Los Angeles, California
This term emotional intelligence has been hanging around for awhile. So, why do I feel like it is reverberating a lot lately? Reverberating in both the macro and the micro.
Emotional Intelligence is defined as the capacity to be aware of, control, and express one's emotions, and to handle interpersonal relationships judiciously and empathetically." This definition appears online on the google dictionary site. Online, where there is a lot about this. Wikipedia's definition is: the capability of individuals to recognize their own emotions and those of others, discern between different feelings and label them appropriately, use emotional information to guide thinking and behavior, and manage and/or adjust emotions to adapt to environments or achieve one's goal(s). It says that "...the term first appeared in a 1964 paper by Michael Beldoch and gained popularity in the 1995 book. That book is Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman." Ok, but after having offered that, I must now ask: Do we really rely on Wikiopedia's take on, like, anything? Let's move on...
What I find interesting is that most of the references to EI online is about EI in the workplace. There are articles in periodicals such as INC and the Harvard Business Review. But clearly, anyone who has these abilities to bring to their organization, will display these capabilities in other areas of their lives as well, right?
An article in The Atlantic, ponders whether EI can be used for evil, as well as for good. It questions whether both Martin Luther King, and Adolph Hitler, used their ability to read the emotions of others to tap into movements. Clearly, good and evil. EI is touted to combat bullying in schools, but, as the article points out, "when people hone their emotional skills, they become better at manipulating others. When you are good at controlling your own emotions, you can disguise your true feelings. When you know what others are feeling, you can tug at their heartstrings and motivate them to act against their own best interests."
If you have been a victim of this, as I suspect we all have, you recognize the dark side of it. As the articles states: "When people have self-serving motives, emotional intelligence becomes a weapon for manipulating others." Certainly today, in the world, we see leaders who appear to be capable of robbing their supporters of their capacity to reason. But in the micro, even if you are intelligent as well as emotionally intelligent, you may still be at risk of being influenced by individuals who have their own agenda or past score to settle, which creates the basis for their action.
A research team led by University College London professor Martin Kilduff, reported that "emotional intelligence helps people disguise one set of emotions while expressing another for personal gain..." While perhaps not for personal gain, I have observed people disguising emotions which cause them discomfort or which they have no tools for handling. And yet, those disguises do require some personal, emotional machination. In my experience, this is never so evident as in the emotion of envy. One of the things I have learned is to spot envy at 50 yards (so to speak). You might notice it first in individuals who never express their envy about anything. All humans experience envy, what differs is their ability to tolerate it in a healthy manner. Examples of those who cannot, might be seen when an intelligent person pretends to not notice obvious things that they envy. Sort of a protective blind spot. But the more obvious indication is in the person who goes the other way. My therapist once pointed out to me that people who exhibit a very strong trait are usually covering the exact opposite. Sad people who present as humorous. Penurious people who pretend to be charitable. Envious people who scorn or ignore the quality of what they are actually envying. I like the clothing much better at TJ Maxx than at Georgio Armani. Right?
I have been told by family, educators, and friends, that I am intelligent. And I am in touch, possibly too in touch, with my own emotions. And I have a particular antennae for people who present in a certain way before showing their true colors. I learned that I have a pretty good bullshit detector (sorry for my language, but that's what my therapist called it). But even that system might not protect you from people who operate in life out of their own agendas, while hiding behind other presenting traits. Or, as Joel says, throwing flowers around garbage doesn't make it pretty. So, while emotional intelligence clearly has value, you have to be careful about discerning how people utilize it. We live in a dangerous and precarious world. Choose your community carefully, because even if you are intelligent and emotionally savvy, you might still be conned. And, you must trust me about this.
Thank you for reading my blog. TJ Maxx was deliberately left out of the labels below. If you are searching TJ Maxx you won't be led to this site, because you'll surely not be happy here. And YOU must trust me about this. 😏
September 20, 2018
September 10, 2018
The Stack and the Net
Los Angeles, California
I was watching a program recently where, before sitting down to a meal at their home, the host collected everyone's cell phones. I was reminded that I once heard someone interviewed on Fresh Air who was promoting an unplugged weekend. At the time, several years back, that appealed to me. But now, it just seems impossible! I now even need my phone to unlock and start my car! While I ponder about overusing my phone, I am gratified that I stave off impatience by playing pool on my phone, when I am, for example, waiting in line at the bank. But my phone usage has begun to usurp time that I would normally spend reading books at night, or catching up on the last month of The New Yorker magazines that I seem to be perpetually chasing.
Texting sometimes stands in for telephone conversations, which is both good and bad. Good in its expediency; but bad in its lack of face-to-face, or at least voice-to-voice, connection. Thankfully, it hasn't replaced the phone conversations that I have with my cousin and my closest friends, and, of course, Joel. But for some of the friends with whom I am in intermittant contact, texting often suffices, and that's okay.
Christopher once mentioned the stack, where, during business lunches, everyone stacks their cellphones in the middle of the table. The first one who reaches for their phone has to pay for the meal. I once proposed a similar plan with friends who seem to be vilely steeped in celebrity culture: The first one who mentions 'the k-word' pays for the meal. The k-word being Kardashian (Kardashian clearly up there with Lord Voldemort as a name which should not be spoken aloud ever). I suspect they were not amused. Can you imagine?
The cell phone thing has apparently replaced the personal computer thing which replaced the television thing. Think of the changes that have occurred in interpersonal relationships since people have become distracted by screens. I grew up in the sixties, and have no memory of living in a home without televisions. There was always a television set in each of our bedrooms, though not in my parents' bedroom nor anywhere else in the house. Watching television together was not a family activity, as both my parents looked on TV-watching as something that was done by people who did not read books. However, my grandfather worked for Barker Brothers department store in downtown Los Angeles, and they retailed television sets. So, our family always had an abundance of new TVs, even though my parents never watched except when there was a major news event or NASA launch (Dad was an aerospace engineer whose firm worked on instruments in those rockets). We had our skating lessons and other activities, including Girl Scouts, after school. At night, we did our homework and practiced piano during the week. If we were at home on the weekends, we played games while listening to albums on the stereo system that my father had built. Engineer that he was, he had put together a receiver, a metal tray of tubes and wires, connected to a turntable. When my parents joined us, we played Tripoly and other card games. I was the youngest in my family, and always trying to get the rest of them to play board games with me. I think I got them to play Clue and Monopoly a couple of times, but we got back to Tripoly pretty quickly.
I'm not the first person to observe that technology is wreaking havoc on our relationship to others. On this planet, normal humans need to have a connection with the people in their lives. At the worst of times, three years ago, my therapist and I discussed the idea of bringing my female friends together in a sort of loose support group. When I floated this idea out to two of them, one immediately demurred, saying she wasn't interested in talking about, nor listening to others' problems. Fair enough. So, the Frister Fridays became social, which was fine. Friendships became stronger through these monthly get togethers, which clearly separated the women from the girls.
Recently, my friend Cathy, who is also my pilates trainer and acupuncture practitioner, was telling me about a workshop she attended in Washington state. We were having lunch at a little restaurant in Westwood called Fundamental. After she described one of the exercises in visualization which was called The Net, I had an epiphany. That was a realization of what my friends and I are providing for each other. The net Cathy described is a metaphor where strength comes from being interwoven, which allows it to support, even to gently rock, as in a hammock. How important is that? In my own net, I am, literally, trusting these women with my life as I have given them this power through my Living Trust. But they are also available, and emotionally available, in so many other ways. As I have written before, Joel is my rock. But these women are my safety net.
Whether they know it or not, everyone needs The Net in their lives. If you don't get this, step away from this blog and go watch a few Sex and the City episodes. Or, The Golden Girls, or I Love Lucy. Remember how many times Ethel was side-by-side with Lucy in all of her zany experiences and schemes? If you utilize your friends for socializing alone, you are missing out on what it feels like to have people in your life who have your back, whom you can call at any time, and with whom you balance all of that by also having a lot of shared fun: travel, and shopping, and concerts, and special dinners together. The best of two worlds. And the best part of all of it? They are always only a text away...
And again, thanks for reading my blog!
I was watching a program recently where, before sitting down to a meal at their home, the host collected everyone's cell phones. I was reminded that I once heard someone interviewed on Fresh Air who was promoting an unplugged weekend. At the time, several years back, that appealed to me. But now, it just seems impossible! I now even need my phone to unlock and start my car! While I ponder about overusing my phone, I am gratified that I stave off impatience by playing pool on my phone, when I am, for example, waiting in line at the bank. But my phone usage has begun to usurp time that I would normally spend reading books at night, or catching up on the last month of The New Yorker magazines that I seem to be perpetually chasing.
Texting sometimes stands in for telephone conversations, which is both good and bad. Good in its expediency; but bad in its lack of face-to-face, or at least voice-to-voice, connection. Thankfully, it hasn't replaced the phone conversations that I have with my cousin and my closest friends, and, of course, Joel. But for some of the friends with whom I am in intermittant contact, texting often suffices, and that's okay.
Christopher once mentioned the stack, where, during business lunches, everyone stacks their cellphones in the middle of the table. The first one who reaches for their phone has to pay for the meal. I once proposed a similar plan with friends who seem to be vilely steeped in celebrity culture: The first one who mentions 'the k-word' pays for the meal. The k-word being Kardashian (Kardashian clearly up there with Lord Voldemort as a name which should not be spoken aloud ever). I suspect they were not amused. Can you imagine?
The cell phone thing has apparently replaced the personal computer thing which replaced the television thing. Think of the changes that have occurred in interpersonal relationships since people have become distracted by screens. I grew up in the sixties, and have no memory of living in a home without televisions. There was always a television set in each of our bedrooms, though not in my parents' bedroom nor anywhere else in the house. Watching television together was not a family activity, as both my parents looked on TV-watching as something that was done by people who did not read books. However, my grandfather worked for Barker Brothers department store in downtown Los Angeles, and they retailed television sets. So, our family always had an abundance of new TVs, even though my parents never watched except when there was a major news event or NASA launch (Dad was an aerospace engineer whose firm worked on instruments in those rockets). We had our skating lessons and other activities, including Girl Scouts, after school. At night, we did our homework and practiced piano during the week. If we were at home on the weekends, we played games while listening to albums on the stereo system that my father had built. Engineer that he was, he had put together a receiver, a metal tray of tubes and wires, connected to a turntable. When my parents joined us, we played Tripoly and other card games. I was the youngest in my family, and always trying to get the rest of them to play board games with me. I think I got them to play Clue and Monopoly a couple of times, but we got back to Tripoly pretty quickly.
I'm not the first person to observe that technology is wreaking havoc on our relationship to others. On this planet, normal humans need to have a connection with the people in their lives. At the worst of times, three years ago, my therapist and I discussed the idea of bringing my female friends together in a sort of loose support group. When I floated this idea out to two of them, one immediately demurred, saying she wasn't interested in talking about, nor listening to others' problems. Fair enough. So, the Frister Fridays became social, which was fine. Friendships became stronger through these monthly get togethers, which clearly separated the women from the girls.
Recently, my friend Cathy, who is also my pilates trainer and acupuncture practitioner, was telling me about a workshop she attended in Washington state. We were having lunch at a little restaurant in Westwood called Fundamental. After she described one of the exercises in visualization which was called The Net, I had an epiphany. That was a realization of what my friends and I are providing for each other. The net Cathy described is a metaphor where strength comes from being interwoven, which allows it to support, even to gently rock, as in a hammock. How important is that? In my own net, I am, literally, trusting these women with my life as I have given them this power through my Living Trust. But they are also available, and emotionally available, in so many other ways. As I have written before, Joel is my rock. But these women are my safety net.
Whether they know it or not, everyone needs The Net in their lives. If you don't get this, step away from this blog and go watch a few Sex and the City episodes. Or, The Golden Girls, or I Love Lucy. Remember how many times Ethel was side-by-side with Lucy in all of her zany experiences and schemes? If you utilize your friends for socializing alone, you are missing out on what it feels like to have people in your life who have your back, whom you can call at any time, and with whom you balance all of that by also having a lot of shared fun: travel, and shopping, and concerts, and special dinners together. The best of two worlds. And the best part of all of it? They are always only a text away...
And again, thanks for reading my blog!
September 1, 2018
The Affair
Los Angeles, California
SPOILER ALERT!
Awhile back, I wrote about the sudden death of Matthew Crawley on Downton Abbey. As an update, I did recover from that. But now, another one bites the dust, and that would be Alison Bailey on The Affair. An aside: my friend, Lynnette, tells a story about teasing her young niece that her pet rabbit would make a delicious meal (you'd have to know Lynnette to appreciate that this is funny). After taunting the six-year old niece about how the rabbit could be cooked (with white wine and herbs, I am assuming), this little six-year old responded: "Well! I didn't see that coming!" This has since become a well-used phrase in my vernacular, but never so appropriately applied as in response to the unexpected demise of Alison on The Affair.
I have had a love/hate relationship with The Affair, since its first season in 2014. I am not a series-watcher. I could count on one hand all of the non-PBS series I have watched in the last decade. I did not watch the Sopranos or Six Feet Under. I didn't watch Lost or 24, and I'm not about to watch Westworld, The Leftovers, or Sharp Objects. I did watch Big Little Lies because it was filmed around Carmel and Monterey and had an interesting cast. I hated it.
What I initially liked about The Affair was its presentation of point of view. In the beginning, the storyline, per episode, was told from the point of view of two of the main four characters. Hour-long episodes split in half, with the second half duplicating the same story as the first, but told from a different character's point of view. Changing the filter changes the story in both small, nuanced ways as well as more obviously. Clothing and furnishings, facial expressions, inflections in speech, all bind together to tell a different story. And the viewer is left in the middle with the various versions of the story in jigsaw-like pieces.
The series hasn't always been good. I threw up my hands in season two, it was so maddening. I criticized the writing that I had lauded in season one. The plot was now meandering all over the place, and I could barely make sense of it... until the season finale, where the solution to the murder mystery, strung out for two full seasons, was shockingly revealed. And that tied up the threads, and made sense out of what had seemed like a splintered season. But, by the end of season three, I was out. I felt the series had lost its way. However, by the time it rolled around again with season four, I found myself sneaking a peak, and subsequently, I was sucked back in. Season four ended last month following a tumultuous final three episodes.
Throughout those last few episodes, I found myself running a gamut of emotions. The third to last episode, where it was revealed that Alison had died, was a stunner. Alison was the centerpiece of the series which is hung on the shoulders of four characters who have been married and/or friends to each other in an enmeshment of relationships. But, Alison, right from the get-go was understandably sad and suffering. And Ruth Wilson was so good at it. You didn't always like Alison. In fact, you don't always like any of them and that is the beauty and conceit of the writing. Just when you have had enough of these people, an episode shows you a character's vulnerability or tenderness. I flop around disliking them, then feeling varying degrees of empathy for them. By contrast, none of this happened for me with Big, Little Lies. The characters started as nasty and/or shallow people I didn't care about, and that impression stayed. Not so with The Affair. It is inspired writing to create characters with that much dimension to them.
A woman I knew once said that Diane Lane's character in Unfaithful made her hate her as well as the entire film. Why would we care about her, she lamented. She cheats on her husband with disastrous effects, then she feels bad. Huh? Madame Bovary..? ... Anna Karenina...? How about Graham Greene's The End of the Affair or Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence, to name just a few. Perhaps we English majors developed a less narrow view of womankind through studying literature?
Alison was an adulterous wife... twice. She cheated on her husband before leaving him to marry her lover. Then she cheated on that husband with... wait for it... her ex-husband. You could write that off as a bad soap opera plot, except that the characters are so multidimensional. They are flawed, yet somehow balanced with sensitivity, pathos, and, yes, humanity. That is highlighting the human condition, and that is writing I envy. Alison alternately pissed me off and broke my heart. She was the victim who was always trying to shake her fist at those who had wronged or used her, and always trying to set herself right. But, alas, in the end, she was taken down. Although... although, we are not really sure about anything other than her death. For that we must wait until season five.
The penultimate (I've been overusing that word, I know, but I kinda like it) episode showed two perspectives as usual, but breaking with tradition, these were both Alison's. In the first, she was was not able to change her story as another character, Helen, had advised her. She was still succumbing to her attraction to damaged and dishonest men who offered her anything in the form of intimacy. In the second, dark episode she was changing her story, fighting back and ultimately railing against the man who was sinking her back into the ocean. In most of the episodes, you have this person's story, and that person's story, and the truth, which might be closer to one or the other but likely in the middle, or, more accurately, in the perspective of the viewer. In this episode, both perspectives are Alison's, and the truth... murky as the dark ocean water into which she was dropped. It was not an easy episode to watch.
And then we have the final episode, which didn't progress any further down the road than to show how all of the remaining characters, including secondary ones, are, in the words of Helen, so fu*%ing crazy. And yes, those characters are, and have always been so. But, as I take a quick mental inventory, I must write that so are many of us. It would take a multitude of blogposts to delineate the fu*%ing craziness I have seen amongst some of the people I have known. And I'm talking complex neuroses, eating disorders, hypervigilance bordering on obsessive behavior, even what seems like sociopathology (defined by the DSM as an Antisocial Personality Disorder (people who describe themselves as not being social?). Again, human condition. But, not going there, not here. Not now.
So, back to The Affair. For the evocative food for reflection that The Affair has given me, I am appreciative. Then again, I am always euphorically grateful for, as well as envious of, good writing. Especially when the product of that good writing sticks with me, and makes me think.
Thanks for tuning in here...
SPOILER ALERT!
Awhile back, I wrote about the sudden death of Matthew Crawley on Downton Abbey. As an update, I did recover from that. But now, another one bites the dust, and that would be Alison Bailey on The Affair. An aside: my friend, Lynnette, tells a story about teasing her young niece that her pet rabbit would make a delicious meal (you'd have to know Lynnette to appreciate that this is funny). After taunting the six-year old niece about how the rabbit could be cooked (with white wine and herbs, I am assuming), this little six-year old responded: "Well! I didn't see that coming!" This has since become a well-used phrase in my vernacular, but never so appropriately applied as in response to the unexpected demise of Alison on The Affair.
I have had a love/hate relationship with The Affair, since its first season in 2014. I am not a series-watcher. I could count on one hand all of the non-PBS series I have watched in the last decade. I did not watch the Sopranos or Six Feet Under. I didn't watch Lost or 24, and I'm not about to watch Westworld, The Leftovers, or Sharp Objects. I did watch Big Little Lies because it was filmed around Carmel and Monterey and had an interesting cast. I hated it.
What I initially liked about The Affair was its presentation of point of view. In the beginning, the storyline, per episode, was told from the point of view of two of the main four characters. Hour-long episodes split in half, with the second half duplicating the same story as the first, but told from a different character's point of view. Changing the filter changes the story in both small, nuanced ways as well as more obviously. Clothing and furnishings, facial expressions, inflections in speech, all bind together to tell a different story. And the viewer is left in the middle with the various versions of the story in jigsaw-like pieces.
The series hasn't always been good. I threw up my hands in season two, it was so maddening. I criticized the writing that I had lauded in season one. The plot was now meandering all over the place, and I could barely make sense of it... until the season finale, where the solution to the murder mystery, strung out for two full seasons, was shockingly revealed. And that tied up the threads, and made sense out of what had seemed like a splintered season. But, by the end of season three, I was out. I felt the series had lost its way. However, by the time it rolled around again with season four, I found myself sneaking a peak, and subsequently, I was sucked back in. Season four ended last month following a tumultuous final three episodes.
Throughout those last few episodes, I found myself running a gamut of emotions. The third to last episode, where it was revealed that Alison had died, was a stunner. Alison was the centerpiece of the series which is hung on the shoulders of four characters who have been married and/or friends to each other in an enmeshment of relationships. But, Alison, right from the get-go was understandably sad and suffering. And Ruth Wilson was so good at it. You didn't always like Alison. In fact, you don't always like any of them and that is the beauty and conceit of the writing. Just when you have had enough of these people, an episode shows you a character's vulnerability or tenderness. I flop around disliking them, then feeling varying degrees of empathy for them. By contrast, none of this happened for me with Big, Little Lies. The characters started as nasty and/or shallow people I didn't care about, and that impression stayed. Not so with The Affair. It is inspired writing to create characters with that much dimension to them.
A woman I knew once said that Diane Lane's character in Unfaithful made her hate her as well as the entire film. Why would we care about her, she lamented. She cheats on her husband with disastrous effects, then she feels bad. Huh? Madame Bovary..? ... Anna Karenina...? How about Graham Greene's The End of the Affair or Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence, to name just a few. Perhaps we English majors developed a less narrow view of womankind through studying literature?
Alison was an adulterous wife... twice. She cheated on her husband before leaving him to marry her lover. Then she cheated on that husband with... wait for it... her ex-husband. You could write that off as a bad soap opera plot, except that the characters are so multidimensional. They are flawed, yet somehow balanced with sensitivity, pathos, and, yes, humanity. That is highlighting the human condition, and that is writing I envy. Alison alternately pissed me off and broke my heart. She was the victim who was always trying to shake her fist at those who had wronged or used her, and always trying to set herself right. But, alas, in the end, she was taken down. Although... although, we are not really sure about anything other than her death. For that we must wait until season five.
The penultimate (I've been overusing that word, I know, but I kinda like it) episode showed two perspectives as usual, but breaking with tradition, these were both Alison's. In the first, she was was not able to change her story as another character, Helen, had advised her. She was still succumbing to her attraction to damaged and dishonest men who offered her anything in the form of intimacy. In the second, dark episode she was changing her story, fighting back and ultimately railing against the man who was sinking her back into the ocean. In most of the episodes, you have this person's story, and that person's story, and the truth, which might be closer to one or the other but likely in the middle, or, more accurately, in the perspective of the viewer. In this episode, both perspectives are Alison's, and the truth... murky as the dark ocean water into which she was dropped. It was not an easy episode to watch.
And then we have the final episode, which didn't progress any further down the road than to show how all of the remaining characters, including secondary ones, are, in the words of Helen, so fu*%ing crazy. And yes, those characters are, and have always been so. But, as I take a quick mental inventory, I must write that so are many of us. It would take a multitude of blogposts to delineate the fu*%ing craziness I have seen amongst some of the people I have known. And I'm talking complex neuroses, eating disorders, hypervigilance bordering on obsessive behavior, even what seems like sociopathology (defined by the DSM as an Antisocial Personality Disorder (people who describe themselves as not being social?). Again, human condition. But, not going there, not here. Not now.
So, back to The Affair. For the evocative food for reflection that The Affair has given me, I am appreciative. Then again, I am always euphorically grateful for, as well as envious of, good writing. Especially when the product of that good writing sticks with me, and makes me think.
Thanks for tuning in here...
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About Me
- Bronte Healy
- California, United States
- Once, I came up with this brilliant idea (well, I thought so, anyway) that the key to happiness was to concentrate on three things -- to choose three interests, then focus and funnel your energy into that trio. I was an English major in college and have always written in some shape or form. So, my first choice was writing. I've always kept journals, and have also written plays, novels, poetry, and shopping lists. I do have a day job. It deals with numbers (assets and finances). Go figure. I went to college at a California University. I live in California, Los Angeles, but not downtown. No children, and sadly, between dogs at the moment (dog person, not a cat person). Enough info? I was going for just enough to not be a cypher, yet not enough to entice a stalker. And, I started my blog after being dragged, kicking and screaming, to do so. Blogs! Read about ME here, right? But I have been advised that this is a way to write regularly, and to put your writing OUT THERE. So, here goes. My name is Bronte Healy. Thanks for reading my blog.