From the very beginning, the relationship with my mother has been complicated: close, conflicted, and somewhat interdependent.

Who knows the most about me? Mom.

Who drives me the craziest? Mom. (Though Michael’s closing in at second place…)

Who’s the one who — in my mind — knows it all, yet manages to disagree with most everything I throw out there?

Yup. Mom.

Which is why I knew beyond a doubt that Deborah Tannen’s You’re Wearing That?: Understanding Mothers and Daughters in Conversation was a must-read.

For the sake of this particular post, I passed the book along to my mother after I finished with it, and then “interviewed” her for her reactions.

First off, I quoted the following line from the book to my mother:

“From the daughter’s point of view, the person you most want to think you’re perfect is the one most likely to see your faults — and tell you about them.”

This line had resonated with me as — throughout my life — my beliefs, opinions, and tastes have wildly diverged from my mother’s. No one else has been able to inspire such self-doubt.

“…if your mother does not believe in you, it’s harder to believe in yourself,” writes Tannen. How true. I ask my mother if her mom held the same power over her.

“I felt she was trying to point out something I didn’t want to face myself,” my mom said, speaking specifically about the weight problem she had had as a child.

I found this response interesting, as I had always felt that mothers the world over had a special superpower that allowed them to hone in on their daughters’ greatest secret sources of self-consciousness.

My mother went on to say that, while her mother wasn’t shy about speaking her mind, she was able avoid letting an adverse maternal opinion cause her to second-guess herself. (Obviously, she has stronger character than I do.)

Lesson Learned: Mothers really do want what’s best for their children. All of their “nagging” stems from this desire. Whether they actually know what’s best is debatable.

They’re usually right, though.

I flipped to another marked passage in the book:

“We want to be seen as individuals, not as our mothers’ representatives. But how can mothers not be concerned with what they know will be the basis for judgments made about them?”

My mother affirmed that I was, indeed, a representative of her mothering capabilities. “Sometimes, I wondered that I hadn’t done a good job, and that you were a nut case,” she admitted.

(Thanks a lot.)

When pressed for specific sources of embarrassment, she mentioned my living with Michael pre-marriage. She brought up my alternative religious path. She actually used the words “those crazy sex-things” to describe the loft and porn parties I used to attend.

She threw in some generalities, as well, such as my open-minded, liberal mindset. By the time she got to this, though, she had to admit that there were aspects to my alleged craziness that she had to respect. “You went out and did things I would never do,” she said.

Lesson Learned: No matter what choices you make as a mother, you’re child will seem like an insane person to you. This is mostly a generational thing. In the end, you both have a lot to learn from each other.

I flipped through the book some more, and we discussed a number of things, all of them enlightening, but probably too personal and me-specific to go into on this blog.

In wrapping things up, I asked my mom about her general reaction to Tannen’s book, and the major lessons she had learned in reading it. She responded that what had stood out for her was the general theme of misinterpretation between mothers and daughters.

“I think mothers are getting the raw end of the deal,” she said. I hastened to point out that mothers were nosy and neurotic, and that they often took things too personally. Eye-rolling commenced.

Lesson Learned: We will all continue to misunderstand each other. There is nothing we can do. Noooooooo!!!

But my mom said there was something we could do:

Mothers and daughters are as different as men and women. If we could remember that, perhaps we wouldn’t be so apt to fly off the handle all the damn time. When your mother/daughter reacts in a way that seems especially perplexing, dig down deep in order to figure out how your words or actions may have been perceived by the alien being. Then kiss and make up.*

*These were not my mother’s exact words. She would never use the word “damn,” and she would hate it if I used it. This is why I grew up using words such as “snot” and “booger” to insult others and express anger.

I had been reading Trish’s Dishes — Trish Ryan’s blog — for a few months before her memoir, He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not, came out. When I was picked at random to receive an advance publicity copy, I was thrilled. After all, Trish’s blog is always entertaining, and her protracted quest for a spiritual home reminded me of my own.

When I sat down with her book, though, I was still wary. My own spiritual journey had led me away from my Roman Catholic upbringing, while Trish’s had led her to salvation through Jesus. I was blown away by her memoir, however, and ended up immediately ordering two more copies to use as mom’s-day gifts for my mom and mom-in-law.

I’ll be posting an interview with Trish at a later date. For now, though, I wanted to mention one of the lessons Trish learns as she delves into Christianity…something she mentioned — and which resonated with me — at her NYC reading last week.

In speaking of the message God had for her when He first appeared in her life, Trish mentioned the lesson of not throwing pearls before swine. In short: Realize your worth, and for the love of god, act accordingly.

For Trish, this meant not giving every good-for-nothing who crossed her path a chance at mucking up her life. But the “pearls before swine” lesson can be applied to just about any aspect of life. I’ve found several areas in my own life where it took me perhaps a bit longer than it should have to learn this lesson:

Love: Trish found herself caught in an abusive marriage, which she eventually escaped from by going into hiding. I myself once allowed myself to become embroiled in such a relationship, one that was emotionally, verbally, and sexually abusive. Dealing with the aftermath of this relationship only made me stronger, but I can’t help being angry at myself for not knowing better than to let something like this happen to me. In short, if someone is not treating you the way you deserve to be treated (lovingly and fabulously), then this is not the person for you. You cannot save a person. You cannot change a person. Being in such a relationship taught me to raise my standards, considering things such as education, thoughtfulness, bad recreational habits, and more when looking for that deal-breaker.

Career: Many people look at their jobs merely as a way to pay the bills. I look to my career for something more: a means of creative and professional fulfillment, and sometimes even fun, not to mention a huge part of my self-identity. When my job was making me miserable, I owed it to myself to take the risks necessary to find career fulfillment elsewhere. Now, I struggle with actually putting a price on what my time and talents are worth. I’m still in my first year of full-time freelancing, and am just now finding out that I’ve been screwing myself over when setting my rates. It’s tough to ask for more money when you’re on a larger staff. In some ways, it’s even tougher to ask for more money when you’re your own boss. It shows a certain level of belief in yourself to ask for what you deserve.

Health: Many people lament their lack of time for things such as working out or cooking. I’m guilty of the same thing. When it comes down to it, though, it’s necessary to make yourself the higher priority. Things such as home-cooked meals and regular workout sessions need to be scheduled into your life, in much the same way you schedule in business meetings and happy hours and choir rehearsals. Such reprioritizing will only benefit you and your health in the long run. At the moment, I have dedicated myself to attending weekly hoop classes, but once a week is not enough. I also find myself living off of ramen and Pizza Hut, which is admittedly horrifying. Don’t follow my lead, for the love of god. Put your physical and mental health above all else. You deserve it.

I’ve already written about the difficulties in making a relationship last. (It’s hard.)

As mine and Michael’s one-year wedding anniversary approaches, however, it occurs to me that just making it 365 days, let alone forever, can be a long shot.

Heck, I’m surprised I made it through the first month. The months following only humbled me more.

Which brings us to Peter Scott’s There’s a Spouse In My House: A Humorous Journey Through the First Years of Marriage.

More entertaining than I had expected, Scott’s humorous “how-to” pinpoints the realities of first marriage in a way that will make you wonder if you’re being secretly videotaped.

After the jump, a number of the topics Scott touched upon, and how they scarily relate to my life with Michael:

Dealing With the Aftermath of the Wedding:

Six-month-late thank-you cards aside, Scott captures the absolute truth about all wedding vendors brilliantly: Once you’ve paid them, you will never see them again. As amazing/talented as our own wedding photographer was, we’ve only just received our wedding proofs on CD, and are still waiting on our photo album. Why is this especially infuriating? We will be celebrating our one-year anniversary in just over a month. At this point, no one (but me) remembers — or cares about — our wedding.

Adjusting To Cohabitation:

Thankfully, we got most of this out of the way in the year before our wedding, but those first six months after moving in together were a doozy. If we hadn’t already been engaged during that difficult time, it would have been sort of easy to convince myself that the entirety of our relationship was a mistake, and that I should hightail it out of there (leaving him with the mortgage payments). There are many reasons for this: Previously unrealized annoying habits, a lack of space, and an inexperience with compromise are among them. As it was, I threatened to divorce Michael many times, despite the fact that we were not yet even married.

Staying In Shape:

It is still a mystery to me why I instantly gained 30 pounds after my wedding, while Michael is now at my goal weight. The fact that our new slow cooker is still in the hall closet — in its box — may have something to do with it. That and the fact that our freezer and pantry are always well-stocked with high-sodium instant meals.

Spending Quality Time Together:

I was taken aback when I read, in Scott’s book, about couples suddenly realizing they have nothing in common, despite all the pre-wedding common interests that brought them together in the first place. So I’m not an anomaly! When we first met, the fact that we were both writers was enough to make me fall for Michael. Then I realized that there was a huge difference between copywriting and journalism. After the wedding, I also realized that Michael enjoys Jersey bars and late-night, near-deafening indie rock shows, while I prefer lit events, and being in bed by 11 p.m. This is part of the reason I started up our weekly Date Nights, where we take turns coming up with nifty date ideas. Scott also suggests some classic bonding activities, such as sleeping, eating, and running errands.

Making a Condo a Home:

Scott writes (hilariously) of accidental husband decoration, whereby a husband is given a seemingly harmless object which he then places in a place of honor in the living room, in turned destroying the careful aesthetic sensibility that the wife has created. Lordy, but I can relate. He also writes of the desire to immediate upgrade living quarters, despite financial impracticality and general non-necessity. Yes, it’s true. When I’m not ordering wall art and art glass vases, I’m daydreaming about buying a house, in which I’ll have my very own office, with hand-painted bookshelves, a sky chair, and a lock on the door.

Divvying Up Holidays Among Families:

Mothers have a way about them. A way that makes you feel as if you’re the most ungrateful, awful child to ever be expelled from their womb should you decide to spend the holidays with your in-laws. Figuring out how to split these up fairly is always (as in never) fun. Especially when most of the relatives you grew up with are dead, the rest are living across the country, and your parents will have no one else to celebrate with, making it the Most Depressing Holiday Ever (until the next holiday).

Vacationing With Your In-Laws:

God, it’s difficult enough to find the time and money with which to get way just the two of you. Does a trip to Disney World with your in-laws really count as a vacation? It’s hard to even give this one a shot when a mere evening with the in-laws exhausts you. Besides, you can barely handle a four-day vacation with your husband. (Full disclosure: I was already doing work-related research, e-mailing friends, and pining for home by the third day of my honeymoon.)

Socializing with Others:

You find his friends immature. He likes your friends, which only enrages you, because then you have to feel guilty for finding his friends immature. In addition, going to happy hour with him and his co-workers doesn’t appeal to you in the least, because he knows everyone, you know no one, and you forgot to take your Xanax. Finding good couple friends is the only solution. They’re hard to come by, though, and you should prepare yourself for the inevitability of subterfuge and eventual heartbreak that occurs when you catch your best couple friends dining at Veggie Heaven with another couple. Whores. As for the single friends you had when you were still single, forget about them. They hate you now because you won’t go bar-hopping in Hoboken with them, as bar-hopping is past your bedtime, and bar patrons disgust you.

Oh, marriage…what a lovely institution. I’m crossing my fingers that I make it through the next month. There’s a nice winery-centric weekend trip, including a B&B and a double whirlpool tub, in my future if I do.

I already raved about my enjoyment of Danny Wallace’s Yes Man, which was funny and insightful and made me giggle in public, multiple times.

What I haven’t gotten the chance to tell you yet is that, immediately after finishing Yes Man, I ordered Wallace’s first book, Join Me.

In Join Me, Wallace almost accidentally builds a cult — or, as he prefers to call it, a collective — by placing an ad asking people simply to Join Him. Before long, he has a rapidly growing yet directionless following.

In a moment in which he must choose between using his powers for good or evil, he lands on the side of the greater good, making its his group’s mission to do good deeds unto others.

And thus a movement is born, in which people who may not have have thought to do good deeds for the sake of doing good deeds are suddenly seeking them out!

It’s a great read and, frankly, inspiring.

It leads me to bemoan the lack of volunteering in my life. Aside from singing in various volunteer choirs, and participating — by the skin of my teeth — in iMentor last year, it’s been awhile since I reached the dizzying volunteer heights of my junior high and high school years. Yea, my list of extracurriculars — lovingly prepared by my mom for the sake of college applications — was rife with volunteer activities, including a stint at the town library, the Clifton Juniorettes, Safety Town, CCD, etc. Wallace’s book reassures me with the promise that weekly, and even small, good deeds can be just as worthy and rewarding as involvement in a volunteer organization. Still, if you have a tough time coming up with your own ideas, it’s worth checking out VolunteerMatch for an activity that fits your life.

Another lesson learned in the reading of Join Me was in the power of groups. Momentum. Community-building. Support.

It reminds me of the first sermon I heard at CUC, in which the good Rev extemporized about personal ministries and the importance of lending your time and effort to the greater good. At the time, I found it especially applicable to my life, because my attendance that morning was due to a personal search for community…a community that was united by its good deeds.

I am thankful for the varying communities I belong to: that at hoop class, filled with members who lead me in a sort of body-driven meditation with my hoop every week; that at CUC, which brings me ever closer to a liberal definition of faith; the blogging and publishing community, including the NY Bloggers Meetup Group, that keeps me connected with others in my field and provides me with new opportunities; the community of friends who provide me with perspective and sanity just about every day…And I miss past communities that have dissolved, such as the writing group I was once a part of, or the church choir I recently left.

There is much to be said about being a joiner. If you’re feeling a bit isolated from the world lately — and even if you’re not — consider joining a new group, and observe how it enriches your life.

My resume winds through the wilds of publishing, including entries within the newspaper world, academic book publishing, new media, and even a brief stint volunteering at a print mag startup.

Now that I’m a full-time freelancer — more than willing to take on just about anything to make some extra cash — it’s proven even tougher to pin down a professional identity.

My business card reads: “Writer/Editor”

The reality is a bit more complex. At the moment, my responsibilities include proofreading, publicity, review collation, and blogging.

So I introduce myself as a freelancer, crossing my fingers that people don’t ask “a freelance what?”

Last night, I had a business meeting to discuss publicity plans for a forthcoming trade title.

My colleague showed me his notes from a recent sales meeting, and I noticed myself listed as a publicist and self-help writer.

At which point I had an epiphany. Despite everything else that I do, I am a publicist and self-help writer. And anything else I happen to present myself as.

Which leads me to several points:

• It’s all about attitude. Just as I can or cannot pull off the gauchos+boots look depending on how I feel (sometimes I feel like a pirate), I also can or cannot pull off various professional identities depending upon the attitude I project. When introducing yourself to a possible new client — or even to a new acquaintance, to start small — look that person in the eye, offer a firm handshake, and say (nay, declare) “I am a ___,” without any disclaimers.
• You can be a specialist…with many different specialties. Just make sure that you tailor your presentation depending upon your audience. For example, my professional page once included a small section on my singing availability. I eventually cut it because the site was designed to concentrate on my writing, and I didn’t want to dilute my “brand.” I once blogged about Marci Alboher of One Person/Multiple Careers. In her book, Alboher dedicates a significant amount of space to the topic of a multi-platform presentation, discussing the pros behind having multiple resumes, multiple business cards, and even multiple websites. After all, wouldn’t you tailor a cover letter in much the same way?
• You can combine identities to become…The SuperPro!!! I combined a love of shopping with a love of writing to become a products blogger. I was then able to parlay that into another paying gig, in which I blog about blogging! Are you a booknerd with marketing skills? Perhaps you could be a bookshop event planner! (Is that my idealistic subconscious speaking?) More realistically, perhaps: Are you a copywriter with a thriving side business building web pages? Charge more by offering content development to your web clients.
• You can always reinvent yourself. Once upon a time, I was a copy editor who became an editorial assistant who became a marketing manager who became a blogger, and I have a feeling I’ll become many more things in the years to come. You should never feel trapped or pigeonholed, because it’s always possible to start over. It helps to write out your goals, and then the steps you need to take to achieve them. Seeing it in a simple to-do list format will make it that much less daunting. But don’t forget about your past lives entirely: Those varying areas of expertise provide you with a unique bag of tricks, available whenever you need it.

Onward, my little superprofessionals!

My financial problems have been up and down ever since a college-age, part-time job working retail at Wet Seal.

While prowling the racks, straightening hangers and refolding skimpy tops, I concentrated less on selling product than on what I could try on once it was time for my lunch break. Things only escalated from there, with the acquisition of my first credit card, a move to Boston that ensured me a mere five-minute walk from Newbury Street, and a retail gig at a handmade crafts store, where I came to appreciate the inherent worth in things that were more expensive because they were art (I’ve been suffering from minor product-snobbery ever since).

I had to be bailed out of insurmountable credit card debt twice and, most recently, I was forced to switch my balance to a 0%-interest credit card. I am extremely ashamed of all of this, especially as my debt no longer affects just me, but it affects my husband as well.

Your Money Or Your Life rocked my world way back in October but, despite my excitement over its content, I was left conflicted: Most of the time, shopping makes me feel sick to my stomach, and overcome with guilt. Other times, though, I can rationalize my purchases. The $300 chair is a good investment, considering my new, freelance, work-from-home life. The decor makes our condo a by-god home, erasing temporarily the fact of its impermanence. The $250 toward 20 hoop classes and a practice hoop, along with an additional $75 for a travelhoop + bag, are all good things, as hooping is my one, regular, non-work extracurricular, and my only form of exercise.

Who could possibly find fault with that?

Perhaps I’m looking for help in all the wrong places. Your Money Or Your Life was an all-or-nothing sort of book, and my most recent read — The Ultimate Cheapskate’s Road Map to True Riches — is no different. In fact, author Jeff Yeager admits to finding most of his inspiration in the former book, and the entire volume reads as a stand-up version of the very same lessons. Is there a more moderate financial self-help book I should be reading? Is my overenthusiastic idealism leading me to try things than I’m not prepared to succeed at?

Still, Yeager’s book does include some helpful tips.

Instead of keeping an itemized list of every payment and purchase, try conducting a regular “What Was I Thinking?” audit. This can easily be accomplished by printing out your monthly credit card statement, and highlighting the purchases that you’ve come to regret. A printout rife with highlights can really drive home the recklessness of your spending habits, leading you to be more careful with your spending.

Challenge yourself. Try to buy produce that is only in season. Or only purchase items that are on yourself. Or establish an under-$1-a-pound rule at the supermarket. The creativity you employ in succeeding at these self-imposed challenges may inspire you.

I think it’s about time I did a “What Was I Thinking?” audit myself. I’ve been especially challenged lately by my work with the new products blog I’m writing for, as I’m rarely satisfied with mere window shopping. Perhaps that $50 vase wasn’t entirely necessary.

I’m curious (if you’ve gotten this far): What areas of spending do you find most difficult to resist?

buzzdash poll.

Last month, I wrote about the positive effects of reveling in more childish pursuits. I had just started attending hoop class, and was hella excited about how much fun it was, how much work it was, and how awesome I was eventually going to become at it (um, the jury’s still out on that last one).

I’m still attending class weekly, and have even invested in a regular practice hoop, in addition to a travelhoop, but am eager to tell you of a new class I’ve recently started attending.

A freestyle dance exercise class, Dance Dance Party Party is sort of like indulging in that whole dancing in front of the mirror in your underwear thing. In group form. To all of the best guilty pleasure songs you could ever imagine.

Marinating in stranger-sweat aside, it was a damn good time. When they turned on the disco lights and turned off the overheads, I was relieved, because it had suddenly occurred to me that my dance-move repertoire left much to be desired. But as the 90 minutes went by, I found myself feeling freer and freer to embrace my inner spastic-so-you-think-you-can-dance wannabe.

My legs felt progressively sorer as the week goes on, but it was a good sore.

DDPP takes place in a number of major cities across the country, so you should definitely check it out. Hard-core exercise is a lot easier to take when it doesn’t feel like exercise.

I’ve been wanting to share this blog with you — Inspiration Boards — for quite some time now. The Blog Master — Lori Pickert — periodically showcases the inspiration boards of others…visual mindmaps that allow us to see these artists’ muses all laid out, often in collage form.

It made me wish for my own inspiration board, and wonder what I would place on it.

Final determination:

• quotes from my favorite writers, as their words inspire me most of all. Highly featured names would be Lorrie Moore and Barbara Kingsolver, and I would, of course, include a poem memorized since childhood: “A word is dead / when it is said / some say. / I say it just / begins to live / that day.” — Emily Dickinson
• a photo of my grandmother, along with one of me and an abusive ex. My grandmother died believing that I was going to remain with this man permanently. When I think of both her and him, I’m reminded of how far I’ve come, and of how proud she would be of me.

• photos of St. Stephen’s Cathedral, whose gothic architecture inspires my design sensibilities, especially when it comes to my most recent design obsessions.
• photos of works from my favorite designers. Especially Tord Boontje.

• words of wisdom from the Sweet Potato Queens

Your turn!

So is it even possible to keep erotic excitement alive in a long-term relationship? When the person you love is as familiar to you as that old, ratty pillow your mother sewed for you back in your toddler years, how can you possibly get excited about him or her anymore? Is this slide into affection and deeper intimacy a form of a more mature love, signaling the end of a youthful passion that was bound to end eventually?

This might be TMI, but I’ve been struggling with a low libido for the past few years.

If this is TMI, I’m giving you the chance to bow out now.

Okay, as for the rest of you…

When I hit my first sexual roadblock with my then-boyfriend/now-husband, I assumed it was the aftershocks of a past sexually abusive relationship that was holding me back.

As I attempted to read every relevant book I could get my hands on — Rekindling Desire, He Comes Next, Sexual Healing, and The Multi-Orgasmic Couple among them — as a means of curing myself, I realized that there were many more layers to my problem. (p.s. I haven’t tried conquering this with self-help books alone; open communication with my spouse in addition to talk therapy are also parts of my journey toward, um, rekindling desire.) Layers involving my depression, my constant exhaustion, my fear of commitment, etc.

Though Sexual Healing seemed to bring me closer to understanding than anything else, I had a feeling that my problem — our problem — was definitely more mental than physical. It wasn’t until I ordered myself a copy of Esther Perel’s Mating in Captivity that I finally began to feel that I was regaining something that had been lost for far too long.

Perel is a couples and family therapist who believes that it is, indeed, possible to maintain the excitement in a long-term relationship. Among the things she wrote that struck me:

• The Madonna/Whore Complex Does Exist…On Both Sides. One of Perel’s patients complains to Perel that her husband only seems to appreciate her as a housewife. “I want to be appreciated as a woman,” she says. “Not as a mother, not as a wife, not as a companion. And I want to appreciate him as a man…I want to be looked at without all the baggage.”

Her words resonate with me, and remind me of the time my husband pointed out that we had been living as friends, or mere roommates. Friends without benefits. And it’s true that, as my husband, I don’t allow myself to see him with an unbiased, hormone-crazed eye. Hell, I’m surprised that he can even be turned on by me, living in close quarters as we do, burping, stinky feet, and all. But at this point, I’m eager to see if Perel is going to provide a way to fix that.

• “Eroticism thrives on the unpredictable.” Which is why new romances are so exciting. But once people get to know each other, they tend to think that they know it all. And if one loses the ability to be surprised by their significant other, what, exactly, is there to look forward to?
• “Love is about having; desire is about wanting.” This is connected to the previous bullet point, yet also reveals another piece of the puzzle. Those in the early stages of a relationship take great care to charm and seduce. In fact, those early days are actually akin to one, long seduction. But once one feels that they have attained their prize, they stop trying. In a way, it’s no wonder I’m not turned on. I need to be convinced that I should even be turned on. If he says, “Are you gonna get with me?” (and yes, this is how he propositions me), I should reply: “Convince me that I should.”
• My fear of commitment could possibly be dulling my sex drive. It’s difficult to feel sexually free and open if you feel that you’ve personally agreed to a life term prison sentence. “Commitment means sacrificing your own goals and ambitions for something that you can’t control and that you could potentially fail at…When you let another person in, romantically, you make less room for yourself.”

Anxiety is a hell of a buzzkill and, I have to admit, marriage is never something I was completely sure about, despite loving my husband. It was difficult for me to just say “I do,” when I felt that there was so much at stake, and that our success was something I could never be entirely sure of. Even post-wedding, I have questioned my ability to succeed at this whole marriage thing. After all, I’m not afraid to spout my views on how unnatural I believe monogamy to be (but that’s another story for another day). My love of my husband, and my desire for a family, are at constant conflict with these beliefs. My libido doesn’t thrive in this type of environment.

• Just Because You’re Married (Or In a Relationship) Doesn’t Mean You’re Dead. Which means that my flirtations and mini-crushes are nothing to be afraid of. “Rather than inhibiting a couple’s sexuality,” Perel writes, “recognizing the third has a tendency to add spice, not least because it reminds us that we do not own our partners. We should not take them for granted. In uncertainty lies the seed of wanting.”

Since reading Perel’s book, I’ve been trying harder to overcome my own mental hang-ups, and to make our sex life more of a priority.

“There’s an assumption…that we need only pursue what we don’t yet possess. The trick is that in order to keep our partner erotically engaged we have to become more seductive, not less.”

When I read this one way, I think about the ways in which I wish my husband would make more of an effort to, well, woo me. When I read it another way, I think of the ways in which I need to own more responsibility for this problem as well. After all, I’ve been right all along. Our marriage is not a sure thing, and we may very well fail at it. Acknowledging that fact helps me to see the importance in placing the two of us at the top of my list of priorities.

Overcoming my fear of initiating physicality is another roadblock entirely…

(It’s no wonder I got into adult content shortly after my less-than-healthy relationship back in the day; I’ve been devouring the sexual self-help books ever since.)

Over the course of the past year, I’ve been trying to become better at saying “no.” People had been telling me that I was overwhelming and overburdening myself…taking on too much…and I couldn’t really argue. As the result of an always-hectic schedule, I was consistently tired, never worked out anymore, and had terrible eating habits. (Looking back, this is probably how I gained 30-odd pounds in the past eight months and, let me tell you, it’s harder to take off than it was to put on.)

But, very slowly, I have been learning to feel less guilty about saying no, and life has become more manageable.

But then I read Danny Wallace’s Yes Man.

So yeah. This is yet another post about yet another inspirational-type stunt-memoir.

All of a sudden, they seem to be the only thing on my to-read pile.

Anyway.

The premise of Yes Man is this: Danny Wallace vowed (hell, he even penned a manifesto) to say “yes” to absolutely everything for the course of a year.

And then, luckily for us, he wrote about it.

But I’m not writing this post merely because Yes Man was such a delightful read (which it was). Nay. Though this book made me laugh out loud like a loony tune several times, I’m writing this post because it also inspired me.

At first, we are treated to Wallace saying yes to the most inane and ridiculous things. (One particularly awesome running gag is his susceptibility to spam mail from a beleaguered sultan looking to transfer large sums of money.) But then, there are chains of yeses that visibly change him, giving him opportunities that heretofore he would never had, allowing to experience things that heretofore would never have entered his orbit.

At one point, the words of a hypnotist (who just happens to hypnotize people with the help of his dog), resonate with Wallace (and with the reader as well): “When you think about it, probably some of the best things that have ever happened to you in life happened because you said yes to something. Otherwise things just sort of stay the same.”

So…if your life will benefit both from learning to say yes, and learning to say no, how do you choose!?

I have the feeling that it’s perhaps best to learn to say no to the things you would normally say yes to due to feelings of misplaced guilt and/or obligation.

And it’s best to learn to say yes to the things you would normally say no to due to feelings of fear or laziness.

Got that?

Are there any points in your life that you can pinpoint where you directly benefited from saying a yes or a no?