My writers don’t even realize that they get it, and that makes me happy
- Image via Wikipedia
For those of you that haven't been following along all these years, let me restate one of my fundamental beliefs - writers shouldn't ever worry about layout. Writers are incredibly good at writing. Some writers are also really good at layout. Those two things are very, very different though. Good writing works no matter what the design is. The converse isn't true, though. Good design fails when the content isn't valuable.
My job is to make the writers more effective. When automated publication gets in the way of writing good content, I've made things worse, not better. On the other hand, when a writer has gotten to the point where she's complaining that the automated build doesn't do something she can easily do manually, and she's complaining not because she wants to do the formatting herself, but she's complaining that the build doesn't do the thing she could do, I smile.
I've gotten through to her. She gets it. Not just logically, but viscerally. She doesn't want to make the fix manually, even though it's easy for her to to do it. She wants to write and leave the layout, the publication piece, to me.
It's a good Friday.
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I’m a bit behind on this, but …
Back on my birthday, Phoebe, with, I suspect, a bit of help from her Mom, gave me this gift and even though that was last month, I still had to share it.
Happiness – it’s more than “Am I happier than I was a minute ago?” and yes, Phoebe makes me happy
Many studies show that parents are less happy then other adults without children. I've never really believed the results of those studies.
The academic side of me says,"Well, they did the research, who are you to question it?" while the realist in me tells me that I'm happier as a father then I've ever been, my brother is happier as a father, my father is happier as a father, etc.
So, why the disconnect? I think Jonah Lehrer nails it in his post, Family Life : The Frontal Cortex. He writes,
And yet, these subjective self-reports and ethnographic videotapes also miss something important. The fact of the matter is that it's much easier to quantify pleasure on a moment-by-moment basis, or document the swing of cortisol levels in saliva, that it is to quantify something as intangible as "unconditional love". Changing a diaper isn't enjoyable, and teenagers can be such a pain in the ass, but having kids can also provide a profound source of meaning. (I like the amateur marathoner metaphor: survey a marathoner in the midst of the race and they'll complain about their legs and that nipple rash and the endless route. But when the running is over they are always incredibly proud of their accomplishment. Having kids, then, is like a marathon that lasts 18 years.) The larger point, though, is that just because we can't measure something doesn't mean it isn't important, or that we should always privilege the quantifiable (pleasure, stress) over the intangible (meaning, purpose). Real life is complex stuff.
I love my daughter Phoebe. She really is the most valuable thing in my life. Living my life with her makes me happy, even though, at many moments I will report that I am unhappy. Even during those moments of unhappiness, I'm more alive then I'd have been without her.
Before Phoebe (BP), I had time to pursue my own desires. I had time to share with my wife, Betsy. I had time to do nothing. Now, finding time for Betsy is hard, finding time to pursue my own desires is harder, and time to do nothing has disappeared.
Now, life with Phoebe (WP), is harder. I have to manage every moment of my life. I am not the alpha and omega of my life. I think, though, that is what we, as humans really desire. We are a social animal. We are most satisfied, most happy, and most at peace when we are doing something that benefits ourselves but also benefits others.
That's why these studies are, in the larger scope, wrong. They measure the change in happiness, not the actual value of happiness. My moments of frustration or unhappiness with Phoebe are still more joyful then my moments of happiness when I was alone. They are more joyful then my moments with Betsy before Phoebe.
It's obvious, really, when you think about it. What's the most touching moment in a drama? It's when the protagonist's love dies. Why? Because a piece of the protagonist dies too. Our loves, our family, makes us larger than the person we would be without them.
Is my happiness lowered, for a moment, when Phoebe pours her cereal bowl all over the floor? Yes, of course it is. My life is better, though, because she's there to pour that cereal on the floor than if she wasn't there.
The studies are wrong, not in the numbers they report, but because they miss the scope of what life is about. I don't say that because I want to justify my choice of being a parent. I say that because I believe that social science is missing a key component in the study of happiness, and I hope someone will do a deeper, more thorough study of the topic.