I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty decent person. I try to be nice to people and I make an extra effort not to harm anyone.
What differs between levels of kindness is a combination of expectations and intentions.
When my boss asks me for a favor and I do it, I can be classified as a good employee (or a kiss-up depending on the favor). But I think it’s fair to say that I have reasons to want to keep my boss happy.
Similarly, I am kind to my family and friends. I care about them and I want to make them happy. I don’t want my friends to be sad, hurt or in difficulty. Therefore, I take the time and effort required to help them out, to work with them and to do their favors.
So it’s fair to say that, in measuring whether you’re nice or not, we can exclude those people. How nice are you to strangers? Do you hold the door to someone whom you know is walking into the room after you? Do you help someone if they drop their stuff in the middle of the street? If someone asks a question about something you know, do you take the time to help him out?
I used to have two teammates. When stuck in the middle of a piece of code, one would give me an idea to try while the other actually sat with me and we worked through different alternatives until we came up with the best solution. In my book, they would both be considered nice since neither of them ignored me, but the second guy went above and beyond the call of duty. In the process, he gained a loyal teammate. I knew that I would always take the time to help him no matter what the circumstances.
So part of being nice is doing more than expected. Giving when it’s not required. Going out of your way when you don’t need to. Having pure intentions.
The other part is tied to what you hope to receive as a result. I often hear people complain about how so and so wasn’t thankful enough. If you spend all night helping someone out and then he blows you off when you ask him a question, don’t you have the right to get mad?
Probably. But I think you should never help someone with the intention of getting something as a result. If I help a person because I know they have the connections to get me a job, am I really being nice? What if initially I didn’t know that he could get me the job? My intentions were nice but then my expectations took over.
That’s where I need improvement. Just because you’re nice doesn’t mean the other person has to be nice to you in return. Being a good person isn’t about that. It’s about having the right intentions with no expectations. That’s when you know you did something good. That’s when it’s rewarding.
I need to work on that.
Previously? Genius.
I don’t believe in the idea that there are a few peculiar people capable of understanding math, and the rest of the world is normal. Richard Feynman at an interview with Omni magazine
I’ve always believed in the theory of “there is no such thing as can’t.” Each time someone claimed I couldn’t do something, I’d work incessantly and accomplish it, just to prove them wrong. I never liked the idea of others claiming they could judge the range of my capacity.
Any human’s capacity.
I’ve often wondered if there is such a thing as human capacity. Are we all born with a set of abilities or do all babies come to the world with the same set of competences and somehow, some people learn to tap into this well of knowledge better than others?
I guess like most nature vs. nurture questions, the answer lies somewhere in between. It’s highly likely, to me, that there is some kind of genetic wiring that allows for one baby to be more artistically inclined than the other. It’s also plausible, even probable, that two babies with equal capacity in this area might not grow up to have the equal artistic ability in practice. One baby might have parents who recognize this inherent talent early on and they may hire the best tutors for the child early on, expanding and honing this skill while the other kid’s parents are oblivious. Therefore, in my mind, it makes perfect sense to say that both nature and nurture have an effect in the resulting genius.
The fascinating question, however, is whether such a genius can be the result of mostly nurture. What if I don’t have these special genes that make me an amazing artist? (Let’s call these the Leonardo genes.) Can I still be a master painter without the Leonardo genes? What if I worked with people who had these genes and I practiced night and day? Are you saying that even if I made it my sole purpose in life, I couldn’t become a Leonardo without his genes?
What a depressing thought.
I often suffer from lack of perspective. When I see something amazing, I get overcome with despair that I am incapable of producing such a thing. I’m not talking about achieving an outcome at the level of a Leonardo or a Nobel Prize winning physicist. Some amazing drawing someone my age did. Some program a fellow teammate wrote. Some idea a teenager had that’s truly unique and clever. I see all these as achievements within my reach and I feel depressed that I am incapable of producing such outcomes. I don’t mean to say that I feel animosity or jealousy towards the originator of it. On the contrary, I have huge respect and admiration towards them. I just feel bad that I couldn’t be such a person, too.
Therefore the idea that genius cannot be learned is upsetting to me and I refuse to believe it. If I can’t hope that by hard work and determination, I can reach just about any goal, I might as well lose hope.
And I don’t ever want to lose hope.
Previously? Taboos.
I’ve never been good with using the right words when I have to.
As my friend Jessica would fondly tell you, during my first few months in the States, I made a few boo-boos. If someone pissed me off by not meeting my demands immediately, I’d say, “If you don’t give me your notes, I will fuck you.”
As you can tell, these threats didn’t go over very well. My sweet friends would laugh at me and tease me mercilessly. Actually, Jessica retold that story to just about everyone we met for the next four years of our college life. Even today, if we’re together and she is telling someone about me, she’ll ask me if it’s okay to tell the “fuck story.”
Even after I learned how to curse properly, I seem to enjoy using words that push people’s boundaries. I almost always say “I’m going to pee” or “I have my period.” I don’t really understand why certain words are never meant to be used.
I understand that there are cases where manners are crucial. I don’t get up in a meeting and tell the vice presidents and partners in the firm that I have to pee. I just excuse myself. But why can’t I tell a male friend that I have my period? How come shaving and periods are only acceptable subjects to be discussed among women? They’re natural. They occur consistently. What’s the big deal?
So yes, I get my period. If I’m lucky, every month. If not it’s bad news, I guarantee you. And yes, I pee. Several times a day. If not, I’m not drinking enough. And I shave. As often as possible, so little forests don’t grow under my arms, on my legs and anywhere else I don’t want them. When I want to look pretty, I get a manicure or a pedicure. I might even get a facial if I feel in the mood. So there.
Since “it’s that time of the month” is already socially unacceptable to mutter to your boss or such people, I think it’s okay to use the actual word “period” with the rest of the people in your life.
I’m gonna start a taboo-breaking revolution. Even if it’s a one-man one. (or one-woman one as the case my be here.) No more tiptoeing around the issues, dammit.
And if you don’t like that, I will fuck you!
Previously? Look Ma, I’m Bonding.
I’ve never really been into bonding with women. Just not my thing and until this very night, I don’t think I could put my finger on the reason.
My firm just had a shinding for women in technology, in the firm. Imagine a fancy restaurant setting, filled with middle aged women, trying to form networking and mentoring relationships with each other.
I’m not saying that networking or mentoring are bad concepts. I just think that they can’t be administered like that. You can’t put a bunch of people in the same room and tell them to network. At least, not me. I don’t perform well on demand.
Even if we were to take the personal aspect of mentoring and networking out of the diagram, who is to say I want a female mentor? I think the assumption that just because I am a woman only other women can mentor me is a condescending assumption. Especially when talking about career issues, I can imagine many men who are more similar in thought to me than women. Not to say there aren’t issues which are specific to women, but assuming women make the best mentors for other women is wildly wrong if you ask me.
Maybe my impressions are overpowered by the fact that I feel women are inherently cattier and more conniving then men. Whatever that says or doesn’t say about men’s level of intelligence or calculating nature, it does say that sometimes men are more trustworthy then women.
Most of the women managers I’ve known are much less self-confident and secure. Many of them couldn’t care less about your career goals or lack thereof.
I’m not trying to say that there are no women who’d make great managers and mentors. One of my favorite managers in the firm is a woman. She’s a great mentor to me cause she took the time to get to know me and tries to make sure I am on the path to my goals. She doesn’t feed me her lifestyle. She doesn’t fear I’m going to take her job. She is just there for support and she is my cheerleader in the firm. And I appreciate it immensely and I talk about her everywhere.
So we both network through each other and she is one of my mentors. But none of this has to do with the fact that she’s a woman in technology and therefore understands me and where I’m coming from.
It only works cause caring for me and helping me out is something she wants to take the time to do. And those connections cannot be made at an administered event.
Previously? Antsy.
As my backache dissipates, life is becoming fun once more. Everything must be good cause I’ve been searching for trouble lately.
Last week, I picked a fight with Jake three days in a row. I looked for any possible excuse and tried to be overly harsh and too judgmental. Having been with me for as long as he has, Jake was kind and patient and didn’t let me stupidly ruin our relationship.
A similar scenario ensued at work. I told my workmate that if people get on my nerves, I might just walk out. That maybe I’ll move to San Francisco or even Turkey. Maybe drive across country. Just something drastic and different. To which my very sweet workmate responded, “Please don’t quit now. Finish this project and then quit.”
Obviously I don’t want to quit my job or leave Jake. I have this amazing setup at work and I adore my job. And you already know how I feel about Jake. So it seems rather odd that I have this urge to ruin my life.
But I do.
Not to ruin my life, really. But to do something drastic. Something crazy. Something wildly uncharacteristic. Something that I can tell my kids about. Something I can’t tell my parents about.
The thing is, I probably won’t do a thing.
I never have.
Previously? Mental Trance.
If you haven’t already figured out the pattern, Tuesday is psychology day. Mostly cause I have my theories of personality class today at 10am and the teacher always leaves me with many thoughts.
I decided that one of the most important tools to have in a relationship is the “it’s not about me” thought process. This doesn’t only apply to romantic relationships. It works with parent-child, friend-friend, worker-boss or any other scenario you can imagine.
Here’s how it works: while the opposite party is reaming you a new ass for having failed at such and such, you mentally repeat the words “it’s not about me” over and over again. After a while, it becomes easy to do and easy to believe.
The thing is, in most cases, it’s not about you. Think of the times you yell at someone. Are you really yelling at that person cause they did something bad? I believe we tend to yell at the person who we think will let us. If I’m really pissed off one day at work, I come home and yell at Jake over a set of dishes. It’s not because the dishes are so important but I need to get this anger out of my system and I know Jake will let me vent and get it over with.
Same thing at work. Your coward boss yells at you cause he can’t yell at his boss. Your mom screams over something stupid cause she was really stressed or worried about something totally different and hopefully something much more legitimate.
Obviously, you can now use this knowledge to make sure you never yell at an undeserved person. (Not that anyone deserves being yelled at, it accomplishes nothing. If you need to get it out of your system, it’s often a better idea to yell at the walls or sing loudly or do something physical, like exercise.) Next time you make a mountain out of something tiny, try and think of the repressed root of your anger and work on resolving that instead of creating more unnecessary problems.
As for when you’re being yelled at, try the “it’s not about me” technique and when things are calm, remind your loved one or your friend or your boss that no one has the right to yell at another human being.
Ok, done being psychologist for this week.
Previously? Disappearing Act.
A while back, Jason polled his readers about their preferred superpower. Even though it didn’t win, my choice of the three would have been to make myself invisible. But my real option wasn’t even on the list. If I got to pick my superpower, I’d want to read people’s thoughts.
I’m confident this is an outcome of my childhood dealings with two-faced people. But even besides that I’m always fascinated by what goes through people’s minds. How people feel about things and what they’re thinking at specific moments.
So alongside the “I wish I knew what people think about me” thought, I do have a scientific interest in this superpower.
Ahem. Well most wise people in my life say that this would be a huge disaster. When you hear other people’s thoughts, you’ll quickly realize that the world is not a nice place. Even people whom you consider close friends, have negative thoughts about you every now and then. And some things are better left unsaid. There is a reason we choose to say some words out loud and others not to say at all.
Think of the number of times you think a negative thought about your best friend. About your boyfriend. Even about your family. How much of a relationship would you have with any of them if they could read your mind?
I totally agree that the above is food for thought. But it also makes me wonder why we keep certain things unsaid. When you feel anger or sorrow and you keep it inside, it only builds up to become resentment. If someone pisses you off, why don’t you tell them? If someone hurts your feelings, is it better to not be honest? When does hiding become a good thing?
Maybe I am naive, maybe I am stupid. But I’d still like to hear people’s thoughts.
At least until I lose all faith in humanity.
What about you? Would you want to hear other people’s thoughts?
Previously? Labyrinths.
Would you think it’s possible to learn all about life in one afternoon? Not even an afternoon, just two hours or so.
My three-hour labyrinth class taught me all that I need to know.
The first thing we did as the class started was to go to another room and walk a labyrinth the teacher had laid in yarn. The instructions were to keep quiet, take our shoes off, and write our reactions as soon as we completed the walk to the middle of the labyrinth and back.
The first picture below is the shape of the rope we walked. It’s a seven-ring labyrinth. The image next to it is the eleven-ring one found in many cathedrals.
  
Here’s what I wrote after I finished my walk:
– It’s best to keep your eye in the present instead of worrying about the future.
– Try not to worry about your sense of direction so much as it can shift.
– When you think you’re done, you’re not.
I swear these are the exact sentences I wrote as soon as I sat back down at my desk. As I stared at my writing, I noticed how similar that experience was to life itself.
A forty-dollar two-hour class taught me more about life than anything else.
Previously? Camera Fun.
My friend Natalia is applying to Business Schools. As with collegeapplications, these schools have a variety of utterly boring and annoying essay questions.
Anyhow, Natalia wants to get in and she’s doing all the filling out the forms, taking the exams, getting therecommendations bit on her own. But I get to help out with the essays.
I can’t remember any of my college essay topics besides two. One wasabout “three major events in my life” and another was “why Swarthmore”(which I did quite badly on since, back then, I didn’t even know whereSwarthmore was).
We’ve been working on Natalia’s essays for three months now. Amidst thereally boring and common questions, I’ve recently come across one thatreally got me thinking. One of the essay topics for Chicago Business Schoolis:
“If you were a character in a book, who would it be and why? What do youadmire most about this character?” (the question also asks how you relate to this character but we’ll ignore that part)
You might have a totally different answer if you were writing an essayfor college, but the question of what character you would like to be isreally interesting, if you ask me. After hearing the topic, I spent daysthinking about what character I would have chosen and why.
Assuming they meant a “fiction” book, here are a bunch of myfavorites:
Little Prince: cause he is always curious, looks at things from adifferent perspective, is honest and kind, is fascinated with the world andis open-hearted.
Winnie the Pooh: cause he’s nice to everyone, is always in a goodmood, is curious and loving.
Atticus: Cause he fought for what he believed in, had integrityand was kind.
I love many of Anne Tyler and Jane Smiley’s characters. I wouldn’t wantto be a Stephen King or Anthony Burgess character. I’m on the fence aboutJohn Irving and Salinger’s characters. And I hope I never come close to aHemingway one.
Ok so I can’t think of good examples. I’ll add to this list as I think ofsome. In the meantime, tell me, whowould you want to be? Feel free topicka movie character if you want.
Previously? CanDo.
Don’t particularly want to harp on all the psychology knowledge I’m acquiring, but the more I find out, the more questions I accumulate, it seems.
I’ve talked about Adler before and along with his theory of “wanting to improve yourself” comes the idea of having an end goal. Something you want to be.
The trick is that if your end goal is unattainable, you are neurotic (yes, neurotic is a big thing with these psychiatrists). Obviously it’s cause you’re setting yourself a goal that, somewhere deep down, you know you can’t possibly achieve. Therefore, you will forever strive towards a goal that you will never reach. So you must be neurotic to put yourself in that situation.
It all makes perfect sense to me.
The teacher gave an example of a mediocre high school student who wants to make it to the NFL. Up until that point, I was happy with Adler’s theories. I don’t know if it just was a bad example on the teacher’s part or if Adler really did imply such cases, but I wouldn’t have considered that high-school student neurotic.
Which, of course, brings to surface the question of what’s an unattainable goal.
While I’ll admit to its being a little drastic, my opinion is that everything is an attainable goal. Short of biological/scientific limitations, I truly can’t think of a wish impossible to reach. Yes, you can’t be younger. Yes you can’t go back to the past or future. But I’m talking about life goals within the confines of science as we know it today.
I can think of some dreams which would be hard to reach. I’m 26 and I have a technical background. If I decided to be an anesthesiologist, I’d have to work really hard and be extremely patient. I’d have to fulfill all the perquisites to some of the biology courses needed to get accepted into medical school. I’d have to do several years of medical school and many more of residential experience and etc. But it is possible. Same with any other profession. Or traveling the world. Or wanting to publish a novel. Or jump out of an airplane. Or fall in love. Or anything.
Maybe my imagination is limited. Maybe you can think of other goals. Is there really such a thing as the unattainable goal? Given enough drive, motivation and hard work, what can you not do?
Previously? Sweet Dreams.
On the surface life is good.
I wake up every morning with a smile on my face and sleep in my eyes. I brush my teeth and comb my hair. I pick my clothes for the day and prepare my bag.
On the surface all is well.
I walk from class to class, sucking in the new information, feeling my brain swell. I try to mold my mouth to fit the mouthpiece and make the reed vibrate just the right amount. I sign. I force my brain to think in Japanese. I work. I go from meeting to meeting, talk about the system and our vision and the multitude of requirements. I sit at my computer and reply to email. I code perl. I write queries. I read through the specifications of the messaging-based programs the department recommends.
On the surface successes outweigh the failures.
I come home and watch the TiVo. I call a friend or two. I read a book or two. I stare at my computer and read about other people’s lives, thoughts and interests. I hug Jake. I talk to my bird. I write.
On the surface I smile.
I go to bed. So does Jake.
On the surface life goes on.
I hear the consistent exhale and inhale of his breathing.
I cry.
Previously?Socially Unacceptable.
My relationship with alcohol has always been a rollercoaster ride.
In Turkey, we have no drinking age. My first real boyfriend liked his vodka on the rocks and he liked to have it often. And he hated drinking alone. We spent many nights at bars, he with his Vodka and me with the only alcohol that would slide down my throat: Safari with Peach Juice.
Even back then, I never drank wine or champagne.
After I got to college, I was completely freaked out with the fraternity scenes. Even though social drinking is big in Istanbul, I’d never seen people drinking for the sake of drinking before. In Pittsburgh, I stopped drinking altogether. They didn’t have Safari there anyhow.
For no logical reason, my second boyfriend also enjoyed his alcohol. He was a large man who could down several beers in a minute, and he worked hard to prove it.
When my first boyfriend got drunk, he’d stop being so shy and share his deepest emotions with me. So I didn’t mind his alcoholic habits so much. But things weren’t so simple with the second man. He seemed to have more anger and resentment than the typical teenager. Alcohol brought all this suppressed anger to the surface resulting in urinals being pulled out of their sockets and water fountains being torn off. As I said, he was a large and muscular man. Unfortunately, it also resulted in lots of emotional, verbal and physical abuse. None of which helped an already self-deprecating person.
We tried to go to several Alcoholics Anonymous meetings together, but it’s impossible to quit for someone else. He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t do it. Or he wouldn’t do it.
It took me too long to realize that I would never be able to fix his problems. But I finally did. I got out.
I’d never been a major drinker, but after him it got much worse.
The first time I got drunk was in Jake’s dorm room with Wine Coolers. Since I hated the taste, I downed them really quickly and they went right to my head. The burning sensation was so strong that within minutes I ended up taking off all my clothes. Everything was suffocating me and had to be removed. Thankfully the only other person in the room was Jake’s roommate.
I’ve always thought that I should drink. Everyone else did. Not drinking made me boring and I hated being boring. I’ve tried just about every kind of wine and alcohol. I’m able to drink Midori Sour, Archer’s and I can do shots since they go right to my stomach. But no wine, no champagne. And I’m careful not to get drunk since it’s not really socially acceptable to remove clothing at public places. Just the physical activity of drinking is difficult. Let alone the emotional baggage I’ve attached to it over the years.
One of the nice side effects to growing older is that drinking is less a part of our social surroundings than before and I don’t feel as pressured to try it.
Champagne? No, thanks, I’ll have the water.
Previously? Ketchup.
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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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