To Be or Not to Be

So often, Shakespeare encapsulated the most difficult, and the most profound topics in phrases that were destined (apparently) to become useful catch-phrases. For Hamlet, "to be or not to be" was a profound decision -- to keep himself alive, to succumb to suicide....and to the careful reader, the tricky question of true madness or acted madness underlies much of Hamlet's dilemma. The question itself, however, has taken on a life of its own, outside of the context of the play (even within the context of the play - just ask Mel Brooks!).

Hamlet is taught in high school, and the pain of its hero resonates well with teenage self-absorption and angst. But even unto adulthood, decisions may often be framed in the same: to (do) X, or not to (do) X formulation, and played out through an analysis of pros and cons for each option. Any change in lifestyle may be greeted with the famous "should I?  or shouldn't I?" question.

I once asked a group of eleventh graders to write their own dilemmas in the style of Hamlet's monologue. Here, I give you the best of the bunch (by Jasmine Kahn, who has no idea I kept her piece, let alone that it is now here):

To Love or Not To Love

To love or not to love - that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The pains and stings of unrequited love,
Or to suppress a sea of feelings
And, by denying, end them.  To lie, to hide -
To love no more - and by hiding, to say we end
The heartache that these feelings cause
Which lovers are often heirs to
When these feelings are not mutual.
To ignore, perchance to move on.  Ay, there's the rub
For in doing so, we know not what may have been.
When we have rid ourselves of this burning fire,
And thereby banish any chance that may have lain ahead.
For what other reason do lovers return
To the ones who have refused them time and again,
The pains of despised love,
If they could but walk away,
And be relived of all such troubles?
Who would fardels bear, to try and please a closed heart
But that the dread of missing the chance,
Forever asked "what if?"
Not knowing, this puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear the pain we feel inside
Then give up and never know.
Thus hope doth make cowards of us all.
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is shadowed by the pale thread of hope
That perhaps love may be achieved.
With this regard they keep going,
And persist in the name of love.

For Shakespeare purists, she has done a fine job of capturing his phrases.  As well as a remarkably mature job of presenting the romantic pain and futile hope that is unrequited love.  The Song of Songs may be more lush narrative (it is), but the idea that one can choose to abandon the love than confines is a challenge worth considering. If you knew your love would not be repaid in kind, would you keeping loving? Could you? Could you not?

Quick: Watching Sports or Playing Sports?

Are you happier being a spectator, or happier being a participant?            

Here, sports could be a metaphor for the rest of life, but I don't mean to be asking the grandiose question (or not this time, anyway).

Some people find watching "the game" to be all the sports they need.  Others find watching "the game" to be a couch-potato experience.  Conversely, some find team sports to provide exercise and camaraderie and healthy competition, while others see team sports as painful and artificial.

I haven't played "team sports" since ninth grade, when field hockey and lacrosse were still part of school.  But since I began as a team player in fifth grade, I kinda think, "once a team player, always a team player."  Then, I didn't enjoy watching more than playing.  In fact, I moved myself from playing full-back to playing half-back (or right inner -- I know, I know, the positions have been renamed since I did this!) because there was far less action for the full-back, while the half (and inner) were running running running for the whole game.

Still, when the participants are world-class athletes, there's something to be said for watching.  The Olympics demonstrate this best.  World-class athletes in sports that you only hear of during the Olympics.  Like the luge (what a funny-looking sport).  Like the biathlon.  Badminton (an olympic sport?  doesn't that go with backyards and barbecues?  -- but not the way these guys play!).  Fencing.  And, yes, in typical fashion, the required favorites of figure skating and gymnastics.

The Olympics are not the only place to see world-class athleticism, however.  The NBA playoffs; the World Series; the Super Bowl; Wimbledon; the World Cup; and so on.  When what you're watching is great, then watching can really be great.

On the local level, participating makes more sense to me.  Even when a workout is excruciating (and sometimes they are), the rewards far exceed the benefit of watching the best of the best.  They inspire; but on our own, we are invigorated, get/stay fit; enjoy endorphins, decrease cholesterol, and prove to ourselves that we can accomplish what we set out to do.  Besides, it's also (often) fun.

Bad Choices: Repeat Performance

You would think I would learn not to do the things I know have negative repercussions.  At least, some of them. I don't mean bad habits -- those are hard to get out of (and deserve their own post).  I mean, doing something that seems like a good idea at the time, but that you have done in the past to ill-effect.

Like driving too fast through a known speed-trap.
Like not walking the dog in a timely manner.
Like not taking aspirin until it's too late.
Like not bringing flats to change into.
Like having eyes that are bigger than your stomach -- again!

Or, in my case, drinking coffee at 9 P.M., as I did last night.  It seemed like a good idea at the time (doesn't it always?).  I wanted to be alert and productive...and to some extent I was.  When I resolved to turn in at 11:30, I told myself, see, the coffee was a good idea!  Except that I lay in bed, wide awake, rip-roaring, ready to go, until after 3:30 A.M.  Fortunately, I had a good convoy of conversation, through my wakefulness, but now, after less than 4 hours of sleep, I am marveling at my poor choice.  It's not as if I've never done the same thing before.  Truth be told, I have no doubt I will make it again, soon enough.

PS: Feel free to add to the list.

Magical Thinking

I'd been thinking that I'm inclined towards "magical thinking," but I've discovered that I'm wrong.

What I do is retrospective justification (I'm making this term up, but doesn't it sound good?). That is, once events transpire as they do, I decide that I must be better off for them having developed the way they are, instead of the way I thought I wanted them to be. Thus, when something goes wrong, I fundamentally stave off disappointment and dismay by hoping (I'd like to say "concluding," but really it's just hoping) that something worse would have happened to me, had things not gone "wrong." The immediate wrong becomes better than the greater wrong from which I have presumably been saved.

The Jewish expression for this is, "gam zu le-tovah." It translates to mean, "also this is for the good," often in a long-suffering, yiddish-esque way of accepting bad. A more elegant phrasing might be: "everything is for the best" -- though that actually improves upon the "good."

It's a really hard case to prove, either way.

The official Magical Thinking comes in a number of forms. One friend misunderstood me to be talking about what I would call "wishful thinking." Her take is that if we can think it, then magic can make it happen. We can become rich and famous and thin and good and beautiful -- magic can make it so. Wikipedia (my favorite pseudo-source for this kind of inquiry) describes Magical Thinking in much more sweeping terms: it is the reasoning that looks for causal correlation between [things that are not obviously, scientifically, causally related]. Doing Act X will bring about Effect Y. Stepping on a crack....will it break your mother's back? Uttering "Lord Voldemort"....is it really dangerous (before it became a trap, I mean)? We may laugh about some suggested correlations, but then we must consider prayer. Prayer is less laughable (even for the non-believers amongst us). We may not be able to conclude that the healing that happens after we pray for healing was definitively caused by our prayers. But we similarly may not conclude that prayer has no impact. That's what's tricky about Magical Thinking -- the merely fanciful and the truly miraculous are likely to be muddled, since we aren't privy to a metaphysical perspective (all the more reason for me to subscribe to retrospective justification!).

The "anthropological sense" of magical thinking was made famous by Joan Didion, in her painful (but eloquent) book, The Year of Magical Thinking. Interviewed by the Boston Globe, she said, "It's the feeling that you can control events by wishful thinking: 'The volcano will not erupt if we sacrifice such-and-such.' 'John will come back [from death] if I don't give away his shoes.'" This approach is not far removed from "wishful thinking," but it seems specifically geared to avoiding bad things. The challenging aspect of Joan Didion's experience is that her magical thinking undoes the bad that has already happened. She writes through a year of grief, groping to cope with terrible loss. Eventually, she must give up the magic.

The advantage of my retrospective justification is that the magic of casting metaphysics in our own favor never fades.

Quick: Hot Water - When?

This preference inquiry requires a bit of explanation.

Some time ago, in a friendly session of comparing notes, I discovered that the people who tend to prefer very hot showers also tend to prefer less hot hot-drinks. Conversely, the people who like their beverages "dangerously hot" - with no lawsuits in sight - seem to like their hot showers more tepid. Granted, there are exceptions. There always are. But in many circles that know nothing about each other, I have found this divide to be true.

Does it apply to you? Are you a hot shower/warm drinks person? Or a hot drinks/warm shower person?

Sometimes, a cold shower is called for, and often a cold drink is required. These circumstances are outside the parameters of today's query.

Me, I like hot hot showers. I've only recently begun sampling hot drinks - and I don't mind when they cool off before I taste.

Too Bad for Me (or You)

Sometimes, when we think it really matters, the choice is taken out of our hands.

The football game is cancelled because of rain.
The wedding party gets stuck in traffic.
The computer crashes.
The passport replacement office is closed.
The baby cries through the night.
The boiler or fridge or oven or air conditioning breaks.
The lab takes 3 weeks to provide results needed tomorrow.
The car battery dies.

The list goes on and on and on. Feel free to add.

For me, the frustration of things going wrong when I've chosen to do everything "right" is worse than my getting stuck trying to make the decision to begin with. Much more annoying. Terribly disappointing. And the way this week ended. On Friday, despite profound intent (and practical arrangements) to reverse a hiatus from the academic paper that is officially more important to me than any of the other work I do, I was stymied in my seat by my computer. In my attempt to upgrade my word processing software, I somehow sabotaged the software I'd been using (or the technical support people did). To the extent that I wasn't able to open any of my files. For the record, in case there was any doubt, sluggish decrepit software is better than no software. The tech people did manage to reinstall the old stuff -- but not before my entire Friday was gone.  5 1/2 hours of non-work. I suppose I didn't need to try to upgrade...but the last time I devoted hours upon hours to this work, my computer didn't save, even though it sure looked like it did. I thought I'd be ahead of the game by using uncorrupted software. The joke is on me, and I don't think it's very funny. The underlying problem remains to be remedied. Worse, how will I replace the disappeared time? Maybe there's always too much to do in too little time, but when the time you set aside gets inexplicably swallowed through (essentially) no fault of your own, the balance of a busy schedule seems upset without remedy.

And, yeah, on Thursday, I discovered that I needed the results from a blood test for Sunday (not sure why), but nobody had told me to take the blood test, and the best estimate for rushed results is three weeks. So much for trying to be responsible.

Oh, and Blogger wasn't working either.

I can almost shrug it off. That's the advantage of the matter being out of our hands. There's no guilt. No recriminations. Nothing to be done. Incredibly frustrating, and, on occasion, maybe even a little depressing. But nothing to be done. So we might as well laugh. Or shrug. In the meantime, it's too bad for me. And (almost) back to the drawing board, so I can figure out how and when I can do what needs to be done.

Once I'm back on track, I"m sure I'll be able to be philosophical about the detours.

(Please note: I'm not talking about the true tragedies here. When tragedy happens, God forbid, time stops, and there's little room for frustration).

Bad Choices: Living with the Little Consequences

In a lifetime of decisions, some of them will be bad.

Once upon a time, children (for example) were called "good" and "bad." Nowadays, all children "are good," but some of them "do bad things."  I have heard many au courant parents attempt to convince their children to make "good choices."   As in: "are you sure you don't think that's a bad choice?"  Kids rarely do. I mean, who would want to skateboard wearing a helmet left to their own devices?

Some of the worst bad decisions are really not all that bad, but they can contravene bigger decisions.  For example, when you make big plans and they are good plans (going fishing), but they are thrown off track by the decision to tackle some minor task (answering the telephone on your way out) that erupts into something much more demanding (taking Great Aunt Bertha to the hospital), which interferes with those big, good plans (going fishing).

My most recent poor choice was my decision to seek out a ride, rather than take a bus or a cab.  This was a smart call on many fronts.  (1) It saved me money; (2) I was chauffeured door-to-door; (3) All the people involved are pleasant, excellent people.  It wasn't really all that bad.  But it was such a bad decision on my part...boy, did it contravene my bigger agenda.

In taking the ride, I ended up on other people's schedules.  Some days, that doesn't matter.  Some days, it's even nice to not have to worry about your schedule, since you know you're tied to others'.  On this particular day, however, I had hours of big, good accomplishments planned for when I returned home.  The 3 hours of delay because of other people's schedule destroyed that plan.  Nothing terrible, nothing tragic.  And it's my own fault.  I can accept that.  But the big, good accomplishments remain unaccomplished. That is incredibly frustrating -- perhaps especially because I have only myself to blame.

Now, of course, it falls on me to milk my frustration into focused productivity. Would that it were as easily done as said.  But I hear tomorrow is another day, with new opportunity to make good on the bad.

Quick: Country Mouse or City Mouse?

All things being equal, and of course, they never are, would you rather live in the country or the city?  Where is your more natural home?

I once asked a new friend this question via IM, so his response to "country mouse or city mouse?" was in short-hand: "CM."  Oops.  Turns out, he's a country mouse who lives in the city. Life interferes sometimes, preventing us from our 'druthers.

Suburbia, of course, combines the best of both.  Especially when it's pretty, natural, with trees and flowers and no sidewalks and quaint shops and a house on a lake.  Suburbia is a great compromise - depending on your suburb. It's not all WalMart (though I can't complain about Target).  It's a great backdrop to childhood, and a comfortable setting for raising kids.

the best of suburbia

But in combining both, suburbia also leaves you kind of with neither.  So in adulthood, I've come prefer both real city and real countryside -- for different things.


From the city, I love the prevalence of coffee shops (even pushcarts).  Book stores.  Coffee shops IN book stores.  Boutiques that I can't afford, but like to browse.  I relish the opportunities for culture - museums, theater, ballet, music, innovation...though I don't really take advantage.  The hustle-and-bustle feels very important, the availability of taxis is reassuring, and the proximity of people is warming (except for when it's stultifying).  Supermarkets that stay open all night (or at least until midnight) are as they should be.  The skyscrapers that attest to the vast creativity of humanity -- a friend's astute observation on the Manhattan skyline -- is exciting and overwhelming and breathtaking.  I've never found the lullaby of sirens squealing throughout the night endearing, however, nor do I find cramped living space "charming." 

From the country, I love the fresh air, no matter how cliché that is.  The views too -- meadows, woods, seashore, even desert.  There's something invigorating about it all -- the "how great is Thy creation" (Psalms 104) experience.  The gusts of wind, or gentle breezes.  The rustling of leaves, the chattering brook waters.  I like the sunshine, and the storms, and the darkness of the dark.  I like the quiet.  I almost like the crickets.  I like the hearkening back to a simpler time, even if it wasn't ever really simpler, with hints of home-made bread and a fire crackling in the fireplace.  I might like the isolation too, if it weren't so, well, isolated.  Lack of easy access to basic commerce and more importantly, hospitals, gives me pause.

According to Wikipedia (a legitimate source for this purpose), the country mouse/city mouse divide has become an idiom in the English language (my IM friend needed no explanation).  And in case you thought it was just a children's book, its origins are with Aesop, and other fabulists (from France, Romania, Norway).  Or so says Dr. D. L. Ashliman, a retired professor of Folklore from the University of Pittsburgh (http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/type0112.html).  His texts (including variants) paint city life as more luxurious, but more dangerous.  Plush pillows, tasty delicacies, but fearsome cats and dogs as well.  The country mouse seems to come out ahead.

I'm not sure whether one chooses to be a city mouse or a country mouse.  We may choose where we live, or be subjected to it by the slings and arrows of external demands (more on these another time).  Where we feel most at home, however, seems not be a conscious decision.

Me, I'm pretty sure I'm a country mouse -- one who has gotten comfortable with the amenities of the city.

The Future is Now

Not time-travel, no.  But decision-making brings the future into the present.  Time-travel would be easier. We'd see how we liked the future, and decide accordingly.  If we could get around the paradox, that is.  You know, the idea that changing the past could eliminate the possibility of your own existence, meaning, you wouldn't have been born, and then you couldn't have gone back to change the past, so the past wasn't changed, which means that you were born after all, so you are alive and ready to travel back to change the past, with the capacity to eliminate the possibility of your own existence.  Yes, it's confusing.  That's why it's called a paradox.  It strikes me that the paradox focuses on the past....I think future time travel is probably just as problematic (though some physicists suggest that the theory of relativity, their observations of time dilation (how people observe time moving slower for others), and some other things I don't understand well enough to be convinced suggest it's possible, but I remain unconvinced).

Still, it is future time-travel that I want.  If I could travel to the future to see how things happen, and then could make my decisions accordingly (to insure or prevent the events I beheld), then I wouldn't need to travel back in time to fix things.  I'd know - know! - what I should be doing in my present.

There's the rub: SHOULD be doing.  Somehow, I have the sense that there's a great metaphysical right and wrong, not in the moral sense, but a plan for the world.  Some call that Divine Providence, but if something is divinely ordained, then we can't blow it, and should have nothing to worry about.  If everything that happens is according to Plan, then it will always be "all for the best."  But even supposing that's true, it doesn't help me know what I should be doing.  I write all this in the first-person, and I may be more decision-prone than most, but I know I'm not the only one who feels like there's a right decision and a wrong decision, even when choosing between good and good (more on that another time).

The "What Next" question applies to all aspects of life, but the right/wrong factor kicks in primarily with the important decisions.  I don't think there is a metaphysical correctness to choosing tuna fish over peanut butter & jelly, even if it does have more protein and less sugar.  I don't think there is a metaphysical correctness to choosing a black car over a red car, or any other color for that matter.  But when I was choosing between a Toyota Corolla and a Honda Civic, I compared ever detail I could find, and weighed the pros and cons of each until the cows came home.  What metaphysical right or wrong was riding on the Civic or the Corolla?  In the end, I followed the money: the Toyota dealer gave a better deal, by about $1000, if I recall correctly  (this was in 2000; I no longer have the car -- and it was blue).

The biggest right/wrong questions are of the "what should I do with my life" category.  This college or that college (should I even go to college)?  This major or that major?  This guy or that guy (which one is the "keeper")?  Job or grad school?  Where to live?  Have another child?  (I don't have any children as yet, so this issue is not my own, but for some, it definitely falls into the "right/wrong" category of decisions for which a trip to the future would be beneficial)  Yes, each of these decisions, and zillions more, merit independent consideration.  But today, the point is that the pivotal decisions with serious implications suggest that one can choose wrong.  If we knew the future, we'd be able to consider the actual consequences of the call, and not just the potential consequences.  That could be scary, but also, such a relief!

As long as fruitful, productive, invigorating life continues, I will surely desire to know the metaphysically correct choice.  Even when I don't consciously believe that there is a metaphysically correct choice.  I'm not convinced that Plato's ideal world, an ideal plane of existence, exists, even if it is ideal.  I just want there to be a "right" way to choose in whatever big decision faces me at a given moment!  Is this just insecurity?  I don't think so.  I rarely second-guess my decisions, even the biggest ones, once they are made.  I trust that by making my call, I've done the right thing -- or will make it right in my life.

Because the future is now.  The challenge of choices is invigorating.  Whether our choices shape our lives, or match what our lives are supposed to be according to a divine plan, the bottom line is that they are up to us.  Whether our decisions are foreseen or merely observed, we live them, and we live with them.  Which is why it's important to make them well, so that they are all for the best.  Indeed, as we do so, we bring our now into the future, experiencing the choices we make.

(But I still think it would be nice to know in advance).

decisionsdecisions.com (not exactly)

Deciding to blog meant that I had to make a number of immediate decisions.

For starters, I needed a URL.

choices.blogspot.com was taken.  It's a site about the death penalty called "Capital Punishment: What Are Your Views on the Death Penalty?"  It has one post.  Dated June 21, 2001.  Yes, 2001.

decisions.blogspot.com was also taken.  It's a site that seems to be by a girl in the throes of college applications called "Decisions Decisions."  It has two posts.  They, at least, are from December 2010.

"Decisions Decisions" gave me the idea to try decisionsdecisions.blogspot.com.  Guess what?  It's taken.  There is no blog there.  But the site is reserved, clearly, for some blogger who isn't blogging.

Okay, what about decisionsdecisionsdecisions.blogspot.com?  Yes, also taken.  By a small publishing company, to test book covers.  It's called "Decisions Decisions Decisions," which is, at least, logical.  It has 2 posts.  One from April 2008, and one from October 2008.

choosing.blogspot.com was taken too.  "What I Know about Choice."  No posts.

I refuse to let this lack of posts be prophetic.

chchchchchoices.blogspot.com was available.  But I realized that even though I was able to think of it, it really is just too kitschy for me (chchchchchanges...).

So frustration won.  The same frustration that I feel when I am taking too long (by my own estimation, and likely anyone else's).  Because it really was just taking too long.  You know, that feeling of: JUST DECIDE ALREADY!!  Fortunately, that wasn't taken.

decidealready.blogspot.com

And I already have 4 posts.

To the Right or to the Left?

Left to the gas.  Right to a living hell, with hope and fear enough to live another day.

Of course, I'm only recounting what I've been told.

I don't say "evil" lightly, but it's used so often with regard to Dr. Josef Mengele that I am not reluctant to join the ranks.  To the right or to the left, that was his call, at least in Auschwitz.  His choice.  Which was no choice at all.  Only the evil that is rooted in abject apathy for humanity.

Many choices were unknowable.  Impossible.  To be patient or to flee?  To negotiate or to fight back?  To hide and risk capture or to follow the orders into the ghetto and risk deportation to the East?  Would a day's regularly scheduled program be the last experience of it?  Would eating now mean starving later?  Was bearing a child sentencing him or her to death?  In one of the most powerful memoirs of Auschwitz, Fragments of Isabella, Isabella Leitner recalls how they were selected, apparently to go to the crematoria.  But the ruddy, "healthy"-looking Jews were killed instead.  How could one fight fiercely for life in this abyss, knowing that the same action that saved one day might destroy the next?  Sophie's Choice (book and movie) made traumatic no-choice choices famous.  She-lo neda.

Left to my own devices, this post (or its less dramatic cousin) would only appear several months from now.  It's way too serious too soon.  But on Yom HaShoah, when the taxi drivers of Jerusalem air Schindler's List music, and the country heeds the siren in silence and memory of six million, I can't blog on choices without blogging about the worst choices of all.  Truthfully, I choose to mourn, without philosophizing about the impossibility of a reality that never should have been.

But apparently, even in hell, beyond the thumb of Mengele, people chose. Schindler himself chose.  As did Dietrich Bonhoeffer.   Viktor Frankl teaches that man searches for meaning, consciously choosing to cope positively with suffering.  And Isabella Leitner and her 3 sisters honored their mother's passioned plea to "choose life."  Without succumbing to the inhumanity around them.  Three of the four lived; but all four chose life.  And fiercely.  (Read the memoir.  It's as least as powerful as Night.)


As long as we mourn them (won't we always?), may we blessed with no impossible choices.

יהי זכרם ברוך

Quick: Chocolate or Vanilla?

Funny, everyone knows I'm referring to ice cream.  (I've quizzed with this question before, but you knew too, didn't you?)


It's a great ice breaker question. It's familiar, without being personal.  It's a choice we've all made at some point. Unless you get the soft ice-cream swirl blend of both from Carvel (or ye olde and goode Dixie cups). Or are lactose-intolerant. Or opt for the many more exotic flavors available. Like the flavor that one guy said should be called "Frozen Narcotics," but is really called "Moose-tracks": vanilla, with a streak of fudge running through it, and interspersed throughout, little peanut-butter cups. Or the other old-familiars, like mint-chocolate chip. Or Friendly's Butter Crunch.  Or Haagen Dazs' Rum Raisin.


I didn't used to make my own choice between chocolate and vanilla, however.  In a profound experience of peer pressure, as a pre-teen, I succumbed to the preferences of my sister and cousin: Chocolate.  Again and again.  A different kind of choice -- to follow the crowd, rather than be a minority of one.  Though I probably didn't think of it as making a choice.


I'm older now.  I have a backbone now (usually), and I can recognize the legitimacy of my own preferences.  Such that, in nearly all things, I'll choose chocolate. But in ice cream, between the two, really, vanilla.


And in chocolate chip cookies, both.