Some people are turned on by power.

Others, by money.

No matter what people tell you, there's something non-physical about their partner that turns them on.

I don't mean to undermine the importance or relevance of physical attraction. Often, it's the first thing that people notice and at times it can completely nullify your chances of seeing someone more than once.

Physical attraction is extremely important, but for me, it's not necessarily the outcome of a physical trait. There are certain personality traits about a person that can make me physically attracted to him.

Love is one of those things. With every boyfriend I've ever had, I've gotten more and more attracted to him as I fell deeper and deeper in love.

Power doesn't turn me on; neither does money, not even education necessarily. I've met some extremely well educated people who make me want to puke as soon as they utter a word.

Kindness turns me on and strong family values. I think I'm not the only woman who likes men who are kind to dogs, babies and the elderly. I am turned on by patience. By someone who's truly interested in what I think. Someone who makes me laugh and doesn't have a bitter and cynical look on life.

Yesterday I found something new.

One of my teammates and I went to a meeting with a research person who wrote an application that we're supposed to use for our client-side applications. This one hour meeting grew to four and a half hours as the guy gave us a full background on why they had built this package and how excited he was about it and some of the problems they were aware of, etc. While I could tell that my teammate was about to pass out from boredom, I was so excited that my neck pain disappeared for some time.

I discovered that geeks turn me on.

Actually, that's not entirely true. There are several kinds of geeks. One kind thinks he's better than the rest of the world and looks down at everyone who asks questions. This breed is often bitter and condescending.

The other kind, the one that excites me way more than it should, is the kind who is so thrilled by the work that he wants to share it with the whole world. He comes into your office and says, "Look what I figured out, isn't it neat?" He's not showing off, he's like a little kid who discovered a new toy. He's giddy.

Maybe that's what really turns me on. The giddiness. The intoxicating level of fascination with something that is obviously driven by large doses of passion. And that turns me on.

It's contagious.

It's not the intelligence or the technology. It's not the knowledge.

It's the child-like ability of exercising pure joy.

And this guy had it. I sat there, getting drunk by his love for it. At that moment he was much hotter than Tom Cruise. (Okay, so Tom doesn't do it for everyone. Put your own hottie here, since that's not my point anyhow.)

My list of favorite people just got incremented by one.

What turns you on?

Previously? Durable.

They say girls have a soft spot for their dads.

I'm not sure of the accuracy of that sentiment but it definitely applied to my mom.

My grandfather passed away eleven years ago. He got an extremely rare disease that practically made his bones melt. He was fine one day and gone within a week. In the week after my grandfather's passing we had many visitors but my mom was mostly in a daze.

One of her clients approached her and said, "May God never give you as much pain as you can endure."

I still remember the surprised look my mom gave the woman. She thought the client was inappropriate and uncaring.

It took us years to fully understand the depth of the woman's wisdom.

Humans are capable of handling large doses of pain. Really large doses.

I spend hours of my day worrying about the stupidest things. I worry about work and performing well. Increasing the speed of a stored procedure. Laying out a usable interface. Debugging an executable that keeps hanging.

On the weekend I worry about the day ending. Not spending enough time writing my novel. That I still suck at the saxophone and that I'm out of milk.

I really do worry about the stupidest things. I get upset and I let it get to me.

Last thanksgiving I hurt my back, without doing anything. After a month of struggling with doctors and turning suicidal thanks to steroids, I found out that I had two herniated discs on my back. I spent the last seven months making twice weekly trips to the physical therapist, taking pills that ate the lining of my stomach, and getting poked by acupuncture needles that caused my body to react in the most unusual ways. I felt like crap. I got better. And I felt like crap again.

Last night, my neck started hurting. I felt like someone was sticking a wooden pole where my skull met my neck. As Jake told me about his day, my left side slowly started to fall asleep. It was as if thousands of ants walked up and down my arm.

I took some Vioxx and went to bed. I figured I must be exaggerating or hallucinating the pain.

Well, the morning greeted me with a big smile and even more pain. Less awareness on my left side, acute pain on the arm. Three hours of begging on the phone and my doctor said I should go over there. He said back pain doesn't move up the spine and had I been to a neurologist yet?

Not what I wanted to hear.

I go to the doctor, I wait in the office, I walk in, he pokes me with paperclips. He says it looks like I might have another slipped disc, this time on my neck.

Suddenly, everything else doesn't seem so worrisome anymore.

I only hope I don't have to have as much pain as I can endure.

Previously? Museum.

Some things are best done alone.

There is a long list of actions which are more fun with a multiple people. For me, traveling, dancing, going to the movies and dining are some of those.

Then I have the ones that I often do alone but enjoy much more in couples. Like bathing and sleeping.

Finally, I have a whole set that I prefer to do alone. Reading, writing my book, and watching people make that list.

So does going to the museum.

After I left the hairdresser, I decided I had to finally see the Blake exhibit at the Met. My hairdresser is six blocks from the Met and it was a lovely day so I started strolling along Fifth Avenue. The Blake exhibit had just closed but thanks to a recent post in photographica, I knew my first stop would be the roof garden, displaying the works of Shapiro.



Up until recently I didn't know much about African art and hadn't had any exposure to it. Last fall, in my art class, our teacher talked so much about tribal arts that I became completely fascinated with these works. I love the incredible level of detail given to each piece. These works are symbolic and most were used as part of a performance. They represented so much of the culture and belief system that we can deduce a lot about their priorities through these. I can sit in the room and stare at these carvings for hours at a time.




I believe that enjoying a piece of art is an experience best lived individually. Each person gets something different from being in a museum, especially one as large as the Metropolitan. There are pieces that I just walk by and ones that make me want to sit and stare for literally hours at a time. When I'm with someone else, I feel pressure to enjoy each piece equally. I worry about my friend being bored or feeling rushed. It's one thing to visit a small showing of a few paintings, though I would still probably prefer to go to it on my own, and a completely different one to visit a large museum with some of the world's most awe-inspiring works of art.

Today I felt really glad to live in New York City. Glad that I could just walk a few blocks and take however long I wanted to look at the brushstrokes of Seurat. I didn't have to rush it into a weekend and drag my friends along.

I had the luxury of enjoying it on my own.

Previously? Movies.

This was an imaginary compilation that I was assembling in my head; all my happiest and proudest moments, cut together into a five-minute edited greatest hits of my life.

"What would you have in your lifetime highlights video, Neal?" I asked him.

He thought for a while and said nervously "Getting a B in my geography O' level."

He looked hurt when I burst out laughing.

"Oh come on..." I said, "You've got to do better than that. You can't have that on your tombstone - Here lies Neil Evans. He got a B in his geography O' level. What have you done that you really loved and will always remember? What are you really proud of?" - John O'Farrell, Walking into the Wind.

Reading the above dialogue made me think of what would be in my five-minute movie.

Happiest moments are easy: getting into Carnegie Mellon, getting my green card, most of my days with Jake, and my sister's giving birth to my twin nephews.

Most of my happiest moments revolve around school, reaching a goal I'd been striving for for a long time, and my family.

The proudest, however, are a bit more complicated. I'm proud of my family and their accomplishments, most importantly their incredible capacity for love. But this movie is supposed to be about my proud moments. So I'm not sure their achievements qualify.

My first proud moment would probably be the same as a happy one. Getting into a college in United States, especially one that has a good reputation for computer science, was a huge accomplishment for someone with my grades and it was something I'd been dreaming about since I was twelve.

During college, I've done a few things I'm proud of, but one of my most taxing moments was when a male friend of one of my residents (I was a Resident Assistant on two floors of an all-girl section of one of the dormitories) was depressed. Suicidal is probably more accurate. I didn't really know this boy all that well but he'd been on my floor before and I spent most of the evening talking to him and I stayed in that room and listened to him for hours. While I'm totally aware that it most likely has nothing to do with my actions or words, seeing that boy around a few days later and having him hug me made me feel proud of myself. That would probably make it to my video.

So would graduation. I am the first member of my family to graduate from college. My mom dropped out of high school and my dad out of college. My sister didn't even attempt at college. So graduating and getting my undergraduate and graduate degrees simultaneously was a very proud moment for my family and me.

Most recently, I am proud of the fact that I didn't let New York and the investment banking life get to me. That I had the balls to give up a lot of money and reduce my work to part-time so that I could do more volunteer work.

I have a long way to go. I want my life to be full of happy and proud moments. I want to look back and say that I had a great life and I did everything I wanted to do. I want to make sure I had the guts to live it to its fullest.

What would go on your five-minute film?

Previously? Intelligent.

It's amazing to me how many people use words without really thinking about what they're trying to say. Especially adjectives and adverbs, we're so fast to pile them up. One of the guys I work with always utters the word "interesting" which makes my skin crawl.

It's not that I don't like the word interesting, it's just that it means nothing whatsoever in the context in which he uses it. I say, "One of the reasons we want to split up these services is to ensure we can have deals where each tranche can offer a different product."

He goes, "Hmm, that's interesting."

Huh?

Recently, especially during this seemingly unending design phase, interesting has become my least favorite reply. "Strangle" isn't the right word, but it's the first word that comes to mind. (that's what I get for reading Choke in one sitting.)

I've also been thinking about the use of "intelligent" a lot lately. What do you think qualifies someone as intelligent?

Since I am a programmer and grew up with a strong math background, I've always heard people tell me that my ability to add up two numbers in my head quickly makes me intelligent. Or the fact that I scored high on the Math SATs and GMATs. I must be intelligent if I know how to code or if I did well at school. If I can speak several foreign languages. For some reason, people surrounding me have always associated intelligence with either math or sciences.

What about people who are extremely good with history or geography? Are they not intelligent?

How about artists and musicians? Poets?

People at the top of an artistic field are often referred to as geniuses. Leonardo Da Vinci was a genius. But then again, so was Albert Einstein and I don't think his artistic skills were well developed ( though I could be wrong about this as it's just a guess). So genius, I think, is used for people whom we consider at the very top of their field. Someone at an extraordinary level. Which gives me the warm fuzzies cause it doesn't seem to discriminate on topic.

Intelligence, however, doesn't work that way. At least not in my experience. You're a genetic engineer? You must be intelligent. You wrote an award-winning fiction novel. Well, you're great but not necessarily intelligent. It just doesn't seem all that fair.

I must say that I have the highest respect for people who know the words that show up in the GREs. I've been trying to memorize some of those words and my brain simply refuses to cooperate. The math and analytical sections are no problem at all but as soon as I hit the antonyms, I'm ready to give it all up. I don't need a PhD that bad. Really.

If intelligence was all about math and analysis and GREs were supposed to test your level of intelligence, why have those stupid words at all?

Now I know you're telling yourself that I have two flaws in my logic. One being that I assume the GREs are worth anything. And you're right. I don't think they are and I think that's pretty common knowledge. But I was just using it as an example and not as a basis for my argument on why non-math and science oriented topics should also be included in measuring someone's level of intelligence.

The other flaw you might want to point out is that I assumed that a strong vocabulary isn't a sign of intelligence. And that's exactly my point. What is intelligence? What makes you define someone as an intelligent person?

I guess I define it as someone with strong deduction skills, a solid and well-rounded set of knowledge and an ability to apply the knowledge to their life and work.

What do you think? Tell me.

Addendum on june 24: this article seemed to be adressing exactly the issues I was trying to raise, so I thought you might find it interesting.

Previously? Alone.

I used to be a very private person.

I always thought that my problems were my private business and that no one needed to know those things about me. My mother, on the other hand, believes on the public distribution of information. No matter what the issue was, she'd find a way to bring it up in conversation.

"I was talking to Stella today and she was talking about how she just had a breast reduction and how her doctor was so great...."

"Rita just told me about how her son had his herniation fixed. She says it's a real simple operation"

Whatever my concern might be, it just so happened that someone else would mention it to my mom that very day.

Yeah, Right.

We'd fight endlessly about how she couldn't possibly keep anything to herself. Privacy wasn't something my mom understood very clearly.

Recently I've been having a bit of a change of heart on this matter. I still believe in the importance and relevance of a right to privacy. If I want something kept a secret, my family and friends who happened, for one reason or another, to find out about it, should respect my wishes.

The part I've been rethinking is the desperate need for secrecy.

While we glorify individuality, I think we all, on some level, feel the need to be a part of something. People like to be able to relate to each other. We feel most alone when we think we're the only person who's been faced with an unfair disadvantage.

How come I'm the only person who develops cancer at the age of twenty?

Why do I have to wear braces as an adult? No one else does, I will look like a freak.

The thing is, you're not alone. You're never alone. You're not the only one who has cancer or wears braces as an adult. You're not the only one who lost a loved one or can't have a baby. You're not the only one who's been cheated on or married an already married person.

While everyone handles a situation in his or her own individual ways and there are no clear-cut solutions to a problem, sometimes all you need to know is that you're not the only one. And putting aside the emotional benefits, at times there are even practical reasons for sharing.

If you're suffering from an unusual illness, it might benefit you to share that with someone because they might know of a new cure that's being tested or a doctor whose specialty is your disease. Why not benefit from that? And you'll never know about all this information and sources around you unless you speak up.

While I still don't condone casually bringing up a subject you might be touchy about, I do think that using the people whom you trust around you and sharing isn't really a bad thing. It's surprising how much you'll find out just by saying a few words. It's amazing how many people are going through or have already gone through the very same thing.

If you knew they could help you, would you talk then? If your answer is yes, then remember that life is not an open notebook and nothing is for free. You must give some to get some.

And if your answer is no, I'd challenge you to give it a try next time. Start with just sharing it with one person. See what happens.

You might be surprised.

Previously? Not So Common.

How common is common sense?

I've always thought that the idea behind common sense is that there is a well of information out there somewhere that all humans are somehow tapped into. Or even something genetically transmitted from parents to children.

At least that's how we behave when we run into someone who we think lacks in that department. We wonder, 'where was this person raised, in outer space?'

So I've been thinking about what goes into what we consider common sense. I tried to think of examples of what I consider common sense and see how and where I learned them.

The first one that sprung to my mind was the 'make sure to be aware of your surroundings when you walk' idea. Anyone who's been raised in a city knows that it's crucial for your personal safety to know this bit of common sense. It's extremely common, however, for a small town person to not have this bit of information, which is something they quickly learn once they've been in the city for a few days and are mugged. (Okay, so I'm exaggerating a bit.) It looks like we pick up some amount of common sense from the environment in which we're raised.

On a similar topic, I've worked with a girl who never notices subtle hints. If I'm upset and ask a friend to go for a walk, she'd jump in and say "Can I come along, too?" Not that we didn't like her or enjoy her company, but she didn't seem to realize when it wasn't really appropriate for her to invite herself. I kept wondering how she'd managed to make it through her teenage years without having been totally burnt. Learning when to talk and how to act is a series of common sense tricks we pickup from our family and surroundings. These bits of information sometimes sting so hard that we never forget how we developed this piece of "common sense." (And we rarely forget the "friends" who taught us this lesson first hand.)

Another example I came up with was building common sense through education. As I learned American Sign Language, many of the signs seemed common sense to me and so I'd retain them easily. Same for Japanese grammar. Even math felt like common sense to me. It seemed the more I learned, the more stuff appeared to be common sense.

Here's what I think it all comes down to: common sense is a combination of what you learn from your environment, family, friends, books, school and all your deductions from this knowledge.

Next time you meet someone who seems to lack what you consider common sense, remember that it's not a centralized resource pool in which we can all tap.

Just like most anything else in life, it stems from personal experience.

Previously? The Itch.

Ever heard of the term "too comfortable"?

When I read Heather's Miss fiddle twiddle pick bang, it hit close to home. I'm fidgety, too, but on a much larger, non-athletic scale.

It seems I'm allergic to the steady state.

I constantly need to be planning the next step, the new challenge. As soon as I reach one goal, I start planning the next. It's like enjoying the good times never even crosses my mind. I wrack my brain, trying to come up with yet another seemingly unattainable task.

In the beginning, it was easy. I decided to come to the United States. My teacher said I couldn't, so I had the double advantage of reaching my goal and proving her wrong. Once I got to school, it was all about declaring a minor in Art, making sure I got all my credits right, getting the Resident Assistant job, becoming an editor, a sexual assault counselor, teaching computer skills, and so much more. School's an easy place to set goals.

Fall semester of my junior year, I realized I was almost ready to graduate. By the end of spring semester I'd be done with all my credits and required courses, except one. In my major, there is a class only offered in the fall semester of your senior year. So I couldn't graduate. The intelligent thing would have been for me to take it easy and enjoy my senior year like most students. But instead, I applied for a brand new master's degree and bugged the head of the college until he relented. In the next three semesters I completed my undergraduate and my masters.

Then I worried about getting a job. As a foreigner, it was crucial that a company employ me so that I could stay in the country. Once more, I had a purpose. Something to occupy my time and make sure I didn't stop worrying and get too comfortable.

Once I got the job, there was moving to New York City, furnishing my apartment, completing a bunch of projects, taking a three-month trip to London, and another for six months in Tokyo. Learning a new programming language, figuring out how to build applications the right way, learning Japanese. I spent hours sweating over my green card application. I found out all there was to know. I did it all. I got my card. During those years I also set goals outside work.

There was learning to live with Jake. Drawing in 3-D, Italian, French, Sign Language, writing a novel, yoga, and so much more. Anything not to stop.

About a year ago, I was ready for a new challenge; my job was too easy, I wasn't learning anymore. But just taking another job wasn't hard enough, I decided to push the limits again. I wanted a part time job. Only three days a week. So I started interviewing. I found a job inside the same firm. A great job. I started volunteering with the Deaf. I took eight new classes. I picked up the saxophone. Just cause I wasn't working every day didn't mean I'd lie around lazy. I did my job well, I got promoted.

And here we are. In a perfect situation. I have a great job. A relaxed summer with only three classes and I get to volunteer. My boyfriend and I are getting along incredibly well and I am head over heels in love, even after seven years.

But I'm starting to fidget once more.

It's all too good. I can't think of any goals anymore.

So now, I'm making them up. I want to get a PhD, I think. Start my own non-profit firm. Do some good for the world. I want to move to San Francisco. Make a huge change. Start over. Start different. See if I can still reach seemingly unattainable goals. See if I can keep raising the bar.

I've got the itch.

Previously? Gender Bias.

I used to be one of those girls who brag about not being friends with women.

Well, I didn't brag, really, but I would always point out that I have much closer male friends than female ones. I grew up with discouraging female friends. All the women around me were catty and self-centered and shallow. To be honest, so were the men. But as soon as I broke off from that crowd, I consistently picked men as best friends.

By high school, I had a few female friends, but with the exception of one, I had problems with all. I don't know if it's due us being the same gender and thus allowing for more comparisons, but I still thought that women were less trustworthy. A few of the women whom I considered close friends have regularly, over the years, let me down when I least expected.

I've considered women as more calculating, more out-for-herself type and backstabbing. God forbid anyone who stands in the way of a woman who's determined to reach a goal. Even if that person is her supposed best friend.

I've had close friends date my exes, bash my boyfriend to his face, talk bad things behind my back and just be outright cruel at times.

A male friend has never done any of those things to me.

My male close friends, and I've had quite a few, have mostly been less intense and generally couldn't relate to certain "female" issues I had, but overall they were more reliable, a whole lot more fun and less likely to ditch me when they found a significant other.

Today, my closest friend is Jake, but other than him, I have friends of both genders. I've realized that different genders offer different benefits and points of view to my life. Depending on what my problem is, I reach out to whomever I believe will support me and whomever will give me good insight.

I've stopped believing that it has anything to do with gender. People are just people. There are women who make crappy friends and women who make fantastic ones. A woman who might be a terrible fit for me, could easily be the best buddy of someone else. Same goes for men. I don't think only being friends with the opposite gender makes me sound cool.

At least, not anymore.

I think it makes me sound immature.

Previously? First One.

I've always been fascinated by people who claim to be the first to do something.

"Oh he is always the first to discover a new book or a trend." And for some reason people think that this is a sought-after trait.

I just fail to understand the importance of this trend. Why is it important, or desirable, that a person be the very first to read a new novel or see a current movie? What exactly does that really say about the person?

I've been racking my brain and I can't come up with a good answer. I keep thinking that ten years down the line who will still care that this person was the first to have read a certain novel if by that point we've both read it? How does it matter that you went to Denmark before I did, if we've both been there?

I see the advice-oriented benefits to having already done something. If you've already been to Denmark, you might be able to tell me where to eat or which sightseeing tours not to miss, but that's about all. Same goes for a book or a movie; you could tell me what you thought about it. Even then, it might say nothing about what I will think about it.

In many industries, especially technology, being first sometimes actually has a negative correlation with being the best. America had analog cell phones much earlier than many countries, including Turkey. But as a late-adopter Turkey was able to invest into the latest and greatest digital technology, which had been invented by the time cell phones made it to Turkey. Today, digital phones in America are much more expensive and not as reliable as their counterparts in Turkey.

Software programming is also similar. Someone who learned how to code many years ago might have been the greatest Fortran or Cobol programmer ever, but for these people making the leap to Object Oriented Programming has been much more difficult, causing them to lose their jobs to latecomers.

So being the first is not always the best and I really can't see why it's such a 'hot' trait. Why does it matter that she was the first to use the color orange? Why does it matter that he wore a turtleneck way before many others?

It all just seems so trivial to me.

But if you have any useful insight on this matter, I'd love it if you shared it.

Previously? Family Values.

I work on wall street where many people make more money in a month thanothers have in a lifetime. Some of these people pay a monthly rent that'sclose to my yearly salary.

Most of the above mentioned people, however, come in to work before dawn,some even as early at 4:30am. They stay here until 8,9, sometimes even 10 orway past midnight. (at the lower ranks of the firm there are many analyststhat simply go home to take a shower and come back, but these poor soulsearn very little for the enormous time commitment that they call a job.)These really high level managers never really get to see their children growup. How could they? They're never home.

Some of these men (as they almost always are) are more than happy to admitthat they like the money. They want the money. They want the prestige. Ihave no issues with such people.

My beef is with the other set. The ones who claim they're doing it for theirfamily. The ones who spend up to sixteen hours of their day away from thevery family for which they're trying to provide opportunities.

I don't know who they think they're fooling but it's not me and I bet nottheir family either.

I don't mean to imply that money isn't important or that it doesn't allowfor amazing opportunities. But I think our society strongly undermines theimportance of shared time.

I grew up in a pretty decent household, money-wise. My parents were kindenough to get my sister and me almost anything we asked for. We neverreally wore brand names or had cars, but we didn't ever feel deprivedeither. While I spent countless hours playing with the toys my parentsbought me, some of my fondest childhood memories are from times we spenttogether as a family.

My father would spend days planning our birthdays. He was famous in theneighborhood for throwing the best birthday parties ever. My sister'sfriends to the day tell him how awesome the parties were. My mother wouldbribe me to ditch school so we could spend the day together and go shopping(all right, that might not be a good example setting, but it was qualitytime with my mom). One of my favorite vacations ever was when I was thirteenand we went to Disney World as a family. Another one a few years ago when Imet my sister and my mom in Rome and my dad joined us after three days. Orwhen I was in London for work and my mom came to hang out with me.

None of the presents I ever got is more valuable than the memories I havewith my family. Money might be able to buy presents and toys and vacationsand exotic trips but if your children don't get to spend them with you,you've deprived them of the thing they need most.

This doesn't go just for parenting. When was the last time you called a goodfriend and asked to hang out? We take the people around us for granted waytoo often. We think they'll always be there. What if your friend who lives afew streets down, and whom you never see but you always could cause he'sright there, decides he's moving across the country?

Why wait for an occasion? Call now. It doesn't matter what you do, only thatyou do it together.

Previously? Oxymoron.

The same mentality of utter indifference to costs can be seen in a newly refurbished elementary school in the little village of Ichinosetakahashi, on the slopes of Mount Fuji. The principal's office has a gleaming new bell and loudspeaker system to broadcast messages and summon the student body from recess. But during my visit in 1998, I quickly realized that it would be simpler to yell through the window for Daiki Saito to come in.

Daiki, a seven-year-old with a mischievous sparkle in his black eyes, is the only student in the entire school.... It costs $175,000 a year to run Daiki's school....

As a Japanese taxpayer, I was appalled at this waste of money and at the resulting 65 percent marginal personal tax rates, but it was difficult to find Japanese who were equally outraged. Many Japanese seemed profoundly torn, for they worried that efficiency would come at the expense of egalitarianism and social harmony. I found this view enormously admirable and utterly impractical. When I spoke to Daiki's principal, Tomishige Yazaki, he was not in the least apologetic about the expense. "If we just pursued efficiency," he said, "the world would become a very dry place with no sensitivity." - Nicholas D Kristof in Thunder from the East

Yesterday, I was at my acupuncturist's and I mentioned to her that I was reading a book on Asia and that she might be interested in it since she's traveled to different Asian countries and her work is closely tied to Asian culture.

At the time the section I was reading gave insight into the reasons of the recent Asian crisis and I was telling her about some of the reasons when she said, "Well, maybe that's not what matters to them, Asia has some of the most developed spiritual and cultural identities in the world."

Her comments combined with the lines above made me ponder why a sensitive and caring business and a thriving and successful one has to be mutually exclusive. Is it really impossible for a company to do well without compromising the happiness of its employees?

I'm hoping the answer is No or life is really depressing for those of us who work in corporate America.

Earlier this week, Jake and I watched an episode of The Charlie Rose Show where Herb Kelleher, the CEO of Southwest Airlines was the guest. Here's a rare example of an outstanding company in almost every way. A culture that brings people together and doesn't single out company executives with special perks. A corporation that has record profits year after year. A CEO who is humble and caring. A company that recognizes major personal events in the lives of each of its employees.

And, unfortunately, as of now, a rare exception.

Herb Kelleher is retiring soon and he mentioned that he might write a book to tell the story of Southwest Airlines. I certainly hope he does.

Maybe, then, his company might move from being the exception to being the norm.

Previously? Hiding.

There are long periods in history where for some reason or another, a person has had to hide their identity. Some awful cases exist even today.

I know there are some well-known examples and others that seem to have faded, though they definitely shouldn't have. One of my core beliefs is that people should be allowed to be whatever and whomever they choose to be.

I don't understand how any one person could claim to know what the 'right' or 'acceptable' way is. And how does it really affect one person's life that the other exists. It's one thing for me to go around and try to convert people to be something else, and another for me to just be that on my own. In my opinion only the weak fear what's different. The uneducated seek comfort in being close-minded.

What I hate with even more vigor are people who discriminate just to be a part of 'the gang.' While one is stupid and ignorant, the other knows full well the atrocity of such behavior and continues to do it nonetheless.

I was thinking today that I don't spend enough time appreciating the liberty I have had. Luckily, I've never been discriminated against, at least to my knowledge. I've been classified as "you people" several times in my life and have always spoken up to let people know that just because I might be in what's labeled as a minority, it's not suddenly okay to segregate.

In the same way, I don't enjoy when the minorities themselves use this separation to their advantage. I don't like it to be "women's month" for anything. That implies that women are still a minority and need to be handled as a separate entity. I remember reading in Heather's interview at the women zinester survey that her vision for "women's web" is a place where such a term is unnecessary and thinking that I loved her answer. I don't want to read into her words or put words in her mouth but for me, the fact that someone needs to single "women" out means there still is a problem.

I'm all for people being proud of who they are. All for people with the same beliefs or issues getting together and using each other for support. But the minute these people use the segregation to their advantage, to me it's like they're supporting the ideals of the people who put them in this position in the first place.

Today, I'm feeling thankful that I live in a city where people don't judge me for my differences. I feel thankful for having had a smooth life and thankful to those who fought for me to be able to have this life. It's crucial that people fight against being forced to hide their identity.

For if we lose that, what have we left?

Previously? At the Ballet.

I've always enjoyed classical music and I love the opera. But I never really liked the ballet.

It always seemed boring to me. I do appreciate the strict regimen required to develop the level of flexibility and strength. I also love that it is a sport and an art. I'm not trying to put its value or importance down by any means.

I'm just saying that I don't enjoy it.

Let's change that to didn't.

Over ten years ago, my parents convinced me to go out on a school night (yes, I know how convoluted that sounds, but things worked slightly differently in my household.) I complained that I didn't like ballet and I had an exam the next morning, was it really a good idea for me to see this?

"Trust me," said my mom, "you'll like it."

So I went and it was one of the most amazing nights of my life.

This wasn't just any ballet, it was the Bolshoi.

I was so mesmerized by the performance that I'm sure I forgot to breathe at times.

Maybe ballet didn't have to be so boring after all.

A few years later, yet another legend visited Turkey and this time my mom didn't need to mention it twice. If Baryshnikov wanted to come to Istanbul, there wasn't a way I was missing it. I watched him from the sixth row and I didn't dare blink.

So when my friend Natalia called me to say that he was performing in Brooklyn, I leapt at the chance of being swept away in his magic once more.

Last night's performance was quite different than the one I'd seen around a decade ago. Baryshnikov and his dance group, the White Oak Dance Project, were honoring the Judson Dance Theater dancers. The performance was much more modern than I anticipated but it certainly didn't disappoint me.

On the contrary, it overwhelmed me. I watched hungrily, eating up the energy and creativity that poured out of these incredibly talented people. I envied their freedom and joy.

Most of all, I envied their boldness. These people are some of the best ballet dancers in the world, yet they don't perform Swan Lake and other classical acts. They express themselves in their own original ways. There are acts where people are simply walking from one end of the stage to another, not even using their dance skills. They're urging you to think out of the box and change your preconceived notions. Your expectations.

I have the utmost respect for them. Not only because of their talent and vigor.

But because they dare to be different.

Previously? Strangers.

"The sense of dislocation was sharpened by the presence, in the center of town, of a single major Western-style high-rise hotel, called the Jing Ling. It was anonymously grand conference-holding, revolving-bar-and-atrium-ridden modern hotel of the sort that generally I heartily dislike but suddenly it was like an oasis to us." -Douglas Adams in Last Chance to See

Your sense of foreigner and friend is heavily dependent on your environment.

Imagine you live in a small neighborhood and are close friends with Amy and Jenna. All three of you attend the same school, and such spend copious amounts of time together each day. At school, they are your closest friends.

On weekends, you generally tend to hang out with James and Katie. Well, your whole crowd consists of ten people but you're closest to those two. Katie has another close friend in the group and we'll call her Angie.

Ordinarily, you don't consider Angie a really close friend but you probably know a bit more about her than the other seven since she's friends with your close friend. If you run into her when you're with Katie, the two of you stop and chat for a few minutes. Katie might even invite her along, depending on what your plans are.

Without Katie, you probably wouldn't talk to Angie for long, you might acknowledge her with a nod and pass by. Depending on how you feel about Angie, you might not even do that (though, I must say I consider that bad manners.)

Now let's imagine you're in Japan and you don't know a soul. You're walking down the street and you run into Angie. Assuming Angie hasn't been a complete bitch to you, you're quite likely to treat her as a long-lost friend on that crowded street. Relative to the current environment, you and Angie go way back.

I'm even willing to bet that if Jenna, your friend from school, runs into Angie they will treat each other as if they're good friends. When surrounded by strangers a girl you've met once is a buddy.

In the case of Japan, a soul who speaks English or who's from America might be enough to qualify someone as a friend.

So, as in most things, friendship is relative.

Previously? Humble vs Doormat.

There's a thin line between humble and self-deprecating.

Here's a multiple choice test for you:

A friend who hasn't seen you in a while runs in to you and exclaims, "My God, you look absolutely fabulous!"

You say:

a)Oh, no, not really. I still have so much weight to lose and my roots are growing out.
b)Thank You.
c)I do, don't I?

If you picked "c", we need not be talking as your problems tend to be in the other extreme. If, on the other hand, you're a fan of option "a", I urge you to change your habits.

In the last few months I've learned that if you say something often enough, people start believing it.

There's nothing wrong with taking compliments and there's nothing wrong with feeling good about yourself. One of the guys I work with always goes around saying how his wife is so much more wonderful than he is and how lucky he is to have her. On the way to the subway, today, I was telling him how he should stop saying that.

"But, she is," came the answer.

"That's not the point. I'm sure she's wonderful and you are really lucky to have her. But there's no need to compare yourself to her. There's no need to undermine your own worth. It doesn't somehow make her more wonderful if you suck."

He nodded his head thoughtfully and said that he saw my point.

I understand that it's hard to get your mind away from such thoughts if you really don't think so well of yourself, but it really causes others to feel similarly about you.

I used to talk about how fat I was every day. At first my friends told me the usual, "Come on, you're not fat," stuff. A few months later, I remember asking a friend about a pair of pants and she crinkled her nose and said, "this makes you sort of fat in the thighs."

That's when I realized that thanks to me and my insistence, my friends has started seeing me as what I kept telling them I was.

While going around tooting your own horn is not the wisest thing in the world, neither is bashing yourself continuously.

Cause anything, when heard enough times, starts sounding believable.

Previously? Big Words.

Attitude is everything. And words can be your most powerful ammunition.

During my several counseling and teaching jobs in college, I've often been taught to be careful with my words. There is a mountain of difference between saying, "Did you understand me?" and "Was I able to explain myself clearly?"

I'm not suggesting that you be fake or hide what you actually feel, just that a small bit of paraphrasing might help you reach your goal quicker and also spare a few folks' feelings. Instead, many people choose to make completely unconstructive remarks that have the added benefit of being useless.

Here's one I read recently: "It's all crap."

Wow, thank you for that well thought out comment, fella. I know exactly what you mean.

Actually, I don't. What do you mean?

I hate it when people say it's "bad" or it "sucks." To be completely honest, I don't like it when people overuse the word "good" either. I don't want to sound like your English teacher, but those adjectives mean nothing. What if you ask me whether I like your site and I say, 'It's good."

Are you feeling good, now? Cause you shouldn't. "It's good" either means that I didn't like it and was trying to be cordial or, probably worse, I didn't even visit it. Had I been to your site, I could tell you how the tone of green you chose for your link works well with the dark blue text and that I love the font in your name. I might tell you that I think your font is too small and makes the page slightly unreadable or that there is too much text on the screen. But saying it's "good" is just a way to brush you off. It means I don't care. It means I think your site is so bad that it can't be salvaged.

Tiny little words with so much power. The response you'd get from taking a small minute to reconstruct your sentence. The effort you put into details. Why not give it a try and see if you find the responses as intoxicating as I do. There are few more wonderful things in the world than truly helping out someone else, even in the smallest way.

So maybe it's time to start using your words.

Previously? One For All.

I was raised in a very Jewish environment. I don't mean to imply that it was religious, just that my surroundings almost exclusively consisted of Jewish people. In a country where 99 percent of the population is Muslim, I imagine it's not rare for the minorities to stick together.

I also hated most anyone I grew up with. Almost all of them were snotty, air headed, superficial people. They judged you solely on looks and what brand names you wore. They backstabbed without discrimination and they were cruel.

So as soon as I was old enough, I chose my own friends, most of whom were Muslim. When hanging out with them I used to joke that since I was a Jew myself, it was acceptable for me to belittle other Jews.

There's a discussion in MetaFilter this week about Mel Brooks's comment upon accepting one of this Tony awards. The poster complains that he finds it unacceptable that people make light of such a dreadful situation as the Holocaust. One of the counterarguments posed is that since Brooks is Jewish himself, he should be allowed to make fun of it any way he pleases.

My personal opinions on the matter aside, I think saying that since Brooks is Jewish he should be able to treat Jewish subject matters however he chooses, is unacceptable. For the people who said that there are many ways to deal with an issue and this may be how Brooks chooses to do it, that's fine. I'm just against the idea that any member of a group of people should be allowed to speak on behalf of the group.

Just because Brooks is Jewish doesn't mean he's the chosen speaker for all Jews worldwide. It also doesn't mean he's not allowed to have his point of view and feelings about the matter. We're all allowed to have thoughts on anything. Even though I'm not Muslim, I might have an opinion on the misconceptions about Muslim people in Western civilizations. While it's true that I might not know what being Muslim feels like firsthand, that doesn't automatically disqualify me from being able to intelligently discuss the subject matter.

In the same token, just because I'm Jewish doesn't mean my opinion qualifies for all Jews. Some Jews might find power in looking at the humor or irony in the horror of it all, while others might abhor the idea of the word comedy and Holocaust being used in the same sentence. People will always have differing opinions and feelings about similar experiences; that's what makes the world interesting. And someone's right will often be someone else's wrong. And that's fine.

Sure Brooks can address the Holocaust in a manner he finds appropriate and so can a Swiss or a Muslim or most any other person. And there is a difference between speaking from first hand experience and just reading or interfacing with others, but it still doesn't mean that all members of a minority see eye to eye on all issues concerning that minority group.

So saying that Brooks could make fun of the Holocaust because he's Jewish seems like an invalid argument to me.

Not that the show is directly about Jews or the Holocaust anyhow.

Previously? Blissful Ignorance.

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who ignore problems and those who like to work through them.

It would be fair to say that I belong to the latter group. Until recently, I thought this was a desirable and mature characteristic.

Let's talk about the ones who believe in the bliss of ignorance. To me the idea that a problem would disappear if only it were never addressed sounded ludicrous. I kept saying "Are you telling me that if I completely ignore his picking his nose all day long, he'll actually stop?" I know many people who act as if the problems are simply not there. Some even make excuses to cover up. Anything, as long as we don't have to face the real issue.

I just think this option never gives the other person the benefit of the doubt. If a friend's behavior is upsetting me and I never tell her, she could possibly keep on doing it and I'd have no right to get more agitated, though I most likely would anyhow. Ignoring the issue only allows it to reoccur and it says to the other person that I don't think it would be worth my time to talk to her.

So it made perfect sense that if an issue arose between me and a person I cared about, I'd sit down as quickly as possible and tell the person my concerns. It also made sense to me that we would discuss the issue and our feelings about it until we came to possible resolutions and even picked one to try out.

I also used to subscribe to the 'don't go to bed angry' belief. So that mentality coupled with the previous made it dreadful when any problems occurred. Especially if the other party was one who likes to ignore the issues.

Imagine if you will, me sitting up in bed, frustrated about a problem and trying to talk it out with my boyfriend. He's tired and all he can think of is how to make this problem go away so we can sleep. So I talk and he nods. I suggest resolutions and he agrees to anything. I can tell what he's doing so I get more frustrated and now he's annoyed I won't drop it. Then I start realizing it's getting late but I can't go to bed angry, so it's even more urgent that we resolve the problem. So I push harder. I want him to cooperate. I need him to listen. He'd better believe in resolving issues and start suggesting viable resolutions or...

Well, you can imagine the rest. Not a pretty picture.

It seems there's a good time for ignoring an issue and a good time for addressing it. And nothing has to be done 'now'. If your relationship is solid, it's okay to go to bed angry and then resolve the issue in the morning when you're both calmer. It's even okay to ignore it for a while so the other person can breathe and be ready to talk. And it's also okay to ignore some things completely. Many habits come and go, instead of fighting each of them; I've learned it's best to pick your fights.

It's best to resolve the major issues, or at least really try to, and let go of the small ones. If the small problem gets bigger, you can address it then. On the other hand, if it disappears, you avoided some unnecessary talk.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not suggesting ignoring an alcohol problem or a situation where one person feels used. I'm talking about the little things, like putting the dishes next to the sink or not picking up the towels when they fall. Not everything needs a four-hour conversation, not everything needs to be fixed.

Next time you see a towel on the floor, think hard about how much time it will take for you to resolve that forever compared to the amount of time it will take you to simply pick it up.

And then pick the damn towel up.

Previously? Lead vs Follow.

When was the last time you took a look at your own life and revisited some of the choices you made?

Time passes so quickly, especially when you're busy, that many of us get caught up in the day-to-day life and never take the time to sit back and look at the big picture. We never take a breath and say "Am I in the job I've always dreamt of?" or "What kind of compromises have I made and have I made them consciously?"

Anne Tyler's new novel has a main character who wakes up one morning and realizes that her life has completely gone off track. She sits back and starts envisioning what sort of life she would have had had she not derailed back when she did.

Another recent book I read talks about how a frog will jump back out when thrown into a boiling point of water, but how if you put the frog in cold water and then heat the water slowly it will sit there forever, until he's fully cooked.

Both made me think of how we lose track of things so quickly and rarely take the time to take a peek at the big picture. This applies to most anything in our daily life: relationships, career, friendships, priorities, etc. Unless some major disaster occurs, many people live the days one day at a time and try to make it through that one day without too much grief. Once the day's over, we're all too relieved to have made it.

These books made me think and try to take a big picture look at my life. Especially since I've been thinking and planning some major changes in my life, I decided it was crucial to take a look at my life and how much of it is a result of my actively trying versus just falling into the situation. This way, as I plan the next steps of my life, I can take the effort and moment to ensure I can get back on the road or consciously make the derailed path my new choice.

It's completely fine to change your ideas, priorities and even mind. You're welcome to want to travel the world one day and get married the next. You can move from being a programmer to a musician and then go study psychology. You can date men and then women. Anything and everything is conceivable and most things are not beyond the realm of possibility in life.

Just as long as you don't let life drag you along. Take control of your life. Make it what you want it to be. Let your decisions be conscious.

Lead the Way.

"I like to listen. I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen." -Ernest Hemingway

At the end of my theories of personality class, our teacher asked the class which of the six theorists we studied, (Freud, Adler, Sullivan, Skinner, Jung, and Rogers) we would choose.

A few students raised their hands and told their preferences. Most of the choices depended on the specific problem that the student assumed to be facing. For example, if one suffers from a phobia, Skinner might be a good choice since he worked with many phobics.

I said I would have liked to go to Carl Rogers.

Not to just any Rogerian, but Rogers himself. Even though there are many aspects to Rogers' theories that I enjoy, he had a specific trait, or maybe we can say a gift, that most practicing Rogerians don't have.

He knew how to listen.

There are videotapes from sessions Carl Rogers held with a patient. In the tape one can see that to Rogers, at that moment, all that matters in the world is that very patient and the words he or she is uttering. Rogers knew how to utterly and completely listen to another human being.

How often do people do that? And I don't mean 'pay attention', I mean truly listen.

Most often as the other person talks, we're formulating our answer, thinking of something completely different like a problem at work or an important to-do, or even simply tuning out. Most of us never bother to scratch deeper than the surface of a conversation, especially if it doesn't directly involve us.

I don't mean to say we're selfish or that we don't care. I just think that most of us are usually thinking of too many things at once, so we don't really concentrate on one particular thing at a time. It's certainly possible to listen to a friend while making a grocery list in one's head. And I don't mean just nod, but listen enough to be able to recite the words back to the person. But is that really listening?

When was the last time a certain person or conversation had your full attention? And I mean 100%. Being listened to is an incredible rush. You can definitely tell when someone's listening and not just hearing. When the person is fully there with you and you're not only their number one priority but their only priority for that moment in time.

Somehow we tend to do that when we're in the process of making new friends or falling in love. Since it's a completely new environment we tend to be 'all there' and we have very few assumptions since we don't know the other party well enough to assume. So we listen. We really listen.

I decided that I want to do more listening. What I can learn from really listening to one person is exponentially more rewarding than simply hearing the words of a hundred people.

Previously? Slow.