing by leaving—arguments about bedtimes, arguments about dinner, arguments about homework—as if I’m going off on a vacation, I just smile and roll my eyes (my kids have taught me well). Because while I might be avoiding those arguments, I’m still walking into a room of people who want to discuss money allotment, time allotment and resource allotment. Not that much of a difference.

Tuning In and Turning It Off

I did not want to come home from vacation yesterday. In fact, I dreaded it, but not for the reasons you might expect.

I did not dread returning home to the freezing cold New Jersey weather from the warm, sunny Bahamian weather, even though I loved the sun and hate being cold. Although I do wish my tan had lasted a wee bit longer.

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I did not dread having to do a ton of laundry when we got home—that’s what happens when three out of the four of us bring almost every clothing item (and shoes) we own on the off chance we might have needed them. Call it the price of being prepared.

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I did not even dread returning home to regular food from a cruise filled with more food than I could eat in a lifetime, although we certainly did try!

No, what I dreaded most was returning to the “constantly plugged in” status my life was before our vacation.

My email is on from the minute my kids step out the door until I go to bed. Same with my Facebook account. Yes, I’m one of THOSE people. And I used to feel guilty about it. I used to slink around and not respond to people’s posts immediately so they wouldn’t know I was there. I’ve hidden (I think!) my profile so most people can’t tell when I’m logged on. But then I realized something important.

See, I’m a mom and a writer. I spend most of my days at home by myself. When I’m not taking care of my house or my kids, I’m writing. I don’t have the benefit of working in an office, surrounded by people whom I can talk to whenever I need a break. I can’t hang out with my friends all day long—they have busy lives too, and if we spent all our time “doing lunch,” we’d never get anything done. And believe me, we’re a lot busier than you think we are. So, my connection to the outside world is through email, Facebook and other forms of social media.

One of the other things I do is volunteer with my Temple. That requires me to converse with many people, answer questions and help out with projects. Most of these things are done through email. Because my email is open all the time, I see most emails as they come in, enabling me to respond quickly and be productive. That’s not a bad thing!

But, this vacation, I decided to do something different. My family was traveling for a week with my parents. Since that’s kind of like stepping back in time, I decided to truly make it an “80’s vacation”—minus the clothes and the hair—and sever all ties to my computer for the entire week.

It was daunting, but I thought it was important. First of all, if I can’t stay away from my computer for a week, I have a bigger problem! Second, no one is irreplaceable. There are other people on my committees who can fill in for me. Third, it’s a slow week. And fourth, and maybe most important, I wanted to be truly present with my family the entire time we were together. I didn’t want to be listening with half an ear while I was checking my email. I didn’t want to post pictures of my vacation for others to enjoy, rather than enjoying my time myself.

So, I shipped my computer off to the Geek Squad for a much needed tune-up, changed the settings on my iPhone so that I couldn’t connect to WiFi even if I wanted to, and brought my iPad only for reading (I swear!!!).

The first day was hard. Partly because we were home and out of habit I kept looking for my computer. But after that, it was so relaxing! I couldn’t stress over nasty emails or emails that asked me to do something. I didn’t have to make sure to forward information to anyone. No one online stalked me or knew what I was doing every minute of every day. And my family and I shared jokes and laughs without constantly posting about it (although I’ll admit to writing down a funny thing my 11-year-old said, just so that I could remember it in the future), allowing us to respond to each other and have an even better time. I didn’t post my pictures immediately—I doubt in the long run whether it will matter if I post my pictures the second they were taken or a few days later. I’ll still have the memories, and my friends will appreciate my limiting the number of pictures I actually post.

I learned several things about myself on vacation. Number one, I had a lot more fun interacting with people in person than I ever do online. Number two, my stress levels decreased drastically and I was able to relax. And number three, I can survive without my computer. So much so that I dreaded coming home and turning it on.

You can see how long THAT lasted!

Moment of Silence

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It Is Time

This is most definitely NOT what our forefathers meant. Say what you want about them—all male, slave owners, etc.—they were brilliant when it came to drafting our Constitution. They recognized that it would have to be a document that would last and could adapt to changing times. A document that could stand to be interpreted by many voices, many views, through many lenses, by different people.

The right to bear arms, for them, meant the ability of citizens to arm themselves against the government if it tried to abuse the rights of citizens. It meant the right to defend against an assailant. It meant the right to protect your family. Constitutional scholars can argue with me all they want, but I guarantee you it does NOT mean the right to take a gun and shoot anyone you feel like and it was never meant to allow someone to gun down children like ducks in a shooting gallery carnival game.

The guns in the 1700s were ridiculously ineffective when compared to those of today. Most of them couldn’t hit a target. There is no way our forefathers could have imagined a gun that shoots 100 bullets in a few seconds. If they did, I’m confident they wouldn’t have EVER included the amendment in our Constitution, certainly not without a LOT more clarity.

Anyone who tries to make the argument that gun ownership is a fundamental right needs to remember these words from the Declaration of Independence: “Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness”—the unalienable rights endowed by our Creator and for whose protection we enable our government. A well-regulated militia may be necessary to ensure the security of a free state, but children who live to grow up are necessary to ensure humanity continues.

Gun ownership does not trump life. It does not trump the rights of a six year old to go out and play, to build a Lego fort, to kiss her mommy good night, to grow up.

I don’t want to hear your arguments about how guns don’t kill people, people kill people. To quote my husband, we can’t get rid of people.

Something has to change. Our country has a gun problem and the answer is not more guns.

I’m sure there are people who can express their pro-gun feelings in reasonable and logical ways. I’m sure they can cite examples and statistics that support their argument. Anyone who wants to argue the benefits of owning guns needs to picture this: someday in the future, the rest of the world will move past the immediate horror of the tragedy in Newtown. The rest of the world will return to our ordinary lives. The rest of the world will be able to look at our children without our eyes filling with tears. But in Newtown, a mother or a father is going to stumble across a forgotten shoe, a hairband left under a bed, a beloved stuffed animal tossed to the side. And every time that happens, the grief will be fresh, the horror renewed.

And no argument about gun rights will change that.

Eight Things I Like About Christmas*

‘Tis the season, so everyone says. And sometimes, those of us who don’t celebrate Christmas can feel a little left out. Sure, wishes of Happy Holidays can give us the illusion that people are trying to be inclusive, and in some cases, they totally are, but in my experience, the majority of people get Christmas on the brain from mid-October until the New Year. It used to bother me. It still does sometimes. But I’ve also discovered that there are a lot of things that I like about the Christmas season.

1. People wishing me “Merry Christmas”: Okay, I’ll admit that in front of my kids, I do correct people, gently, by saying, “Thank you, but we celebrate Chanukah.” I have to set a good example for them and I want them to be proud of their religion and not feel like they have to hide it. But honestly, it truly doesn’t bother me, especially when I’m alone. To me, there are parts of Christmas that have gotten so commercialized, that having a salesperson say this to me seems like more of a marketing ploy than a religious statement and I realize that Thanksgiving to New Year’s is a store’s biggest sales time of year. If they want to wish me Merry Christmas, fine with me. It’s nice to have people being friendly. Besides, each time they do, I get a tiny bit of revenge (one of those nyah-nyah moments, if you will) on that nasty girl named Joan in my middle school who made fun of me for “looking” Jewish.

2. Calling a Christmas tree a Christmas tree: For some reason, people have started calling them “Holiday” trees. Totally not necessary (and more than slightly ridiculous). The only holiday that uses a tree is Christmas. Call it what it is. That would be like me calling a Chanukah Menorah a Holiday Candelabra.

3. Christmas songs in stores: If the store wants to play them, that’s fine with me. I tune out most music anyway—hello, I’m the mother of a 13 year old and an 11 year old. It’s the ONLY way I stay sane. Yes, they get stuck in my head, and I recognize the irony of a nice Jewish girl singing Christmas songs, but then, so do my kids’ songs—One Direction is going to be the death of me!

4. Christmas decorations: I actually really like them. I think they’re pretty and festive. There are some I prefer more than others (and I do wish people would stick to a single theme), but then, I think most people have preferences. My current favorite, and that of my daughter as well, is the “Santa pig,” although I just saw a purple hippo dressed up for Christmas that is a really close second. The running lights, though, make me nauseous. What I dislike are Chanukah decorations that look too much like Christmas ones. Each holiday has its own identity and just because something is blue and white does not make it less Christmassy.

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5. The feeling that Christmas is EVERYWHERE: It is. There’s no getting around that fact. And you know what? That’s okay. There is something very special about having a holiday that not everyone celebrates. I like that it hasn’t been commercialized as much as Christmas has, although I’ll admit to it taking a lot of work to turn it into something more than eight days’ worth of presents. And it makes the few stores that do decorate for Chanukah all the more appreciated.

6. My grocery store’s total confusion over all Jewish holidays: Okay, this honestly goes for any holiday, but I’m putting it on this list. I really appreciate my grocery store putting together a Chanukah display. It truly does make me feel welcome. I appreciate the effort. And I get a huge laugh out of some of the foods they choose to display as Chanukah foods, which I really need sometimes!

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For anyone who doesn’t know, the triangle cookies are called Hamentaschen and are eaten during Purim, which usually falls in February.

7. Christmas sales: Of course, this one only works when Chanukah falls late enough to coincide with, or close enough to, Christmas. I love getting deals on things I’m planning to buy. Sure, I wish they’d start earlier, or have gift boxes about a month before they usually carry them, and I wish the lines were shorter, but the sales, when I can get them, are awesome.

8. People’s friendliness: Cynics may say they’re only being friendly because they want you to remember them and give them a gift, but I like it when people are friendly, regardless of the reason. It makes the crowds easier to deal with and the long lines more bearable. And honestly, who wouldn’t prefer friendliness to grumpiness? Is the friendliness fake? Could be. But who hasn’t faked being nice occasionally. Perhaps if more of us did that more often, we’d forget how to be mean.

*I’m sure I could come up with more, but then it wouldn’t fit in with the eight days of Chanukah

Playing Ostrich

Inside my mailbox today was a flier. Two, actually. Without going into details, neither one had anything good to say, and after totally panicking, I decided to make a phone call. I figured that if I asked questions, I might get answers that would reassure me. I did get answers, but none of them reassured me. In fact, having more knowledge almost made me feel worse.

The gist of the conversation, and the piece of advice the woman on the other end of the phone line was trying to give me, was “at least you know.”

Sir Francis Bacon said “knowledge is power.” I think it’s what you do with that knowledge that determines how much power you actually have. Do you give in? Do you give up? Do you fight back? Do you inform others?

Think about what you do with the knowledge you’re given. Knowledge about a particular subject can be used to help you become a leader in your chosen field, an expert in a particular area. Doctors use their knowledge of medicine to cure people’s illnesses. Teachers use their knowledge to educate our children. Scientists use their knowledge to prove and discover things.

Knowledge about a person in your life can help you better relate to them—what do they like or dislike, what makes them tick? If you’re a sibling, you can use your knowledge to drive the other person crazy. [image error] You can also make a decision when or if to reveal that knowledge. Politicians do this all the time, and are expert manipulators of knowledge.

Usually, knowledge is helpful. But sometimes, all it does is make you worry. How many people search the Internet for medical information, and how many of us don’t?

Sometimes knowledge spoils things. My daughter loves to find out what’s going to happen on her favorite shows before they even air, yet she thinks I’m crazy for reading the last page of a book first.

When the boogie man is a figment of your imagination, he’s somehow less terrifying than when he is an actual person with a face. At the same time, if we know who he is, we can protect ourselves from him.

Yes, at least I know. But sometimes, I wish I didn’t.

Musings

Sometimes we have to do what scares us. Sometimes we have to break out of the box, go beyond our comfort zone.

Bend.

Try.

Stretch.

We need to let people in, let people go. We need to open up and trust. Have a little faith. Exhale.

Believe.

Hope.

Extend.

I’ve had some wonderful people in my life, and some not so wonderful people, too. But I’m lucky enough to maybe get a second chance with someone I’ve missed for a very long time. I could sit back and count all the reasons why this might not work; why this might be a very bad idea. Or I can go for it and see what happens. It’s not in my nature to be reckless when it comes to people. I’d prefer to hang back where it’s safe. But sometimes, the greatest reward can only be achieved by taking a chance.

So I will. Cautiously.

Six Sentence Sunday

Another six lines from Skin Deep:

The sun found every space not covered by the curtains and streamed through the window too early the next morning, making Valerie squint. Her body was stiff and sore from the uncomfortable hotel mattress. As memories of the previous night flooded through her, she opened one eye and saw John dozing in the chair by the window. She didn’t want to wake him, so she lay on her side, one arm beneath her head, and stared at him. Day-old growth darkened his cheeks and highlighted the cleft in his chin. She longed to take her finger and trace its way over his high cheekbones, down across his smooth kissable lips, finally making its way into the intriguing cleft.

Lots of other great authors are participating–you can find them here. Check out their entries. See you next week!