Quiet sips of my Iced Cafe Mocha from Starbucks. Outside the world is turning, bustling on another hot summer's day. My apartment is a mess because I'm moving tomorrow and yet still not packed.
But here, with my coffee in my quiet cube early on Wednesday morning, it's okay to take two minutes out of the race for time that is my life. Transience has always been and perhaps will always be a part of my life. Yesterday, I lived in Boston, tomorrow in Brookline, a distance not far in miles but moves are never easy nor measured in miles. It's been a year. This time, next year, where will I be? Or the year after.
For now, it's enough that I am here.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Enduring Praise.
It's review season in the office. I hate writing reviews both for myself and others. Writing the reviews means I have to sit down and think. It means I have to judge myself and others on how well we've done, to sum up the scale of our acheivements which in the large scheme of things mean nothing. It means I have to think of things to say to people during reviews good and bad. And worse it means I have to sit in front of those self-same people and endure praise.
Criticism I get. I'm full of flaws. Sitting and writing my self evaluation always makes me sharply aware of all the things I could be doing better. Looking at my finished self evaluation makes me think. This. This is what the last 6 months of my life amounted to. Was it worth the 1/160th of my life? Was it worth doing? Did it make the world better? Did it make me better? The answer to all these questions of course is rarely yes.
The worse is having to endure praise. To sit, with a fake smile on my face and listen to praise which might or might not be platitudes, desgined to pacify and console. If they mean the praise, I have succeeded in getting away with the largest con. Then I wish I could really be the image of me they hold in their minds. Either way, praise is a double edged blade that never seems to bring me much joy.
P says I'm too hard on myself and have too low expectations of others. I never seem to think of much criticism of others. To me, they are what they are. I can think of good things to say but never bad ones. N says she feels bad complaining about her cases because I never complain about mine, however bad they might be. Simply, its because I don't think they are bad. They just are what they are.
I grew up starved of praise. I remember having tremendous fights with my mother on why everything I did was wrong. Why nothing I did pleased her. Perhaps growing up without much praise, I've grown uncomfortable around praise. I don't know how to deal with it and can never believe it to be true. Hopefully, this hasn't affected my ability to give praise. At some point in the past, I set my hopes at the lowest common denominator so that I would never be disappointed but I must remember to credit others when they exceed my hopes because even if I don't deal well with praise , others do.
Criticism I get. I'm full of flaws. Sitting and writing my self evaluation always makes me sharply aware of all the things I could be doing better. Looking at my finished self evaluation makes me think. This. This is what the last 6 months of my life amounted to. Was it worth the 1/160th of my life? Was it worth doing? Did it make the world better? Did it make me better? The answer to all these questions of course is rarely yes.
The worse is having to endure praise. To sit, with a fake smile on my face and listen to praise which might or might not be platitudes, desgined to pacify and console. If they mean the praise, I have succeeded in getting away with the largest con. Then I wish I could really be the image of me they hold in their minds. Either way, praise is a double edged blade that never seems to bring me much joy.
P says I'm too hard on myself and have too low expectations of others. I never seem to think of much criticism of others. To me, they are what they are. I can think of good things to say but never bad ones. N says she feels bad complaining about her cases because I never complain about mine, however bad they might be. Simply, its because I don't think they are bad. They just are what they are.
I grew up starved of praise. I remember having tremendous fights with my mother on why everything I did was wrong. Why nothing I did pleased her. Perhaps growing up without much praise, I've grown uncomfortable around praise. I don't know how to deal with it and can never believe it to be true. Hopefully, this hasn't affected my ability to give praise. At some point in the past, I set my hopes at the lowest common denominator so that I would never be disappointed but I must remember to credit others when they exceed my hopes because even if I don't deal well with praise , others do.