Io9 recently had a post about birth order and how it influences your personality, taking into account children without siblings as well.  I don’t know why I have such an aversion to the term “only children.”  Maybe because “only” is one of those words like “just” as in “just adopt,” where it feels as if the term negates the noun or verb that follows.  Anyway, the post looks at our personalities through the very hazy lens of birth order.

Middle children are supposed to excel at team sports.  I not only don’t excel at team sports due to my lack of coordination and desire to exercise, but I am not a team player in any sense of the word.  I was the student who begged my teachers to allow me to work alone rather than in a group, and when I was forced to work in a group, I offered to do all the work just so I wouldn’t have to get together with the other kids in the group.  The only time I ever broke that personal rule was when I had the second highest grade in my quantum physics and relativity class in college, and we could either work alone or in pairs for the final take home exam.  I chose to work with the boy who had the top grade in the class.  And by “work together,” I really mean that we worked alone and then compared work so we could become a super-power.

But all other times, I opt for games one plays alone (Candy Crush!  Uh… solitaire) or solitary sports and activities such as running or yoga.

Middle children are supposed to be sociable.  If the above paragraph hasn’t convinced you, please recall that in six years of BlogHers, I have yet to attend a party (except for the time I promised Lori I would go inside, and I stayed for a full ten minutes).  I am not a shmoozy person.  I bring a book with me when I have to go into social situations.

I do relate well to older and younger people.  I love hanging out with children, and I used to do volunteer work at a nursing home.  I am not only completely faithful in monogamous relationships, but I am loyal to brands and businesses long after I’ve stopped benefiting from the relationship in any way.  And yeah, I am very sensitive to feeling that I don’t belong, but really, who isn’t?

The point of the post is also how difficult it is to match birth order with traits since so many elements go into influencing who we become.  But still, I love reductive lists like this and seeing where I do or don’t match up.

Check out your birth order characteristics (youngest, middle, oldest, no siblings) in the chart in the middle.  How do you measure up with the traits in your category?

King Charles in Pippin croons that “it’s smarter to be lucky than it’s lucky to be smart.”  And while that may be true for war, it is most definitely true for level 158 of Candy Crush.  Here is the thing, I don’t mind working my ass off towards a goal, knowing that all the brainpower I am putting towards solving a problem or completing a task will pay off in the end.  But I hate luck-based situations.  And level 158 of Candy Crush is a luck-based board.

It’s one of those levels that frustrate me because it feels a lot like infertility: there is nothing you can do to make those candies cascade as you need them to cascade in the same way that a person cannot make an embryo implant despite the New York Times misusing that word every time they write about IVF.  A doctor cannot implant an embryo; she can only transfer it.  Which means that treating infertility is like throwing spaghetti at the wall with the goal of making the pasta (or embryo) stick.  Sure, you can do things to up the chances that the wall will hold the pasta such as using a non-glossy paint or not washing the starch off a strand of spaghetti, in the same way that you can do things to up the chances — such as building a beautiful lining or taking PIO injections — that the embryo will burrow in and stay for nine months.  But ultimately, it’s luck, it’s chance, it’s doing the same thing over and over again until it works.

In other words, like this level of Candy Crush.

Is that, perhaps, why this game has such a hold over me?  Because my mind is so accustomed to lather, rinse, repeat?  To failing and failing and failing, but still trying again anyway?

For those who don’t play (or haven’t reached this level yet), it consists of a two-sided board.  Candy from the left side falls into the right side, and the goal is to move a single nut or cherry to the bottom of the right board.

At the bottom of the right side are two pieces of candy encased in licorice.  There are also two chocolate machines on the right side, generating chocolate with each move.  The point is to use striped candies to blow apart the chocolate and licorice on the right side of the board.  It’s not that there isn’t skill involved, but it sort of doesn’t matter how smart you are, because if you can’t make those horizontal striped pieces, you pretty much can’t win this board.

And I had a lot of rounds where I couldn’t make a horizontal striped piece at all.

As I was rounding on that point where I just wanted to give up on Candy Crush because I was no longer having fun, I had a board where I could break one of the licorice pieces in the first move.  My second move created a speckled doughnut.  My third move dropped that doughnut on the right side of the board via a cascading of candy.

And then everything fell into place, like getting asked to prom, getting a college acceptance letter, and passing your physics test… all in the same day.

In 9 moves, the board cleared with little effort and my nut dropped out the bottom while I tossed my head back in relief.  I had 11 moves leftover in which fish and striped candies ratcheted up my score.  I took a screenshot of my victory.  I’m not ashamed to admit that.  Well, yes, I am ashamed, but I’m pretending that it’s totally normal to take screenshots of my Candy Crush victories.

When Josh walked in the door, I asked him how his day was, and then volunteered that I had passed Level 158 of Candy Crush.  I reported on it as if it were my job, a fantastic break at work that will change our lives for the better rather than a random level in an iPhone game.

“What made you finally pass it?” he asked.

“It didn’t take any particular skill,” I remarked.  “It was just luck.”

“Smarter to be lucky than it’s lucky to be smart.”

There are times in your life when you want to be smart; when you want to be able to see the solution, make things happen, have the great idea.  I can’t think of anyone who has succeed in their chosen endeavour who didn’t have a type of brilliance in their back pocket.  And then, there are times when you just want to get lucky.  When you want all the elements to fall into place, ensuring success, because intelligence is little help in these situations.

Would you rather be lucky or smart (and no, you can’t pick both)?

We went this afternoon to see if it was okay for the Wolvog.  It’s a little amusing since I’ve never been a huge lover of gadgets nor Apple fan until the Wolvog started his one-sided bromance with Steve Jobs at age two.  Since then, I have not only switched to a Mac and iPhone, but I read Walter Isaacson’s biography of Steve Jobs and relayed the stories to the Wolvog.  Seeing the movie felt like a natural extension of feeding that beast.

To answer the question about whether I’d take the Wolvog, the answer is yes.  There is a scene with acid that could either get glossed over or explained.  There is cursing, but we’re fine with him hearing cursing in the context of art.  There are the crappy things he did such as deny paternity or screw his friends, but those lead to interesting discussions.  So all in all, okay-ish for the Wolvog.  Since he knows so much from Isaacson’s book, I think he’d be able to follow along for what I’d want him to get out of the film.

That said, I’m on the fence about how I felt about it; film-wise.  It’s very choppy; as in, enormous ideas are glossed over with a single line.  People appear and disappear with no explanation.  A lot of people who are in Isaacson’s book don’t appear at all, and others that you know played much larger roles in Apple are tucked behind the scenes.  In trying to cover too much, they covered nothing very deeply.  At times, I could watch Ashton Kutcher and forget it was Ashton Kutcher.  And other times, I looked at the screen and all I could think about were those creepy Nikon commercials that had him oogling women.

Maybe the problem with the film overall is that people are too complex to be contained in a biopic, Steve Jobs and this large cast of characters even moreso since trying to contain them also means trying to explain to an audience aspects of the computing and business world.  His friendships seemed excessively messy (at least as portrayed on film and in Isaacson’s book) as did his relationships.

Aaron Sorkin is making another movie about Steve Jobs that is focusing on three half hours that came before three launches; covering in real time three moments from three different periods of his life.  It doesn’t sound as if Sorkin’s script will solve one of the inherent problems with today’s film’s script, namely, that the other interesting people are shunted to the back of the story.  But maybe it will at least delve deeper into his personality.  Give us the “why” that Isaacson gave in his book.

And still, the best way to understand a person seems to be to read one of the numerous books.  We’ve already read Walter Isaacson’s biography.  The Wolvog just started iWoz and loves it.

So can I recommend the movie?  Not if you’re tight on money or time.  If you have $10 for a ticket and two free hours, then sure, go ahead and see it.  But keep low expectations.  I can’t say that this film blew my mind or made me realize something incredible or even moved me.  I left the theater feeling the same way I came in.

That said, I am taking the Wolvog since he idolizes Steve Jobs and loves the idea of spending two hours listening to anything regarding computers.  The movie opens the door to a lot of discussions: being a team player, respecting other people’s ideas, collaboration, respect.  So on that end, it’s worth another $20 to show him that world, reminding him that a lot of it is fiction.  That people have a tendency of being flattened once they hit the screen, whether that be a blog or a movie.  It’s an important thing to remember; that we can’t contain three-dimensional, complex human beings with words.  So be mindful of that as you read and watch your way through this world.

So a “meh” is our take on the film.

I may post a more in-depth review over at Geek Dad.

* Though I must admit that the iPhone revolutionized my life, and I feel like it takes such a weight off my mind in keeping me organized and on task.  Plus I like always having books with me.

I am well aware that our brain often processes things through our particular lens.

We were driving by a billboard that read something akin to this…

Oh, I thought, after all these signs advertising the hospital as a beacon for those suffering a heart attack or experiencing cancer,* I’m glad they’re also touching on pregnancy loss with this big billboard about D&Cs.  I wonder how many parents have had to have a conversation about D&Cs with their kids due to this sign.  Just as well since we had to explain what a “gentleman’s club” was to the twins a few miles back.  I wonder if it’s a problem; if local doctors are performing D&Cs in their offices and this hospital wants you to know “the D&C is in” their hospital.  The D&C is in Big Local Hospital.

“Don’t you think that’s progressive for this area?” I asked Josh as we drove past.  “The D&C is in Big Local Hospital.”

“Uh… Mel, that says ‘The Doc is in’.  It’s an ad for the local hospital stating ‘The Doc is in’.”

“Oh.  So that’s not a plus sign?”

Ooops.

* Considering it’s the only hospital for several hours, I’m not sure why they needed to advertise with that many billboards.  I mean, it’s not as if Farmer Bob is running his own cardiac clinic out of his barn.  We get it, Big Local Hospital.  You’re where we go if we’re sick.

It’s been a long time since I have been more on-the-fence about a book than I am about Gone Girl.  I want to read it and I don’t want to read it at the same time.  So hopefully people who have (or are not going to for some reason) read it can nudge me definitively to one side or the other.  If I’m going to start it, I want to grab it tomorrow.

Reasons why I don’t want to read it:

A few nights ago, Josh asked me to watch Broadchurch with him.  I knew nothing about it.  Early in the episode when the boy was missing, I knew this was something I didn’t want to see and passively mentioned that to Josh several times.  I sat through the end of the first episode even though it made me feel sick (especially when the mother ran across the sand).  Then I had terrible nightmares that night.  I often have nightmares, but these nightmares were worse than usual — more violent, more upsetting.  They stuck with me the whole next day.

I don’t know if that was because the person harmed was a child, or if I’d feel the same way if it were a husband.  I have never been one to watch CSI or any of the police shows.  Thinking about someone being murdered isn’t entertainment for me.

Gone Girl is about a woman who goes missing, so I’m scared that it will end up giving me nightmares and sticking with me in the worst way, coating my day.

Reasons why I want to read it:

Despite sounding as if I’m completely anti-suspense novels, I usually do enjoy mysteries or suspense novels the few times when I’ve read one.  I like trying to figure out what happened, and I’ve heard that the ending of this book provides an authentically surprising twist.

It also doesn’t sound realistic to our particular life.  I could imagine how the characters on Broadchurch felt — just a small town family who has lost their child — and the show focuses on their grief.  Whereas my understanding of Gone Girl is that this isn’t a murder case per se (it’s a missing persons case).  The characters sound completely alien from our lives, like reading about celebrities.  It sounds like a safer choice when talking about a suspense book.  I couldn’t, for instance, read The Lovely Bones.  But Nick and Amy don’t sound (from the description) like people we are or people we would know.  That gives me a lot of distance that allows me to enjoy the story.

It’s been on the bestseller list for so long that I feel a little strange avoiding it.  Similarly, I’d like to read JK Rowling’s Cuckoo’s Calling since I really loved the Casual Vacancy.  Though that’s another one that I worry whether I could handle though it sounds so far removed from my real world that perhaps I could read it without getting scared.

So, for those who have read Gone Girl (or for those who aren’t reading it and can explain why), could I handle this book?  Or hey, weigh in on Cuckoo’s Calling too if you can.

Crowdsourcing my reading list…