fruit of self-control

It started this morning when I read over someone's shoulder that 32-year old Adam Giambrone, city councillor, TTC chair, and mayoral hopeful, publicly admitted to engaging in multiple "intimate relationships" other than with his live-in girlfriend, Sarah McQuarrie. Bummer.

I've written on political sex scandals before, as well as how things should be done, but, to be honest, I'm tired of even hearing about it. Sex scandals have become ubiquitous.

My own opinion of Giambrone has been altered little (as a TTC patron I had hoped for improvements, not fare hikes), but still I'm saddened. I'm sad for my husband, who admired (perhaps vicariously) Giambrone's young ambition, I'm sad for the politicians who had supported his run for mayor, I'm sad for Sarah McQuarrie, I'm even sad for Kristen Lucas - the U of T student involved in one of the affairs. In my opinion, no one wins.

I'm sad for Giambrone. It seems that the self-control he lacks has plagued him for a while. Last year he was in the news for a "hastily-composed email" he sent to a fellow councillor:

“Stop messing in my ward or there will be problems. I generally ignore your actions, but I am going to start looking for ways to cause trouble for you and when I start you’re not going to appreciate it.”

I thought we outgrew this behaviour in grade school. Bummer.

Later this morning I came across news that legendary guitarist John Mayer had created a stir in the news after recently giving a candid, yet sordid, interview. He then tearfully apologized. But much like Giambrone, it was not his first brush with vulgarity. His interviews interviews and antics have become increasingly distasteful. He admits that he "fell into a wormhole of selfishness, greediness and arrogance".

A few months ago I wrote about etiquette and the lost art thereof. At the heart of etiquette, or common decency, is self-control. Andrew and I call it "the filter". Filtering out what shouldn't be said or done and allowing what should. It's not just a case of battling against your urges, appetites, and bad habits for the sake of piety, or points, or good karma. That's an exhausting, never-ending, and ultimately backfiring solution. I know: bummer.

The reason we make stupid decisions is because we're trying to fill a lack. We don't need to let off steam in emails, or let loose in office daliances, or let a "quest to be clever" dictate our vocabulary, or let ourselves run up on stage and grab the mic to voice our opinions... What we need is a dose of being told we're better than those things. That we'd be OK - we'd still be loved, admired, satisfied, understood - if we didn't do those things.

The lives we envy are lives governed by self-control. A happy marriage, a successful career, and a sensitive conscience are just by-products.

"Everything is permissible"—but not everything is beneficial. "Everything is permissible"—but not everything is constructive. Nobody should seek his own good, but the good of others.
(1 Corinthians 10:23-24, NIV)

"A bit in the mouth of a horse controls the whole horse. A small rudder on a huge ship in the hands of a skilled captain sets a course in the face of the strongest winds. A word out of your mouth may seem of no account, but it can accomplish nearly anything—or destroy it!"
(James 3:3-5, The Message)

Carter Duryea: "Dan, you seem to have the perfect marriage. How do you do it?"
Dan Foreman: "You just pick the right one to be in the foxhole with, and then when you're outside of the foxhole you keep your d**k in your pants."
Carter Duryea: "That's poetic."
("In Good Company")

wifersize wednesday: passive aggressive

In our upstairs bathroom there is a wastebasket. Well, there was. It's impossible to discern where the wastebasket once was since what once filled the wastebasket has now completely overcome and subdued it. It's a volcano of makeup pads, balled up Kleenex, empty toilet paper rolls, hair balls, and Q-tips.

No other garbage receptacle in our house is as mismanaged. It seems as if both Andrew and I are patiently, stubbornly waiting for the other one to break down and empty it.

Once, after I carefully balanced another object on the mountainous pile of waste (it's almost beautiful...like an art installation), I asked Andrew (who was in the bedroom):

"Question. Do you just keep using this wastebasket in hopes that I'll get fed up enough to take it out one day?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Oh. Me too."

In all honesty, Andrew (eventually) empties it about as many times as I (eventually) empty it (which, given the year that we've lived in the house, is approximately one time each), and we chuckled after learning of our bathroom-wastebasket-stalemate. But how often do we use passive aggressive behaviour to get someone to notice, affirm, pity, or perform for us?

There's a website dedicated to it, if you're interested, called passiveaggressivenotes.com. Browsing it today reminded me of the episode of The Office where Pam leaves a note on the office microwave that reads:

"The microwave is a SHARED kitchen appliance.

By not cleaning it up, you are basically telling whoever follows that their time is less valuable, as they will have to scrub out your disgusting splatter.

Sincerely,
Disappointed"

and of the email I sent out just this morning to our all-staff email address:

Could the salt & pepper-napper please return them, unharmed, to the communal kitchen where we can all use them? If you’re looking for a personal set, check here: http://www.custommadeart.com/HortonBeverlyShakers01.htm

Ta ta!
S.

which, ashamedly, is not the first (nor, I suspect, will be the last) passive aggressive email I have sent from reception. I mean, how difficult is it to load a dishwasher, people? How much easier could we possibly make the process? It already WASHES YOUR DISHES FOR YOU.

Probably the best example of palatable passive aggression is public transit. The bus arrives and after waiting over 20 minutes in the freezing cold, or spitting rain, or blistering heat, the doors whoosh open and five hundred irritated commuters shove towards it. But slowly. Almost...politely. As if to say, "So help me, 80-year old woman, I am going to get on this bus and I sure as heck think you're standing well enough out here that you won't need to steal a seat from me once I'm in there, but, BY ALL MEANS GO AHEAD OF ME. I INSIST."

The Wiki definition states that passive aggressive behaviour

"can manifest itself as learned helplessness, procrastination, stubbornness, resentment, sullenness, or deliberate/repeated failure to accomplish requested tasks for which one is (often explicitly) responsible. It is a defense mechanism, and usually only partly conscious"

which is only partly comforting, since it's only partly conscious. But the fact that it's recognized as a defense mechanism is much more helpful. If we spent as much time working out why we are in distress (a wise woman often reminds me: "The issue isn't the issue.") as we spent concocting passive aggressive language, habits, games, and notes we'd probably be better off. And our spouses would know exactly what they're dealing with...instead of having to guess.

I'm guilty of passive aggression on occasion (partly conscious, I assure you) but I've realized that straight forward conversation usually gets the job done faster, and with 87% less feigned smiling. When I get upset by something Andrew does or says (or doesn't do or say), the least I can do is honour him and the honesty of our marriage by telling him that I'm hurt. As an added bonus, I might work out what the issue is behind the issue.

If I'm feeling extra wiferly, I'll even empty the upstairs bathroom wastebasket.

stressbuster

Does anyone else find that the new year brings a new outlook on life? I find that January, much like June (my birthday) and September, is a sorting month. If life is like a desktop, the new year gives me a chance to pour myself a cup of tea, play some vintage jazz, set aside an hour or two, and work from one side of the desk to the other - until everything is organized in tidy piles, colour-coordinated Post Its, detailed To Do Lists, and an overflowing recycling bin.

I found a few interesting articles that talk about responsibilities in the new year, and how to slim your tasks down to a more manageable size. One of them, from the Harvard Business Review, outlines the fine art of saying "no" which I find is generally lost in modern society. Not "no" to the good things, the helpful things, the useful things, but "no" to the things that are incidental or motivated by guilt. Saying "no" has been as useful to me as saying "yes"(to the right things) in my quest to maintain a healthy, balanced schedule.

I also came across this mental state matrix which not only is fun to stare at (I have a thing for matrixes...matrixi?) but also can help with how and when to say "no", and how to understand your stress level based on the element of uncertainty and patience available:


Similarly, an article in the Globe & Mail reviewed a book by John Freeman called "The Tyranny of E-Mail". In it, Freeman quotes an anonymous commenter who warned President Theodore Roosevelt in 1905 that "the stenographer, the typewriter, and the printing press are invaluable agents of civilization, but they have their drawbacks. They have inundated us with a plague of words." And, I'd add, duties.

One of Freeman's tips is

Don't check your e-mail first thing in the morning or last thing at night. It just stirs up worries, and erodes boundaries between personal and work life.

As for me, I'll be taking Monday nights off, spending Tuesdays exclusively with Andrew on date night, and making myself get out of the house on Saturdays to see the city and meet with people for some quality face time. Without a time limit.

Don't be surprised if you can't reach me by phone or email. It's not personal. I'm just working on my Mental State Matrix.

30 before 30: 4 months and counting

I've been chronicling a list I came up with three years ago entitled "30 before 30": a list of 30 things I wanted to do before I turned 30. If you'd like to see its progression click here for the original, and here for the follow-up.

I turn 30 in 130 days.

Let's review, shall we?

1. Take dance lessons again.
   Since I now head up the dancercession team that dances with the Freshwind Band when they lead worship, I think I can check this one off. Us in action.
   
2. Get my driver's license.
   I applied for my G1. Again. But I still haven't done my driving test.
   
3. Perform in live theater again.
   Does preaching count?
   
4. Visit ESL teacher-friends in B.C.
   They came to visit me...but we didn't connect. There's still time, I suppose, in 130 days.
   
5. Watch the Nutcracker live.
   I should have reviewed this list prior to Christmas. I still haven't seen the Nutcracker.
   
6. Organize and attend a 10 year DTS reunion at Holmsted Manor.
   Hooray! My first real "check"! We just pulled this off last weekend.
   
7. Attend a Coldplay concert.
   Viva la Vida tour: check!
   
8. Visit my grandparents in Halifax, Nova Scotia.
   Last Thanksgiving weekend: check!
   
9. Take vocal lessons. Preferably jazz.
   Still a goal of mine but doesn't look like it'll happen in the near future.
   
10. Upgrade my B.A. to an honours.
    I researched this not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES and didn't follow through with any of them. In the end, I'm now researching taking creative writing courses instead. Since I like to creative write.
    
11. Promote 24/7 Prayer (preferably a Boiler Room) in Toronto.
    Ran 24/7 Prayer room in 2008: check! On 24/7's provincial team: check! Still technically on their national base team, but MAN! it's been a while since I've been to a meeting...
    
12. See my grade 6 teacher, Miss Huberts, again.
    An email counts, doesn't it? Check!
    
13. Visit the twins I used to babysit, Dylan and Taylor, when I was a teenager.
    Adding them as Facebook friends and messaging them counts, doesn't it? Check!
    
14. Find my pearl earrings.
    What a weird list. Didn't find them, but my amazing husband purchased me new ones.
    
15. Finish my tattoo.
    Ouch. Forget it.
    
16. Get into the habit of saving regularly.
    We're practicing "10/10": 10% for tithe, 10% towards savings, every paycheck. And we're saving $20 from every paycheck and putting it in a baby account for the future. Check!
    
17. Write and publish a book.
    Writing one: check! Published: uncheck. Stay tuned.
    
18. Host a proper, large-scale house party. At my own house.
    Oh so many to count... Check!
19. Do a wine tasting tour in Niagara.
    This was the first one to be checked off: Andrew surprised me with a tour for our 1 year anniversary only two months after I made this list. Check!
    
20. Get a credit card. Use it wisely.
    Three! Check!
    
21. Spend one weekend in seclusion and silence away from the city.
    I've done Encounter weekends, camping weekends, bachelorette weekends, and trips overseas which were all away from various metropoliseseses, but they weren't spent in seclusion. Perhaps I can pull this off before my birthday?
    
22. See Venice and Florence.
    Sob. Not yet.
    
23. Do a day at the spa.
    Andrew and I spent the day at the Elmwood Spa just last month. Delicious. Check!
    
24. Read The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoevsky.
    What th-? Why did I include this, of all novels? Uncheck. Uninspired.
    
25. Volunteer with a homeless ministry downtown.
    Over 20 hours of volunteering a week, but not with a homeless ministry downtown. More like a homefull ministry in North York and the Junction.
    
26. Do a Healing Week.
    As a premarital gift. Check!
    
27. Go on a trip with each of my brothers, specific to them.
    Hey. What a cool idea. Adding to my short-list for the next 130 days...
    
28. Scuba dive.
    Thought I would want to on honeymoon but, SURPRISE!, I ended up preferring lounging on the beach, sleeping, eating, and...other. Happily unchecked.
    
29. Promote and support local artists, musicians and performers.
    I suppose my good friend Nicole pulled this off better than I did. I'm going to check off it anyway. IT'S MY LIST. Check!
    
30. Get married.
    Checkity-check-check!
    

I'm at a 50% (generous) success rate but I'm happy with that. I've accomplished more than I thought I would (or could!) have by this age and I'm coasting into my 30s with a confidence, a joy, and a strength that I never had in my 20s. In the meantime, I think I'll try to knock off #2, #4, #21 and #27 before June 2, 2010. For fun.

Lists aren't simply for those who get a kick out of check marks (not that there's anything wrong with that...) but they're also a great way to gauge progress and the process that gets us there. If you feel inspired maybe you can write your own "30 before 30" list.

Just make sure Dostoevsky isn't on it.

"If you aim at nothing, you will hit it every time."
- Zig Zigler

“If you set your goals ridiculously high & it’s a failure,
you will fail above everyone else's success.”
- James Cameron, via @andrewgazaneo

"Much stronger and wiser now I'd like to mention."
- Nicole Evans, candy store clock

older, wiser

I met 2010 whilst counting down over a microphone, on a stage, in front of a few hundred young adults at my home church, TACF, as Andrew and I emceed the final night of the annual conference Heavy Rain. As we "FIVE...FOUR...THREE...TWO..."ed our way into the new year I couldn't have thought of a place I'd rather be, an activity I'd rather be enjoying, or people I'd rather be with.

In just over a week I'll be celebrating another milestone, with a very different group of people: a few of us are meeting at the YWAM base where we did our January 2000 DTS in West Sussex, England. It's strange to think that I was 19 when I landed at Holmsted Manor and congregated in the leather room with 19 of my fellow classmates. I don't remember being nervous, but I do remember wondering how to portray myself. Witty? Charming? Analytical? Which Sarah would best suit this situation? Which Sarah would they like to meet?

Since then, and over the past ten years, all the Sarahs have come together to form a more integrated one. The guests at Heavy Rain received the same Sarah, more or less, as my husband does when I get home from work. As exhausting as it sometimes was, I'm happy to report that I've chased most of the Sarahs down and made a mosaic of them.

I find retrospect dizzying. How many times do we reinvent ourselves, over and over, to achieve more balanced, more holistic, more genuine versions of ourselves? Or, vice versa: how many masks do we handcraft to hide the version of ourselves that we rather we weren't?

How many incarnations have you been through, and how are you better for them? Do you like yourself better now or did you like yourself better then?

wifersize wednesday: I <3 you

I have mixed emotions about technology. I tend to glorify the era I spend the majority of my university tuition on: the Romantic era. Austen's books would whisk me away to a time before cell phones (before phones!), before computers, before electricity, before automobiles. Where heroines would read letters from their beaus by candlelight, once, twice, thrice times over and keep them, folded, with their handkerchiefs in a purse. Next to their dance cards, etc.

I signed up for my first cell phone contract at the ripe age of 26. I even survived a year in Korea without one. I figured, if people wanted to get me on the phone, they'd have to call during the hours that I was in my apartment. Or else it couldn't have been that important. And, in the case of an emergency, call the cops! or an ambulance! what am I going to do about it?

Once I found myself in a stable, long-term relationship, and with the idea of not being able to get in touch with me beginning to drive Andrew to acts of quiet desperation, I signed a three year contract with Rogers. If Andrew hadn't been with me at the time, I don't think I could have gone through with it. BUT WHAT OF READING LETTERS BY CANDLELIGHT?

Nearly four years and an iPhone upgrade later, I hardly think of my cell phone except to answer it, text on it, check my email by it, browse the weather on it, call from it, and amuse myself with games I have programmed into it. Recently, I completed Splume's level 20 in 54.8 seconds. EAT IT.

However, I still can't help but wonder if technology has taken its toll on romance. Anyone in a relationship can tell you that most of the Most Important Conversations you have with a partner grow out of times that there is silence and general inactivity: a car ride, a lazy afternoon, or right before bed. Don't you find these moment less frequent since technology has been squeezing its way into them? How many heartfelt conversations have never bloomed, or have been interrupted, due to a call-, text-, Ping-, Google-, or Wiki-related emergency?

And yet, without technology, Andrew and I wouldn't have flirted shamelessly by posting multiple comments on each other's blogs before we dated. I wouldn't have received the adorable emails in the beginning of our relationship, like this:
We wouldn't have the cell phone pictures of us eating take-out Chinese after moving me into my apartment:
We wouldn't have stories about our notorious beepy phones in the early days, we wouldn't have the DVD of our wedding, we wouldn't have the text-banter we now share as a married couple, we wouldn't know how many Rotten Tomatoes a movie had before seeing it for date night, and we'd never know who was right in a grammatical argument without the online OED at our fingertips.

I'd love to know people's thoughts on the subject. How has technology helped or hampered your romantic relationships?

wifersize wednesday: good times and bad

By now most of you will have already seen this year's Gazaneo Christmas card: a second installment in an annual tradition which we intend on keeping for the rest of our wedded lives. The kids don't know it yet, but they're already signed up to participate for as many years as we can use, coax, bribe, or force them. If we can get two 8-month old pets to pose perfectly, I'm sure kids will be a cinch. They will, right?

Since Andrew and I are speeding headlong into the holiday season with all the poise and balance of a kid running down a steep hill, gaining momentum, and realizing that the legs to torso velocity ratio is widening at a exhilarating yet worrisome rate...

...since we have already attended four Christmas events (three of which were church-related), have hosted two of our own, have a few more yet to go, are involved with the wedding of our good friends Jon & Melissa this weekend, have Christmas shopping still to do, and are preparing for an annual young adult conference at the end of the month...

...since our time, energy, patience, finances, and creativity are being stretched in new and (retrospectively) humourous ways...

...yes, since all of these things, and many more, have been a bit of a balancing act recently it's with great admiration and fondness that I reflect on the simple words exchanged last night after I may or may not have burst into a mild flood of tears because of the strain.

Andrew: [hugging me] "Don't worry, La. It won't do any good."
Me: [moping] "I'm already worried."
Andrew: "Well, then...I love you."

Wouldn't it be nice if everything was raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens? Or would it? On Sunday, I preached that the word advent came from the same Latin root as adventure. I guess there's a reason. Until I know the reason, it's nice to have someone nearby to tell me that I'm loved. Even if I'm willfully worrying, knowing full well that it won't do any good.

He's one of my favourite things.

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
"My Favourite Things", The Sound of Music