Generation Meh

Grow my hair into a long, flowing mane
Rejected because: People would just mistake it for a wig, anyway. Again.

Don’t yell at my parents’ dog when I visit
Rejected because: Yelling is the only way to be heard over the barking.

Photo by Stepheye

Get fragrance named after me. Refer to it as my “signature scent”
Rejected because: Bad track record. Every perfume that I’ve ever liked has been discontinued, save for the Body Shop’s White Musk.

Smile more
Rejected because: Like I’m gonna encourage premature wrinkles. I don’t think so.

Date more
Rejected because: Sounds pretty labor intensive.  Also,  increased risk of wrinkles (see above).

Go raw
Rejected because: It’s winter. Also, as much I like the idea of making my own vegetable chips, am scared of the mandoline.

Embrace skinny jeans
Rejected because: I don’t care if it’s fashionable, I don’t like looking like Peter Pan.

Devote more energy to marketing self in social media space, including pitching guest posts on prominent blogs, commenting on others’ posts, participating in e-seminars, etc.
Rejected because: As if. Giving away your labor for only the promise of exposure is a total bush league move. Warm fuzzy feelings don’t pay the bills or advance a career, kiddos.

Wear dental retainer more than three nights a week
Rejected because: This one I’m keeping.

Sell out
Rejected because: Yep, this one is a keeper, too.

So, what won’t you be doing in 2011? Let me know in the comments.

Wondering what happened to that particular plan? I wrote a piece for the folks at Thought Catalog that explains it all.

Dear 2010,

I’ve had your bags packed and waiting by the door for weeks now, but you haven’t been taking the hint.  I don’t think I can make the fact that you’ve overstayed your welcome any clearer.

Photo by hellojenuine

To put it inelegantly, you’ve kicked the crap out of me on just about every front imaginable (no need to revisit the details, I’m sure your memory is a match for mine).  And the insomnia meant I saw a lot more of you than I wanted to. It’s not as if I haven’t had rough years before (that terrible perm pretty much ruined sixth grade), but I had high hopes for you, ya know? You made promises and I take those very seriously. If you give me your word, you might as well sign a blood oath, because I consider it just as binding. Which is why it always hurts so much when people don’t stick to their end of the bargain. And 2010, you bailed — early and often. I suppose it was my fault for continuing to give you second chances long after you proved that you weren’t to be trusted, but really, in lieu of time travel, what the heck was I supposed to do?

In the interests of graciousness, I suppose I should make a passing mention of our good times, but dude, we really didn’t have many, did we? Okay, reporting on the G8/G20 was a once-in-a-career opportunity, but riot police and anarchists aren’t exactly a barrel of monkeys. Being syndicated on Jezebel was pretty neat. The Chicago Diner’s vegan milkshakes were rad, too. And of course, any time I got to spend with my niece. But yeah, it’s a pretty short highlight reel.

But the truth is that you don’t deserve graciousness. You ruined almost everything you touched and in classic bad romance fashion, you’ve made me question my own judgment. I was wrong about you, what if I’m wrong about 2011, too? Actually, don’t get me started on 2011. I’m not ready to move on yet. I’m not ready to let another year in and risk the same turmoil. And I’m blaming you for that.

And don’t even think I’m ending with any of that I Will Survive BS where I give you backhanded credit for making me a stronger, more resilient person.  No,  now I’m a jerk who slacks on email and wears too much eyeliner and has a laugh that sounds like machine gun fire. But at least I still have cute hair, right?

It’s over. And despite what the calendar says, it’s been over for a long time. Don’t pretend otherwise. And GTFO already.

The End,

-JMH

My teeth (right side, on the bottom) are sensitive to cold, so I try to avoid crunching ice cubes on that side or letting anything super chilly hit it in just the wrong way. Every once in a while, though, I like to test to see if the sensitivity is still there (my eyesight magically improved, so why not my teeth?), so I’ll deliberately take a big gulp of ice water just to see what happens.

Photo by Kuro no Kishi

In a similar way, it’s useful to occasionally take our emotional temperature instead of assuming constant and enduring truths about how we feel. Emotions fade, time heals, memory fails. You wouldn’t slap a SpongeBob band-aid on your scraped knee and then never bother to remove it to check how the healing was going, would you? Of course not. What hurt then doesn’t necessarily hurt now and what hurts now won’t necessarily hurt in the future. And the only way to figure out if you’ve gotten over what used to get to you? *Gasp*, it’s to let yourself revisit past hurts, angers and scars to assess whether they still sting in the same way. And if they don’t? Free up that space in your emotional attic!  We’re quick to bundle our pain into cardboard boxes, tape them shut, scrawl Do Not Open on top and shove them to the dustiest corner of our psyche. But space fills up fast in there. Eventually, you just stop opening the door lest you be crushed under an avalanche of old ticket stubs, sixth grade friendship bracelets, songs you can no longer listen to, pictures of happier times, emails undeleted, etc.

At least some of that emotional detritus is ripe for reusing and recycling. The statute of limitations on its hold over you has expired and once you discover that, you can sift through it, talk about it, forgive, forget, get drunk and laugh at your younger self, etc.  And then, finally reclaim that  prime real estate for other purposes*.

*That pony you’re going to get for Christmas has to go somewhere, right?

Hey JMH,

I really enjoyed your post about Christmas shopping for women and I have a related question that I thought you could answer. I’m meeting my girlfriend’s parents for the first time over the holidays and I definitely want to make a good impression. S and I have been together for over a year, but because her family lives on the other side of the country, this is the first time I’ll be meeting them. Do you have any tips or advice for making things go as smoothly as possible?

Thanks,
Nervous About Meeting The Parents

Firstly, I love reader questions. LOVE THEM. And this one just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. The good news is that the fact you’re conscientious enough to be concerned with making a good impression and soliciting input on how to do so is a pretty strong signal that you don’t really have much to worry about. And assuming S isn’t an ogre herself, it’s very likely she wasn’t raised by ogre parents either (unless she’s a Marilyn Munster type), so you can probably banish visions of painful Ben Stiller-esque awkwardness from your head. The bottom line is that decent parents want to know that their offspring (regardless of sex) are involved with people who treat them with respect, make them happy and are equal partners in the relationship. If you can communicate that to S’s parents through your interactions with them, you should be a-okay. Below are a few tips to get you (and others in your boat) started.

Photo by West Point Public Affairs

Expect the Spanish Inquisition
And by this, I mean assume that you will be asked all the standard getting-to-know you questions about your job, your education, where you’re from, your family, hobbies, etc. This isn’t a test and you don’t have to bone up like you’re gonna be on Jeopardy!, but you should at least be able to rattle off what you do in your spare time without looking like a deer in the headlights (unless you do illegal things, in which case, you’re on your own) or hemming-and-hawing for an agonizing five minutes.

Do Your Homework
If you don’t already have the details, ask S for the 411 on her folks and home life. Where does/did Mom work? Is Dad into sports? Does she come from a family of finger-gunning back-slappers or monosyllabic stoics? Not only do you know what you’re walking into and how to avoid table talk faux pas (if politics are never discussed or her family has radically different views than yours, you’ll avoid launching into a 26-point critique of Sarah Palin’s Alaska), you can fill conversational lulls by inserting some questions or prompts of your own. “So, S tells me you’re really into Harleys…” etc.

All The Normal Houseguest Rules Apply
Bring a host/hostess gift (hint: a bottle of wine is a good choice, unless Mama and Papa S are teetotalers, in which case chocolates or a nice fruit basket could be subbed in). Be appreciative and complimentary (or at least diplomatic) about the food you’re served. Be neat with your belongings if you’re staying overnight. Be helpful when it comes to offering to assist with meal clean up, clear snow off the walkway. Etc., etc. Don’t descend into an etiquette panic and get freaked out about not knowing the right fork to eat with or whose name goes first when making intros, just act with common sense courtesy and respect in response to the hospitality that you’re being offered.

No Faking It Until You Make It
Be on your best behavior, but be you. If you aren’t a joke-telling, life-of-the-party guy, don’t make like you are. Don’t pretend to be sporty or outdoorsy if that isn’t how you typically roll. The temptation is to jump through hoops to make a good impression, but your focus should instead be on making the most positive honest impression that you can. This isn’t a job interview. You’ve already got the job (one half of an awesome couple). And besides, if you and S ever make things permanent, do you really want to spend the next 30 years pretending to be a Steelers-loving country music fan?

Have a question/problem/mystery/etc/ that you’d like me to take a crack at? Email away.