The Secrets of True Genius

This morning I read an article written by Oliver Burkeman for, The Guardian. It is an overview of daily routines of history’s most creative minds. I was fascinated by some of the examples he gave, such as Benjamin Franklin spending his mornings naked (an air bath) and that  Agatha Christie didn’t own a desk. Every morning, before getting to work, Søren Kierkegaard poured black coffee over a full cup of sugar and pounded down the sludge that was the consistency of mud.

My love for research and interesting facts led me to buy the book, Daily Rituals, by Mason Currey, the book that Burkeman’s article referred to. I bought it for purely selfish reasons though because I long to know what it is that I need to change, buy, grow, rent, beg for or steal to obtain even the most infinitesimal piece of creativity that was ever so abundant in the history of certain great minds.

I found a few routines that immediately must be ruled out. I have to decline the practice of strategic alcohol abuse that seems to be such a common theme among great writers. I’ve tried but can’t be organized and often refer to my disorganization as ‘comfort clutter’. I’ll never be a morning person and would kill anyone who tried to reform me.

I sort of got hung up on the piece about Patricia Highsmith, the author of, Strangers on a Train and The Talented Mr. Ripley. She was never short of illumination and often boasted that she had ideas like rats had orgasms although I’m not sure she was speaking from knowledge or presumption. She needed a ‘womb of her own’, to be surrounded by cigarettes, ashtrays, matches, coffee, doughnuts and a saucer of sugar to work. Wow, what is it with the sugar? She didn’t seem to be overweight in her photos but I’m seeing some relationship between sugar and inspiration. She only ever ate bacon, eggs and cereal at odd times of the day. She was ill at ease around people. I can relate to that being the introvert that I am. What I couldn’t relate to…at all…was her intense connection with snails. She raised hundreds of snails in her Suffolk garden and once went to a cocktail party with a huge handbag that carried a head of lettuce and a hundred snails. She said they were her companions for the evening. When she moved to France, she had to smuggle her companions over the border by making several trips and hiding six to ten of them under each breast. Heh.

Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t want to have some of the routines I have read about so far but if overindulgence in something is one of the prerequisites, then I do qualify.

I drink gallons of diet Pepsi! It’s embarrassing to admit but it has been going on for quite some time now and if the chemicals they use to produce it are scientifically proven to be unhealthy then at least I’ll know what’s gonna’ take me out. Cans are lined up in the refrigerator right now like little tin soldiers ready for duty. The recycle bin is overflowing and the utility porch is well stocked. If diet Pepsi were ever to become illegal, I could see myself smuggling a can under each breast.

Know what  really scares me? Pepsi announced that they have changed the formula to remove the risk factors. Adding a warning label that the product ‘may cause cancer’, was unthinkable. They won’t be using Asparteme anymore but have assured customers that the taste will remain the same. Poppycock! I just hope this doesn’t affect my writing.

Emotional Intelligence or The Dangers of Imbecility

Lately I have been receiving a fair amount of emails (annoyance via electronic medium) explaining the need for emotional intelligence in the workplace. Some world-class organizations are offering cutting edge coaching and even certification.  Learning this essential skill (you may already have it and are unaware) will set you apart from the run of the mill competencies and send your career sailing toward extraordinary success… or maybe just sailing.

EI happens to be just another buzzword being introduced or re-introduced and presented with the promise that you will have unbelievable success in your organization if you just learn these simple concepts whatever they are. There are hundreds of business buzzwords to choose from but as I mentioned, my business buzzword bingo marker has been landing on emotional intelligence quite a bit lately so let’s explore that.

What is emotional intelligence? From what I have learned it is a two-fold process of controlling your own emotions while also being able to understand, interpret and respond to the emotions of others.  

Suggestions I found on wikiHow to control your emotions include some deep breathing, taking a walk, meditating or just talking about how you feel. Your dog won’t mind listening if you have enough treats in your pocket. These are all good suggestions but they are much too mature for my nature.

I have developed my own methods of dealing with emotions through the years like throwing raw eggs in the shower. The clean up is pretty easy. Sometimes whipping a chain link fence with a wet towel does the trick or maybe you’re the type of person who likes to drive out onto a deserted road and scream in your car until you are hoarse. Accompany this with trying to rip the wheel from the steering column, works for me. I promise if you practice these exercises regularly, you won’t have the energy to respond emotionally at work.

As far as perceiving emotions, body language can reveal much.  Posture, gestures or speech patterns are clues. A curt, “I’m fine,” response can and often does mean otherwise. There is something known as emotional leakage, another buzzword phrase. But I must warn you, you gotta be quick. It’s that flash across a person’s face within 1/15 of a second of feeling an emotion. Often when someone is trying to suppress a feeling they will paste a contrived expression on their face like they’re posing for a photo. If you are alert you can detect the moment before they do this and it will aid you in exposing lies or perhaps to avoid a quick rabbit punch to the ocular region on your own face.

When I spend a good four hours or even a full day in a seminar I want to have ‘key takeaways’, mainly because most of what I learned has no bearing on my job. This would be a list of topics that I would remember if I had been paying attention but you really don’t have to attend a class or seminar to be certified in emotional intelligence. 

To save you some time and trouble here is the key takeaway: Treat others as you would like to be treated. It’s called The Golden Rule and has been a practical buzzword for centuries.

My First (And Last) Movie Review

I have reviewed books on many occasions and am very careful not to include spoilers.  As a writer, I feel it is more important that you recommend a book based on your reading experience not by disclosing the plot.

It was without premeditation that I decided to review the movie my husband had sat down to watch today, I need to warn you that there are spoilers in this review. My husband will attest to that. In fact he would probably say that I was the spoiler. Nevertheless, if I want to improve my writing skills, and I do, I must not recoil from autopsying a screenplay. 

Since I had enjoyed the lightning Wing Chug, Aikido type moves Liam Neeson performed in Taken, I thought Taken 2 would be just as good. I sat down next to my husband, Bj, and settled in with my notepad and explained what I was about to do.  After I rewound the movie a few times, he dropped his head back to take a nap.

The movie opens with Bryan Mills (Liam) going to pick up his daughter to take her to the DMV for her driving test. Lenore, the former ex wife, answers the door and tells him that his daughter is with her boyfriend of several months. He didn’t know she had one. Obviously disturbed by the news, she invites him in for a drink and opens a bottle of wine.  She ends up telling him that her marriage is on the rocks and her husband is a dirty rotten bastard for cancelling a trip, credit cards, bank accounts and such.

Since Mills is going to Istanbul on assignment for three days, he invites Lenore and Kim, his daughter, to join him when he has finished, mostly to get away from falling marriage rocks and probably the boyfriend.  He leaves, does a little investigation of some kind that was never explained and irritates me a lot to locate his daughter’s boyfriend’s house and picks her up.

That was not the only scene that irritated me. It seems the rotten men who had abducted his daughter in the first movie had family members that want to seek revenge. They track him to Istanbul and coincidentally arrive at the same time the daughter and former ex show up. A cavalcade of vans and the sound of evil drums announce the arrival of the bad guys.

Okay, this is taking too long. Let’s just go over the unbelievable parts. Like when Liam realizes they are being followed, he gives his former ex instructions to escape.

“Focus,” he says, “get out of the cab and go into that fabric shop, go through and exit at the back to the right, at the first street turn left. You will be in a red corridor, go all the way to the end, it exits at a cabstand. Take a taxi back to the hotel to get Kim and go to the American Embassy.”

First of all, in a situation like that, especially in her emotional state about her second failed marriage, being in a foreign country and chased by men with guns, how on earth did she retain those instructions? And how did he know what was behind the fabric shop? Did he frequent it? Is that where he spent is down time? Anyway, he forgot to mention there could be a locked gate at the exit so she didn’t get away.

Wow, this is taking way too long.  I hate long blogs. Okay let’s just touch on the things I learned from the movie.

* If you are abducted, have your head covered with a black burlap bag and you’re thrown into the back of a van…count. That’s right, you will later be able to trace where you were by how far you counted and the sounds from the street.

* Always carry a spare cell phone in your sock. Don’t worry, your abductors will wait patiently while you make a necessary call but they will crush your phone after you hang up.

* When your hands are tied to a pipe and you need your spare cell phone, just use the heel of your shoe to work it out of your sock, balance it on your instep and raise it up high enough to get your hand on it (this may take a couple of tries) and then make your call. Don't worry, you will have service. 

* A shoelace can be used for navigational purposes. The circles you make intersect Taken and Taken 2.  Grenades can be used for judging distance but only if you throw it where no one will get hurt.  

* There is only one vent with steam coming out of it on the rooftops of Istanbul and if you throw a gun down it you may save someone’s life.

* The best place to practice for your driving test is on the narrow streets of Istanbul being chased by thugs and police. Roundabouts are dangerous and littered with crashed police cars.

* You can always be sure that smoking a cigarette or watching sports on a portable television with a wire hanger fashioned as an antenna will distract your abductors. Take advantage of it.

* It is possible to bleed to death from a shaving cut if you are hung upside down for any length of time.

* If your second marriage fails consider revising the first.

* Always leave room for Taken 3 which I understand is in the works. 

Okay, that’s enough. I doubt Taken fans will appreciate the plot holes it’s still exciting. I think I’ll stick to reviewing books. Bj will be glad too.

Is the End Near? Really?

With an ever-growing list of dates for the end of the world it is difficult to rise up and react each time with the proper level of fear. I have to admit I was a bit jittery last December. According to the sudden expiration of the Mayan calendar there should have been an apocalyptic event that would have ended the world. That’s like finding someone’s diary, noting the date of the last entry and concluding that it is predicting your death.  I think. But what do I know, I’m just a dumb old girl.

NASA scientists have come forth to end the confusion and explain to us that predictions were off by a few months and we are due to face devastation, destruction and annihilation on October 1^st of this year. We (the earth) are in the direct line of a solar flare and because of the lining up of the planets to clear its path should be blasting us with blowtorch intensity in a few short weeks. What will happen? There will be a worldwide blackout, death, and sudden climate changes causing death, tsunamis, earthquakes and radiation. Did I mention death?

The end of the world has threatened me every year since 1967.  One web site touted over 250 well-known predictions but I think there are far more than that. I have to admit, they got to me in 2000 (Y2K). I was expecting all electronic devices to stop, banks would be left vulnerable, no food, no water and death. Yes, death. What happened? Nothing. But a lot of companies spent thousands of dollars upgrading their systems to prevent collapse and it’s a good thing they did. Somebody got rich.

What will the person or groups ultimately say who accurately predict the end of the world?

“Told ‘ya.”

And on that day I’ll feel like a gigantic horses patoot for not believing. I have to admit I am more concerned with age spots than sunspots. Are my teeth white enough? Are these bananas organic, how can I protect my family from the evils of gluten? Will Steinmart have their next 25% sale before summer ends and when will gas prices stabilize?

Reports are showing that FEMA is spending millions of dollars on survival supplies to be delivered to District 3 before October first. Okay, and if I sit and watch NASA scientists on YouTube, I will slowly begin to stop. Stop writing, stop singing and stop caring. What’s the use? It’s all ending anyway. Why do anything except be afraid?

I don’t know about you but I don’t want to feel like that. That’s right, I’m going to risk the embarrassment of not heeding the warning and continue to live my life as if it is my last day, love the precious people in my life and throw sweet caution to the wind. I just hope I don’t get cited for littering.

Right in the Amygdala

Have you ever turned the television on at the precise moment that a hideous face spans the whole screen?  Well that’s what happened to me last week. I had to get out of bed to retrieve the remote that was mysteriously projected in the direction of the image.  I used my hand as a blinder to block my vision of the over-the-top scary face while feeling around the floor, but the sounds were still there. Growling, snarling, screeching, the grinding tone of claws unsheathed and the screams, the terrifying screams. By the time I found the remote my heart rate had doubled and I was in a state of panic. My husband walked in at the moment I was able to turn the television off.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I faked a relaxed smile and waved my hand. “Nah, I’m fine, just watching the shopping channel.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “What did you buy now?”
“Nothing,” I chirped before hopping back into bed, pulling the magic, all-inclusive, security guaranteed down comforter over my head. I wished him a muffled good night and imagined myself on a tropical island lying on the warm sand, watching fluffy clouds float by and enjoying the distant sounds of steel drums playing a calypso beat.

When I woke up the next morning I began wondering why is it that the human being is the only species that likes to scare itself? Not just a simple ‘boo’ that might cause a slight knee-jerk fidgety kind of reaction but the all encompassing wide eyed, pupil-dilating, flared nostril, dry mouth, sweaty palms, trembling, massive increase in pulse rate kind of reaction. 

After doing a little research, I found that our fear responses have been traced to an almond shaped appendage located deep in the brain's medial temporal lobe. It receives input from all of our senses and then sends messages to the limbic system which triggers the fight or flight response. Incidentally, I could qualify for frequent flyer miles.

I decided to conduct a fear test of my own in order to discover more about how this fear circuit works. Since I am familiar with my husband’s responses to certain stimuli, I thought he would make the perfect subject.  The first thing I had to do is build an atmosphere of tension.  My husband is a very laid back type so it would take a lot of ingenuity on my part to set the stage. A softhearted soul if there ever was one. I often refer to him as a concrete covered marshmallow. He loves kids, animals and food. If pizza were a woman, I would be jealous. I chose food to be the application for my controlled experiment. 

Sandwich architecture is one of my husband's specialties. If Subway were to get ahold of some of his blueprints they would be a lot more popular than they are now. I made the creamy crisp slaw that he likes to refer to as the perfect counterpoint adding crunch and zing to the layers of fresh deli turkey, Parmesan sprinkled tomato slices and the evenly sliced (measured with a digital micrometer) sharp Provolone. The thick sourdough bread gets grilled on the insides to keep from getting soggy from the generous dollops of seasoned mayonnaise. Strips of bacon and avocado are lovingly placed on the stack, the slaw and a quick shake of salt and pepper before the final piece of sourdough.

The kitchen's aroma of fresh bread, bacon and cheese wafted into the next room where I devised my plan. I wasn't sure I would be able to pull it off. He was just finishing a masterpiece when I asked him if he would have a look at my computer. I told him it had a strange error message on it and I needed to use it right away.

"I don't see any message." He called out.
"Okay, just sit down at the table and I'll bring you your sandwich."

From his place at the table he watched, his eyes never left the sandwich. About half way there my flip flop twisted and I fell forward. I juggled the plate with both hands. I heard him gasp. The atmosphere of tension had been created. In the next moment the sandwich slid from the plate and fell on the floor. He screamed. I have never heard him do that. His Amygdala was hard at work alerting his limbic system to react. Yes, his eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, perspiration instantly appeared on his forehead and his breathing was labored. He rose to his feet but his knees buckled and he plopped back down, shocked silent by the sight of all his labor scattered across the floor. He didn't even notice me examining his vital signs because he was in grief.

In hindsight, I should have spent more time thinking this through. Even after I told him that what fell on the floor was a sandwich double and the real one, the one that he had spent so much time building, was safe and intact he was still angry. I have learned that anger follows induced fear and never mess with a man's sandwich.