This Year, Be the Christmas Morning Scrooge.

Dear Philip,

It’s not even Christmas, yet, and I am exhausted.  Between the shopping and the cards and the making plans for our family members to get together and drive each other crazy, I face the holiday season with what feels like more dread every year.  How do I slow it down and stop resenting all the commercialism and false cheer?  What do I do about being so stressed out?

Scrooge-in-Training

Dear Ebenezer, Jr.:

Move to a state where pot is legal.

That was an official PVM Christmas joke.  I tell a lot of ‘em, because a lot of folks I know can use a joke or two, long about mid-December.  For so many of us, Christmas is the Super Bowl of stress.

So let’s take a time out, Scrooge, and let’s talk for a minute about the great divide between what we celebrate and how we celebrate.  Maybe by breaking the former down to something simple, we can do the same with the latter.

Though I’m not much of a biblical scholar, I follow football just enough to know that there are people who are content to stand in the freezing cold, holding signs up in the air for the better part of a three-hour telecast in the hopes that the TV cameras will catch the message that they’ve boiled down to seven characters and a colon: John 3:16.

The writer in me has always been a little in awe of the simplicity of that particular verse, which explains the basic tenets of Christianity in one sentence.  The first part of that sentence also explains Christmas: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son…”  In other words, Christmas marks a gift given out of love.  Christmas is about giving.

I’ve been through a few translations of the bible – a religion minor in college will do that for you – and nowhere have I found any version of the word “obligation” in that verse.  The gift that gave name to both the religion and the holiday was given freely, and happily.  Likewise, the original Christmas may have involved family and visitors and presents, but it wasn’t celebrated by people concerned over keeping up with (or putting up with) others.

So maybe don’t be concerned with those things, either.  Rather, try to figure out what giving out of love means to you, and concern yourself with that.  Focus your Christmas efforts on the people that you love.

Sounds pretty Hallmark, I know, but it’s actually a great rule of thumb for approaching the holiday.  Start with the idea that you can’t do your best for those you love if you’re exhausted, and start whittling away at the things that wear you out.  For instance, don’t wander the mall on a mid-December afternoon, desperately looking for inspiration because you just have to put several things under the tree; spend some time earlier on sitting quietly, thinking of a few gifts that have some meaning.  (Then practice laser-targeted shopping.  It’s easier on the wallet and the nerves.) Those thoughts, and the eventual bestowing of those thoughtful gifts, will give you joy.

Believe it or not, the time you spend with extended family at Christmas can also be joyful, if you retrain your brain.  Rather than worrying about what your relatives are taking from you in terms of energy and patience, think about what you can give to them in terms of attention and compassion.  Showing your uncle some interest in what he’s doing; really listening to your sister: these are gifts given out of love, every bit as much as – and I’d argue more than – anything you’ll find on Black Friday, Cyber Monday, or Yikes, It’s the Day Before Christmas Tuesday.

False cheer, as you put it, is the stuff that comes from that nagging sense of obligation that’s been drummed into us by marketers and TV networks.  If you want the real thing, seek inspiration at the source, and become the post- ghostly visit, Christmas morning Scrooge who realizes that love is the gift, and that presence is the present.

Failing that, I hear the brownies in Colorado are especially good, this year.

A merry, loving Christmas to you,

Philip

Help! There's a Whiner in My Cubicle.

Dear Philip:

I work in the same office as a constant, chronic complainer.  When I say “same office,” I mean we literally share a small office in a large workspace, so I have to hear his grievances all day long, even when he’s on the phone complaining to others.  We both work for the same person, which puts me in the position of having to listen to endless complaints about my boss.  While most of the whining my co-worker does is just annoying, the things he says about our company and the boss make me uncomfortable.

I have a cousin who is the same way, but I only have to put up with his complaining a few times a year.  I can’t get away from my coworker, so how do I gently make him see that he’s driving me crazy?  Why are some people just never satisfied with anything?

Tired of the Griping

Dear Tired,

The cousin’s a pain-in-the-butt.  The co-worker?  He’s something a little more tricky…and he’s also potentially dangerous, which we’ll get to in a minute.

First, though, understand that your constant whiner doesn’t want satisfaction.  That is, he isn’t looking for the things he’s complaining about to actually get solved: he needs to continually reassert his victimhood.  It’s his identity.  He’s the guy who’s wronged at every turn, against whom every deck is stacked, and upon whose shoulders lay the weight of every injustice.  It’s a wonder he gets down off his metaphoric cross long enough to actually do any work in your shared office.

I tell you all that so you don’t fall into the trap of trying to talk some sense into him.  I’ve known people (cough – me – cough) who’ve foolishly spent years giving what they figured was sound advice on how the world is really not so bad to people who…really need the world to be so bad.  The trouble for all of us who’ve tried to talk complainers down from the ledge is that, for short periods of time, we get a false sense that we’re getting through…once in a while our whiny friends will concede that something or other might be okay.  They do that so we’ll keep listening; it’s the bone they throw us so that they can keep using us as their audience.

What they really want from us, of course, is a mirror: constant complainers want corroboration of their victim status.  They want validation.  Which is why when you tell complainers – like the guy in your office – that things aren’t so bad, they get angry.  You’re messing with their idea of who they are.

There are a few schools of thought on how to deal with a chronic complainer.  The first is to shine him on: that is, nod, grunt your agreement, and maybe throw out short phrases like, “I’d be upset, too,” without letting yourself get drawn into a larger discussion of whatever’s upsetting him at that particular moment.  Another is to shut him down quickly: “I don’t agree.”  A third method I’ve tried – with mixed success – is a sort of clinical validation without agreement; that is, “I can see how that would upset you.”  The problem with that one is that it often just prolongs the conversation, and you might end up feeling like a bad TV shrink…or a former president: “I feel your pain.”

None of these ways make much sense for you, though, Tired, because you’re in a pickle: you’re trapped with a coworker who’s complaining about your boss.  This is why I wrote up front that he’s potentially dangerous: if you so much as mumble agreement to shut him up, there’s every chance that he’ll use you as a backstop when he voices complaints to others, as in, “The boss is an idiot on this, and my office mate agrees with me!”

You wondered in your letter why some people, like the guy across the desk from you, are never satisfied.  It’s because they don’t want to be.  And I think that’s the key to your answer, Tired: respect his wishes.  That is, don’t give him any satisfaction when he complains.  Don’t agree, don’t disagree, don’t respond directly to his complaints.  Eventually, he’ll look for a sympathetic ear somewhere down the hallway.

Appreciatively yours,

Philip

Handling 'Rudeus Interruptus' and the Ex’s Babe

Dear Philip:

I get along with my brother-in-law very well, except in one respect: he can’t stop interrupting me.  This weekend, at my parents’ house, I was halfway through telling him a story when he turned to my father and started talking to him about a completely different subject.  It was as if I wasn’t even sitting there.  He does this all the time, and even though I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, I always feel insulted.  Should I confront him?

 Cut (and Ticked) Off

Dear Cut,

Sometimes great actors get left on the cutting room floor; sometimes it’s great dialogue that gets chopped.  In a scene Quentin Tarantino excised from “Pulp Fiction,” Uma Thurman puts a question to John Travolta that your bro-in-law should ponder: “In conversation,” Uma asks, “do you listen…or do you wait to talk?”

Your b.i.l. is a wait-to-talker, Cut, and I’d put money on the idea that you’re not the only person he tramples on, conversationally.  So you’re right not to take it personally.  You’re also right to confront him, but not in the way you probably mean.

Since he’s likely not aware he’s doing it, confronting your brother-in-law about his habit of interrupting is something that you’ll have to do situationally; that is, you’re best off if you catch him in the act, and point out the behavior on the spot.  Notice how that sounds like dog training?  That’s because it is: you have to correct your dog while he or she is messing up the rug/reaching for the food on the counter/chewing your shoes, because a dog doesn’t understand the past.  “Stop it,” works for dogs.  “You shouldn’t have done that thing you did awhile ago,” doesn’t.

The trick here is preparation.  Have a rejoinder ready for the next time he cuts you off, one that makes it clear he has been rude, and that you expect to be treated with courtesy.  Use that rejoinder firmly, but – and this is what will make it effective – not angrily.  Here’s what I’ve said in similar situations:  “Excuse me.  Should I finish my story another time?”

If his answer is “yes,” steer your sister to a good divorce attorney.

Yours without interruption,

Philip

Dear Philip:

My first love just got married to someone who looks like she stepped out of a cosmetics ad.  Not sure why I feel so weird and upset about it.  Do you have any thoughts?

Wistful

Dear Wistful,

Yes, I have lots of thoughts.  I think baseball season is way too short.  I think “The Shining” is the most overrated horror movie of all time. I think cheap Mexican food is almost always better than expensive Mexican food.  I think I just made myself crave a burrito.

Also – and this is where you come in – I think there are times where social media is a very, very bad thing for the soul.  Let me guess, Wistful: you and your ex are ‘friends’ on Facebook, or Instagram, or both…and now you’re inundated with pictures of someone you once loved, clearly and exuberantly loving someone else.  (Twenty bucks says you wallowed a bit in wedding photos.)

Even without the pics and posts, exes make for a bouillabaisse of confusing and conflicting feelings.  You don’t want to be with him, but you don’t really want anyone else to have him, either.  You look at the woman he’s with now and wonder if he loves her more than he loved you, if she’s getting a somehow more perfect version of him, and – in your darkest moments – if you blew it by letting it end between you.

The answer to all of these questions is no, of course.  He loves her differently, because she’s different.  He’s not magically perfect in your absence (though he may be more perfect for her, in the sense of compatibility).  And most importantly, you broke up because you weren’t right for each other, in the end.  Maybe concentrate on remembering those things, and not in comparing yourself to someone you don’t know.

For now, maybe it’s best to block your ex on Facebook.  At least until after the honeymoon.

Yours in looking ahead,

Philip

When the Friendship Has Become a Nostalgia Act

Dear Philip,

I want to know if it’s time to break up with a friend I’ve had since college.  (We’re both in our 40s, now.)  I’m feeling sad and confused because we were as close as sisters.  We were in each other’s weddings and have spent countless vacations together.  However, lately it has become a chore to see her even though she lives just a half hour away.  We don’t seem to have much in common, we get annoyed with each other easily and we don’t confide in each other.

I think she notices that I’m not making an effort, and she seems upset.  What do I do?

Drifting Away

Dear Drifting,

I had the chance to see the Rolling Stones a few years ago.  Great seats, fun venue, good company, but going would have involved driving for several hours and getting a hotel room.  I thought about it for a bit, and then politely declined the invitation.  Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band? Different story: I will commit minor felonies and hitchhike across the country, even if it means standing in the pouring rain and watching them from the last row of the upper deck of the stadium.  Happily.

You, Drifting, have a Rolling Stones problem.

That is, your friendship has petered out to the point where it’s a nostalgia act: it’s all “Jumping Jack Flash” and “Sympathy for the Devil,” but you’re starting to itch for something of a more recent vintage.  Memories, you’re learning, are fun…but not the stuff of a dynamic, robust relationship.  Friendships that last decades are a whole lot more Bruce than Mick.

I’m not talking about musical taste: you’ll get no argument from me that the Stones have made some of the most important, lasting music of the last half-century.  The problem is that they haven’t added much to their canon since…oh, probably 1981’s “Tattoo You.”  Their concerts – for decades – have been largely ‘greatest hits’ affairs, transporting fans to a very specific time in their lives.

Which is what your friend does for you.  It’s great fun to spend a few hours in an arena playing “remember when?,” but spending several years that way can get tiresome…unless there’s something to anchor that warm feeling to the here and now.  You’ve got a friend who’ll run the collegiate highlight reel with you, but it sounds like you’re itching to share the present, too.

This is exactly why I love Springsteen so: for every early anthem about cars or youthful alienation, there’s a more recent song about the fears and joys of parenthood or the acceptance of aging.  For every “Born to Run,” there’s a “Wrecking Ball.”  I’m happy for the reminiscence of the former; I’m grateful for the personal relevance of the latter.

Nothing will take away the connection that you share with your friend: in some ways, she knows the young woman that you were better than anyone.  So unless there’s some real issue between you now, why ‘break up’ with her?  Those feelings of sadness and confusion mean that you care about her on some level, so find that level and cultivate it.  Figure out just how much time you want to spend on the friendship, and spend it happily.  You write that she seems upset because you’re not making enough of an effort…but maybe she’s upset because your anxiety about drifting apart has made you a little distant.

Don’t be distant.  When you talk to her or see her, be present.  Not every friendship has to be all things; embrace the fact that she’s your link to great memories, and enjoy her company for that.  Short, happy visits are the key.  Find things to do with her that will keep the conversation – and the potential for boredom – to a minimum.  Make some new memories.

Might I suggest a Springsteen show?  Just, you know, maybe cover her ears when the Boss sings, “Well time slips away/and leaves you with nothing mister/but boring stories of glory days.”

Rock on,

Philip

Follow Your Passion...When You're Sure What It Is.

Dear Philip,

I have to take issue with your response to the woman who wanted to quit her job and move to California to pursue her dream of acting.  She is young and single, and if she doesn’t reach for the thing she has always wanted to do now, when will she?  If she does what you suggest, she may wake up one day and feel a lot of regret.

You usually give great advice, but when you told her to stay put, you blew it. Carpe diem!

Faith (as in, “You’ve got to have”)

 

Dear Faith,

One of my older brothers called home from college – oh, back when Carter was in office – to ask the folks a question.  Here’s the short version of that conversation:

Brother: Dad, can I go skydiving with my friends?

Dad:  It’s ‘may’ I go skydiving, and no.

I remember cheekily wondering aloud why my brother bothered asking for permission.  Considering he was a thousand miles from home, how would my parents ever have found out, short of a coroner’s report?  My pop’s reply: “Because he doesn’t want to go skydiving.” 

One of the best lessons a parent can teach a budding advice columnist is this:  Often what a person really wants to know and what they’re asking you aren’t the same things.

Sometimes it’s a boy sitting with his college buddies, letting his parents put the kibosh on skydiving so he doesn’t have to let on that he’s a little afraid to jump out of a plane.  Sometimes it’s a 26-year-old woman who hates her job, looking for someone to put the brakes on her half-baked escape plan before she trades one lousy situation for another.

You’re not alone in disagreeing with me for telling ‘Ready to Take a Chance’ that she ought to concentrate on more realistic goals than her dream of being a television star, Faith.  I heard from several folks who’ve decided I don’t have a romantic bone in my body; my friend Andrea even ended her Facebook comment on the column with the Dead Poets Society cry of “Carpe Diem!” just like you.  A passion, you all agree, must be followed.

Which is why it’s a shame that Ready clearly doesn’t have one.  Some folks read her letter, saw the words “I have always dreamed” and didn’t see much else.  Like the long qualifier: “A friend told me I should figure out what I really want to do...”  Or the words that came after “dreamed;” namely “…of being on television.” We’ll get to the latter in a moment, but first a quick question:  On a scale of day-old coals to raging inferno, how burning can your desire be, if you need a friend to tell you to “figure out” what you’ve always wanted to do?

That’s not a small point, and I’m convinced that’s why Ready included it in her letter: even she knew that she was manufacturing an escape fantasy so she didn’t have to try to fix the situation she was in. I’m all for clean breaks; I’m just not a fan of poor planning.  Ready needs a plan.

And let’s be clear: “being on television” is neither a plan nor a practicable dream.  Acting – which you mistakenly quoted as Ready’s dream – is a path.  You take classes, you go on auditions, you take whatever crummy roles you can get, you learn, you go on more auditions.  Actors will tell you it’s a craft, and that it’s a life-long pursuit.  Dreaming about being on television?  That’s not about honing a craft, that’s how a child says, “I want to be famous.”  It’s a lovely (childish) dream, but it’s neither a career nor a path.

If you’re still not convinced that Ready was looking for someone to tell her to buck up and fix her life instead of running away from it, I humbly offer you two last questions, Faith:  Why would anyone burning with a real passion bother writing to their local advice columnist to ask if they should follow it?  And what kind of passion would let them listen if he said no?

Yours in seizing the day…thoughtfully,

Philip