Love in the Age of World Domination

Growing up by Default

I've been rereading parts of Caroline Knapp's Drinking: A Love Story, one of my all-time favorite personal memoirs. There are so many memoirs around these days, and half of them are fabricated a la James Frey and now even Augusten Boroughs. You've got to be careful who's story you allow yourself to be taken in by, affected by, and changed by. 

I came across this passage in Caroline's writing that has always held great meaning for me, now more than ever:

There’s something about facing long afternoons without the numbing distraction of any sort of anesthesia that disabuses you of the belief in externals, shows you that strength and hope come not from circumstances or the acquisition of things but from the simple accumulation of active experience, from gritting the teeth and checking the items off the list, one by one, even though it’s painful and you’re afraid....Passivity is corrosive to the soul; it feeds on feelings of integrity and pride, and it can be as tempting as a drug. If it feels warm and fuzzy, it is probably the [addictive] choice. If it feels dangerous and scary and threatening and painful, it is probably healthy.

Replace "long afternoons" with "long evenings" and this passage is so a mirror or my life that I want to throw something at it. It is absolutely the days that I wake up and make my bed and show up, and cross a few of those items off my to-do list that give me strength and 'build' me. In contrast, the days when I live in my head, when I chase after my passion de jour whatever it may be that day - more success, more love, more chocolate, whatever - there I am spinning my wheels, chasing my own tail, - and those are inevitably days of waste and 'unraveling'.

After all this time I should know better. And I do. But the knowledge of what I may have to lose or gain, does not help me; I still automatically go for the addictive choice. Its some kind of brain switch that some of us are born with, and we have to learn to cope with it.

And these addictions -they do work as anesthetics. They numb you from the messy business of life, and of growing up. Every time you escape from real life and go somewhere else in your head, you miss parts of your own life - the parts that are required to get you from point A to point B emotionally. The much talked about 'growth' in self-help books, which is so challenging yet so vital.

I'd spent most of my life waiting for maturity to hit me from the outside, as though I'd just wake up one morning and be done, like a roast in the oven. But growth comes from the inside out, from trying and failing and trying again. You begin to let go of the wish, age-old and profound and essentially human, that someone will swoop down and do all that hard work, growing up, for you.

Mean Street Shenanigans

These last few months my heart is with some of my friends who work on the Street, including at least a quarter of my MBA class. With more than $300 billion in write-downs and credit losses in under a year, banks are firing like nobody's business. Half of April's 23,000 layoff came from Merrill Lynch and Citi, both banks I have worked for. I know how capricious these places can be. What I am saying, though, is that we should keep some perspective. Bonuses are down by 10-25% this year but given that the average bonus is about 200K, how sorry do we need to feel?

This very funny article by the Shadow captures the spirit of the times:

Thousands of elite domestic and international MBAs with seven to 20 years of experience have been given their termination packages over the last year. They are "discovering" new teaching careers, "spending more time with their families," attempting to convince hedge funds that they have some inherent entrepreneurial spirit (NOT), or scouring the bones of smaller investment banks for a potential stepped down "rain maker" position.

This forced exodus from the financial services industry comprises more than investment bankers. It includes private bankers, fixed income salesmen and traders, equity/research sales, any and every CDS / CDO trader that can be found hiding, structuring gurus and your general overly paid, “it’s my birthright” type of slicked-back hair genius – both men and women. Though the female numbers are smaller, the fact that Morgan Stanley’s president Zoe Cruz was unceremoniously and publicly crucified by her male contemporaries, from above and below, does not bode well for the male/female ratio changing any time soon. The Shadow finds it amazing that despite the numerous class action law suits that have succeeded, chauvinism is still running rampant. The only thing that’s changed is these dinosaurs have finally learned they can’t expense lap dances.

What does this mean for our industry? Does our Wall Street microcosm really have much of an effect on Main Street and Hillary’s legion of white blue collar workers? Well, the fact is that it already has, and always will. The irony is that the ripples come from the outside in - which is counter to the natural order of things. That is, Wall Street crumbles from a speculative bubble that they created with their lemming- like clients - the latest being the credit debacle - and the hard-working stiff with a 680 FICO score in Tulsa can’t borrow money because the banks overreact with their underwriting standards. Or Joe Potato in Cleveland loses his job because the Wal-Mart cuts 25% of its work force to “contain costs” and then proceeds to immediately provide Chinese, Indian and Korean workers with new “opportunities” in their home country.

It is only many months later that the epicenter is affected with the dinosaurs attempting to sell their third homes and not finding bids, cutting back on the south of France vacations and Beaver Creek ski jaunts. They also come to the realization that the 8,200 square foot home they bought in Harrison has operating costs that they are suddenly becoming rather uncomfortable with.

So who is this dinosaur, really? Is he the legendary Theseus turned into a modern day Thersites? Probably neither. Other than wearing a bespoke suit and not really driving revenue to the extent he or she should, this individual did more process work than deal-making, interfaced with customers peripherally, and manifested hubris in its purest most unattractive form because he went to Yale, Wharton or Stanford. Sure those hallowed halls help you get jobs, but my god man; it isn’t a lifetime meal ticket!

Now many of you were ultra-hard workers and life is sometimes unfair, but the world is large and flatter than ever. Instead of searching in this corner of the world, expand the flight of your search. Dinosaurs can become eagles once more. Just not in Manhattan.

Forgiveness

I thought of all the bad luck,
And the struggles we went through
And how I lost me and you lost you
What are these voices outside loves open door
Make us throw off our contentment
And beg for something more?

Yeah what is that - when we have all we ever wanted, and we are reasonably content, what makes us beg for some undefinable "more"? Is it fear, fear of the unknown, fear of actual real happiness that somehow feels foreign and scary because you are so defined by turmoil and drama, the only two states of mind that you are really familiar with?

The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, Im learning again
Ive been tryin to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore

One's will is a capricious thing. Sometimes it pursues its object and wild animals couldn't hold it off. Other times it wants to take a nap, exhausted from trying to figure out things for which there simply are no answers. As for "scattered" thoughts, a mind such as mine that is capable of thinking Yes and No presicely at the same moment... well eventually that leads you to a place of backtracking and flip-flopping, half-truths and white lies, and a tremendous loss of credibility.

These times are so uncertain
Theres a yearning undefined
And people filled with rage
We all need a little tenderness
How can love survive in such a graceless age?
The trust and self-assurance that lead to happiness
Theyre the very things - we kill I guess
Pride and competition
Cannot fill these empty arms
And the work I put between us
You know it doesnt keep me warm

Love in a graceless age - perhaps this blog would be renamed - these are indeed different times, things change fast, doesn't seem like love survives long in graceless places. Even innocence has caught the last train out, and there's nobody left on the platform to take the blame. Trust and self-assurance, twin virtues, but easily annihilated by a lack of consistency and integrity.

Ive been tryin to get down
To the heart of the matter
Because the flesh will get weak
And the ashes will scatter
So Im thinkin about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me

Everyone gets old, everyone dies. So ultimately it probably is about forgiveness, but I am not there yet. For now, I am just trying to keep me one disaster less.

(lyrics from Heart of the Matter by India Arie)

Frenemies at the Gate

I was sitting at the Starbucks on Dupont Circle sipping a caramel machiato (not the usual skinny latte – clearly I was in an adventurous mood) and I thought about the woman I had just bumped into minutes ago. We were friends (and I use that term loosely) at Wharton. We moved in the same social circles, got all dressed up and teetered off in our high heels to the same glam-nerd b-school parties, and had probably (if only I could remember) bonded over many a vodkatini.

But she was also that friend who would gush about how great it is to see me, and omg its been too long, and we must get together for dinner, but never ever follow up. And she once said to me “that’s strange that he won't come visit you from Philly.. like my boyfriend, who comes to see me all the way from Timbuktoo.” It may have been true, but the point is that’s a hurtful thing to say. It is totally against the Girl Code, according to which you say “why hasn’t that retard come to see you, you deserve way better than that girlfriend!”

At that moment I decided that she was so off my list. She was a total frenemy! And that got me thinking about such girls throughout my life. We've all experienced various versions of this phenomenon. That girl existed way before we first heard the term frenemy on Sex & the City.

That girl was the one who, when you were young and didn't know any better, you envied, adored, and resented in that very special combo-way only girls can. It wasn't about whether or not you liked her. You hated her. You wanted to be her. Usually all at once. 

The first time this happened it was probably on the playground or in grade school. But the time it had the most impact on you was probably in high school. She was really nice and sweet on the surface, but so fake that even my ten-year old brother could see right through her. Only, I couldn’t, and I thought she was the next best thing since sliced bread. But even I knew deep down that she said or did subtle things that made me feel bad. Maybe a little too flirty with a boy I liked. A little too ready to break a shopping date with me at the slightest chance to hang out with a more popular girl. And she seemed unable to perform even the most basic steps of female bonding rituals. A normal woman might say, "what are you talking about, you look amazing in that dress." She was more likely to say "don’t worry, not everyone looks good in tight fitting clothing." Ouch.

Later you'd encounter another version of her in college or grad school. You had grown up, you were more secure and smarter. You weren’t going to fall for this crap easily. But your frenemy was also now more sophisticated, accomplished, and competitive. The thing is by this time the lines had blurred; you had a lot in common with her. You actually enjoyed conversation with her, as well as the parties, the gossip, and the apparent intimacy created by getting the lowdown on mutual frenemies over bottles of red wine.

Yet, you couldn’t completely trust her. On occasion you hear she said this about you to that person. She fails to consistently demonstrate the loyalty and support you expect – and get - from a real friend.

A third version of that Girl is now someone in your professional life. The frenemy at work is the most dangerous. Because now money and a livelihood are involved. You probably like her at some level - and indeed need her – as a friendly ear at work. And on the surface the relationship is deceptively pleasant. But underneath it, she is jealous, competitive, female, and ferocious. And you’ve felt that blade in your back once too often and when you least expect it - she’s showed you up at important meetings or not defended you at critical times.

Why are some women like this? It is such a drag. I suppose, in the end, we’ve just got to accept it. Some people are congenitally unable to have true friends. They always have an angle and they've got to have the edge. It's better for them if people don't get too close to them. That’s why they are like that. Might as well enjoy whatever role they play in your life. As long as you are cognizant of the fact that they do not play for your team, and don’t have any expectations that they ever will, you won’t get burned.

It’s a bit like China and the US. As the prolific Stephen Colbert put it: China is our Frenemy. They're communists, but they stabilize our economy. 

I am Going with the Best-looking

Today was the democratic primary in DC. I am now ready to officially announce my support for the Presidential campaign of Barack Obama.

Unfortunately I can't vote in this country, so it doesn't really matter, however I would still like to say for the record that I have chosen to support the best speaker, the best looking, and the most passionate of the candidates. And before you make me into some shallow, naive, no-sense girl who's drunk the cool aid, please consider the following:

The Official Barack Obama Campaign Site

Barack Obama on MySpace

Barack Obama on Facebook

Barack Obama on YouTube

Barack Obama Is My Homeboy Grassroots Campaign

Barack Obama via Twitter

Barack Obama's Congressional Voting Record

The Democratic Party

Obama Girl

A President Like my Father

Compromise

I have gotten so used to being alone. Used to being just Me. As I want, when I want. I am happy in my own private world, with my warm life with the fuzzy edges, and the writing, and the tight circle of friends.

Interestingly, how I like to sleep is a good parallel to how I like to live. I like taking over a big bed all for myself. I want the duvet and the general space of the room all to myself too. And I sleep with the door closed to all other rooms, things, and people. Secure within my four light-blue painted walls. Part of it is that other people - even people close to me - even those in a relationship with me - feel threatening. Especially at night.

As soon as I find someone I like, I go into a knot of insecurity and anxious. Not insecurity about the other person. Insecurity about me, my ability to be a good 'other'. To live up to expectations, to love selflessly, to compromise. Because deep down there's a fear that I don't care enough to compromise. There's nothing I  hate more than compromise. There's just too much of Me now  - it wont fit in any space  with someone else.  Compromise feels like I am giving up on Her.

Because its taken me a long time to find Her. 

Almost all my life I was scared of being alone. So scared that it made me find certain types of people (usually unsuitable) and certain types of situations (usually inappropriate), and hang on to them like my life depended on it.  At some level my life did depend on it. Thats how I experienced it. At a gut level. Visceral.  They say that all painful behaviors, all such coping mechanisms, eventually fail. The solution becomes the problem. And it did.  My beautiful house of cards came crashing down.

And so I had to learn, go through the rubble, and put it back together, piece by piece, by myself. Thing is, once you've faced the worst of it, its all up from there. You find being you is not so bad. Then you get real good at it. Then you become supergirl. 

So, ironically after being terrified of alone for 29 years, I’ve faced it, and now in many ways its easier than 'together'.  'Together' is risky. There's a potential for failure. It’s much easier being me and the internet and the crazy dates. How did I get here? I’m afraid of the one thing I have always wanted more than anything else in life. It makes me sad.     

But I do know that I believe in love, and eternal companionship, and all those wholesome things. After all I have a blog with the word Love in the title. There's nothing quite like the love. Reckless hearts, the timing sucks, the time is right and the guy is wrong. But occasionally you get it right. The stars line up. And you find that affection is less dangerous when you're not afraid to feel.

In the end life together is messy. It will probably run the gamut from who steals the duvet to who's turn it is to be on top. To in-laws, and exes, and embarrassment and guilt, to fights about fighting and making up over never again. Its fixing the light bulb, to putting up the drapes. Its dustbuster flipflops and the soundtrack to Juno.

And somewhere in all of that, we'll find each other. And we'll get there. Wherever that is.

Love in the Age of Dustbusting Flipflops

Hey honey I am getting you these for your housework.
Um, thanks - but you could just help me with the housework instead?

The Laziest Way to do it

I am a big believer in figuring out the laziest way to do anything. Put another way, it means figuring out the "smartest, easiest most efficient way to do it”.

And there are a lot of people like me.

I mean seriously - why do you have to deliberately slow your minds down to do something in 10 steps when you can do it in 2. It takes talent to simplify things, whereas making things more difficult is easy.

With me, usually what happens is there is a period of extended procrastination because, after all, speed kills. And then suddenly, under pressure or duress (or some kind of threat to my life), my mind focuses. And it focuses sharply. Then I want to what I am doing as quickly and as efficiently as possible.

Some people simply don't attach a value to hard work for the sake of hard work. They prefer being creative and figuring out how to do things quickly with the least amount of energy possible. This is probably the combination of impatience, the ability to act impulsively, and a willing to take disproportionately high risks. We love it. We get high on it.

That’s one reason people like me don’t do well in large, conservative bureaucratic organizations where they often have the mentality of “that’s the way we’ve always done it so it should be good enough for you”. A certain big Bank comes to mind.

My response to that is “that’s the way you’ve always done it, is because you weren’t:

A) smart enough

B) creative enough

C) or had enough initiative to come up with an easier and more effective way of doing it”

There's something arguably attractive about being busy. Busy is important. Busy is respected. There's also a stereotype that all smart people are busy. The ultimate place for busy bitching was B-School. Go anywhere, at any time of the day, it was full of busy future businesspeople busily competing with their busy friends about who is busier. I am sure in this respect it is no different from Law  School or Med School. You know what busy really means? That you didn't get to go to b-school or college, so you're busy working three full-time jobs to support your family. Thats the real busy.

My Worst Nightmare

Would be this.

If I had to go without internet for more than 48 hours that would be truly awful. Cell phone - I don't mind so much. I've never been a big caller or one of those people who have really long chats on their phones on a daily basis. I text some, but never more than 10 messages per day.

I do communicate considerably more through IM, and Facebook, and email, and my blog. Hence why an online outage would be harder. But the major reason life without the internet would be truly a challenge is not for the communication aspect but for more functional matters - I read my newspapers online, I listen to music online, I watch TV online, I pay my bills online, I check weather reports and stock markets on line, I shop online, and I write online.

Its pretty much everything. Without the internet what would I do for even a day? I'd have to get outside. On to the streets. In this cold. Hmm, yeah, I like not so much.

And Looking Forward

So I am making a list and checking it twice. For all I want to do in 2008.

Which is superficially: a) exercise more, b) drink water, c) stop eating chocolate, d)  just decide and marry someone already! 

I wonder what this year has in store. Is it going to be the Greatest Year yet or just an Average Year? In the end, does it even matter? I've come to realize that no matter what big goals one may have, and how many of them one accomplishes, all that matters is how each day was lived, and whether one was reasonably content each of those days. In the current age of discontent we live in, there is little point in pining your happiness on better jobs, bigger homes, thinner bodies, hotter relationships, or what have you, because getting any extraneous thing only holds its allure for a few months before you set new goals. Want more. Pine for the next thing.

An Average Year would be just fine.

In that spirit, this year I want to keep my resolutions really simple:

1) I want to care less about the things I really shouldn't care so much about. And more about the things I should - like health check-ups, and meditating.

2) I want to show up for people I've promised things to, for commitments I've made. And on time. To stop running, always an hour late, a dollar short, and a button missing.

3) I want to be thankful for what I already have, but most importantly, for all I already am.

4) I want to make the most of a life that is set in one of the freeiest places on Earth, in the most prosperous country, at the turn of the 21st century.   

5) I want to stop regreting time lost - whether it was the years lost back in the day, or just the hours lost yesterday. Everything takes the time it does. We get where we get when we get there.

6) I want more time to play with my photos, and picasa, to understand depth of field and white balance, to make memories in sepia. I want more time to think in colors, decorate, to match the carpet with the right shade of Roman soft shade blinds, I want more free time for learning and reading, editing things and playing with stuff.