Friday Flurry #5: Knitting
Six terrific books to add to your pile, a reflection on why you're probably a disproportionate asshole in your relationships and a hopeful note on AI in a late-capitalist wasteland.
Welcome to Friday Flurry, my weekly round-up. These posts, which are a mixed bag of what I’m doing, reading and thinking about, are exclusively for paid subscribers.
Happy Friday, everyone. I’m back from a week in beautiful Rarotonga, and I’ve got to ask: why aren’t we all living in a tropical island paradise? Who convinced us that being in crowded damp cities was the smart choice? (Wellington dweller checking in) How did we get fooled into thinking meaning would be at the end of an email, rather than the edge of the horizon? Nice one, capitalism. Very clever.
I’ve really battled to get my head back in the game this week. Every half an hour I sigh and say something like “What’s the point? It doesn’t mean anything.” You can imagine how fun I’ve been to share an office with.
What I’m doing this week
Knitting.
Instead of working and writing, I’ve been distracting myself with learning to knit a jersey. I’m not very good at it yet, and the big lumps and hanging threads you can see in this picture are indicative of my skills, but it’s felt good to make something that I can touch and feel, as an antidote to a job that sometimes feels a bit made up. Recommend.
What I’m not doing
Cleaning my house
I’m in one of those ‘I can be chill about mess’ phases that is probably about to run out. I’m pretending it’s a result of my maturing approach to priorities and family time, but it’s more an exhaustion response than anything.
On Wednesday, I channeled some of this Zen Mother orientation into this text to Cam, who was away for work.
“The floor is dirty, the toilets need a scrub and the washing pile is bigger than me. The kids are noisy, they keep sniffing, and everyone forgot their everything. But there's guitars, books, craft supplies, knitting, and works of art in progress everywhere, a lovely backyard with autumn trees, a fluffy cat, and enough time to enjoy it all in between overseas adventures. How did this become the norm? What brilliance. I love you.”
Cute eh? Then, later that night, I discovered a large brown mark on my newly painted kitchen ceiling. My teenagers guiltily disclosed the explosion of an iced coffee they’d tried, unsuccessfully, to clean up. How does iced coffee get on the ceiling? The mind boggles. Anyway, they got me on the right day.
What I’m thinking about
Being a put-upon asshole
In most close relationships, I think both people feel convinced of their disproportionate forbearance. It’s like in those studies where they ask people what percentage of the housework they do, and the combined total adds up to 140%. Everyone thinks they’re doing more, and both are wrong.
This couldn’t be truer in romantic relationships where we see our own flaws as cute quirks, and the others as egregious crimes. Like, “It’s easy for you, you’ve only got me to deal with. I, on the other hand, have to put up with you! Can you even imagine?
I read once that when people start exercising in an effort to lose weight, they almost invariably overestimate how many calories they’ve burned through activity, and underestimate how many calories they’ve eaten. For some people, exercising actually leads to weight gain, because they’re hungrier, so they eat the calories they burned and then some. I reckon emotional compromise might have a similar effect.