I used to be one of those girls who brag about not being friends with women.
Well, I didn’t brag, really, but I would always point out that I have much closer male friends than female ones. I grew up with discouraging female friends. All the women around me were catty and self-centered and shallow. To be honest, so were the men. But as soon as I broke off from that crowd, I consistently picked men as best friends.
By high school, I had a few female friends, but with the exception of one, I had problems with all. I don’t know if it’s due us being the same gender and thus allowing for more comparisons, but I still thought that women were less trustworthy. A few of the women whom I considered close friends have regularly, over the years, let me down when I least expected.
I’ve considered women as more calculating, more out-for-herself type and backstabbing. God forbid anyone who stands in the way of a woman who’s determined to reach a goal. Even if that person is her supposed best friend.
I’ve had close friends date my exes, bash my boyfriend to his face, talk bad things behind my back and just be outright cruel at times.
A male friend has never done any of those things to me.
My male close friends, and I’ve had quite a few, have mostly been less intense and generally couldn’t relate to certain “female” issues I had, but overall they were more reliable, a whole lot more fun and less likely to ditch me when they found a significant other.
Today, my closest friend is Jake, but other than him, I have friends of both genders. I’ve realized that different genders offer different benefits and points of view to my life. Depending on what my problem is, I reach out to whomever I believe will support me and whomever will give me good insight.
I’ve stopped believing that it has anything to do with gender. People are just people. There are women who make crappy friends and women who make fantastic ones. A woman who might be a terrible fit for me, could easily be the best buddy of someone else. Same goes for men. I don’t think only being friends with the opposite gender makes me sound cool.
At least, not anymore.
I think it makes me sound immature.
Previously? First One.
I’ve always been fascinated by people who claim to be the first to do something.
“Oh he is always the first to discover a new book or a trend.” And for some reason people think that this is a sought-after trait.
I just fail to understand the importance of this trend. Why is it important, or desirable, that a person be the very first to read a new novel or see a current movie? What exactly does that really say about the person?
I’ve been racking my brain and I can’t come up with a good answer. I keep thinking that ten years down the line who will still care that this person was the first to have read a certain novel if by that point we’ve both read it? How does it matter that you went to Denmark before I did, if we’ve both been there?
I see the advice-oriented benefits to having already done something. If you’ve already been to Denmark, you might be able to tell me where to eat or which sightseeing tours not to miss, but that’s about all. Same goes for a book or a movie; you could tell me what you thought about it. Even then, it might say nothing about what I will think about it.
In many industries, especially technology, being first sometimes actually has a negative correlation with being the best. America had analog cell phones much earlier than many countries, including Turkey. But as a late-adopter Turkey was able to invest into the latest and greatest digital technology, which had been invented by the time cell phones made it to Turkey. Today, digital phones in America are much more expensive and not as reliable as their counterparts in Turkey.
Software programming is also similar. Someone who learned how to code many years ago might have been the greatest Fortran or Cobol programmer ever, but for these people making the leap to Object Oriented Programming has been much more difficult, causing them to lose their jobs to latecomers.
So being the first is not always the best and I really can’t see why it’s such a ‘hot’ trait. Why does it matter that she was the first to use the color orange? Why does it matter that he wore a turtleneck way before many others?
It all just seems so trivial to me.
But if you have any useful insight on this matter, I’d love it if you shared it.
Previously? Family Values.
There are long periods in history where for some reason or another, a person has had to hide their identity. Some awful cases exist even today.
I know there are some well-known examples and others that seem to have faded, though they definitely shouldn’t have. One of my core beliefs is that people should be allowed to be whatever and whomever they choose to be.
I don’t understand how any one person could claim to know what the ‘right’ or ‘acceptable’ way is. And how does it really affect one person’s life that the other exists. It’s one thing for me to go around and try to convert people to be something else, and another for me to just be that on my own. In my opinion only the weak fear what’s different. The uneducated seek comfort in being close-minded.
What I hate with even more vigor are people who discriminate just to be a part of ‘the gang.’ While one is stupid and ignorant, the other knows full well the atrocity of such behavior and continues to do it nonetheless.
I was thinking today that I don’t spend enough time appreciating the liberty I have had. Luckily, I’ve never been discriminated against, at least to my knowledge. I’ve been classified as “you people” several times in my life and have always spoken up to let people know that just because I might be in what’s labeled as a minority, it’s not suddenly okay to segregate.
In the same way, I don’t enjoy when the minorities themselves use this separation to their advantage. I don’t like it to be “women’s month” for anything. That implies that women are still a minority and need to be handled as a separate entity. I remember reading in Heather’s interview at the women zinester survey that her vision for “women’s web” is a place where such a term is unnecessary and thinking that I loved her answer. I don’t want to read into her words or put words in her mouth but for me, the fact that someone needs to single “women” out means there still is a problem.
I’m all for people being proud of who they are. All for people with the same beliefs or issues getting together and using each other for support. But the minute these people use the segregation to their advantage, to me it’s like they’re supporting the ideals of the people who put them in this position in the first place.
Today, I’m feeling thankful that I live in a city where people don’t judge me for my differences. I feel thankful for having had a smooth life and thankful to those who fought for me to be able to have this life. It’s crucial that people fight against being forced to hide their identity.
For if we lose that, what have we left?
Previously? At the Ballet.
I’ve always enjoyed classical music and I love the opera. But I never really liked the ballet.
It always seemed boring to me. I do appreciate the strict regimen required to develop the level of flexibility and strength. I also love that it is a sport and an art. I’m not trying to put its value or importance down by any means.
I’m just saying that I don’t enjoy it.
Let’s change that to didn’t.
Over ten years ago, my parents convinced me to go out on a school night (yes, I know how convoluted that sounds, but things worked slightly differently in my household.) I complained that I didn’t like ballet and I had an exam the next morning, was it really a good idea for me to see this?
“Trust me,” said my mom, “you’ll like it.”
So I went and it was one of the most amazing nights of my life.
This wasn’t just any ballet, it was the Bolshoi.
I was so mesmerized by the performance that I’m sure I forgot to breathe at times.
Maybe ballet didn’t have to be so boring after all.
A few years later, yet another legend visited Turkey and this time my mom didn’t need to mention it twice. If Baryshnikov wanted to come to Istanbul, there wasn’t a way I was missing it. I watched him from the sixth row and I didn’t dare blink.
So when my friend Natalia called me to say that he was performing in Brooklyn, I leapt at the chance of being swept away in his magic once more.
Last night’s performance was quite different than the one I’d seen around a decade ago. Baryshnikov and his dance group, the White Oak Dance Project, were honoring the Judson Dance Theater dancers. The performance was much more modern than I anticipated but it certainly didn’t disappoint me.
On the contrary, it overwhelmed me. I watched hungrily, eating up the energy and creativity that poured out of these incredibly talented people. I envied their freedom and joy.
Most of all, I envied their boldness. These people are some of the best ballet dancers in the world, yet they don’t perform Swan Lake and other classical acts. They express themselves in their own original ways. There are acts where people are simply walking from one end of the stage to another, not even using their dance skills. They’re urging you to think out of the box and change your preconceived notions. Your expectations.
I have the utmost respect for them. Not only because of their talent and vigor.
But because they dare to be different.
Previously? Strangers.
There’s a thin line between humble and self-deprecating.
Here’s a multiple choice test for you:
A friend who hasn’t seen you in a while runs in to you and exclaims, “My God, you look absolutely fabulous!”
You say:
a)Oh, no, not really. I still have so much weight to lose and my roots are growing out.
b)Thank You.
c)I do, don’t I?
If you picked “c”, we need not be talking as your problems tend to be in the other extreme. If, on the other hand, you’re a fan of option “a”, I urge you to change your habits.
In the last few months I’ve learned that if you say something often enough, people start believing it.
There’s nothing wrong with taking compliments and there’s nothing wrong with feeling good about yourself. One of the guys I work with always goes around saying how his wife is so much more wonderful than he is and how lucky he is to have her. On the way to the subway, today, I was telling him how he should stop saying that.
“But, she is,” came the answer.
“That’s not the point. I’m sure she’s wonderful and you are really lucky to have her. But there’s no need to compare yourself to her. There’s no need to undermine your own worth. It doesn’t somehow make her more wonderful if you suck.”
He nodded his head thoughtfully and said that he saw my point.
I understand that it’s hard to get your mind away from such thoughts if you really don’t think so well of yourself, but it really causes others to feel similarly about you.
I used to talk about how fat I was every day. At first my friends told me the usual, “Come on, you’re not fat,” stuff. A few months later, I remember asking a friend about a pair of pants and she crinkled her nose and said, “this makes you sort of fat in the thighs.”
That’s when I realized that thanks to me and my insistence, my friends has started seeing me as what I kept telling them I was.
While going around tooting your own horn is not the wisest thing in the world, neither is bashing yourself continuously.
Cause anything, when heard enough times, starts sounding believable.
Previously? Big Words.
Attitude is everything. And words can be your most powerful ammunition.
During my several counseling and teaching jobs in college, I’ve often been taught to be careful with my words. There is a mountain of difference between saying, “Did you understand me?” and “Was I able to explain myself clearly?”
I’m not suggesting that you be fake or hide what you actually feel, just that a small bit of paraphrasing might help you reach your goal quicker and also spare a few folks’ feelings. Instead, many people choose to make completely unconstructive remarks that have the added benefit of being useless.
Here’s one I read recently: “It’s all crap.”
Wow, thank you for that well thought out comment, fella. I know exactly what you mean.
Actually, I don’t. What do you mean?
I hate it when people say it’s “bad” or it “sucks.” To be completely honest, I don’t like it when people overuse the word “good” either. I don’t want to sound like your English teacher, but those adjectives mean nothing. What if you ask me whether I like your site and I say, ‘It’s good.”
Are you feeling good, now? Cause you shouldn’t. “It’s good” either means that I didn’t like it and was trying to be cordial or, probably worse, I didn’t even visit it. Had I been to your site, I could tell you how the tone of green you chose for your link works well with the dark blue text and that I love the font in your name. I might tell you that I think your font is too small and makes the page slightly unreadable or that there is too much text on the screen. But saying it’s “good” is just a way to brush you off. It means I don’t care. It means I think your site is so bad that it can’t be salvaged.
Tiny little words with so much power. The response you’d get from taking a small minute to reconstruct your sentence. The effort you put into details. Why not give it a try and see if you find the responses as intoxicating as I do. There are few more wonderful things in the world than truly helping out someone else, even in the smallest way.
So maybe it’s time to start using your words.
Previously? One For All.
I was raised in a very Jewish environment. I don’t mean to imply that it was religious, just that my surroundings almost exclusively consisted of Jewish people. In a country where 99 percent of the population is Muslim, I imagine it’s not rare for the minorities to stick together.
I also hated most anyone I grew up with. Almost all of them were snotty, air headed, superficial people. They judged you solely on looks and what brand names you wore. They backstabbed without discrimination and they were cruel.
So as soon as I was old enough, I chose my own friends, most of whom were Muslim. When hanging out with them I used to joke that since I was a Jew myself, it was acceptable for me to belittle other Jews.
There’s a discussion in MetaFilter this week about Mel Brooks’s comment upon accepting one of this Tony awards. The poster complains that he finds it unacceptable that people make light of such a dreadful situation as the Holocaust. One of the counterarguments posed is that since Brooks is Jewish himself, he should be allowed to make fun of it any way he pleases.
My personal opinions on the matter aside, I think saying that since Brooks is Jewish he should be able to treat Jewish subject matters however he chooses, is unacceptable. For the people who said that there are many ways to deal with an issue and this may be how Brooks chooses to do it, that’s fine. I’m just against the idea that any member of a group of people should be allowed to speak on behalf of the group.
Just because Brooks is Jewish doesn’t mean he’s the chosen speaker for all Jews worldwide. It also doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to have his point of view and feelings about the matter. We’re all allowed to have thoughts on anything. Even though I’m not Muslim, I might have an opinion on the misconceptions about Muslim people in Western civilizations. While it’s true that I might not know what being Muslim feels like firsthand, that doesn’t automatically disqualify me from being able to intelligently discuss the subject matter.
In the same token, just because I’m Jewish doesn’t mean my opinion qualifies for all Jews. Some Jews might find power in looking at the humor or irony in the horror of it all, while others might abhor the idea of the word comedy and Holocaust being used in the same sentence. People will always have differing opinions and feelings about similar experiences; that’s what makes the world interesting. And someone’s right will often be someone else’s wrong. And that’s fine.
Sure Brooks can address the Holocaust in a manner he finds appropriate and so can a Swiss or a Muslim or most any other person. And there is a difference between speaking from first hand experience and just reading or interfacing with others, but it still doesn’t mean that all members of a minority see eye to eye on all issues concerning that minority group.
So saying that Brooks could make fun of the Holocaust because he’s Jewish seems like an invalid argument to me.
Not that the show is directly about Jews or the Holocaust anyhow.
Previously? Blissful Ignorance.
There are two kinds of people in the world: those who ignore problems and those who like to work through them.
It would be fair to say that I belong to the latter group. Until recently, I thought this was a desirable and mature characteristic.
Let’s talk about the ones who believe in the bliss of ignorance. To me the idea that a problem would disappear if only it were never addressed sounded ludicrous. I kept saying “Are you telling me that if I completely ignore his picking his nose all day long, he’ll actually stop?” I know many people who act as if the problems are simply not there. Some even make excuses to cover up. Anything, as long as we don’t have to face the real issue.
I just think this option never gives the other person the benefit of the doubt. If a friend’s behavior is upsetting me and I never tell her, she could possibly keep on doing it and I’d have no right to get more agitated, though I most likely would anyhow. Ignoring the issue only allows it to reoccur and it says to the other person that I don’t think it would be worth my time to talk to her.
So it made perfect sense that if an issue arose between me and a person I cared about, I’d sit down as quickly as possible and tell the person my concerns. It also made sense to me that we would discuss the issue and our feelings about it until we came to possible resolutions and even picked one to try out.
I also used to subscribe to the ‘don’t go to bed angry’ belief. So that mentality coupled with the previous made it dreadful when any problems occurred. Especially if the other party was one who likes to ignore the issues.
Imagine if you will, me sitting up in bed, frustrated about a problem and trying to talk it out with my boyfriend. He’s tired and all he can think of is how to make this problem go away so we can sleep. So I talk and he nods. I suggest resolutions and he agrees to anything. I can tell what he’s doing so I get more frustrated and now he’s annoyed I won’t drop it. Then I start realizing it’s getting late but I can’t go to bed angry, so it’s even more urgent that we resolve the problem. So I push harder. I want him to cooperate. I need him to listen. He’d better believe in resolving issues and start suggesting viable resolutions or…
Well, you can imagine the rest. Not a pretty picture.
It seems there’s a good time for ignoring an issue and a good time for addressing it. And nothing has to be done ‘now’. If your relationship is solid, it’s okay to go to bed angry and then resolve the issue in the morning when you’re both calmer. It’s even okay to ignore it for a while so the other person can breathe and be ready to talk. And it’s also okay to ignore some things completely. Many habits come and go, instead of fighting each of them; I’ve learned it’s best to pick your fights.
It’s best to resolve the major issues, or at least really try to, and let go of the small ones. If the small problem gets bigger, you can address it then. On the other hand, if it disappears, you avoided some unnecessary talk.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not suggesting ignoring an alcohol problem or a situation where one person feels used. I’m talking about the little things, like putting the dishes next to the sink or not picking up the towels when they fall. Not everything needs a four-hour conversation, not everything needs to be fixed.
Next time you see a towel on the floor, think hard about how much time it will take for you to resolve that forever compared to the amount of time it will take you to simply pick it up.
And then pick the damn towel up.
Previously? Lead vs Follow.
When was the last time you took a look at your own life and revisited some of the choices you made?
Time passes so quickly, especially when you’re busy, that many of us get caught up in the day-to-day life and never take the time to sit back and look at the big picture. We never take a breath and say “Am I in the job I’ve always dreamt of?” or “What kind of compromises have I made and have I made them consciously?”
Anne Tyler’s new novel has a main character who wakes up one morning and realizes that her life has completely gone off track. She sits back and starts envisioning what sort of life she would have had had she not derailed back when she did.
Another recent book I read talks about how a frog will jump back out when thrown into a boiling point of water, but how if you put the frog in cold water and then heat the water slowly it will sit there forever, until he’s fully cooked.
Both made me think of how we lose track of things so quickly and rarely take the time to take a peek at the big picture. This applies to most anything in our daily life: relationships, career, friendships, priorities, etc. Unless some major disaster occurs, many people live the days one day at a time and try to make it through that one day without too much grief. Once the day’s over, we’re all too relieved to have made it.
These books made me think and try to take a big picture look at my life. Especially since I’ve been thinking and planning some major changes in my life, I decided it was crucial to take a look at my life and how much of it is a result of my actively trying versus just falling into the situation. This way, as I plan the next steps of my life, I can take the effort and moment to ensure I can get back on the road or consciously make the derailed path my new choice.
It’s completely fine to change your ideas, priorities and even mind. You’re welcome to want to travel the world one day and get married the next. You can move from being a programmer to a musician and then go study psychology. You can date men and then women. Anything and everything is conceivable and most things are not beyond the realm of possibility in life.
Just as long as you don’t let life drag you along. Take control of your life. Make it what you want it to be. Let your decisions be conscious.
Lead the Way.
“I like to listen. I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen.” -Ernest Hemingway
At the end of my theories of personality class, our teacher asked the class which of the six theorists we studied, (Freud, Adler, Sullivan, Skinner, Jung, and Rogers) we would choose.
A few students raised their hands and told their preferences. Most of the choices depended on the specific problem that the student assumed to be facing. For example, if one suffers from a phobia, Skinner might be a good choice since he worked with many phobics.
I said I would have liked to go to Carl Rogers.
Not to just any Rogerian, but Rogers himself. Even though there are many aspects to Rogers’ theories that I enjoy, he had a specific trait, or maybe we can say a gift, that most practicing Rogerians don’t have.
He knew how to listen.
There are videotapes from sessions Carl Rogers held with a patient. In the tape one can see that to Rogers, at that moment, all that matters in the world is that very patient and the words he or she is uttering. Rogers knew how to utterly and completely listen to another human being.
How often do people do that? And I don’t mean ‘pay attention’, I mean truly listen.
Most often as the other person talks, we’re formulating our answer, thinking of something completely different like a problem at work or an important to-do, or even simply tuning out. Most of us never bother to scratch deeper than the surface of a conversation, especially if it doesn’t directly involve us.
I don’t mean to say we’re selfish or that we don’t care. I just think that most of us are usually thinking of too many things at once, so we don’t really concentrate on one particular thing at a time. It’s certainly possible to listen to a friend while making a grocery list in one’s head. And I don’t mean just nod, but listen enough to be able to recite the words back to the person. But is that really listening?
When was the last time a certain person or conversation had your full attention? And I mean 100%. Being listened to is an incredible rush. You can definitely tell when someone’s listening and not just hearing. When the person is fully there with you and you’re not only their number one priority but their only priority for that moment in time.
Somehow we tend to do that when we’re in the process of making new friends or falling in love. Since it’s a completely new environment we tend to be ‘all there’ and we have very few assumptions since we don’t know the other party well enough to assume. So we listen. We really listen.
I decided that I want to do more listening. What I can learn from really listening to one person is exponentially more rewarding than simply hearing the words of a hundred people.
Previously? Slow.
If I were a car, I’d be one stuck on overdrive.
During sixth grade, I prepared all year for an exam that would allow me to transfer from one school to a better one. After ten months of obscene hours of studying, private lessons, and a ruined summer, three days before the exam I found out that the school would only accept one person.
Almost a hundred of us taking the test and they would let in only one person.
I had no chance in hell.
But I’d come this far and I was going to take the damn test regardless. On the morning of the exam, I woke up with a fever of 38.5, which is 101.3 for the Celsius challenged. It seemed like all signs pointed to this school not being in my future.
I went to the test nonetheless. And because I was so sick, I read each question several times, ensuring myself I knew exactly what they were asking. I took my sweet ass time and I didn’t worry, mostly cause I couldn’t; it was already too much effort to keep my eyelids from closing.
And, of course, I got in. (Otherwise my telling this story would be pointless, right?)
I know that the only reason I scored so high on that test was cause I was too tired to rush through it. I didn’t make the usual mistakes that come from hurriedly misreading the question.
I’ve always done a million things at once. The TV would blast while I did homework. I did my undergraduate degree and graduate degree simultaneously. During the same four years, I held five different jobs on campus, dated two different men (not simultaneously of course!) so it wasn’t like I was closed up in my room studying all the time. Even when I walk down the street I walk rapidly, more concerned with my destination than my route. Always rushing. If I’m not doing a million things, I’m often doing nothing. It’s like a car that can do 0 or 100 but nothing in between.
I know that I have my mom to thank for these specific genes. She suffers from the same speed problem and often complains at the end of each day about how she has a million things to do and how she feels overwhelmingly worn out.
On Saturday, I lifted one of my nephews in an effort to stop him from jumping into the not-so-clean waters of the Bosphorus. Within twenty seconds, my back reminded me what a completely moronic decision that was. Pains started shooting up and down my left leg.
So my back is broke. Again.
Now I’m walking, more like limping I guess, around New York City, slowly.
Slowly.
I am taking my time. I have no choice. But I’m realizing that while fast accomplishes many things, slow is crucial. It makes you pay attention. It makes you see details. It makes you think.
It makes you enjoy.
I’m sad it took my body’s incapacity to get me here, but I’m trying to make the most of it. I’m learning that sometimes you want to cruise at 40 and appreciate the landscape.
Previously? Hatred.
If you’ve been following my log for a while you might have noticed the theme of self exploration. On of the reasons I’ve always enjoyed writing diaries is that they sort of make me face who I am.
Especially lately I’ve been trying to look within and face some of the major flaws, hangups, issues that I have.
Turkey happens to be one of them.
Ever since I can remember I’ve wanted to leave Istanbul. I grew up in a crowd where I was continually excluded and ridiculed for being different. While I enjoyed reading, my so-called friends spent their time gossiping and shopping. I was the nerd and the dork. It seemed the only way I could escape these labels was to go to the other end of the universe. One where people would stop treating me as the freak.
The thing is I never stopped hating those people. Each time I come back and run into one of them my knees go weak and I become the same girl with coke bottle bottom glasses and extreme lack of self confidence. Which, of course, results in my having violent reactions to their presence and I hate them. Just the thought is enough to make me cringe.
Tonight I was sitting at a concert and thinking of all those teenager friends whom I hate and I decided that hatred is a sign of a flaw in myself, not others. If other people can cause such a strong emotion to come to the surface there must be some residual issues within.
Many psychologists believe that the things we hate in others are really the reflections of flaws we have within, but I’m not sure I agree with that. I do, however, agree that for me to feel something as strong as hatred there must be something going on. So I spent some time thinking why I hate them and howcome they still have such a strong effect on me.
And I came to the same conclusion as I have been reaching for many other things lately: cause I let them.
It’s truly amazing how much more is within the range of one’s capacity than one is willing to admit. It’s so much easier to say “Oh I’ve always been like that and it’s who I am.” Just like it’s easier for me to hate those people rather than accept the fact that a part of me still feels insecure/inadequate.
So here’s the deal: as of today I don’t hate these people anymore. I might not agree with their choices in life and I still don’t appreciate the way they treated me as a child but the past is past and I am ready to move on and let go.
Hatred is a wasted emotion.
Previously? Regret.
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projects for twenty twenty-four
projects for twenty twenty-three
projects for twenty twenty-two
projects for twenty twenty-one
projects for twenty nineteen
projects for twenty eighteen
projects from twenty seventeen
monthly projects from previous years
some of my previous projects
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