Interview with a Therapist: Anonymous, Part 2

If you missed it, here's Part 1 of the interview.

In Part 2, we talk about the stigma of going to therapy and taking medication, the definition of mental health, the role of spirituality in the therapist/client relationship, and more.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

Photo by Eje Gustafsson

Q. Any thoughts on the social stressors that might lead to a mental health crisis, such as losing a job, unemployment, divorce, abuse, trauma, etc. and how the church might address these?

All those things are considered losses—it's the same as losing a person in your life. Divorce can affect you as much as the grief of losing a loved one and so can losing a job. They impact you in the same way as far as pain and the loss of who you are, your identity.

I think the church should address [divorce]. I feel like no one likes to talk about it. People get divorced. People lose their jobs. There are a lot of freelance [workers] who are constantly without work—that can affect you.

Luckily, if you find a good community group where you're able to discuss [these things] and be vulnerable, hopefully they'll be supportive. That's happened in one of our small groups. People have started opening up about their trauma and the group has been very supportive.

Q. In your experience, are Christians more or less resistant to seeking professional help?

They're more resistant. Because they feel like God is going to heal them already, or if they go to a therapist there is something wrong with their spiritual faith.

Some people feel like going to a therapist is very taboo, like dating someone who works for the IRS. No one likes the IRS.

Usually, it's seen as a last resort [in] getting help. And it shouldn't be. It should be one of the first things that you do if you feel like you're not being the person that you want to be.

"If you go to a therapist, then there's something wrong with you."

And that's not what it is. You're going to someone who has experience and can help you achieve your goals.

The worst thing I've heard was someone who was sexually abused (the family was Christian) was told, “God will make you forget that and make it go away.”

Forgetting about it is not really dealing with it.

Q. Any thoughts on integrating your spiritual life with your practice?

I think for me, it's being open. People think that psychologists aren't Christians, and that's not true. I've prayed for some of my clients—not in the room. But I've been open spiritually to whatever they bring into the room.

And that really helps me get a sense of what's going on. Because we have all these senses and a spiritual sense is something that I feel like people leave out. [But] it's a part of you—you can't leave yourself out of the room.

You bring your whole self into a room to help integrate what the client wants to do—what their goals are, what they want to achieve—and they sense that.

I never talk about God in the room unless my clients ask me:
“Do you believe in God?”
“Yes.”
I'm not going to lie.

I've had [times] where I was going through a spiritual process, and the client started a random conversation, just talking about God. So you never know.

If you incorporate every aspect of yourself into a room, your client will see that and they'll connect with it—because you're being your most authentic self. You're being vulnerable to them, so that they can be vulnerable to you.

Q. Any thoughts about the intersection between being a therapist and being a Christian?

I will say that there was a moment where I was very rational and I didn't incorporate that—especially in my early years in clinical work. I didn't incorporate that because I didn't understand how to.

And then one day I was like, “Well, it's a part of me, why am I leaving that out?”

Once that clicked, I was able to work further with my clients than just at the superficial level. I was able to do deeper work because they sensed that I'm bringing myself into the room wholly—I'm there and I'm present.

And then we were able to share more—without me having to disclose anything [about religion]. Just that open energy and being able to share and be vulnerable actually helped me help them in their work. It's so weird. But it did.

Q. It's interesting, because I've gone to therapy, and I don't think my therapist was a Christian (that I can tell). It makes me want to know, [laughing] I wonder if they believe in God?

I mean, you can ask them.

But that's the thing—you have to be in a place where you feel comfortable asking your therapist—It's a very personal, private relationship, it's very intimate. It's very strange, but it's an intimate relationship that you have with someone.

If you're not able to ask them these types of questions, then what is going on in the room?

Yes, therapy is focused on you, but I think there's nothing wrong with asking your therapist a question. It might actually surprise them.

Q. Sometimes I like it when therapists tell you something about themselves, because it feels a little less one-sided.

It feels authentic.

Q. How do you help a friend you think might be going through a mental health crisis?

If it's just something that's been going on for a couple of days, then you might want to wait a month or two to ask them about that again. But if it's been going on for years and someone hasn't been getting any help, then you can be like, “Have you thought about therapy?”

Oh, I almost forgot: there is also a huge stigma against medication.

And I think being open, “Have you thought about medication?” I don't think there's anything wrong with it, some people do need it.

I don't think everyone needs it, but that's for a psychologist and a psychiatrist to assess. So just being open about it and supporting your friend if they're taking medication—like I said, “If it helps you, that's great.” But I don't hear that from many people.

Q. Because you don't want to be like, “You should be on meds!”

But just being supportive of their struggle. 

The medication part is always [about] whether the client wants it or not. No one is ever going to force them to take it.

It's like, “Hey, this is an option for you. Therapy is an option for you. Different types of therapy are an option for you, what do you think? Do you think it would help, would you even try it?”

Even suggesting things like this without judgement is so important—having friends feel comfortable talking about these things.

Q. I feel more comfortable suggesting therapy because I go to therapy, but the medication thing I feel like I don't know much about it. But taking away the stigma—thanks for bringing that up.

I almost forgot about it, but I'm like, “That one's big. That's really big.” [laughing]

Q. Especially in the Christian world.

“Your healing will come from God,” but what does that look like?

Q. "You're not supposed to take medicine"—

But maybe I do, people take antibiotics.

Q. Right, they take it for physical stuff. Anything else you want to add?

I think that mental health is not exclusive of the church, it's part of it—it's there, people are struggling. And I think it should be taken into account when someone comes to you for advice or help.

It's just like [any other] field, like a doctor who's a Christian or a therapist who's a Christian. I don't think that you have to pick one or the other.

Spirituality is just as important as mental health and together they really help a person have breakthrough [in their life]. I use spirituality in my own individual life along with mental health practices, just to maintain mental health.

Q. What's your definition of "mentally healthy"?

It's not having a perfect life—that's not what mental health is—it's being able to cope with difficult things in your life. And even being able to be happy. [laughing] Yes, it's very hard. It's very hard.

Growing the F--- Up: What I've learned in my late 20s

Adults can still build blanket forts. Right?

When I was 14 and on a rafting trip in Nepal with my family, I did a survey of our fellow travelers that included the question, "Do you feel like an adult?"

All of the 20 and 30 somethings that I surveyed put, "No." [This was an actual survey. I wrote down the questions and asked each person to write down their answers.]

On that theme, I've been contemplating writing this blog post for a while now. And really, I have only one thesis or overarching idea here: 

Your late 20s is when the things that you've avoided dealing with start dealing with you:

This could be anything--a fear of public speaking, a problem with authority, that parking ticket from four years ago that you forgot to pay (oops), your $2 store shopping addiction, your overwhelming hatred for your job, the crap you haven't forgiven your parents for, your beef with God, your lack of a life outside of work, your dread of parallel parking, your out-of-control credit card debt, compounding interest on your student loans, the deteriorating state of your dental health, your aversion to brussels sprouts, your lousy choice in romantic partners, your friends all moving away, and I could go on.

In other words, if there is some area of your life that you have neglected to grow up in, that area of your life is going to make itself felt in a major, probably uncomfortable and possibly painful way (it will bite you in the butt).

If you don't start owning it, it will start owning you. If you don't take care of it, it will take you out. If you don't kick it in the ass, you'll end up on your ass. It's all the same advice, actually.

Why is this? I think in the first half of your 20s, it can be easy to coast on things like good health, natural talents and abilities, friendships you made in college, a solid education, an overweening confidence in your own potential, blatant naiveté, and youthful optimism (obviously, these are not true for everyone).

But unless life is a consistent downhill slope, it's impossible to simply coast forever. Eventually, you will reach a hill. I hate hills.

Like Aristotle said, "We are what we repeatedly do." If what we repeatedly do is eat cheetos for breakfast and complain about a dead end job at the crayon factory, it doesn't matter how talented or healthy or privileged we are. The results won't be pretty.

In your late 20s, things can start to fall apart (or feel like they're falling apart). Things like your body. Or your relationships. Or your career goals and aspirations.

So let's talk about the roles of pain, fear, and grief in this process.

The Role of Pain

Pain is a sign that something is wrong. Where in your life are you feeling pain? Is it in your body? About your body? In your relationship with your parents? In your identity as a man or woman? In your frustrations about your job?

I think it's helpful here (borrowing from Dr. Henry Cloud) to distinguish between the pain of growth and pain that is just simply bad--the kind that screams at you: "GET OUT NOW." Pain can also helpfully point to underdeveloped or neglected parts of our lives.

For example, if you're feeling the pain of loneliness, this could point to a need to develop new friendships or nurture the ones you already have. Now is your chance to pay attention to what the pain in your life is telling you--whether it's, "Hey, maybe you should lay off the spicy Thai food" or "I would like to make new friends" or "It's time to leave this job. It's not going to get better."

For me, years of blithely confident good health gave way to panic when I started experiencing pain, discomfort, and, worst of all, tingling in my upper back and neck. I could barely stand to sit for the 8 hours a day required at my desk job. But although the symptoms (such as pain) were only then showing up, my guess is the underlying issue probably started a long, long time ago.

But it wasn't until pain showed up that I started paying attention.

[Note: Take care of your body. It is the only one you have.]

The Role of Fear

This is about more than just Instagram-fueled FOMO (fear of missing out). There's the fear of missing out on the important things we're meant to do in our lives, whatever they may be.

The fear of never writing that novel or screenplay. Of never making that film. Of never taking that risk to start our own business or apply for that dream job.

Recently, "adventure" has been a theme in my life, and I realized that adventure always involves risk of some kind. And where there is risk, there can be fear. However, the best kind of fear is not the crippling fear of making a mistake that keeps you from ever venturing out on that ledge. It's the kind of fear that pushes you to venture out in the first place.

Am I more afraid of screwing up or am I more afraid of never getting to do what it is I want to do? One kind of fear confines you to a tiny box in which you can almost guarantee you will never make a mistake. The other kind sends you out into the unknown where, yeah, I guess something terrible could happen, but also something wonderful.

Being confined to a tiny box of perfectionism is terrible.

The Role of Grief

When I started going to therapy a few years ago, I was unprepared for the intense waves of pain and grief that tore through me. I had so much unresolved pain over my parents' divorce (that happened when I was 13) and from feeling abandoned, unloved, and unwanted by both parents.

This is the kind of stuff that will make an appearance sooner or later if you leave it unattended. Unattended baggage is a dangerous thing. Given the right conditions, unresolved feelings won't just be a whisper in your subconscious ("You're not good enough," "You're a failure" ), rather they will start screaming for attention at the top of their lungs, forcing you to either pay attention or drown them out with busyness, distraction, addiction, etc.

Dealing with unresolved grief is pretty much the opposite of fun. But the consequences of not dealing with it can be even worse.

Now that we've discussed the roles of pain, fear, and grief, I've written some questions (I like questions) about different areas in life that you may or may not have grown up in. This is not meant to shame anyone or provide some arbitrary benchmark, but instead to say, "Hey, maybe you can work on this now before it gets too gnarly."

Mentally
Do you have your own personal definition of what it means to be mentally healthy? What does unhealthy look like?
Are you challenging yourself to grow intellectually?
Do you read books / watch movies / listen to podcasts that engage you intellectually or are you numbed out most of the time on junk?

Physically
How do you take care of your body and your health?
Do you eat your vegetables?
How much sleep are you getting?
Are you comfortable with your sexuality?
Do you recognize the physical boundaries between you and others and are you able to recognize when your boundaries have been violated or when you are violating the boundaries of others?

Emotionally
How do you deal with difficult emotions like fear, anger, jealousy, envy, shame?
How do you deal with pain, disappointment, and loss?
Do you know how to grieve?
Is there room in your life for joy and gratitude?

Spiritually
Are you angry with God? Are you angry with God and avoiding the issue?
If you go to church, why? If you don't, why?
How do you connect with God?
How do you connect with others in a spiritual community?
What does unconditional love feel like?

Relationally
Do you cultivate and nurture your friendships?
How do you deal with loneliness?
Do you feel comfortable asking for help?
How's your support system?
Are you an adult or a child in your relationship with your father? Mother? Siblings? Significant other?

Financially
Do you pay your own bills?
Are you spending less than you make?
How's debt treating you?
Are you saving for retirement? (ugh)
Do you give to people, causes, organizations, stories that you care about?

Vocationally
If you hate your job, are you doing something about it?
If you're not making enough money, are you doing something about it? (like asking for a raise)
What are you good at?
Are you pursuing your dreams or someone else's?
How do you deal with failure, mistakes, setbacks?
If you have a day job, are you honoring it by showing up on time, working when you're at work, etc.?
Do you have career goals? Do you have a realistic timeline for those goals?
What do you want to be when you grow up?

Friendship & Grief: Holding the Story Only

I've always been perplexed by how effortless female friendships are supposed to be--as portrayed in movies, books and TV shows. Friendships were never that easy for me.

As a kid, having an incredibly fun, outgoing and winning twin sister didn't help matters. One time I invited a classmate over for a sleepover. We must have been around 9 or 10 years old. By the next day, the classmate and my sister were as thick as peas in a pod, chattering away as I trailed behind them, alone. I may or may not have been crying. Wow, this is a horrible story. Moving on.

Things certainly haven't always been as bleak in the friendship department. And after I moved to LA almost four years ago, I've seen and felt my close friendships deepen and grow.

Friendship is easily one of the best things about life.

I've found that there's an element of mystery to friendship. I'm not sure I can fully explain why I have the friends that I do. [Yeah, not completely buying the genetic similarity explanation, sorry.]

There are some people you meet and everything points to the fact that you should be bff's, but you're not. You have it all: shared interests, mutual friends, the same social group, shared beliefs, a similar sense of humor and appreciation for the finer points of medieval Norse, but yet there's that certain something that's missing.

As one friend explained to me once over tea in a trendy (is there any other kind) LA coffee shop:

"There are some people that you miss when they're gone. You feel it here."--holding her hand to her heart.

That's probably the most accurate definition of friendship I've ever heard. 

And that's the thing--you don't necessarily choose this feeling. You can have it for someone you've just met or someone you've known for 15 years. You can experience it after one conversation or 20. You can have it for someone who could be your personality twin or someone whose ways and means are as mysterious as the origin story for french toast.

To recap: Friendship. Awesome. Mystery. French toast.

All that to say, I'm currently experiencing something that feels a lot like grief.

More recently, friendship has felt a lot like the memoir class I took last year, a class in which each week, several people brought in their living, breathing, gasping-for-air stories.

And Samantha reads her story out loud. And the room falls completely silent in the presence of such naked, vital vulnerability.

And I'm sitting in my seat holding the story in my cupped hands--trying to--struggling so hard not to crush it. And the air is electric and thick with beauty, loss, grief. And I'm completely still as I hear about losing a child, becoming a mother, caring for aging grandparents.

It feels sacred. This story-cradling.

And I don't know how else to describe how friendship feels sometimes.

As if I'm holding my friend's story. Awed by her beauty. Crushed by her fragility. Desperately hopeful for her future and protective of her past.

There is pain in the tension of not yet.

I have these moments. I think everyone has these moments.

All I can do is hold the story. Without altering it to make it easier to take, or trying to "fix" it, or pretending that the painful parts don't exist, or going on as if everything's okay when it isn't.

Sometimes it's just not okay. 

The Upside of Crisis

It's been a rough couple of months. You know when a situation quickly escalates from bad to The Room (except it's too immediate to even be funny yet)?

When I'm not hiding in my closet, crying, or hiding in my closet crying, I've been doing some crisis-induced thinking. Except when it feels like CRISIS and not just unfortunate-situation-I'm-trying-to-deal-with, it gets really hard to think clearly.

When I'm in fight-or-flight mode I really only want to do one of two things:

1) Run away.
2) Punch someone in the face.
3) Punch someone in the face and then run away.

Okay, that was three things, but you get the idea.

That's the downside of crisis. Calm, rational thought goes right into the proverbial whirring garbage disposal (along with, unfortunately, the ability to execute normal day-to-day functions like brainstorming my next crockpot recipe and wearing matching socks. Wait--who am I kidding. I can't even manage that on a good day).

I feel like I'm in the midst of emotional warfare, but they brought a [insert military grade weapon here] and I brought a paper clip and a stick of chewing gum (In case you were wondering, I'm losing).

Add to this the fact that my emotional reaction time is basically glacial. If you stab me repeatedly with a piece of broken glass I might say "ouch" roughly two weeks later. Imagine how long it takes me to heal. Yeah.

And just as the wound appears to be scabbing over, I get stabbed, again, by someone who keeps telling me they would rather succumb to a flesh-eating disease than hurt me. It's confusing as #$@!.

But I digress. The upside.

Recognizing that I am a human person with human limitations

Unspoken Rule #178 - Do not be weak.

Unspoken Rule #3 - Don't be a victim.

Unspoken Rule #65 - If you cry, expect to be made fun of. Oh, and if you do cry, people are secretly judging you for being overly emotional and "weak."

Unspoken Rule #82 - Never allow yourself to be dependent on someone else.

Unspoken Rule #77 - If you are dependent on someone else, they will resent you. For being weak.

Unspoken Rule #34 - Do not ask for help.

Unspoken Rule #91 - You need to figure this out on your own.

Unspoken Rule #117 - The worst thing you can do is feel sorry for yourself.

Learning the signs of "I'm not okay"

I feel like this must be easier for other people. Maybe not. It takes me days (it feels like) to even realize that I'm upset. I analyze and compartmentalize my emotions as if they are completely separate from me, kind of like other people might organize their DVD collection by genre, director or year of release.

"I'm filing all my Wes Anderson movies under M for 'melancholy.'"

Acknowledging some hard-to-accept truths about myself

Hard Truth #35 - I don't have a ton of automatic respect for authority, power, position, or the status quo.

Hard Truth #21 - I have a near-crippling fear of disapproval from authority figures.

Hard Truth #88 - I think I'm better than the rules. See also Hard Truth #35 & Hard Truth #21. See also, COMPLETELY SCREWED.

Hard Truth #103 - Subverting the system makes me gleeful and somewhat smug. [Thanks a lot, Dad.]

Hard Truth #999 - I ride my bike to work, drink fruit-oatmeal-spinach-flaxseed smoothies, and attend the occasional yoga class. Yes, I have become THAT person.

I have really awesome friends

They would be awesome even if I wasn't going through a crisis or CRISIS. Thanks you guys. It is because of you that I have yet to either run away or punch someone in the face or both.

I'm going to get through this.

Racism, Racialism & The Spontaneous Combustion of Facebook Friends

So this happened:

A white man publicly shaming an Asian woman over--get this--prepackaged food sold from a retail grocery chain.

A civilized discourse on facebook about the relative merits of Trader Joe's Authentically Korean Seaweed Salad with Spicy Dressing, and then--

BOOM. He was gone. In a blaze of glory. All that was left was the faintly acrid smell of confusion and freeze dried kimchi.

And oh man. How could it be more perfect. I especially enjoyed the "Have a nice life while I remove you from my friends list" and the reference to calling yourself a Christian and making racist and homophobic comments (has this guy talked to any Christians recently? How about in the last 500 years?).

[How is it that when someone says "Have a nice life" they almost never mean it?]

We don't tar and feather wrongdoers anymore. Worse. We defriend them. Publicly.

What exactly is going on here? What should be considered racist? Is any generalization related to race "racist"? Should we dismiss all cries of racism as politically correct BS?

First, I'm going to make a distinction: racist v. racialist.

Making a generalization based on race is racialist but no necessarily racist, see the helpful tune from Avenue Q, Everyone's A Little Bit Racist for more details.

Obviously, you don't have to be white to make a negative (or otherwise) generalization based on race. Can you spot the racist statement?

"Wow, there are a lot of latino people in this sushi restaurant."

"That guy over there is black."

"I think Indian girls are hot."

"Most Asian people drive green Fiats."

"All white people are racist."

Okay. That was an easy one. Point taken.

HOWEVER

Have white Germans been systematically and historically oppressed, humiliated, excluded, killed or otherwise mistreated for not being able to make tasty Korean food?

No.

Now, before anyone starts picketing this blog holding signs that read "I'm white and I make a mean batch of kimchi," let me point out that context matters. History matters.

People who think that context and history don't matter usually think we shouldn't talk about race at all, which I suppose is the ultimate form of political correctness.

The problem with calling all racial generalizations "racist" is that it obscures real racism, a racism that goes far beyond "white people don't make Korean food as well as Korean people do."

If all generalizations based on race are racist, then we have no choice but to conclude that we are all racist, and isn't that wonderful because we're all the same and why can't we all just get along and laugh about it?

In Mindy Lahiri Is a Racist, the show makes fun of racist stereotypes [LOL] and politically incorrect gaffes without ever pointing out that, hey, inequality sucks.

I would argue that the most insidious form of racism is not "Asian women can't drive," but something much more systematic and subtle.

Ta-Nehisi Coates writes, "Racism is not merely a simplistic hatred. It is, more often, broad sympathy toward some and broader skepticism toward others."

George Zimmerman or Trayvon Martin?

Is the "knockout game" really a thing?

Are white people victims of reverse racism?

I wonder why this spontaneous combustion of facebook friends seems to happen to white men. White dudes: battling for equality and respect one incendiary facebook comment at a time [See what I just did there?]

There must be something more going on. No one gets this upset about Korean Style Beef Short Ribs.

Just don't dis my Chicken Tikka Masala with Cumin Flavored Basmati Rice. If Trader Joe's ever stopped carrying it I would probably starve.

Crying. In public.

It was 9pm last Wednesday night and I was crying in a booth at Canter’s Deli on Fairfax. I pushed at the corners of my eyes with my knuckles and dabbed the snot leaking from my nose with a napkin. The edges of my vision blurred with tears, like a watery postcard. At the center of the postcard, still surprisingly in focus, sat my friend. 

I get ugly when I cry. My entire face turns blotchy and red. The salt stings my nostrils. My eyes puff up, causing me to look more Asian than my usual fifty percent. My nose swells. My eyelids start to itch. The corners of my mouth dry out. I can’t breathe through my nose. 

I try to avoid crying in public, mostly because of the ugliness and the sluggish way the signs of it fade from my face. I feel marked long after the impulse to weep has gone. As a kid, my dad would call me “red eyes” as I sat at the dinner table, unable to hide the signs. 

I’ve locked myself in countless stalls in countless bathrooms at countless churches, waiting for the telltale puffiness to leave my eyes, giving the all clear. 

I’ve always felt shame at any strong display of emotion. 

I have a good memory too, for emotions and things. How do I know this? Because when I say to a friend or family member, “Remember when such-and-such happened?” or “Remember when you said this-or-that?” they almost never remember. For example, my sister doesn’t remember the hurtful things I said to her when we were eleven, but I do. I remember the emotional charge of hate, fear and pain. 

My dad recently told me, “When you were little, you would burst out crying at the dinner table because of some promise Mom or I had made to you months ago.” 

It’s like I was born to hold grudges, to internalize forever the hurt and unmet expectations of the moment: “You wounded me on this day, at this hour, wearing this blue shirt.” 

Last Tuesday night, I had a dream that my sister was telling me that it was over between us. There was no yelling, no screaming, just calm, rational argument. She was making several very valid points: I had said this. Done that. Sure, it was in the past, but still the facts were there and the only logical step would be to cut ties. 

I dreamt this, knowing my sister. I dreamt this, knowing that she would never reject me. Never. In the dream, I felt numb. 

My dad and I had a fight about a year ago that ended in my tears. And honestly, I despised myself for crying. I hated the vulnerability of it. 

And sitting there in that booth, in Canter’s, on Fairfax, in Los Angeles—all I could see was how I needed to forgive myself. That it was okay to be hurt, okay to remember, okay to cry. 

Perhaps God made me this way for a reason. Perhaps it’s part of being a writer—this emotionally fraught memory of mine. 

I looked across the booth at my friend. All I could see in her eyes was empathy. I was crying, but I felt no shame. 

How To Be Friends With a Girl, Part 2

If I was barely qualified to write the last installment, How To Be Friends With a Girl, I am even less qualified to write this sequel, How to be Friends with a Girl, Part 2 or "How To Be Friends With a Girl If You Are a Girl."

All of my best friends are girls. However, this is by no means through my own efforts and/or merit. There are people who are good at making friends and there are people who are not so good at making friends. I would fall into the latter category. Blame it on my rugged individualism or general lack of social skills. Or the fact that I don't usually like talking to people I don't know.

Let's just say that I love my friends and I don't know how they put up with me.

But how do you do it? Make friends with other women, I mean. It can't be that hard...right?

Again, I am the wrong person to be giving advice here. But let me introduce you to my buddy Aristotle. Aristotle believed that there are three types of friends:

Friend A is the life of the party. She knows all the best clubs, wears all the best clothes, and drives a Mini. You call her when you want to go out and have a good time.

Friend B always has the hookup--she knows everybody. If you are looking for an industry job or selling your script, she knows exactly who you need to talk to.

Friend C is someone you both like and admire. You two share common interests, work cooperatively toward common goals, and generally enjoy each other's company.

In sum, there are three types of friendship: friendships based on pleasure, friendships based on utility, and friendships based on character. Or, in other words, we are friends with someone because she is either pleasant, useful, or good [in the Aristotelian sense].

Aristotle advocates for the third type of friendship, in which you value your friend for herself, and not because she is fun to be around or because she can do something for you.

If we're honest, we've probably all been someone's friend because it was either pleasant or convenient--she had a car and we didn't, or she liked playing Super Mario Brothers, and so did we.

But ideally, we want Friend C.

Problems arise when these motivations are in conflict: Friend X chooses Friend Y out of utility, while Friend Y chooses Friend X for herself. There's a lack of reciprocity.

Of course, if we value a friend for herself, she is by default both pleasant and useful to us, not because we automatically "use" our friends, but because being friends with someone of good character is always beneficial: "With friends men are more able both to think and act" [from Nicomachean Ethics].

Friends are necessary for a virtuous (good) life. I quote:

"Between friends there is no need for justice, but people who are just still need the quality of friendship; and indeed friendship is considered to be justice in the fullest sense."

When both friends are good (equal in virtue), reciprocity (justice) is not an issue. It exists by definition between two people of good character. When you want the best for your friend and she wants the best for you--it's not a question of justice. Rather, friendship is a context for the exercise of virtue.

The good things you do for a friend, you in a sense do for yourself, without expecting anything in return. I certainly feel this way with my close friends. I feel almost selfish wanting to spend time with them because I enjoy their company so much.

If I have any advice on making friends with a girl (or anyone really), it would be: 

1. Look for similar interests.

2. Look for someone whose values you admire.

3. Compliment her taste.

4. Work on a common goal together.

Oh, and read Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics. Brilliant stuff.

How to be Friends with a Girl

I haven't been very successful in guy/girl platonic friendships. But, here I am, writing a blog post about how to be friends with a girl (wishful thinking on my part that someday I'll have guy friends like this?). So let's just pretend that I know what I'm talking about.

Never Compare Her to Other Girls

Girls are constantly comparing themselves to other girls. This habit has been beaten into us from an early age by film, television, middle school...I honestly don't know how to make it stop. So don't compare your friend to other girls or women--especially as it relates to things like appearance or weight. I would say this applies even to favorable comparisons. If you are telling your friend that she's skinnier than another girl, you're only adding fuel to the comparison fire. Better to never compare at all (at least out loud).

Let Her Know What You Appreciate About the Friendship

This probably applies to all friendships. Let her know what you like about being her friend. Maybe it's her great sense of humor or appreciation for the finer points of Settlers of Catan. Maybe you both enjoy political punditry or the films of Wes Anderson. Whatever it is, tell her.

Don't Sexualize the Conversation

I'm not saying don't talk about sex. I'm saying don't sexualize her. I'm pretty sure there's a name for this in pickup artist lingo. Basically, you test the limits with a girl you're trying to sleep with by using sexually suggestive humor or language. This is pretty common in general though, I think. Guys will allude to your body in a suggestive (if subtle) way or even mention a fantasy they have about you. There is a category that this kind of conversation puts you in. That category is not "friend." If you want to create a safe place for friendship to grow, you won't sexualize the conversation in a way that makes your friend uncomfortable.

You Don't Have to Agree with Her About Everything

Contrary to popular belief, girls are not looking for someone who agrees with them 100% (exceptions do apply, of course). That doesn't mean that if she's telling you a story about some douche-nozzle who cut her off in traffic you need to lecture her for over-reacting. No. It just means you can disagree. That's what friends do. It's okay to be honest. It's not okay to be patronizing.

Chivalry is for Friends Too

If you're naturally a chivalrous person, you can be chivalrous with your friend too. It's not an expectation, but it is a welcome change.

Don't Use Her

More has been written on this topic than I care to expand on here. And though I suppose there are multiple ways to use someone, I'm mainly referring to taking advantage of a friendship in order to get your emotional needs met. In other words, you're treating your friend like a girlfriend--but without any of the messy romantic/commitment stuff. If you are engaged or married to another girl, don't try to kiss your friend. She will feel used.

Don't Emotionally Dump on Her

Don't emotionally dump on your friend. Just because she's a girl doesn't mean she has an infinite well of empathy for you and your emotional problems. If you think that your teacher, your boss, the checkout clerk at the supermarket, and society in general is out to get you--maybe you should do something about it instead. Also, like all your other friends, she probably doesn't want to hear about your recent breakup for four straight hours. If you think that talking about your problems will only draw the two of you closer together, you might want to reconsider your approach.

If You Like Her, Tell Her

So maybe you have ulterior motives. That's okay. Just be upfront about it. True friendship and ulterior motives don't go together particularly well, so better to risk the sort-of-friendship you have now for the almost-relationship that could be.

If She Says She Just Wants to be Friends, Believe Her

She might not feel the same way. But that's okay. Because you can still be friends, right? Probably not. If a girl says, "I just want to be friends" she usually means "I just want to be friends." She doesn't mean, "Convince me" or "Maybe someday I'll change my mind." If this is too much for you, go ahead and end the friendship. But also realize that if you don't want to be her friend now, you were probably never her friend to begin with.

Read Part 2 here.

Life. And stuff.

I want to write about how much I like my new job, but I'm not sure if I can. So instead, a story:

When I was 16, I went to visit my dad in Beijing. A visit meant to last one month somehow stretched into six. For reasons I don't fully remember, comprehend, or wish to think about, I didn't want to go back to North Carolina.

I applied for an internship with a humanitarian organization in Beijing. As part of my application, I sent in an essay I had written for school entitled "Sexism in Paradise Lost" (It started early, folks). Somehow, I got the internship and started translating articles from English to Chinese.

This humanitarian organization also happened to have a media department. Cue life-changing event: I learned how to edit video using Final Cut Pro.

I started editing a camp video. I had dreams about cuts. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was hooked. For the first time in my life, I was truly passionate about something.

I remember editing late, late at night in the empty office. I remember how I felt going in after a weekend away, the mixture of trepidation and elation as I pushed in the door--would they be happy to see me? Would I still feel at home? Did they think I was a nuisance? I remember the huge crush I had on a guy who worked there. He was at least 14 years older than me, and I tried really hard not to have a crush on him, so of course I did anyway. But most especially, I remember Ivy, the director of the media department, and how her enthusiasm, kindness, and dedication to teaching made me feel.

Interning there changed my life. And ever since then, I've wanted to be that same kind of person for someone else.

Because I know that if it weren't for the people who have mentored me and encouraged me, I wouldn't be pursuing filmmaking. I would have given up before even starting.

Maybe this helps explain how strongly I feel about church, production, and mentorship.

I feel very, very grateful, because I know the real world so very rarely bears any resemblance to the experience I had when I was 16.

I've mentioned this to some of my friends, but there have been times and places and people that have made me feel like some of my strongest character traits are a liability. I'm independent to a fault. I'm passionate and a bit obsessive when I really care about something. I'm extremely focused and driven. And sometimes that hasn't gone over well, and I've paid the price for falling outside of the gender norm or otherwise stepping on people's toes (egos).

None of this is true in my current job. I can be independent, driven, and a little bit obsessive, and it's not only okay, it's encouraged (not that I have nothing to learn about being more interdependent and sensitive to other people).

I can breathe. And for that, I am extremely grateful.

How to hit on a girl on facebook

Fake dick pics. Every girl's dream.

First of all--welcome. Second of all, read this first.

Here's how NOT to hit on a girl on fb: 

1. Asking her how her day is going.

Hey :) How are you?
Good, how are you?
You know, just chillin. :) :) :) :)

2. Talking to her on fb chat about sex, sexting, or your penis.

3. Asking her to check out your shirtless pics and rate them on a scale of 1-10.

4. Asking her if she's a lesbian. (Yeah...that's why she's not interested. Right.)

I realize that in the last post I mostly just ranted about what I don't like--namely, being hit on on facebook, mostly by guys I've just met and barely know.

That being said, I thought maybe I'd add some how-to tips for those dire occasions when hitting on a girl via facebook is the only available option.

First a caveat: hitting on someone via fb is neither the most direct, nor the most efficacious way to go. Calling or asking in person is preferred.

That said, here are some things to keep in mind: 

1. If you don't want to be her friend, don't add her as a friend.

Instead, message her, text her or call her and ask her out (see #5). This way, you won't have to hit that "defriend" button when she responds unfavorably to your online advances. 

2. Be direct. 

Instead of asking her how her day is going, ask her if she wants to get coffee sometime or otherwise meet in person. State your intentions in so many words. 

3. Be clear. 

My friend's blog has a great take on this (and there are pictures!). If you want to see her, have a time, place and activity in mind.

4. Get to the point. 

This may be a repetition of the second item, but even so. It's better to arrive at the point immediately than to drag on a conversation about the weather in the hopes of slowly winning her over with your wit, charm and tasteful use of emoticons. It may be easier to keep up witty banter online, but these interactions are not necessarily an accurate reflection of in-person chemistry. You don’t have to tell her how much you like her or compliment her on her awesome bathroom-mirror-photography skills. Get to the point. 

5. Ask her out.

By which I mean, arrange to actually see her in-person. In this day and age, there's a good chance your paths may never again cross. Ask her out. I mean, why not? It’s intentional, upfront and unequivocal. Maybe you only met in person once and you don’t know her that well yet. Dating is a way to get to know someone better. Sure, it's intimidating, but heck, it’s just coffee/tea (it’s also not just coffee/tea, but it doesn’t have to turn into anything more if you don’t want it to. It’s up to you). Your next date may be only a fb message away. 

If you don't ask her out, guess what usually happens. Nothing, that's what. 

6. Be prepared to hear “No.”

…and respond graciously by withdrawing your suit. No harm, no foul. Plus, it’s over fb, so it’s no big deal. A facebook “no” is worth about 1/5 of an in-person “no” in humiliation value. 

I think this item might be the crux of why guys don't ask girls out--on fb or otherwise. Yeah, rejection sucks. Stereotypically speaking, guys bear the brunt of both the asking and the being rejected. However, I'm not sure that the more subtle rejection girls experience is any less ego-crushing than hearing "no." 

7. The "like" button and other soft forms of facebook flirting

I have not covered here soft methods of flirtation such as commenting on her fb status or posting random funny pictures on her wall. I don’t really see the harm in this, but again, it’s awfully indirect. 

I would advise against ever typing things like "HAWT" or "NICE RACK ;)". First of all, if a girl is posting multiple down-the-shirt pictures to her profile, she already knows she's hot. Second of all, do you really want to be part of a hot girl's online harem? This is starting to feel like a blog post for a different time...

And that's it! That's all I've got (again). Go forth and hit on that special someone this holiday season. 

I like you but I hate your script

In high school, I had a boyfriend who dreamed of becoming a successful guitar player and singer. I can't speak to his guitar playing, but his singing--well, let's just say my mom once charitably compared him to Bob Dylan. We eventually broke up--not over his singing.

I like you. But your singing makes me cringe.

In college, a friend had me read her script. And I hated it. Perhaps "hate" is too strong of a word--not the word, for instance, that I used when describing how I felt about it to her face. But, well--it wasn't my cup of tea. It wasn't my cup of anything. I thought it was crass, poorly written and derivative. The spelling and grammar mistakes made me cringe. I really, really didn't like it.

I didn't tell her that, of course. I said encouraging things, like "Your descriptions are so vivid" and "I like the character progression in the second act." This seems like good politics generally: pick out the things you like and say something good about them. And I did that. Bullet dodged, or so I thought.

However these tentative words of encouragement had an unforeseen consequence. The writer, my friend, thought she really had something. She started talking about submitting it to agents and production companies. She emailed me, asking for proofreading help so she could prepare it for submission. And my slight, forgivable lie (really an omission of the truth) trapped me in a cycle of dishonesty. How could I tell my friend at this point that I loathed her script? And the more uneasy question, how did I show support for her dream while doubting deep down that she was a good writer?

I like you. But please don't make me read your script.

A friend and I joked about writing a translation guide for friend feedback:
"I liked the beginning and ending."
Translation: "I hated the middle."

It's the fine art of reading between the lines.

Flannery O'Connor famously said, "Everywhere I go I'm asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them." And yes, there are probably quite few people who fancy themselves writers who perhaps should not write.

Bad writing tends to get the worst of me--makes me rant and rave, at least internally--especially if other people don't seem to agree that it's bad.

I remember in college we had to write an essay about a poem. I thought the poem was poorly written, sentimental, and stilted, and when my classmate came into class and mentioned that she'd liked it, it set off a question bomb in me. (A question bomb is a question I feel like I have to ask or I'll explode.)

"Is it good?", I wanted to ask my professor. Is this poem good?" I have to know.

But why this drive to know whether something is "good" or not? Not "Do I like it?" but "Is it good?"

I do believe in an objective good and I do believe in good and bad art. But so what if someone disagrees with me about one poem?

The problem with "I like you but I hate your script" is that, as a friend pointed out, that's like saying "I like you, but I hate your soul." And what if that's true? Hypothetically, let's say that I meet a cute guy. And hypothetically, I read some of his poetry. And my reaction is "Dear God."

It's not so much that I could never date someone who writes bad poetry. I write horrible poetry. It's that I couldn't pretend that I thought it was great poetry.

If I'm honest, I think the question "Is it good?" can be traced back to the deeper question of "Am I good?" Or, "What if I'm not?" It's all mixed up with pride and an anxiety of value. I need to know that there's value not only to what I write, but to who I am.

But I am not the ultimate judge of good and bad--for me or anyone else. "Am I good?" If I can answer this question first, maybe I can let the rest rest.

And if I can do that, maybe I can just do the work.






*Distinctions:

In this post, I should make a distinction between critiquing the work of friends and critiquing the work of a significant other or potential significant other. These are different.

Also, there is a difference between judging a product (poem, short story, etc.) and judging the producer of that product.

The Mythical Nice Guy

I have become convinced that there really is no such thing as a "nice guy"--the emotionally crippled, the perennially passive, the socially awkward, the impressively f-ed up, maybe. But nice guys? No such thing.

Have you ever pondered the nice guys on TV? Take Ted Mosby for instance, the main character in the sitcom "How I Met Your Mother." Ted is a romantic. He believes in true love and finding The One. He's also kind of an a**hole. But that's just it. He's not an unrepentant womanizer like Barney, nor is he a one-woman man like Marshall (is the correct word here "whipped"?). He's alternately cowardly, lustful, chauvinistic and predatory, but because he's really just trying to find his soul mate, he's a nice guy.

Has a friend ever tried to set you up? When the date goes badly, they say, "Oh, but he's a nice guy." This can be translated roughly as: "Oh, but he's not a serial killer or a rapist." Never mind that he has an elbow fetish or the clap.

Why is there no equivalent nice girl? (Usually this just means she's unattractive.)

Nice guys are the necessary fictive counterpoint to the a**holes that women supposedly always go for. They are the guys who are not just trying to get into your pants. (Is it just me, or is the bar set pretty low?) The rationale goes: "I'm a nice guy, but women only like jerks. Therefore, I am single." I won't bother poking holes in that potato.

This nice guy myth wouldn't be quite so irritating if there did not seem to be practically a moral imperative to find, date and marry one. 

O nice guys. You are the stalker that won't take "no" for an answer--yet wouldn't hurt a fly. You are the guy that asks me out, then spends the entire date talking to the wall. You tell I'm beautiful, then call me a bitch for turning you down. You like me, but you act like you don't give a crap--'cause giving a crap would be too scary.

You would ask me out or listen when I say "I just want to be friends" or act like you care or treat me like, I dunno, another human being. But you're just too nice.

Stop it.