Writing about France

NOTE: I'm writing this three weeks later than I am posting it, on Wednesday, November 22.

You remember that Marie and I were going to Paris. Well, we went. I think I'll handle this the way I handled writing about my trip with Debbie to walk the West Highland Way: first, a quick resumé of what we did each day, posted on the day we did it; and then maybe a couple of posts about thoughts that came up during the time. It feels like I won't have as many of those as I did with Debbie—maybe I wasn't as thoughtful this trip, or maybe it's something else. Maybe it's just that I spent more time by myself in Scotland, and so had more time to mull. Anyway, these posts will follow the same structure as before, and therefore will be posted on the day they are relevant (not the day I actually happen to be writing them.)

Meanwhile, I will post in real time anything unrelated to the trip to Paris—for example, this post here which I posted yesterday.

          

"Can't"—part 2

A while ago—gosh, it looks like it's been more than nine years already—I wrote a speculation about why Wife insists so devoutly on her illnesses and her incapacity. I said she must be getting something from seeing herself as weak.

Just this evening I read an article by the School of Life ("The Upsides of Being Ill") which proposes much the same thing. This article goes so far as to suggest, in fact, that every illness has a psychological upside, because it protects us from some realization we'd rather not face. Or at any rate the article suggests that we would do well to ask ourselves whether this is the root cause every time we get sick, as a way to keep honest with ourselves. It can be a kind of discipline, for the sake of moral and intellectual hygiene (at the very least).

So then I suppose that (rather than stopping with a discussion of Wife) I also have to ask myself … what benefit do I get out of compulsively reading Twitter? And while I recently stopped drinking for 30 days in a row, what benefit do I get when I start up again?

          

On lying, part 12

So it appears that Nature published an article a couple weeks ago under the title, "Deception is associated with reduced social connection." (You can download a PDF of the article here.) The conclusion includes such gems as:

"Our findings suggest that learning to engage in honest conversations—even when they may be difficult or uncomfortable—may provide an avenue for improving social relationships and well-being, more generally."

"Dishonesty, it seems, is detrimental to the sender’s well-being—breeding distrust and diminishing social connection."

"Findings underscore the consequences of deception in social life, even when undetected, and provide support for the old adage that honesty is the best policy."

It even comes with charts.

Well it's certainly nice to know. I'm pretty sure this is what I was trying to tell Wife for years. "Dishonesty … is detrimental to the sender's well-being"? Yup. I discussed that here. (Well, and for example here too, and other places.) "Honest conversations—even when … difficult or uncomfortable—may … [improve] social relationships"? That's exactly what I was saying here. And I'm pretty sure Plato and Aristotle got to the same conclusion long before I did.

In other breaking news, the best bait for mice is cheese.

          

So it's not just me?

Twitter says, apparently it's NOT just me. That's very reassuring.

     

The empty table

A while ago—maybe it was last week—I subscribed to The Daily Dad emails, from Ryan Holiday. It's not like I thought I was going to get advice I could use in a practical sense, since the boys both moved out years ago. But fatherhood is a subject that I acquired a lot of opinions about over the years, so I thought I'd like to see what Holiday had to say about it.

Last Tuesday—when I started writing this post that was still "yesterday" but I see it is now after midnight so let's call it "the day before yesterday"—the Daily Dad email was on the subject "This Is How To Hold Them To You." The idea was that you should be encouraging and supportive while your children are young, not an asshole or a martinet, so that when they are adults they'll still want to spend time around you. Fine, that makes sense. And while I certainly didn't hit 100% on that scale, I think I did OK. Is that all? 

But then he introduced another concept (one that linked to another essay, in fact) and it made me think about the topic in a little more depth.

You say you don’t want to lose them, that you want to see them, that you want the crowded table. But what do your actions say? How are they making your kids feel? Are they making your table an inviting place they can be themselves? If not, then maybe it’s time to let things go. Admit you’re wrong. Apologize. Otherwise you will have no one to blame but yourself for your empty table.

Twitter talks about violent porn

Here's a topic I discussed … what was it? Twelve years ago? In this post here. And now someone has taken it up on Twitter. (Excuse me, I guess I'm supposed to call it X now.)

Here's a link to the initial Twitter post. The author spells out her basic point in the first four entries, and then it becomes a discussion.