Approve - verb
1. to speak or think favorably of; pronounce or consider agreeable or good; judge favorably: to approve the policies of the administration.
2. to consent or agree to: Father approved our plan to visit Chicago.
3. to confirm or sanction formally; ratify: The Senate promptly approved the bill.
Approval - noun
1. the act of approving; approbation.
2. formal permission or sanction.
When reduced to pure definitions, "approval" is just another tree in a forest of words. However, if you are a sentient human being, and you are not incarcerated for crimes against humanity, you know as well as I do that 'approval' is a red wood among saplings, to carry the analogy further.
I seek approval from many sources: my parents, my friends, my superiors, my subordinates; when I list the sources, it exhausts me. I want my parents to approve of my choices in law school. I want them to approve of my choices in men. I want their approval of my friends. Why do I care what they think, anyway? Shouldn't I just do what makes me happy? Of course I shouldn't just do what makes me happy. I want my parents' approval because I want them in my life. My parents provide support that I can't find anywhere else, even if they also give me headaches that I wouldn't be able to conjure with a migraine, the morning after a bender of Jack Daniels and chain smoking. Approval is the key to the compromises that come with maintaining that relationship.
That logic flows into my friendships, also. I want my friends to approve of my other friends, my cooking, my sense of style, my sense of humor, etc. I compromise with them to maintain peace, to make them feel good about themselves, and because I love them with all of my heart. When they don't approve of a decision I am making, I harshly reflect on the path of reasoning that lead me to that choice. I often find some error that I had brazenly overlooked, but, obviously, I stick by some of the unapproved choices, anyway. The key to approval is knowing when it is necessary and when to ignore that inclination and do what you must. As with most things in life, approval is a balancing test.
The most fascinating approval, though, is when I know people are seeking my approval. There are plenty of people who seek my approval, but do you want to know the amazing thing? Most of the people who want my approval are THE SAME PEOPLE WHOSE APPROVAL I SEEK. Mind-blowing, right? OK, so I didn't just reinvent the wheel, but think about the people who you want to approve of your life and choices? I'll bet you can think of times where they want your approval, also. When you stop seeking approval from a person, one of two things have happened, either you've stopped caring for the person, or they've stopped caring for you. Maniacal approval-seeking aside, normal approval helps us stay accountable to ourselves and others. I hand out approval for all kinds of things, even (and this is a secret, don't tell anybody) some things that I don't normally approve of. Here's the real clincher...ready?
.
.
.
.
Real love is knowing when to approve even if you don't. Being sought for approval is great responsibility and it is not to be taken lightly. When somebody wants you to approve of their choices or lifestyle, bear in mind that they are vulnerable and you have to choose carefully how to proceed. Unsurprisingly you must engage in another balancing test: personal/emotional safety vs. personal/emotional perception. What I perceive as wrong might be the best option for somebody else. So the moral of this story, I suppose, would be to reserve your disapproval for when it is really necessary. The impact will be felt every time you assert your disapproval, so use it cautiously. You never know when your disapproval will change a life for the worst, rather than the better.*
*But never forget to be true to your feelings and not be afraid to express your opinions to your loved ones. If they can't handle, fuck them, anyway.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Friday, July 09, 2010
A Moment, A Love, A Dream Aloud
Long time, no blog, eh? Whatever, if you aren't used to that by now, you never will be. Man up, this is how it is going to be.
Speaking of my cold-heartedness, it has recently been a topic of interest to various people in my life that I don't cry. Ever. Before we all jump to the same logical (albeit incorrect) conclusions, I don't refuse to cry, it isn't a 'macho thing', and I would cry if I could. People have called me "dead inside" and "cold" but what I always find fascinating is how quickly my capacity to love is forgotten in a backlash of 'why aren't you more sad? (sic)' I defend myself, usually, by giving specific instances where I might have cried, given different circumstances. Here are a few of note:
---
When I saw "My Sister's Keeper" with my good friend Nicole, I could have cried for days. That movie is like somebody killed a thousand puppies with a kitten cannon for shits and giggles, then made you call EVERY pet owner and give them the bad news while they told you about their terminal cancer. I'm talking sad here, people. The problem? Everyone else in the theater. Imagine, if you will: Me, sitting in a theater full of sobbing women. Not crying. Not tearing up. Not softly sniffling. SOBBING. I was simply too uncomfortable to cry. Nicole, thankfully, understood, and we then went to see "The Proposal" immediately afterward to give us each a pick-me-up. Note, please, that given different circumstances, I would have cried.
When my father called me to tell me he had cancer, completely blindsiding me and wracking my world, as I knew it, I was too shocked to react at all. By the time I actually felt anything I had rationalized the scenario a thousand times in my head, and I went straight to recovery-mode, never stopping off at the sad station. (you're welcome for that analogy carrying on JUST too long) Note, had there been some sort of build-up or prior indication, I might have been better prepared to be sad, but as it turns out, there was no warning and shock seems to be a stronger emotion for me than sadness.
When I realized I was going to fail a class for the first (and last) time of my life, I could have cried. I called my parents, hoping for a light scolding followed by some good old-fashioned TLC from the parentals. Not so much. What I was confronted with was some epic guilt followed by a very pragmatic talk about what my options were from that point on and how I would recover from this tragedy, never considering how I was feeling at that moment. Note, had I simply dealt on my own, I probably would have cried it out like a child falling from a high-chair.
---
Those are just a few samples of stories I use to try and illustrate my unique inability to cry. This post, however, isn't really about me, so much as it is about an opinion. Here's my opinion, I think that I don't value sadness as an emotion enough to cry.
Still with me? Alright, good.
In a day, I feel any range of emotions: happiness, anger, frustration, hatred, bliss, joy, glee, depression, most of all, love. Rarely do I feel 'sad.' Instead, I feel other emotions. And I realize many of those words are synonymous, but I identify different feelings with each of those descriptive words. I am not sure when I chose to not be sad, but I must have chosen it, because I haven't cried since I was a child. Even my parents can't recall a time that I was sad and cried after the age of 8 (broken wrist). For every second that I might waste feeling sad, I think that I am able to experience another moment of love, instead. I don't recommend this lifestyle to everyone, obviously, as it doesn't always turn out well for me. I do, however, think that optimism combined with a lack of valuation for sadness has really taken me far in my life and if you have the cajones to do you that way, then it should be a viable option. People will stress the importance of all the emotions in your life, etc. however I am confident when I say that you just need to make sure you feel SOMETHING. Numbness won't take you places, but ranking and ordering how you feel is taking life by the balls and riding it all the way home.
Sadness, suck it. Crying, suck it. Love, welcome home.
That's what I'm saying.
Seacrest out.
Speaking of my cold-heartedness, it has recently been a topic of interest to various people in my life that I don't cry. Ever. Before we all jump to the same logical (albeit incorrect) conclusions, I don't refuse to cry, it isn't a 'macho thing', and I would cry if I could. People have called me "dead inside" and "cold" but what I always find fascinating is how quickly my capacity to love is forgotten in a backlash of 'why aren't you more sad? (sic)' I defend myself, usually, by giving specific instances where I might have cried, given different circumstances. Here are a few of note:
---
When I saw "My Sister's Keeper" with my good friend Nicole, I could have cried for days. That movie is like somebody killed a thousand puppies with a kitten cannon for shits and giggles, then made you call EVERY pet owner and give them the bad news while they told you about their terminal cancer. I'm talking sad here, people. The problem? Everyone else in the theater. Imagine, if you will: Me, sitting in a theater full of sobbing women. Not crying. Not tearing up. Not softly sniffling. SOBBING. I was simply too uncomfortable to cry. Nicole, thankfully, understood, and we then went to see "The Proposal" immediately afterward to give us each a pick-me-up. Note, please, that given different circumstances, I would have cried.
When my father called me to tell me he had cancer, completely blindsiding me and wracking my world, as I knew it, I was too shocked to react at all. By the time I actually felt anything I had rationalized the scenario a thousand times in my head, and I went straight to recovery-mode, never stopping off at the sad station. (you're welcome for that analogy carrying on JUST too long) Note, had there been some sort of build-up or prior indication, I might have been better prepared to be sad, but as it turns out, there was no warning and shock seems to be a stronger emotion for me than sadness.
When I realized I was going to fail a class for the first (and last) time of my life, I could have cried. I called my parents, hoping for a light scolding followed by some good old-fashioned TLC from the parentals. Not so much. What I was confronted with was some epic guilt followed by a very pragmatic talk about what my options were from that point on and how I would recover from this tragedy, never considering how I was feeling at that moment. Note, had I simply dealt on my own, I probably would have cried it out like a child falling from a high-chair.
---
Those are just a few samples of stories I use to try and illustrate my unique inability to cry. This post, however, isn't really about me, so much as it is about an opinion. Here's my opinion, I think that I don't value sadness as an emotion enough to cry.
Still with me? Alright, good.
In a day, I feel any range of emotions: happiness, anger, frustration, hatred, bliss, joy, glee, depression, most of all, love. Rarely do I feel 'sad.' Instead, I feel other emotions. And I realize many of those words are synonymous, but I identify different feelings with each of those descriptive words. I am not sure when I chose to not be sad, but I must have chosen it, because I haven't cried since I was a child. Even my parents can't recall a time that I was sad and cried after the age of 8 (broken wrist). For every second that I might waste feeling sad, I think that I am able to experience another moment of love, instead. I don't recommend this lifestyle to everyone, obviously, as it doesn't always turn out well for me. I do, however, think that optimism combined with a lack of valuation for sadness has really taken me far in my life and if you have the cajones to do you that way, then it should be a viable option. People will stress the importance of all the emotions in your life, etc. however I am confident when I say that you just need to make sure you feel SOMETHING. Numbness won't take you places, but ranking and ordering how you feel is taking life by the balls and riding it all the way home.
Sadness, suck it. Crying, suck it. Love, welcome home.
That's what I'm saying.
Seacrest out.
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