If you were an animal, what kind of animal would you be?

I would be a cat. I would blink lazily at you, refusing to play your little game.

I know a few people who just love these kinds of questions. They think asking a bunch of them and having everyone in a group answer is a fantastic way of getting to know people. I disagree. I think it's a fantastic way of starting a chest-beating impressiveness contest. When I'm talking to someone who genuinely wants to get to know me, I shouldn't be thinking about how much higher my score would be if I said "puma" than "platypus."

It's not that the questions are inherently bad, it's just that they're meant to lead into a conversation, not comprise one. I've seen them misused time and time again. A real conversation means you listen to the person's response and then ask them questions based on that response. Why would you be a puma? Did you have a puma growing up? What was its name? How much does puma chow cost? Instead, too many people just wait for the other person to field the question right back at them, and then that conversation is over. Some people are so accustomed to these short, ping-pong-like conversational matches that while the other person is responding to their question, they're thinking of what spiffy, random question to ask next. This puts the value on the question instead of the response, which means no actual communication is taking place.

I think ultimately the cause of this is, as mentioned earlier, our desire to be impressive to the people we're talking to (which is compounded tenfold in a dating situation). But being stuck in your own head thinking, "Hm, should I say this or this? Which would make me more attractive to my date?" is not impressive. Everyone does that. What's impressive is someone who looks at you while you're talking, doesn't interrupt, reacts to what you say, and asks you questions that bid you to continue, elaborate, explain further. Someone who makes you feel like you are fascinating without reducing you to an animal or five words that best describe you or what color your toothbrush is.

Basically, someone who is actually interested in getting to know you.

What I've been doing with my free time lately . . .

Hanging out with my favorite pirate, Guybrush Threepwood. It's been a long wait for a new Monkey Island game, but the wait's been worth it, I think, for the improvement of 3-D rendered graphics and a return to the original spunk and spirit. I'm really glad Telltale Games knows how to do a thing right.

On Weddings

And I love you
Yes I do
And if you thought
That I didn't love you
Then you'd be wrong, honey
Because . . .
I really really love you I really really love you
I really really love you I really really love you

Brent and Ryan, best love song ever

A friend of mine is getting married today, and I am so happy for her. I have seen lots of friends get married, and I think this is the happiest and least jealous I've ever felt at a friend's wedding.

I'm not sad, because even though I won't see this friend as much anymore, I feel certain she's not going to cut off all friendships with singles. When she says we'll get together sometime after the wedding, I actually believe her.

I'm not massively irritated, because she was never my roommate, so I never had to deal with having her boyfriend/fiance over all the time. (Though I've had several good engaged-roommate situations.) Also, when she and her almost-husband appeared at social functions together, they were able to talk to other people and never indulged in obnoxiously sappy/physical PDA. They were sensitive to the world existing outside their relationship.

I'm not jealous, because I really feel like she and her fiance deserve the happiness they will find in each other. I think they both have an accurate idea of the dedication involved in a successful marriage, and that they'll be great at it. Watching them gives me hope that the same will be possible for me when it's my turn.

Mostly, though, I think I've just come a long way since the first of my close friends got married. I've witnessed many engaged couples and gone to many weddings (and observed whether friendships continued or ended afterward), and I understand a lot better what the process is like and how stressful it can be for the couple. I've realized that in nursing my own wounds and petty jealousies, I haven't always been the supportive friend I could have been, even to capable brides who never seemed to need my support. I've learned that it's okay to be just perfectly happy for someone else, without a particle of selfishness interfering. Actually, it feels wonderful—liberating, even.

So congratulations, J and J, and my sincerest, best wishes to you both!

Gems from Drafts: Valentine's Day Stanza

I'm not a Catholic, St. Val,
but just this once, sir, be a pal
and send me someone kind and smart
to love me with a faithful heart.

So . . . I have a bunch of articles in drafts. Sometimes I start writing an article and get too philosophical or personal and bury myself in a hole, going nowhere, if vigorously so. The next day (or the next week . . . or the next month) I can come back and the thoughts have settled into something cogent that I pour into another article altogether. Meanwhile, the original sits in drafts, and like the packrat I am, I can't delete it. I had the same problem with scrapbooking: when I was done cutting out paper shapes and working out a page, I'd look at the scraps left behind and see graceful little curves or bold points and want to do something with them—nothing special enough for the perfect pages of a scrapbook; just a little fun. After awhile I found that playing with the scraps could be more fun than making a scrapbook.

I still see potential in small, throw-away things. I make miniature books and cootie-catchers out of post-it notes and accordions out of tape. I make little desks and chairs from candy wrappers during long meetings. And yes, if I sit at a table long enough after a meal with my plate in front of me, I'll start arranging the remnants of my food artistically. With a styrofoam cup and some aluminum foil, I can entertain the whole table (or at least earn a "quit being a goofball" swat from my brother).

In the end, I throw away most of these little garbage spectacles, but sometimes I hang onto the best ones. So I figure I'll do something in the same vein with these drafts—pick out the little gems and purge the dross. The stanza above is the best of a few lines I put together around Valentine's Day a year ago. I liked the poem I worked out later much better, but this stanza was snappy enough to keep me from deleting the draft for a year.

Stay posted for more little gems from drafts to come.