Check the Date

We all fear rejection. Which is why asking someone on a date is a hard thing to do. But being wishy-washy about asking someone on a date -- that's can be even worse.

I helped out one of the new employees at work -- showed him how to save a ton of time on a particular project by automating the data entry. Friday he came by my cube.

"I want to thank you again for helping me out. You saved me a lot of work. Will you let me thank you by taking you out to dinner on Saturday."

Keep in my mind that he's talking to me in the middle of the workday, at my cube, and there are plenty of our coworkers around who hear him. The situation makes it seem much less like he's asking me out, and more like it really is a thank you dinner. Plus, as Chuck Klosterman points out in Downtown Owl, the people around here are friendly but not particularly interested in becoming friends. He's been here a month and is probably as starved for a non-work conversation as I am.

Even recognizing he might be asking as a date, I said yes, because he didn't say it was a date. He said it was a thank you. I try to take people at their word.

Also, generally if someone couches a date in other terms, they don't make it extremely date-like. They take the dinner (or whatever) as a time to gauge whether or not a real date is a possibility.

So we go to dinner. There's a yellow rose in a vase on the table. Jazz is playing softly in the background. It's nice. This is Dickinson. There are few vegetarian options on the menu. I order an entrée salad. He orders steak. We have a nice dinner, good conversation. After dinner, as we're leaving, he tells me to take the rose. I figure he's joking; who takes the flower from a restaurant table. I laugh and say no. He insists. After a couple of moments of this I realize there are no roses on any other tables. I take the vase and flower, but my comfort level has dropped.

At least it's a yellow rose, I think. That's the rose for friendship. *Maybe* that's how he means it. (It's amazing what we tell ourselves, isn't it?)

I've already agreed to stop at his apartment. He's ordering some new furniture, and has told me he wants a second opinion on how it will look. On our way to his apartment, I let him know that I can't stay late; I still have work to catch up on tonight.

He gives me a brief tour of his apartment. It's very nice. Mine feels squalid in comparison. He said he wanted honest opinions, so I give him mine. He wants to show off his stereo system -- something he had talked passionately about at dinner. So he puts on a CD. We discuss a range of topics from flamenco to the multiverse. He seems surprised that I can follow the conversation, that I have heard of the multiverse or the golden ratio. I'm surprised that he's used to people who can't follow that discussion, who don't know of these things. I remind him I have to work. We talk a bit more.

And he gives me a box of truffles. Okay, now I can't pretend to myself that he doesn't mean this as a date. Once again, my comfort level drops.

And as we're leaving for him to take me home, he steals a kiss. Now, regardless of what happens later, he can't pretend that it's not meant as a date.

Comfort level: sub-basement.

On the drive home he asks if I'm involved with anyone.

"Sort of."

"'Sort of,' like it's ending?"

"'Sort of,' in that we're trying to figure out where we're going."

"Then I apologize for stealing that kiss."

Though I half want to rail at him for turning what could have been a friendly, getting-to-know-you dinner into an uncomfortable evening, I tell him it's okay.

"Then can I steal another?"

Why couldn't he have been that up front in the first place? Yes, at this point the audacity or courage or whatever you want to call it was inappropriate, but it would have been absolutely appropriate for him to squirrel his courage when he invited me to dinner instead of hiding behind "Thank you." It wouldn't have taken five minutes to tell me what he actually had in mind. And it would have saved us both discomfort and embarrassment.

How can you make your wishes clear in just five minutes?

In Defense of . . .

"I'm okay with most people, but that (shudder), that's just . . . It's not right."

Twice in the past week I heard people say this, or something a lot like it. And that was just last week. It's a judgment statement that people make all the time. If the statement referred to something harmful:

I'm okay with most people, but rape/ pedophilia/ beastiality/ murder (shudder), that's just . . . It's not right.

Then I might not have a problem with it. I still wouldn't like the word choice -- condeming the person instead of the action -- but I'd be a lot more okay with it.

Last week, as usual, neither statement was about actions that cause harm to anyone. In fact, they weren't even about actions or lifestyles that would be easily noticable.

Last week, the things that brought about the squeamish comments were gender correction surgeries and furries.

And, as usual, the comments made by the squeamish illustrated how uninformed they were. To be fair, though, one of them asked me questions. The other just made assumptions. Sadly, making assumptions seems to be the more common of the two.

Although the conversations we ended up having in both instances lasted longer than five minutes, it took just five minutes for me to address and refute many of the common misconceptions, stereotypes, and prejudices regarding both gender dysphoria and furries.

Most prejudices stem from ignorance. And much of that ignorance can addressed, on a surface level, in just five minutes. People who hold prejudices will often start to rethink their points of view if someone they know challenges their assumptions. Five minutes may not overcome the prejudice, but it's a start.

What prejudices can you address in just five minutes?

I will not be near a computer tomorrow, so this weeks post will be made on Wednesday, instead.

Attitude of Gratitude

When it comes to life the critical thing is whether you take things for granted or take them with gratitude. - G.K. Chesterton

I admit that I get discouraged sometimes. I'm not discouraged right now, though some people would say I have plenty of reasons to be.

A large part of why I'm not discouraged right now is attitude. (and, no, my attitude isn't always positive -- but I try to make it so) A conscious thinking about the good that comes from what could be seen as a bad situation. And there's always good. A conscious decision to be grateful. And there is always something to be thankful for.

Potential Problem
I live in a town where the natives, while friendly, don't seem interested in becoming friends.

Another Way of Looking at It
I am reminded everyday at how strong and independent I am. Whether it's being able to take care of myself when I'm sick, hanging pictures, or going hiking.

I am reminded how important my friends and family are to me. Even when they drive me nuts, I love them.

I am encouraged to help make it easier for other people who move here and have no one, and reminded to do this even if I'm surrounded by my friends.

Potential Problem
My job -- what I moved here for -- is almost done, and I haven't found a new one yet. I've sent out tons of resumes.

Another Way of Looking at It
If I don't find a job by the time this one ends, I will have the time to start the publishing business I've been thinking about. I will have the time to work on my roadtrip across America project. I've got them both sketched out, I just need the time to implement them.

Potential Problem
My laptop caught a virus and died. Because of this I have not done nearly as much writing while here as I had planned.

Another Way of Looking at It
I have taken time to revisit printouts of things I wrote before I moved here. I rediscovered pieces I had forgotten about. I've revised a lot of these works, making them stronger, tighter, better.

---

It takes just five minutes to think about what good could come (or has come) from a difficulty in your life. Just five minutes to change your way of looking at a problem so that you can see the positive it adds to your life.

What are you thankful for?

The Write Stuff

Write a bestseller in just five minutes!

I know a lot of writers. Real writers. Writers who write every day, or close to. Writers who know that all it takes to write (beyond learning the alphabet and the rudimentaries of stringing words into thoughts) is to write. Some of them have published bestselling novels. Some are regular columnists for respected papers. Some have been published locally or have self-published. Many haven't been published. Yet. But they write.

I know a lot of wannabe writers. Wannabes who talk about how much they want to write. Wannabes who complain they have to much to do (families, jobs, responsibilities, for pete's sake!) to find the time to write. Not one of them has written a worst-selling novel. Not one of them has a column with the most pathetic of papers. Not one of them has been published locally (at least not since school) or has self-published. And they won't be. Because they don't write.

It doesn't take much to write. Sure, a lot of people will tell you to write at least 500 words, 1000 words, 2000 words every day. Others will say write for at least half an hour, an hour, two hours every day. And to the wannabe whose excuse is that there's no time, those are nearly impossible goals to agree to stick to. That's when we turn to Jerry Cheaver's Immediate Fiction: A Complete Writing Course.

John Cheaver's primary, numero uno, can't miss rule in Immediate Fiction is to spend at least five minutes every day on your work in progress.

That's right. Just five minutes.

Okay. I can hear you through the computer. "How on earth will anyone get anywhere if they only write five minutes? Get real."

First, just because you promise yourself you'll write at least five minutes doesn't mean you can't write more. Sometimes (maybe even often) you will. But if you only promise yourself at least five minutes, you will always be able to find the time. Even if it means hiding in the bathroom away from the kids or coworkers. Five minutes is ridiculously doable.

B.^* When you spend time actively thinking about your work in progress every day -- even just five minutes -- the story stays with you. You think about it both consciously and subconsciously throughout the day, week, month. You work out problems without even trying ("Hey! Chapter two would work better at the end of the book. Duh!"). And, when you do sit down to write for those five minutes, the story is fresh. You know it. You know where you are. You don't have to reacquaint yourself with the world, the plot, the characters.

and 3.^* When you're struggling to find something to write, when you can't figure out what needs to happen next, when you're body curls up arthritically to cringe away from "writer's block," knowing you need only write for five minutes can be freeing. If you're writing for just five minutes, you can let the story go in an unexpected direction. You can let your characters behave uncharacteristically. You can play and experiment. What's the worst that happens? You later choose not to keep those few sentences or paragraphs. But maybe the experiment pays off. Maybe you get past whatever your hang-up was. Maybe you discover something amazing about your story. Five minutes sets you free.

^*My numbering brainmeats had a Paul Reiser moment.

We all have things we pretend we don't have time to do. What can you tackle for just five minutes every day?

Song of the Exiled

Sometimes all that's necessary to lift your spirits is a song.

Whine, whine, whine. Whaaah. The sounds of self-pity.

Last August I started a new job in a new state. It was a term position--366 days, but, I was told, would most likely be extended. The project manager and office manager both guessed the job would last about 2-1/2 years. I packed up my stuff and moved from Colorado, where I had friends and family, to North Dakota, where I knew no one. Now, nearly eleven-months later, I'm having to prepare for another move; this time I don't know where I'm going.

It's one of those unfortunate circumstances--funding cuts for the project I was hired to work on. All four of us who were hired for this project were told that, as of October 1, we're out of jobs. They were good enough to let us know as soon as they knew, which means I've sent out 30 resumes in the last six weeks. So far, no bites. The people at my office have been nice, letting me know that they're sorry to see me go, telling me things like, "I'm sure they'll come up with funding at the last minute. They always do." But I can't count on that, so I keep looking.

It's strange, though. As friendly as the people in my agency are, they aren't. I've been here for 10-1/2 months, and, though I've invited people to do things, I've only done non-work things with anyone from my agency three times. Once was at Thanksgiving, and that was with the other woman on my project who started here one week before I did. The other two times were over the July 4th weekend--and I pretty-much invited myself along (once to watch the parade, once to watch the fireworks). In fact, the only good friend I made since I moved here moved back to Colorado more than a month ago.

Can you tell I've been feeling sorry for myself? I know, I know. Play a sad song on the violin for me.

I really do know that my life is not bad. I have friends, they just live in other states. I have a job, and I will find another one before this one ends. I like the people in my office and they seem to like me. Logically I know all that. But, still, sometimes those pity-full emotions creep up and get the better of me.

Because of those pity-full feelings, work this week (and, yes, I know it's only Tuesday) has been rough. I completed a fraction of what I felt I should complete. My mind kept wandering. I was easily distracted. I was exhausted.

This morning, while trying to figure out how to get back on track, I was reminded of the power of music. At lunch I ran home for my MP3 player. When I got back to work, I plugged in the earphones and put it on play. For an entire song, I just listened. I didn't work. I didn't think about anything but the music. And at the end of the song, I felt lighter, better, freer. I had the music on all afternoon, and I got a lot more work done than I had yesterday or this morning.

According to A Candle In the Dark, the average modern American song is approximately 4 minutes long. This means that, in just five minutes you can completely give yourself over to a song, and pull yourself back after it ends while still breathing in the music, lyrics, and feelings of the piece.

What song can lift your mood in just five minutes?

Webs We Weave

Note: The last two Tuesdays I've been on vacation outside of the realm of internet access. Yes, such places still exist in the U.S. It was a good vacation; I got to spend time in the amazing world of Yellowstone with some of my family. As good as it was, it's great to be back, too.

---

A woman I know is part owner of an antique store. She and her partners have decided it's time to get a website. Last Friday she asked me, almost in passing, if the webmaster is responsible for advertising the site, or if she should contact the Yellow Pages herself. For the next five minutes I filled her in on the very basis of having a website.

She took notes, and ended up with a lot of important, useful information.

I took stock, and realized I know a lot about business websites. I already knew I knew this information, but this drove it home.

Im not yet sure how or if I'll use this realization for anything more than the business I plan to start soon, but it's nice knowing I could. And it was nice knowing I could distill many of the important points into just five minutes.

The main points I covered:

• SEO (search engine optimization)
  
• fresh content
  
• images
  
• not using Hotmail (or another free, "generic" e-mail host) for business e-mail
  
• understanding upfront what the webmaster will do and charge.

Do you have knowledge of which you ca share the important points in just five minutes?