I was Googling for something else and came across this very moving article about an art installation David Foster Wallace’s widow created after his death.  Karen Green made a machine that gave a person forgiveness.  The article speaks about this piece of art she made after her husband’s suicide:

For a long while after that, she says, she couldn’t make any art at all, wondered if she ever would again, but eventually, tentatively, she developed the idea for her conciliatory Heath-Robinson. “The forgiveness machine was seven-feet long,” she says, “with lots of weird plastic bits and pieces. Heavy as hell.” The idea was that you wrote down the thing that you wanted to forgive, or to be forgiven for, and a vacuum sucked your piece of paper in one end. At the other it was shredded, and hey presto.

We have machines that heat our food, wash our clothes, suck up the dirt in our carpets.  It makes sense that we’d want a forgiveness machine for those of us who find it difficult to ask or give it.

Of course, it wasn’t that easy because it made people face the big what if: what if it worked and they had to forgive someone?  What if it worked and they had to be forgiven?  How would they forge those relationships they needed to have now without another machine to do it for them?

*******

Justine had a beautiful post about forgiveness that made me think about how I approach forgiveness on the various levels in which forgiveness needs to be requested or given.  There are those who ask for forgiveness, and the ones we’re supposed to forgive even though they’re not remorseful at all.  We have the small transgressions and irreparable damage.  And then, moreover, Karen Green reminds us that we have the people to forgive who will never know of our forgiveness because they’re no longer here.  And then the forgiveness isn’t really for them, but for ourselves.

We run into the lack of remorse aspect a lot when it comes to helping the kids navigate forgiveness.  “Say you’re sorry!” we tell kids, and they do it, but we know they’re not really sorry.  They’re just sad that they got caught and are being reprimanded.

So do we accept apologies that are meaningless?  Do we ask our kids to give them?

Josh and I have a One-and-Done policy when it comes to bullying.  It’s actually not really a One-and-Done policy because we’re talking about kids, and kids say and do bonehead things.  It’s more like a Confirm-and-De-germ policy.  Once we’ve confirmed that a kid is bullying my kid (vs. two kids having a kid-like fight as all people do), we squash that virus by removing our kids from that situation, limiting contact, and telling them to treat the other person pleasantly but don’t engage.  They need to co-exist in the same world.  They don’t need to attempt to be their friend.

We know other people who have a very different policy, keeping their kids engaged even with the bullies in the hope that friendship will bloom if the kids are given enough time to work through whatever internal struggles they’re dealing with.  And that is a fair policy too; I can see the benefit of turning the other cheek.  But we don’t do this.

What I want them to do — in certain cases — is revisit.  This year, you couldn’t be friends.  Maybe next year, you’ll discover you had more in common than you thought.  And in other cases, we’ve encouraged them to keep a far distance forever.  How do we help them determine which people are worthy of forgiving and attempting to friend again, and which ones are worthy of moving away from forever?  Call it intuition.

Because while I think forgiveness is nice, I think there is something very healthy about taking a stand on how you’re willing to be treated.  To ending a relationship and saying, “no, thanks.”  To not continuing to try to work it out when it’s clear that you’re not going to be able to overcome differences.  You don’t need to wish the person ill or sit stewing in your anger forever, but you also don’t really need to forgive terrible behaviour.  And that goes for work relationships and romantic relationships and even friendship and familial relationships.  It is a very powerful thing to know what you’re willing to accept and put your foot down accordingly.  And no, you don’t really need to give forgiveness in order to draw those boundaries and move safely within them.  If you wish to give forgiveness, great.  But I do think it’s possible for some people to disengage and stand their ground without giving forgiveness too.

I’m basing this on the definition of forgiveness as provided by Wikipedia: “Forgiveness is the renunciation or cessation of resentment, indignation or anger as a result of a perceived offense, disagreement, or mistake, or ceasing to demand punishment or restitution.”  It is wonderful that there are people on earth who can let go of their anger and resentment, but I don’t think that it’s an admirable quality whereas those who can’t have some foible.  I think they’re just two very different but equally good personalities: those who cease to demand restitution and those who continue to hold those accountable for their actions.

I think the danger comes when we ask people to be something they’re not.  When they’re naturally a forgiver, and we ask them to continue to be riled up and hold onto their anger.  Or when they’re naturally someone who is fueled to use their experiences to create change.

We have a word in English — unforgivable — and as long as we don’t apply it lightly, I see no reason why we shouldn’t use it along with the other millions of English words.  Some things are simply unforgivable, and what those things are differ from person to person.

*******

David Foster Wallace’s death irreparably changed Karen Green’s life, just as all suicides do.  Just as all deaths do.  Who does she even forgive in that case?  Her husband?  Herself?  The doctor?  The brain?  The medicine makers?  The medical system?  His ancestry that led to his brain chemistry?  And is forgiveness even the correct word because I don’t think anyone who has ever been touched by suicide thinks about it in terms of punishment or restitution, at least not directed at the person themselves.  How can we punish the dead?  How can we demand restitution from them for the new lives they’ve created for us?

What I got from the article is that humans like neat endings.  Humans like understanding; to creating meaning where there is no meaning.  And forgiveness is one of those things that we yearn for, think we should do, even when we also know that there are rarely neat endings and plenty of moments in life devoid of meaning.  So why should we ever have the hubris to think that forgiving is always a possibility?  That forgiveness is something we need to give in order to continue living well?  Even while at the same time, we ask for it: forgive us, please.

Updated at the Bottom

Now that we’ve established whether we’re bath-takers or shower-ers, I’d like to discuss the order of things which applies whether you’re soaking in a tub or standing in a spray of water.  I don’t literally want the order of things, especially if it’s going to turn into one of those uncomfortable moments like that Friends episode with this exchange:

Joey: Hey, why can’t we use the same toothbrush, but we can use the same soap?
Chandler: Because soap is soap. It’s self-cleaning.
Joey: All right, well next time you take a shower, think about the last thing I wash and the first thing you wash.

I guess I am really wondering whether you have an order to things, or whether you soap yourself willy-nilly.  I have to keep the same shower routine every single day, down to washing body parts in the same order.  If I go out of order, I feel off the rest of the day.  I have to kick off the shower by washing my face before I wash my hair.  My right leg is washed before my left leg; my left arm washed before my right one.  See, there is a deep, unchanging order to my shower, and if I alter anything, I feel out of sorts for hours.

So do you keep to the same order when you bathe or shower?  Or do you wash yourself willy-nilly?

Update:

I’m sort of amazed by two things: (1) how many people go from top to bottom.  I go in a very set order, but that order jumps around my body.  (2) How many people shave daily.  I’m willing to bet that if I did this, it wouldn’t feel like such an arduous task.  But it literally never occurred to me to shave my legs daily until now.

It pops up in the strangest of places, when you least expect it.  Not like a spider dropping down from the ceiling, but more like seeing an old school mate in a random place, someone you remember hating in math class, but by now, the feelings have muted.

I was in the DMV waiting for my number to be called so I could renew my driver’s license.  Jon Ronson’s Lost at Sea was open on my lap.  I turned the page, and there it was on page 47:

As Nicky says these things, I think about how my wife and I were told we couldn’t have a baby.  We went through fertility treatments for four years.  Every month was like a funeral without a corpse.

And just like that, Infertility mentally sits down in the chair next to me at the DMV.  Even though I really hated her guts in math class, I can’t help but ask her how she’s been; to engage her even though I know deep down she’ll never change.

Do you find mentions of infertility pop up in unexpected places?  Where was it?

Josh really wanted to join 2013 and get a DVR.  We… uh… still have a VHS.  When a deal came up through our television provider, he asked if we could take one home, much in the same way little boys ask for puppies.  So we got a DVR.  And he set it up.  And then I stopped sleeping.

You may think that I stopped sleeping because we suddenly had all of these amazing shows to watch.  No, that wouldn’t be the case.  The first night after he set up the DVR, it took me about two hours to fall asleep.  This isn’t that unusual, and I blamed it on Candy Crush (shouldn’t we blame everything on Candy Crush?) getting me frazzled before bed with level 34.

The next night, I was sleep deprived, so it shouldn’t have taken me long to fall asleep.  But it did — an hour — and then I couldn’t stay asleep.  I woke up three or four times.

The next night, I was ill and sleep deprived, so sleep should have come pretty much immediately.  But again, long time falling asleep and then I couldn’t stay asleep.

Finally, on Wednesday night, I was still awake at 4 am.  I hadn’t been able to fall asleep yet.  I woke up Josh, close to tears, and asked him to do something about the awful DVR which was casting this bizarre glow over the room.  The light from the number display had been keeping me awake for days.  So he threw a towel over it for the time being and fiddled with the brightness setting.

The glow from all of these devices is killing me.

*******

And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week.  In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “What Do Teens and Elderly Women Have in Common Beyond Commentary about their Uteruses?” (Stirrup Queens)
• “Conflict Online” (Lavender Luz)
• “Dear-Me-from-999-Posts-Ago” (Stumbling Gracefully)
• “The Reality of Breastfeeding” (PAIL Bloggers)
• “Not Riding the Roller Coaster” (Stirrup Queens)
• “Dealing with the Naysayers” (Too Many Fish to Fry)
• “On Defining Myself” (Sprout)
• “Mother” (Baby Smiling in Back Seat)
• “Our No Kidding Lives” (No Kidding in NZ)
• “Deep” (Cullen’s Blessings)

Okay, now my choices this week.

Notes from the Ninth Circle has a post about a viral Huffington Post piece that mentions that the author is parenting after infertility.  In fact, he even links to a post about infertility in the original version on his site.  But when the post was reprinted on the Huffington Post site, that link got stripped.  It’s the frustration that this big part of the story is being left out.

Serenity in Chaos has a very powerful post about how her infertility experience inadvertently affected a friend who came after her.  She writes: “Unfortunately she experienced a miscarriage and because I had sort of “silenced” them through my experience to say nothing more than those words above, my friend got quite angry at the lack of support at that time. She told me afterwards that she felt robbed of the sympathy.”  The post highlights the unique way we deal with (and seek comfort) when facing infertility.

Lastly, Something Out of Nothing has a post about encountering an infertile woman in literature: “It once again left me wondering, where is the real story, our story, in popular media?  We are the strong, brave women, who live every day outside the bounds of what is considered “typical” to pursue our dreams of a family.  Aside from our blogs, which seem to be read mostly by people in similar situations, who is writing (and reading) our stories?”  It also has a cool side story about two sensory activities.

The roundup to the Roundup: The glow of electronics is keeping me awake.  And lots of great posts to read.  So what did you find this week?  Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between May 31th and June 7th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week?  Read the original open thread post here.

Today is my last day playing Candy Crush*. Which is sad because mentally checking out to exploding candy was something I looked forward to at the end of the day. That is, until I ran out of lives and had to impatiently wait 30 minutes for new ones to regenerate. But still, the song, the popping jelly, the cascading candy: it was like bubble wrap, satisfying some strange part of my brain. And then I passed level 35, and Candy Crush told me I either needed to pay up or connect to Facebook. Which is totally fair on their end — I’m not owed a free game even if they bill themselves as such by putting things on their FAQ pointing out how you don’t need to connect to Facebook or pay.  Technically, though, you either have to connect to Facebook or pay… just not both.  See, they were being truthful all along if you read their hidden message between the claims.

screenshot of candy crush

In fact, if you write King.com to ask about statements in their FAQ such as “You can play the full game without ever connecting to Facebook,” they send you a nice automated message that reads:

The mobile version of Candy Crush Saga features 305 levels. Every 15 levels (starting with level 35), you have to unlock a new episode to continue playing. This can be done by either asking 3 friends for help when connecting with Facebook or by paying for the ticket.

So goodbye Candy Crush.  It was really nice knowing you.

But wait, you say, how could I walk away from a game that brings me such joy?  Why wouldn’t I just connect it to Facebook like everyone else and keep playing?

When you give any app access to your Facebook account, developers can collect information on you. On one hand, who cares? And on the other… well, I do care, and I can explain why in a moment.  Facebook states:

When you install an app, you give it permission to access your public profile, which includes your name, profile pictures, username, user ID (account number), networks and any info you choose to make publicly available. You also give the app other info to personalize your experience, including your friends list, gender, age range and locale.

That’s a lot of information I’m handing over to a stranger.  I’m well aware that King.com doesn’t want it for nefarious purposes.  I’m not scared that I’ll wake up and that strange Candy Crush man will be standing over my bed to smash me with an enormous pink lollipop.  But I am annoyed by the fact that without being upfront in the first place, King.com is now asking me to trust them with information they want to use to market to me.  The fact is, they lost my trust when they weren’t transparent, and beyond that, I’m tired of being bombarded with marketing messages.  I feel like the world has become one huge advertisement.

They may not be asking me for money (well, yes, they are), but there is most definitely a price to pay for playing Candy Crush.  And that price is my personal information, as well as using my account to advertise the game to my friends.

I know I sound like a crotchety old woman (mostly because I am a crotchety old woman), but look at how we contradict ourselves in our daily life.  We DVR programs so we can cleverly speed through the commercials, and then we hand over access to our Facebook account information with all of our likes and locations so we can have developers market to us in order to play a game.  Would I ever walk into a room full of advertising executives and dole out my name, picture, and list of my friends to them, sweetly asking them to bombard me with more marketing messages? Of course not. But for the price of a game, that’s exactly what I’m doing.

I feel like I’m fighting this constant battle with misappropriated marketing that comes out of snatching keywords or random facts such as my age, and then applying it to trends so I end up with what other people might like but I almost never do.  This is different from a store or site trying to sell me something I’ve clearly expressed interest in.  For instance, I don’t mind when Amazon sends me a note to let me know about a new book that is similar to one I already read — that type of marketing is creepy but ultimately helpful, and very similar to what Sean at my brick-and-mortar bookstore does when I walk inside and he tells me about a new release he thinks I may enjoy.

But the vast majority of marketing that reaches me is based on guesswork.  80% of women over the age of 35 enjoy potato chips**, so we will shunt ads towards Melissa for Pringles.  Nevermind that I don’t like potato chips.  It doesn’t matter if they waste a few ads on people like me when they hit so many correctly simply due to trends in demographics.

See, but I do mind because what happens is that because I discuss infertility and by default babies, I get bombarded with ads for pregnancy apps and baby items BECAUSE MARKETERS DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH INFERTILITY. My G-d, I have to shriek that because I get no fewer than 100 emails per day asking me to hawk various pregnancy-related items; that’s the category marketers have placed me in.  The “R” in public relations is being dropped on the Internet in order to cast a larger net.  Who cares, the public relations person thinks, if I hit a few wrong people in the process since I may also hit a few extra “right” people, all in a small amount of time.  As the person on the other end of that equation, who has to deal with an inbox of pregnancy-related emails while she can’t get pregnant, it’s incredibly hurtful.

Calming myself down.

So why not just shell out the money?  I would, if I knew what I was paying for.  For instance, I buy a lot of games from ThinkFun such as Chocolate Fix (uh, that is the ULTIMATE candy crush) or RushHour.  I pay a set amount, I know exactly what I’m getting, and nothing more is asked of me after the initial purchase.  With Candy Crush, I am being asked to pay and not being told how much I’ll receive for those 99 cents.  Another two hours of play?  One level?  Who the hell knows.  And that’s a system I can’t buy into.  If you want my money, be upfront and transparent.  Then I’ll gladly pay for game apps.

I am really tired of the bait and switch.  Be transparent and you’ll have my heart — and money — forever.  Be sneaky and you incur my wrath.

* Oh my G-d, who am I kidding?  I’m going to go put enormously wrong information in my Facebook profile and then connect it to Facebook so I can keep smashing candies but they will believe this game is being played by an 80-something male living in Kansas who loves Walmart, Hidden Valley Ranch salad dressing, and Sketchers.

** That may or may not be correct.