Water on stone

The Future Is Like Pie #8

Lisa Maria Marquis
January 11, 2019

Now that the first week (and then some) of 2019 is behind us, so, too, are best-of-2018 lists, goal-setting imperatives, anti-resolution declarations, and posts about all the books we read last year. Thank god.

I’ve been feeling particularly uninterested, this time around the sun, in reflecting and making plans. Maybe it’s the current cultural climate, the impending end of the world, millennial burnout, or general capitalism (but we repeat ourselves). But all I can see from 2018 is what I didn’t do: the novels I didn’t read, the house I didn’t buy, the money I didn’t make, the newsletters I didn’t write, the politics I couldn’t change. Not the lightest of hearts, clearly.

I’ve decided that the only thing I can do is try to be kind. Aggressively kind, if that’s a thing, as much as I can muster. If, as they say, everyone we meet is fighting a hard battle—well, our individual battles ladder up to bigger societal ills. Our institutions disappoint us because the people who work in them are struggling (and, too often, denying, ignoring, tamping their problems down, down, down). We have angry drivers, bad customer service, unsupportive bosses, unfeeling bureaucracies, because everyone meting out these scenarios is dealing with stress and abuse and illness and caretaking, with troubled families, financial strains, stifled dreams, childhood traumas, and unmet needs. We’re all just so stuck.

So, kindness. I don't know. I'm already failing, especially with myself (as this letter somewhat demonstrates), and I'll probably keep failing. But there’s no score to keep. There's just what I do.

In “Laziness Does Not Exist,” psychology professor Devon Price offers deeply compassionate wisdom on procrastination, human behavior, judgment, and the invisible barriers that impede us:

People do not choose to fail or disappoint. No one wants to feel incapable, apathetic, or ineffective. If you look at a person’s action (or inaction) and see only laziness, you are missing key details. There is always an explanation. There are always barriers. Just because you can’t see them, or don’t view them as legitimate, doesn’t mean they’re not there. Look harder.

In November, Michael Hendricks tweeted eleven research papers demonstrating the impact of sexism on women's careers (and surprising no women anywhere).

In an unrelated thread this week, Johanna Rickne added another paper to the pile, “a correspondence study showing that women are penalized in job searches for having good university grades.” (As a former high-achieving academic, let me just say: neat.)

Ana Mardoll took to task the workplace advice so frequently given to women:

“Women should learn to say ‘I wasn’t finished talking / You interrupted me’.”
The last time I politely said that in a meeting, a dude turned red and started screaming at me, and I was blamed for being ‘unprofessional’.

R.O. Kwon wrote about the omnipresent calculus of women's safety:

I’m often so angry, these days, that I’m a little surprised I haven’t turned physically incandescent. Why haven’t I started glowing in the dark?

Let’s wrap up on a more positive note:

I might not be big on 2019 resolutions, but my glorious friends Sara and Katel have found the energy for me. Having rebranded and relaunched their podcast, Strong Feelings, they’re kicking off with the new year with lessons they learned from their 2018 guests. My favorite: “Don’t wait for someone else to come along. We’re the ones.”

Similarly, Chuck Wendig offers some new year’s advice to writers (and artists and makers and everyone):

There’s no map but the one you draw. No process of anyone’s you can borrow. You gain your groove by wearing it into the floor one micrometer at a time. It’s erosion. Water on stone to find its path. It makes it harder in times like these because we want it to be math. PERSIST.

While you’re doing new year cleanup (or konmari-ing your entire life), you might end up with a bunch of books you don’t want anymore. Might I suggest donating them to a prison? While this article on prison book programs is from 2015, the points (and many of the links) still stand. I’ve sent a box of poetry and graphic novels off to my local program; I’m sure there’s one near you, too.