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Archive for the ‘Life’ Category

Recommended Writer Blogs by the Brave

Posted in Life, tagged , , , , , , , on August 16, 2011| 7 Comments »

Here it is, WorldCon week! I am so excited to be seeing so many of my favorite people and getting to spend time learning and discussing such interesting things. If you will also be attending WorldCon, please don’t hesitate to come up to me and introduce yourself. I love meeting new people, and if you tell me that you read my blog, I can guarantee that I’ll be bubbling over on the inside. On a business note, I have scheduled posts for my absence, but the comment answering is going to continue to be slow for the next week or so.

I’m also pleased to accept The Parking Lot Confessional’s Validation Ticket blog award. If you go visit them, you will see that Amy says some very nice things about me and my blog. She also says I’m fearless. Doesn’t that have a nice ring? I’m not sure if it’s true, but I’m going to practice saying it to myself in the mirror anyway.

Part of the deal with this award is that I’m supposed to pass it on to other blogs. Now, back in the day, I was always the kid that broke the chain letter loop, so I have this slightly squirmy feeling about this. However, I thought it would be a nice opportunity for me to highlight a few blogs that I think are worth your time.

Renaissance Oaf: Sean Craven was a classmate of mine at Taos Toolbox, which is how I discovered his blog. He has got his blog voice down, and I love reading about his slightly off-kilter take on many subjects. Speaking of fearless, Sean often ventures deep into autobiographical territory, and he has some fascinating tales to tell.

Theodora Goss: You probably remember that I’ve mentioned this blog before because I really can’t say enough good things about it. In a medium in which all the “experts” are telling you that you have to blog on a single subject, I look at Dora’s blog and think, “Yeah, they’re wrong. This is how a writer blog should be done.” She does have recurring subjects just like I do; she talks often about beauty, about creating and living a creative life, about art. And she has a beautiful voice that pervades everything she writes.

Tribal Writer:  I looked at Justine Musk’s blog originally when I decided to start The Practical Free Spirit, and I thought, “Yes. I want to do something like that. Only by me instead.” Justine writes some fiery inspirational essays; she also talks about feminism, finding your power, being a creative “bad ass,” and how to create your own tribe.

What do these three bloggers have in common? They all come across as fearless adventurers, and as you read their blogs, you realize they’re sharing an essential part of themselves. They are each extremely comfortable in their own voices. And all three of them encourage me to think, to challenge my assumptions, and to see the world a little bit differently.

I’m always looking for new blogs to check out, so tell me: what blog rocks your world? What do you like about it?

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Accidental Influence

Posted in Life, tagged , , on August 4, 2011| 10 Comments »

Today is a frazzled sort of day. I’m leaving tomorrow (perhaps even as you’re reading this) to attend SCBWI’s summer conference, and the day before travel, even relatively easy travel, generally features me heatedly checking off to do lists and worrying that I won’t have time to complete everything. I have more travel coming up as well, so if I seem a bit less substantive or even (gasp!) miss a Tuesday or Thursday during the next few weeks, that is why. I am having trouble cohering because I keep getting distracted by the fact that my new “I have mutant teeth” sensitive toothpaste is too big to pass through security, or that I have to remember to pack my battered copy of The Phantom Tollbooth.

In between these logistical reminders to myself, I’ve been thinking a lot about influence–specifically on the influence we have over other people. Some influence we take for granted; if I were to tell you that my husband and I are huge influences on each other, I doubt you would be surprised. But when I think back over my life so far, I can come up with a list of names of people who have had a strong impact on me. Not all of them are related to me. Not all of them did I ever get to know well. Not all of them am I still in touch with today.

Some of these people have no idea of the role they played in my life. They may not even remember me. They are like stealth actors who dropped in to teach me something I really needed to know or show me another way of living before moving on. Some of them even died before I was born.

This is useful to remember when contemplating creating a life that allows us to teach, influence, change the world, increase awareness. We never know who we might reach. We never know when we might say the exactly right thing that gives another person an “aha!” moment. Sometimes we won’t learn of our own impact until years after the fact, or perhaps not even then. Many times we’ll have accidental influence–we’ll have no idea that someone will have taken our casually spoken words to heart. We won’t realize that by hearing about our lives, someone else will decide to do things differently. We just can’t always know. But the not knowing doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.

We all yield influence, whether we’re aware of it or not. So the question becomes not if, but rather what we want our contribution to be. And since we can’t always be aware of it when it’s happening, an even bigger question is this: how do we live our own lives in such a way that we can maximize our positive influence? I don’t know if I have a complete answer to that question yet, but it’s something I plan to think about in the upcoming weeks.

In the meantime, I feel a deep sense of gratitude to the people on my list, both because of what they taught me and because they’ve helped me realize how important every individual can be.

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Hungry for Books

Posted in Life, tagged , , , , , , on July 28, 2011| 15 Comments »

Last week my husband and I drove up to Ashland, Oregon to attend their Shakespeare Festival for the first time. I’ve been wanting to attend this festival since high school, and it did not disappoint. Also, it’s good to know that I can watch eight plays in four days without burning out on theater.

Ashland was a charming place, and my favorite part was the plethora of bookshops that grace the downtown, including at least two “Books and Antiques” shops. Those two shops were my bookstore dream come true. Both of them had old books in bookshelves all over the shop, surrounded by assorted strange items: a brass urn, a large wooden Noah’s ark, aggressively sparkly jewelry, antique scissors complete with scabbard. One of the shops had an entire section devoted to “Banned Books” throughout the ages, and they threw in a free “I read banned books” pin with my purchase. I could have spent hours in those two stores, and the only reason I didn’t spend more time was the danger of buying more books than would fit in the car for the drive home.

There’s something about old books, isn’t there? I don’t usually notice the smell of books, having a notably poor sense of smell, but in a used bookstore even I notice the musky scent of aging paper. And those old hardbacks feel so weighty in the hand, and lacking the slickness of the modern dust jacket, they seem more mysterious–anything could be lurking behind the slightly battered covers. I was reminded that, however much the world may move towards electronic books, and however many of them I will purchase myself, there is something inside me that will always be enchanted by the book as a physical object.

So I decided to share that enchantment with you by showing you photos of my book haul from these two lovely shops.

These are my three nonfiction selections. I love English history, and after having just seen Shakespeare’s Henry IV Part 2, I was particularly inspired to get a book on the British Monarchy. Short sketches of famous women in the Renaissance? Equally interesting, with possibilities of awaking some story ideas. The top book is about the home life of Theodore Roosevelt and his family at the turn of the century (19th to 20th), which is a time period I’m quite attached to (think Anne of Green Gables and the Betsy and Tacy books).

My bouquet of paperbacks. I’ve only previously read the middle one. I really wanted to get Virginia Woolf’s On Being Ill, but neither shop had that one, so I got this one instead.

Okay, how exciting is this stack? The H.G. Wells omnibus on the bottom is particularly well made, but all four of these books make me hungry for reading. And my favorite three books of the Anne of Green Gables series all in one volume? I couldn’t resist.

I love this old edition of Dicken’s A Christmas Tale. My husband and I read this story together every December. Look at that art! It reminds me of the old books my mom saved from her childhood.

I’ve saved the best for last. I saw this book and I knew I had to have it.

Yes, it is indeed leather-bound. And it has golden gilt on the edges of the pages. I’ve been looking for the perfect edition of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice for quite some time now.

The end papers look even better in person: a shiny, orange gold color with a pleasing texture.

And it is illustrated. And it has a golden ribbon to keep your place as you read. How elegant!

I adore this book with all my heart, both its outer form and the story it tells.

We obtained many, many books in Ashland. I can’t wait to start reading them!

Too bad my to-read pile already takes up several shelves….

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Inscrutable Humor

Posted in Life, tagged , , , on July 26, 2011| 15 Comments »

I have spent much of my life insisting that I am not funny.

Which, it turns out, is all a big joke. But one that most people aren’t going to get at all. Because I actually think I’m quite funny. I amuse the hell out of myself on a daily basis.

In contrast, I don’t think a lot of traditionally funny people are very funny at all. You know how people feel this need to tell jokes? As in, they recite a pre-canned joke complete with punch line? I’ll laugh to be polite, but I rarely find them very funny. I can’t tell them myself to save my life. And I won’t remember them at all after a day. Same with sitcoms in which the main source of the funny seems to be people being dumb and getting themselves into big, stressful messes. Although there are exceptions, I mostly feel sad when I watch people being dumb. And I worry about them when things start to go really wrong. Or I just don’t care. But what I don’t do is find it very funny.

Very occasionally, I will find someone who thinks I am completely hilarious. My husband is one of these rare people. I met another one at Taos, a colleague of mine who “doesn’t understand humor.” For someone who doesn’t understand humor, she makes me laugh a whole lot more than almost anybody else I know. I have another local friend who will suddenly bust up laughing at something I said, while the rest of the room looks on in bafflement or doesn’t even notice.
I recently decided to investigate this strange phenomenon, and I reached a startling (for me, anyway) and exciting conclusion. It turns out that I have been practicing the art of dry or deadpan humor for most of my life. Yes, without even knowing it. Another fact I find terribly amusing.

The interesting thing about dry humor is that it takes a certain amount of attention to catch it. If, for example, you’re only half listening to what someone is saying, there’s very little chance of you noticing the little joke they drop in halfway through a conversation. Dry humor is subtle and purposefully lacking in cues. And it happens really fast, which means your wit has to be turned up to full in order to appreciate it before the moment has passed. It also tends to lose its comic value if it has to be explained.

When I deliver one of my little jokes, my vocal inflection often doesn’t change much if at all. Sometimes I myself am unaware that I’m making a joke until it’s already out of my mouth. I have trouble believing, knowing myself as I do, that I keep a completely straight expression. But on the other hand, I spend a lot of time smiling, so how is one to tell the difference between my habitual smile and my sly “I just committed some humor” smile? So again, not a huge red flag. The entire sense of the humor lies in the words I’ve spoken and their context.

The best part of dry humor? I can easily entertain myself. The worst part? When I laugh at other people’s unintentional dry humor, or the absurdity of a situation, and people become worried or offended because they don’t get the joke. Which is why most of the time, I’m laughing on the inside while keeping my deadpan smile firmly in place.

How about you? What do you find funny? Any fellow dry humor aficionados out there?

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Romance as a Life Choice

Posted in Life, tagged , , , , on July 14, 2011| 15 Comments »

Last week Theodora Goss wrote a beautiful essay about finding romance in life. I’ve been thinking about it ever since, enough so that I asked a few friends (hi, guys!) what makes something romantic. The consensus was that something was romantic if it was both thoughtful and meaningful, and done by the right person (by which I think we mean, someone to whom you feel romantically inclined to begin with).

 

Thinking of romance as having to do with romantic love is probably the baseline in American culture (except perhaps for anthropologists, folklorists, and scholars). Certainly that is the definition my friends instantly attached to. Our culture sells us a certain idea (or perhaps group of ideas) of what romantic love should be, and I have heard more than one rant about how these ideals build unrealistic and unhealthy expectations for what to expect in actual relationships. So I really like Theodora’s reminder that romance has many meanings, and her call to embrace the romantic:
I know this probably sounds silly, but why not make your life romantic? Why not surround yourself with things that make you feel like a heroine?
To me, this doesn’t sound silly at all. I am a very romantic person, which I think contributes very materially to my happiness. I don’t go about it in quite the same way as Theodora, perhaps; I find romance in my life more in the people I meet and the situations I face (or even the situations I could potentially face, or the situations I’m merely making up in my mind). I find romance in my surroundings not so much by design (surrounding myself purposefully by things I find romantic) as by accident or general frame of mind.

When I lived in London, I found going grocery shopping to be incredibly romantic. Imagine, grocery shopping, a chore I avoid like the plague here in the States, being romantic. And yet I loved walking through the quiet residential streets and coming up to the main hub of Crouch End. And I loved that I could only buy food for a few days since I had to carry it home. And I loved all of the unfamiliar food items lining the shelves, and discovering my favorites that I would buy week in and week out. It was all an integral part of this amazing adventure I was having.
I can’t keep it up all the time (which is unfortunate), but whenever I remember the romance, my life becomes more interesting. I have to do all these stupid strengthening exercises all the time because my body is cranky. But when I imagine the exercises as part of a training montage, suddenly it becomes a lot more inspiring. When I’m teaching, I’m engaged in the romance of instilling a love of music and helping to grow self-confidence in young people. In my mind my romance with my husband is an epic love story on a par with Wesley and Buttercup in The Princess Bride, only better because I am not vapid like Buttercup. And writing, well, writing has been my ideal of romance since I was seven years old.

This romantic view doesn’t hide all the rough edges. I’m perfectly aware on one level that a lot of life is a slog: to improve at something, I need to repetitively practice over and over again. To have a good relationship I have to keep working at communicating and making decisions together and ‘fessing up to my mistakes. To be a good teacher, I have to encourage repetition with even more patience than I show myself. To travel, I have to deal with discomfort and stress and things going wrong.

But I believe that seeing the romance in these things is what reminds me of how worthwhile they are. I love being the heroine! I love appreciating the romance of life, whether it be big and sweeping or small and easy to overlook (the rose bushes in front of my house are a good example of the latter; I find them so romantic…or else I forget about them completely).

So tell me, what do you find romantic in your life? What makes you swoon? How do you cultivate a romantic life?

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Choose Your Own Adventure

Posted in Arts, Life, Writing, tagged , , , , , , , on July 12, 2011| 13 Comments »

I’ve been feeling all organized because last weekend I made a list of topics for my next several posts. And then this morning I read a blog post offering some misguided writing advice. (No, I’m not going to link to it. I’m sure way too many writers read it as is.) Cue complete topic derailment.

I’ve already written about writing advice in the past, but the more I think about it, the more I think this issue isn’t confined to advice about writing. It isn’t even confined to advice about artistic pursuits. Over the years I have certainly received a great deal of advice about basic life topics, some of which has thrown me for a loop and later proven to be completely wrong. (My favorite? “Oh, Amy, you just have delusions of grandeur” in response to me having big artistic dreams. Way to try to ensure they’ll never happen.)

Add to this the undeniable fact that I sometimes give what could be construed as advice right here on this blog, and I feel almost obligated to write the following.

Read, learn, listen to other people’s point of view and feedback. Think about what people say, try out various ideas. Don’t automatically assume you know the one true way to doing anything. But ultimately, DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO. Do what you need to do (assuming that what you need to do doesn’t involve anything blatantly illegal, of course). And more than that, do what works. Advice, even the more strongly worded variety, is merely a suggestion that we can take or leave according to our own inclination. Even if it’s good advice, we might not be ready to implement it. And if it’s bad advice, we might accidentally harm ourselves or take the plunge into regret that I talked about last week.

That’s one of the really wonderful things about life. We get to choose our own adventure. Sure, we can’t control everything or even most things, but within our small scope of decision, we act as our own kings and queens.

It’s not such a leap to believe that creative types need to follow their muses and express their personal integrity and vision of the world in their art. But what if we take a step farther and consider ourselves to be art and our lifetimes to be our canvas of expression? The expressions “Follow your heart” and “Follow your gut” are close but incomplete representations of this kind of life. Follow who you are, and even more, follow who you wish to become.

Choosing to live this way can mean leaving a lot of the advice behind. The Backbone Project has really opened my eyes to this. Why do people care whether I drink alcohol or not? Why do they care (especially women!) if I self-identify as a feminist? Why do people want to change my writing process? Often I think the answer is that they don’t actually care about me personally at all. Instead they are seeking to validate their own way of life and their own choices. Instead of following who they are and finding a sense of rightness in that, they need reflection from the outside world to reassure them. Instead of deep and subtle thinking, they allow themselves to fall into the black and white thinking trap: I’m right and you’re wrong. Because this doesn’t work for me, obviously it won’t work for anybody. Something needs to be fixed; you need to be fixed. If I have a big bad problem, that means you must not have any problems at all or else you’re trying to compete with me, but it doesn’t matter because my problem must be the worst. (Or flip it around: if you have a big bad problem, that must mean my own problems aren’t important at all.)

Don’t take my advice about this, though. Think about it, and make up your own mind. Choose your own adventure. Turn your life into art with every choice you make.

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The Negativity Contagion

Posted in Life, Society, tagged , , , on July 7, 2011| 12 Comments »

It is at times like these that I wish I had a book or movie review blog, or a recipe blog (ha! good one, Amy), or maybe even a tech blog. Then I could write up a topical essay instead of writing about what I’m about to write about. I could satisfy my current introverted yearnings and hide behind the text instead of infusing myself throughout the text. But, into the fray I go!

I want to talk about negativity, and more specifically, about how easily it spreads. Sometimes it feels like we are being hit by a constant bombardment of negativity: complaints, mean comments, subtle put-downs, defensiveness, bare naked insecurity, and reams upon reams of advice (the dreaded “shoulds”). Between our in-person social interactions and the pervasiveness of the internet, it can be hard to escape. All of this negativity becomes like white noise, this constant presence that we sometimes don’t even notice.

One problem with this negativity, aside from the obvious, is how easily it can rub off on us. Negativity is contagious. So when I’m spending time reading updates from writers who are, in various ways, freaking out about their writing in public, I will eventually start freaking out about my own writing without necessarily even realizing why. When I’m reading all this writing advice that appears to lay down rules from Heaven, even if I keep a skeptical mind, I will eventually start second-guessing my own process. If I hear enough complaints about Google+ and why would any normal person choose to use it instead of Facebook (and it’s always instead of, I notice), then I begin to worry about the long-term viability of Google+, even though I’m enjoying it a lot right now.

I get the impression that some people are able to shield themselves from this effect without much thought, but for the rest of us, it takes more care. Sometimes I have to take internet breaks. Right now I severely limit the amount of writing advice I read, especially on blogs, because I find that the advice hurts as often as it helps. I also try to avoid other writers’ word count posts. I make a mental note of the people within my acquaintance who are likely to let loose with the verbal zingers. I try to distance myself (and don’t we all have experience with that, given the amount of bad news we’re exposed to from the media alone?)

It’s a tricky line to walk. On the one hand, everyone needs to complain sometimes. And I certainly want to be supportive to my friends and colleagues. But on the other hand, if my work and/or mood is being materially affected, then something has gone wrong. Perhaps this is a side effect of living in the Information Age, when we are blasted by stronger streams of sharing than was previously possible.

But I confess that when I’m deciding what to share, I try (and granted, sometimes fail) to take this into account. It’s not that we should shy away from discussing the difficult things. Indeed, when a real discussion is taking place, I often feel more connected and less negative. Tackling difficult topics can educate, instigate change, and bring people closer together. Plus I truly believe it is rewarding to pursue authenticity and honesty when possible. But I also think it’s important to ask ourselves how we are affecting others. And if we are sharing with a large stream of people (as we so often do with social media), I think some relevant questions to ask are these: how am I contributing to these people’s lives by what I’m about to say? Am I helping to lift people up or accidentally bringing them down? Am I blasting out a burst of negativity to no purpose? It’s not that we need to represent ourselves as living under a permanent rainbow. But neither do we want to end up sharing life under a perpetual rain cloud.

As you can tell, I’m still grappling with these questions. So tell me, what do you think? How do you protect yourself from other people’s negativity? How do you decide what to share? Where is the line between being honest and spreading negativity?

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Living Free From Regret

Posted in Life, Society, tagged , , , , on July 5, 2011| 18 Comments »

I often pretend that I’m eighty years old.

When I was eighteen, I went away to college and began studying music. My life wasn’t ideal: my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer that year, I had wicked insomnia, there were various college dramas to deal with, I had a bum ankle and was constantly sick, I wasn’t always making the progress I wished to make. But I remember very clearly walking home from the music building one spring day. I could see the ocean as I left the building, the sun was out, I was surrounded by beautiful redwood trees, and I was able to spend all my time studying music, which I was truly passionate about. And I thought, “There is nothing I’d rather be doing with my life right now.”

That’s a powerful thought, isn’t it? I decided then that I would try to live as much of my life as possible in the same way, and that is still one of my goals today. There are many things that I was wrong about when I was eighteen, but that wasn’t one of them. One of the ways I can check on myself and see how I’m doing is to pretend that I’m eighty. Whenever I’m making a decision or evaluating something I’m doing, I ask myself: How will I feel about this when I’m eighty? First of all, will I even remember it? (If the answer is no, then it’s probably not all that important, and if nothing else, I can bring down my worry level a notch or two.) If I do this, will I be glad I tried it when I look back at my life? Will I regret passing up this opportunity? Or will I wish I’d played it safer or made a different decision?

I was talking to a former student the other day who has decided not to pursue music professionally, at least for right now. She went to professional school for musical theater for a while and began to hate it, even though she had previously been amazingly passionate about the subject. So now she is studying a different subject. And you know what? Even though she ultimately changed her mind, I think she did the right thing going through the musical theater program. Because if she hadn’t, then when she was eighty, she might have regretted not pursuing her dream. Now she knows that she doesn’t want that kind of life, and she can move forward without regrets.

From photobucket.com by notapooka

According to this article, one of the top regrets of people on their deathbeds is not having followed their dreams. (I highly recommend you read the entire article.) Of course, we can’t always be doing exactly what we want to do. No one wants to sit around recovering from a root canal gone wrong or clean the bathroom or deal with any of a whole host of problems and difficulties that are part of our daily lives. But I think all the unpleasant parts are rendered more manageable if we can find and highlight the aspects of life that are so wonderful to us that they dwarf all else. For me in college, that passion was for music. Nowadays, I find it in my relationships, in writing fiction and this blog, in teaching, in travel. When I’m spending time on any of those things, I get the same feeling, that there is nothing else I’d rather be doing.

Steve Jobs gave a great insight in a Stanford commencement address that I think about a lot:

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: “If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you’ll most certainly be right.” It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?” And whenever the answer has been “No” for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

So now I’ll ask you the same questions: if today was the last day of your life, would you want to do what you’re doing? When you’re eighty, how will you feel about the decisions you’re making today?

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Five Happy Things, Birthday Edition

Posted in Life, tagged , , , on June 27, 2011| 18 Comments »

Today is my birthday! I really love birthdays. I look forward to mine for months every year. And this year I’m prepared with a wider than usual selection of birthday books. So think of me lounging in the sun with one of these titles: Naamah’s Blessing, by Jacqueline Carey; The Wanting Seed, by Anthony Burgess; Flashback, by Dan Simmons (his Hyperion series is genius, by the way. Just saying.); or Bumped, by Megan McCafferty. Decisions, decisions!

To celebrate on the blog, I’m writing a birthday edition of five things that make me happy. In this case, I’m choosing five things from the last year.

1. Blog: First things first. This blog turns one year old later this week, sharing a birthday week with me. I thought that starting a serious blog sounded fun, but I had no idea how much I would enjoy it. Not only have I become a better writer as a result of blogging, but the blog gets me writing (and keeps me writing) even when pretty much nothing else can. I love having a platform to share my ideas and philosophies, and I adore that doing something so fun is part of my job. How awesome is that?

2. New Friends: When I think of all the new friends I have met in the last year, it feels almost unreal to me. To make myself even happier, I’m going to fudge and count my Taos Toolbox comrades in this number as well, even though I met them a year and a few weeks ago (although even without fudging, it’s been a truly amazing year in the friend department). I have been honored to meet and spend time with some of the most intelligent, thoughtful, kind, and interesting people this year. And I keep meeting more!

3. First Pro Sale: Yup, have to mention this, a big milestone in my writing career. I can’t wait till this story comes out, hopefully later this year!

4. Husband and Little Dog: Day in and day out, my husband and little Nala are always there for me. They celebrate my successes and they comfort me through the hard and painful times. They make it easy to be happy.

5. Becoming More Me:You guys have seen some of this here on the blog, with me writing about people pleasing and running the Backbone Project. Happily this is something that is happening even more offline than it is online. After years of plugging away at becoming more assertive, it’s finally happening! Granted, I have a lot more work to do, but I’m making fabulous progress.

There sure are a lot of photos of me wearing a lei floating around....

So there you have it, five things that make me want to bounce up and down, wear bright colors, and sing while I brush my teeth. Here’s to another year featuring more of the same!

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When is Giving Up the Right Choice?

Posted in Life, tagged , , , on June 16, 2011| 21 Comments »

Last night I asked my husband what I should write about next for the blog. “If you don’t tell me what to write,” I said, “I’m going to talk about teeth.” He looked horrified and gave me a few topic suggestions. And here I am writing about teeth anyway.

I’ve been trying really hard not to whine about my dental problems too much, which is hard, because I feel this pressing need to whine. Seven months and counting, and right this minute I have a not insignificant toothache from the same tooth that’s been causing the problems all along. I’ve been through two root canals, an onlay, two permanent crowns, and three or four temporary crowns for this one tooth, not to mention gum surgery, several courses of antibiotics and steroids, and countess bite adjustments. It still hurts. And now a new filling on the opposite side of my mouth has decided to act up and hate on anything cold. Eating has become an interesting exercise since I now have two bum teeth on opposite sides of my mouth.

I can question the competence of my dentists all I want, but ultimately they just really really want to save this tooth. They care about saving the tooth more than they care about the pain it is causing me or the subsequent deterioration of my quality of life. My tooth is, after all, irreplaceable; no prosthesis will be as good as the real thing.

It occurs to me as I obsess about my mouth that this is a more universal problem. How do we decide when it’s time to let go of something? I think it’s probably about time for an extraction of my tooth, but without 100% support from the dental establishment, I have hesitated for several months now. I’m kicking myself because maybe all this pain could have ended last December. But how do I decide when it’s time to give up on the tooth?

How do we decide when to give up on anything? What is it that tips us over the edge into deciding a marriage just isn’t going to work? What motivates us to change careers? What is the key information we need to make the call that a business relationship isn’t working out or a person is just never going to treat us respectfully? How do we make the call that “enough is enough” and that something has got to change?

I have a lot of trouble letting go. My stubbornness is an extremely useful trait in many ways, but it can occasionally be inconvenient. What kills me the most is that so often, we’ll never know for sure. We won’t know what would have happened if we’d made a different choice. Maybe if I’d stuck with that relationship for another month or two, that extra time would have made the difference. That’s the insidious whisper that plays inside my head. Maybe if I try one more dental treatment, I’ll get to keep my original tooth. Maybe if I can persevere at a task for a while longer, it will become more rewarding. Maybe maybe maybe.

Or maybe it’s time to make a hard decision and extract that broken molar from its roots, rip the band aid off the skin, take a stand and say, “This is where I draw the line.” There’s giving up and then there’s embracing change; the line between the two is murky but important, because one feels like defeat while the other one can be liberating. A sad and bracing liberation, to be sure, but I’ll take it over straightforward defeat any day.

So tell me: how do YOU make such decisions? When is giving up the right thing to do?

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