My life in print

I have always had the very bad habit of taking both fiction and non-fiction much too literally. When I stumble across a book that I find entertaining or enlightening, I try to find as many parallels as possible in my own life and, when that fails, I turn to analyzing other people's lives. Granted, I assume most people have a little bit of this tendency in them but I tend to take it to extremes which normally ends up annoying the living crap out of my nearest and dearest.I come by it naturally enough, however, as I was raised by a mother who is pretty much a frustrated sociologist/anthropologist. She actually went to school for that stuff and ended up deciding that real estate was a much better use of her creative energy...and paid more. Nevertheless, she is prone to deep thought and analysis and occasionally falls victim to trying to see the world through the theories and ideas of other people's writing, both fiction and non-fiction.This played itself out, when I was a kid at least, to sometimes coming home from school to realize that someone had stolen my mother and given me Margaret Mead instead. Or Ayn Rand. Or Carl Jung (I liked that phase as I was allowed to be as selfish as hell for one entire week). Or, in the later years, I was raised by Wayne Dyer, Deepak Chopra, and Marianne Williamson. Those were the "self-help" years and not only did I enjoy them immensely as well--my mother was much more tolerant when she was considering people's souls in addition to their actions-- I also very quickly latched onto many of these writers myself, and started analyzing everyone around me.For example, when I first read "The Celestine Prophesy," I spent an entire two months asking people about their "shadow selves." I needed to know, precisely, if they were prone to interrogating people, being aggressive, being victims, or being elusive. My mother and I happened to be reading the book at the same time so after we fully analyzed each other, we turned to analyzing everyone else in our family, normally while they were present. Let's just say things were tense around the holiday table that year at Christmas...People who are close to me know that I have this habit and they tend to deal with it in a tight-lipped but good-natured way, sort of like your neighbor's annoying cat that you really want to brush off your lap but put up with because she finds the damn thing so endearing. I have also learned to not be as obvious when I am turning my life or someone else's into an analytical exercise, as I have realized some people (read: MEN) really do not take well to these little forays of mine.However, despite my most valiant efforts at policing myself, I do tend to get carried away sometimes. Then, and only then, is one person completely effective in shutting me up: my mother.A few years ago, after I read "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert, I was convinced that she had come in the night and stolen my life narrative from my sleeping brain and wrote a book on it. I annoyed the hell out of most of my close friends by pushing the book on them and then, harassing them to read at the speed of light ("What do you mean you're only on Chapter six, haven't you had the damn thing for a full two hours now?!!"), sitting back and waiting for them to reach the same inevitable conclusion that I had: that was MY LIFE.Of course, most people did not come to that conclusion at all so I ended up having to bait them. It went like this..."Who does that remind you of, just who?" I'd prompt.Usually they'd catch on around the time I started vigorously pointing at myself while hopping up and down."Oh, yeah...well, I guess I do see some parallels, maybe..." would be the crushing reply.Forcing people to read books so that they can tell you that they reminded them of you is obnoxious enough, but it also has some unexpected fallout that I don't always anticipate.My ex-boyfriend, for example, whom I am still friends with, called me after I had forced the book on him and said,"Wow...did you really think that I was that much of an asshole? Did I really force you into doing all that travel because you hated me so much?" he asked, deeply wounded.Oops. I hadn't even considered that other people may be drawing unintended parallels to themselves vis-a-vis MY life.I needed an intervention quickly...before I alienated every friend and family member I had....Luckily, Dr. Phil was in the house (aka: My Mother)."Patti, I just got off the phone with your brother and he tells me that you are doing that Elizabeth Gilbert shit again and you're trying to force him to read chick lit...is this true?" she demanded.Uh-oh."Well, maybe...but don't you think that is my life exactly?" I tried, having forced her to read it a long time beforehand."Let's see, when were you married? I don't think I've missed many milestones in your life and I am pretty certain I haven't seen that one," she said.Well...OK, one little thing but..."Oh, and when did you work as an writer for a large magazine in New York and own two homes?" she continued.Details, details...I had to admit, though, she did have a few valid points."But, as far as I can tell, you do have several things in common with Elizabeth Gilbert," she said.I waited for the validation with bated breath."First, you both have traveled quite extensively, this is true. Second, you are also a thoughtful and creative writer...." she said.I was grinning like the cat who ate the canary by that point..."But the most obvious parallel that I see is that both of you seem predisposed to some intense navel gazing that, while momentarily entertaining, will likely require a prescription medicine at some point in your near future for either yourself or your friends and family in order to make you in the least bit bearable again..." she finished up.I was crushed but, being that it came from her, I had to just accept that I was being utterly ridiculous AND obnoxious and get off of it.Unfortunately, I have stumbled across another book, similar in some ways to "Eat, Pray, Love," called "The Happiness Project," which has me back to my old ways again. This time the author and I share little in common so I don't see versions of myself in the text....which is fortunate for those around me. However, I do see many similarities in the author's relationship with her husband which is indeed unfortunate for one specific person: my boyfriend Chas.Chas, thankfully, has never displayed any signs of fright when he sees certain titles cluttering our coffee table. He rarely comments on the fact that I read an inordinate amount of literature that could be classified as "self-help" or "spiritual." Nor does he comment that perhaps it is a bit odd that these titles are often side-by-side with Stephen King novels.The only time in the entire history of our relationship that he decided to make a query about my reading selection was when I started reading the "Conversations with God" series. And the only reason he decided to comment was because he had been personally traumatized by an ex-girlfriend who began "dabbling" in being a Jehovah's Witness and ended up following the road all the way down to Tom Cruise-ville."Um, are you getting into religion these days?" he asked "Not that I care, of course, I just thought I'd ask because I thought you were, well, not really that into organized religion..." he stumbled while trying to be off-handed.I looked up to see the terror barely cloaked in his eyes and then carefully assured him that I was not going to become a born-again Christian anytime soon and start delivering sermons from a homemade pulpit in our bedroom. I was just curious and had always wanted to read a book that everyone either loved or fervently hated and see what it was about."There's nothing in there about pre-marital sex, cursing, drinking and eating certain things being evil is there?" he clarified."Absolutely not," I assured him.He looked visibly relieved.Another positive about Chas is that he is one of the males in my life who doesn't really seem to mind being analyzed and compared to characters in my books. Actually, I think he sort of likes it...as long as don't do it in front of other males and make it mostly positive.There are two reasons for this:1. Chas is also an armchair sociologist and anthropologist.2. Chas is a Leo and Leos love nothing more than to be given an opportunity to talk about themselves. (No, not obnoxiously, but they do crave a very high level of personal attention).In this book, "The Happiness Project," the author tries to find more ways to improve the happiness quotient in her life, a goal I can firmly get behind. She also decides to improve the quality of her relationship with her husband to make it more happy, another lofty goal I support thoroughly. Of course, the first place she starts, in order to set a baseline, is in a thorough analysis of the current state of their relationship.It being winter and with football season nearly over, I have decided that this will be a fabulous activity for me and Chas to engage in for a few weeks.The only thing is, I haven't told him about it yet.I have begun laying the groundwork, however.Today, while talking on the phone, I began to describe a former colleague who, although I liked him very much, tried to take over everything. Never happy simply being part of the team, this person insisted that he run the show. The WHOLE show. This would lead to terrible squabbles at the office and a huge amount of hurt feelings and hostilities. The sad thing was that this particular individual wasn't trying to do it to offend anyone, he just couldn't help himself, it was his nature.After a few moments of listening to my story, Chas said:"You know what? I am kind of like that, I think.""Oh?" I said, innocently."Yes, I tend to try to take things over like that. I am not trying to hurt anyone's feelings, I just naturally tend to want to lead...I feel comfortable being in charge and organizing things...and people," he revealed.Then, "Hey, you're kind of like that too!" he said.Breakthrough."No," I clarified, "I don't want to lead everything, I want to be a part of everything. I want to be part of every team, every committee, and every decision. I hate feeling left out of anything and not having a voice in something, particularly if it concerns my interests. This leads me to overwork, overplay, and exhaust myself and not give anyone or anything the level of attention that might be needed at one given time," I said."Yes, that IS you!" Chas said. "And you also hate taking orders. So while you may not want to be the boss, you make it pretty clear that you don't want any boss."Yep.And then, in the shining moment of illumination, Chas said:"And this is why we make an excellent team when we're on the same page but also why our fights can be so brutal...we have fundamentally different interpretations of....what's the word I am going for here?""Hierarchy and power-sharing," I said. "You need to be the boss and I refuse to be ruled.""Exactly," he said.Mind you, we had discovered this, although we hadn't yet put clear language to it, about nine months ago. We have managed to compromise on many areas, but all of our problems basically relate back to that fundamental difference in our personalities...I won't let Chas be the boss as much as he wants to be and my somewhat scattered, chaotic style of engagement drives him bat shit.He and I are also both intimidators/interrogators, those are our "shadow selves." Both of us tend to share the idea that enough bluster and invasive questioning will eventually produce the desired result in the other person.This assumption, of course, always backfires."So what do we do to make sure that we don't end up pissing each other off inadvertently most of the time?" he asked.In my head, I silently entertained the reply "Simple, you just accept me exactly as I am and never try to change me."But....this being a happiness project and not a happiness edict, I said:"I think we just keep trying to understand that we have very different approaches to leadership and decision-making and we learn to compromise more," I said."And you stop nagging me to brush my teeth every night and make sure I have taken my contact lenses out?" he threw in.Slightly hurt, because I have always perceived this as a measure of love and not, as he perceived it, demeaning and annoying, I agreed.I have yet to tell Chas that I am only on Chapter 2 of the book and that other chapters deal with such wonderfully charged emotional topics as money, leisure, and house cleaning. I think it'll be fine, though, we rarely have disagreements on those issues...mostly because those are areas where I am happy to let Chas lead.In the meantime, I just finished reading "Infidel," the story of a Somali woman who flees war and poverty to become a Dutch politician and one of the most influential thinkers on women and Islam of our time.At a few junctures I thought, "Yes! I would have thought that way too! I once said/did that sort of thing too!"But this time I'm keeping my mouth shut as no one, not even my mother, is ever going to buy my sudden incarnation as an African refugee with aspirations to be a Parliamentarian.That, I will freely admit, is even a stretch for yours truly.Although, now that I think about it, I can see some parallels....