The Insufferable Know-It-All

I got a new job yesterday!!!  I'm going to be a full-time fabricator for Blue Genie Art Industries, which (for those of you who don't have art degrees and/or aren't trying to impress everybody with your new job title) basically translates into being a commercial artist.  I'm beyond excited about it because I get to work with some insanely talented people working on major projects for clients all over Austin and even across the country as a whole.  A month ago, I didn't even know this place existed and even when I found out about it, I couldn't have imagined I'd get to work there.  It would be like a kid going to Disneyland for the first time, not only to find out that it's all real, but to then end up as a part of his own Disney movie.

Not being one to just sit and enjoy himself for more than five minutes, though, some immediate worries come to mind.  First, the practical stuff.  It's an entry-level position with an entry-level wage and I'm going to have to figure out how to come up with the difference between my paycheck and my living expenses.  Second, there's all the insecurities.  What if they don't like me after my first day/week/month on the job?  What if they think my ideas are stupid?  What if I screw something up?  What if it turns out that they're not really the high-octane, incandescent art machine that I thought they were?  What if they are, but I'm not?  I could go on, but I need to stop before I work myself into a frenzy.

But more than any of these, I'm worried that I'm going to become an insufferable know-it-all and all of my friends are going to hate me.  I wasted a lot of time in my life before I got off my butt and got down to business and I've spent the last year sloughing through the trenches, looking for a job I really wanted and trying not to get too comfortable with "just getting by."  Now that I found something I'm really passionate about, I'm afraid that I'll turn into this sickeningly positive jerk-hole who can't stop talking about his new, amazing job and how everyone can live their dreams if they just keep working hard and don't give up.

I know what it's like to be on the side of the fence that gets beaten down every day by their circumstances for so long that you feel like you can't do anything else but accept your fate and try to make the best of it.  I know how annoying it is to listen to someone who's never been in your shoes tell you that you can do better and all you have to do is get over yourself and have a better attitude if you want to love your life.  In short, I don't wanna have my head in the clouds.  But I don't wanna be a cynic, either.

I spent fifteen minutes talking to the boss-man/interviewer before he offered me this job, but I spent the last five years leading up to that moment defining myself as a person and deciding what kind of life I wanted to have.  I've overcome a torrent of bad decision-making, personal failure, addiction, loss, hardship, betrayal and over-all crap luck to get where I am, and I worked damned hard to do it.  I had to learn how to face up to things I didn't wanna do and be self-motivated when all I wanted was go back to bed and show up for the beating and take my licks with a sense of humor and gratitude.  I had to learn how to keep going and keep pushing forward, beyond what I ever thought I could handle, even when there was no reward or immediate relief in sight.  I've earned the right to be proud of where I am and what I've accomplished and I really do believe that, if it's possible for me to overcome all the junk in my life, anybody can do it.

Maybe I need to stop worrying and just enjoy where I'm at for a while.  Maybe one day I'll be able to play the "inspiration of hope for others" card without feeling a nagging sense of guilt and unworthiness in doing so.  Heck, maybe I need to read up on how they treat people with Stockholm syndrome.  But for now, I have a job I love that I've had to wade through swollen rivers of crap to get, and I actually look forward to going to work on Monday.  I feel good about that.  And I guess that's all that matters.

Hindsight

For the few die-hards out there who have read every post since the beginning, you know that a good portion of my 'blog has been mostly consumed by a very processing-out-loud brand of content.  I've decided to stop fuss-budgeting about whether or not this is a good thing and just accept it for what it is: an honest attempt to pour myself and my talents into something meaningful to share with others.  After getting an e-mail from Jon Acuff last week, though, I've been thinking a lot about why I have a 'blog at all and how to do it better.  I started re-reading some of my old stuff and decided to compile a quick list of things I feel like I've learned about myself along the way.

1. Talk It Out

When I first started my 'blog, a lot of the content was narcissistic and whiney.  (Truth be told, it probably still is.)  I tended to use it more like a public journal rather than trying to relate to other people at all.  Without really intending to, I feel like I've shifted away from that a bit, and I think it's largely due to my involvement in Celebrate Recovery.  Just having people in my life that I can open up to and be honest with has enabled me to off-load a lot of the burdens that I used to air out here.  It's not to say that I've stopped 'blogging about things that affect me altogether or that I think I should just keep all of my business to myself, but once I started intentionally building relationships with other people in my life and opening up to them, I stopped looking to the act of 'blogging in itself to fix or change things.

2. Keep It Moving

There are a number of posts in my 'blog that are (because of all the whiney narcissism) boring.  When I read back over them and identify with where I was when I wrote them and what I was going through, I see myself like someone sitting on the curb, complaining about being behind and how hard running is rather than discussing what kind of diet is best before a marathon and how to deal with leg soreness.  I think I have a few good ideas here and there or some funny thoughts or phrases, but even those tend to get lost in the deluge of self-pity.  It seems like the times when I 'blog best are when I've been busy taking steps toward making progress in my life and the times when I 'blog worst are when I'm just throwing up my hands and being mad that things aren't already different on their own.

3. Stay On the Bike, Fatty!

I feel like this needs no explanation.

4. Remain Calm and Keep Your Hands Where I Can See Them

I don't know how it is for normal people, but sometimes I feel like "Trouble" is the name of a bird dog and I'm wearing snazzy, new pheasant-pants.  Honestly, I don't even know why I bother worrying about what life is like for other people because it wouldn't make any tangible difference to mine even if I knew.  My point, though, is that I feel like there's always an reason for me to feel frustrated or discouraged, which means there's always a temptation for me to use how I feel as an excuse to do something stupid, and I can see how that attitude comes across in some of my posts.  I think most of the bad decisions I've made over the last year could have been avoided if I'd just kept my wits about me, stepped back from the situation a little, and asked myself if I was really thinking things through.

5. Plan Your Work and Work Your Plan

Followthrough is tough for me and I can count on one hand the number of things I said I was going to do in my 'blog that I actually ended up doing.  I tend to get really amped up about the "Next Big Thing" and bring a lot of energy and excitement to the table, but I also tend to lose steam pretty quickly when I meet with resistence.  Part of me feels like I need to be rewarded for my enthusiasm by having everything work out like it's supposed to and I get really frustrated and disappointed when it doesn't.  But I've also noticed that my enthusiasm tends to hold up a lot better whenever I have structure and support in my life and I don't feel like I have to maintain this super-human energy level all the time for things to be successful.  When I get enough sleep at night and have a budget worked out and spend time with people who can support and encourage my ideas, I tend to do better than when I try to take on the world all by myself.

I guess the lesson is that it's good to recognize where you've been so that you can figure out where you're going.  Part of "self-actualization" is not just making the present seem meaningful, but redeeming your past, too, so that it contributes to where you are. 

I dunno.  Does that seem crazy?  Am I the only one who thinks like this?

My Five Greatest Fears In Life

A few months ago, I took part in a constest-type thing being put on by Jon Acuff where he offered to review your 'blog if you bought his new book.  I found out about it late at night after work on the last day of the offer and decided to give it a shot, even though I suspected I was probably too late.  A week or so later, the book arrived, and a few months later I still hadn't heard from him, so I chalked up as yet another a really cool thing in life that I missed out on.

Yesterday I got an e-mail from Jon Acuff.  He briefly explained that there were more people interested in the offer than he had thought there would be and ended up swamped with 'blogs to read.  At first I thought it was a form letter he sent to everybody with the same four or five things ("Love the 'blog!" or "Keep up the great work!") but it seemed like he had actually taken at least a few minutes to read through some of my stuff and gave some decent feedback. Here was one of his tidbits:

"I'd like to see you do a couple of posts with lists in them. Blog readers really love to have short, easy to digest content and I personally have really seen community grow with posts that allow specific, list based things to react to. (For instance, 10 ways Jim Henson changed my life)"

So here you go Jon Acuff.  Hope you like it.

My Five Greatest Fears In Life

1. Dropping Stuff Into Toilets - This one actually started before everyone had to buy new cell phones because they dropped theirs while poop-texting.  I've never been a part of that club because I've always been very careful when it comes to keeping my personal belongings secure while going to the bathroom.  I think it stems from the fact that when I was six years old, I accidentally dropped one of my mom's hair curlers into the toilet and then tried to flush it to cover the mistake only to realize that a.) now my mom is short one hair curler and b.) hair curlers don't flush so good. 

2. Getting Pooped On By Birds - I tend to avoid walking under trees for this exact reason.  If I'm in a situation where I have to, I'm generally very nervous and dodgy and I try to walk briskly to get out as quickly as possible.  Watch this video and tell me that it's not a rational fear.  Seriously.

3. Having Things Fly Into My Mouth - Again, I refer you to the previous video, plus one additional for your consideration.  As an amateur cyclist, this is probably the most common problem I run into as a result of my fears.  I've tried wearing a bandana around my face as a preventative measure, but it made my face sweaty and I got a lot of concerned looks from people whose own top-five lists apparently included "Bicycling Cattle Rustlers."

4. Running Out of Toilet Paper - I feel like this one is fairly self-explanatory, but I think it's exacerbated by the fact that I grew up in a family that included two women and was located 30 minutes away from the nearest Wal-Mart.  In short, we were a "high-use" family that could run into a crisis situation fairly quickly.  My parents tended to buy most things frozen and in bulk because of how seldom and out-of-the-way grocery store trips were, but sometimes it still got a little dicey in the Wiggins household.  Suffice it to say, there are some things you should always be prepared for.

5. Turning Into My Parents - Not to undermine the seriousness of any of the others (because, I assure you, they are all serious), but this is the only one I don't have something plucky or light-hearted to say about.  It's also probably the one I feel like I have the least control over because it seems to be happening a little bit more every time I look in the mirror whether I want it to or not.  Please don't misunderstand me, I love my parents and they're not bad people, but I just don't want my life to follow the same paths that theirs did.  And honestly, I think I'm probably more afraid of what a horrible person it makes me to say that than anything else on the list.

Never Before Seen Footage

Last weekend, I went to see "Muppet Fairytales," a special collection put together by the Alamo downtown of different fairytale-themed skits, shorts, and TV specials that Jim Henson had made over the years.  A few of them were sketches I had seen before (for those unaware, I am a HUGE Muppets nerd), but most of them were so old and rare that I'd only read about them or seen pictures in books.  The whole thing was less than an hour and a half, and it was fascinating (for me, anyway) to see such a wide range of different selections from such a vast body of work within a relatively short amount of time.  Kermit was the only persistent character throughout all of the shows, but even he has gone through a number of changes over the years, so it was kinda like going through an old family photo album and seeing how everybody grew up.  I really liked it.

I should pause for a second to explain that Jim Henson is something of a personal hero of mine.  The likability of his creations notwithstanding, the man reached a level of success as an artist that boggles the mind.  His career started in 1954 when he was barely out of high school and evolved into multiple internationally recognized media franchises (The Muppet Show, Sesame Street, Fraggle Rock, etc.) that persist even today, more than twenty years after his death.  I realize that it may seem childish to get so worked up about puppets, but I've come to the conclusion that if you go the rest of your life without watching a single episode of The Muppet Show and can't find joy and humor and goodness in something that doesn't rely on obscenity, toilet humor and drug references for cheap laughs, then I'm not the one with the problem here.  Alas, I digress.

The point is that I walked into the theater with some heavy expectations.  These were cherished gems of a lost era, as far as I was concerned, and I was super-jazzed about being able to experience something that may never see the light of day for a long time to come.  I imagined it being some kind of living childhood memory; like I would get the same feeling I had when my parents took me to see "Follow That Bird" when I was little.

To sum it up, it wasn't and I didn't.  Don't get me wrong, it was cool and I enjoyed it, but honestly... well, some of it was just kinda bad.  Like, it was still creative and interesting and way, way, wayyy more than I would be able to put together on my own, but it was pretty obvious why this stuff didn't really make it out of the archives and onto a special edition DVD.  Kermit was all funky-looking and you could see all the wires and stuff holding things together.  The story itself seemed to drag out, like it hadn't been very well written, and it just felt very stiff compared to all of the things he would do later, like The Muppet Movie and Labyrinth.  In fact, I felt like I needed to go home and watch The Muppet Movie just to wash the bad taste out of my brain.

But the more I thought about it in context of Jim Henson's over-all career, the more I cut the thing a break.  In terms of a time-line, Sesame Street had just barely been on the air for a couple of years and The Muppet Show didn't even exist yet.  The people he had working with him were only a handful of the talent he would come to attract later and, obviously, he wasn't working with a very large budget.  In fact, The Frog Prince (which was the main feature of the collection) was the first time Kermit had even appeared on camera as an honest-to-God frog.  Before that, he was just a lizard-looking sort of thing with no particularly distinct features about him.

Ultimately what I came to realize was that The Frog Prince, though pretty bad in and of itself, was actually a big step for him.  It marked a transition out of fifteen minute sketches into lengthier, more substantive projects with larger sets and more characters.  It was a sort of stepping-stone that would take him away from doing bit parts in commercials or guest appearances on talk shows and serve as a kind of proof that he was able to produce something on his own if given complete creative control.  In short, there would be no Muppet Show if there weren't a Frog Prince.  And I really like that thought.

As an artist, there's a tendency to want to create the one perfect thing that's going to go down in history as the most loved and famous thing ever to exist anywhere.  It's hard to ever feel like you're really "finished" with something because it feels like you're placing some permanent stamp the thing, saying "Please, take this for consideration as to determine my overall worth as a person."  Nobody wants to be judged that way, and in an intellectually honest setting, nobody ever really is, but there's a sense in which everybody feels judged that way.  It's that kind of feeling like, if I die in my sleep tonight, would I be okay with *this* (whatever it is) being the last thing I ever produced?  It seems silly to phrase it that way, but it's a very common feeling among creative-types.  I bet it's pretty common with everybody else, too.

I think the important thing is to realize that nothing exists in a vacuum.  If I create something, it's partially a result of everything else that I've done in the past and partially a sign of something greater yet to come.  There's a saying that keeps coming up in my CR step-study that I really like: "It's about progress, not perfection."  Basically, it means that today may not be my best day and, by the end of it, I'll probably screw something up, but if I can look at where I am now and see it as better than where I was in the past, then I can still consider this to be a good day.  I don't know how revolutionary that idea is for you, but it's working wonders for me.  Everything I was raised to believe screams out against it, but there's a lot of wisdom (and truth) in being able to appreciate where you are and see it as an improvement over yesterday.  Thanks for letting me share that with you guys.

G'night,

- Pairsh -

The Dinosaur Post

Several months ago (November, to be exact) I talked about a post I wanted to write called "Why Jurassic Park is Like Christianity."  The premise of it was derived from one of my late-night Wikipedia excursions where, instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour like a sane human being, I flitted from link to link about random, disjointed subjects; from people who have recently died to string theory to GWAR; like a bumble bee of information, pollinating anything bright and colorful that seemed interesting to look at.  I had landed on the entry for Jurassic Park (the book) and spent some time thinking about what a great book it is and how long it had been since I read it and wondering whether or not I could find it in the avalanche of books and papers strewn about my home due to an extreme lack of sufficient space to organize them all.

The thing that stuck out to me most, though, was a statement that the article made about the idea of Jurassic Park (the fictional place) being "an unsustainable simple structure bluntly forced upon a complex system."  Maybe it was due to the fact that I was 10 the first time I read it, or maybe it was because the last time I read it was five years ago when I was high, but I never really thought about that as being a major theme of the book.  I always kinda just read it as a really creative story in which a lot of people get eaten.  In fairness, the novel never explicitly states the "unsustainable" idea in those exact terms and it's difficult to latch onto something so abstract when you're 10 (or high).  But, thinking back on it, I think that's pretty much the whole point of Jurassic Park.  The entire story is a description of a very tightly-controlled and closely monitored operation descending into complete and utter chaos for no other reason than the simple fact that things don't always go according to plan.

I thought about that idea in relation to my faith: "an unsustainable simple structure bluntly forced upon a complex system."  I really like that phrase.  I think it's a very accurate description for how I tend to view a lot of things.  I want to have a very "A + B = C" kind of life, where it doesn't take too much brain power to figure out how things add up.  I want to have successful relationships solely through making friends with the right kinds of people who are easy to get along with and add value to my life because of how rich and powerful and generous and kind they are.  I want to be wealthy and comfortable without having to put in more than 40 hours a week or operate outside the boundaries of a dead-end job where I punch a clock and get paid to stand around and look busy.  I want to get all the things I want and give up very little in return and have everything work out for the absolute best in the end, without pain or misery or suffering or loss.  In short, I want everything to function on the terms that I determine to be best and never be outside of my control.

But life doesn't really work that way.  Like, at all.  Nothing cooperates.  Nobody listens.  Every conceivable change I've ever tried to make has met with incalculable, and in some cases unconquerable resistance.  On my best days, I can make it about fifteen minutes without a real problem.  Something always comes up.  There's so-and-so who I was supposed to e-mail back and never did.  There's that thing I've been telling myself I would do for days/weeks/months/years, but continue to put off until later.  There's that one friend who I made plans with that flaked out on me.  There's that other friend who keeps bugging me for time I don't have or money I shouldn't spend or kindness I can't fake.  There are a million other things that, for a million other reasons, are asking for more than I can deliver and stretching me beyond what I can bear.  And that's not even mentioning all the "God stuff."  So I keep going back to my system, keep trying to reduce things back down to my "A + B" way of living, and keep telling myself that one day it'll work.

I've been sticking with the CR stuff and it's been helping a lot.  Not so much in the "I'm a totally different person now who operates in a completely different way than I used to" sense, but more in the sense that I feel like I'm finally starting to get my head wrapped around this idea of accepting my life for what it is, not what I wish it was or what I think it should be.  In the book, the people trying to control Jurassic Park didn't realize that there was a problem because their computers were programmed incorrectly.  Since they assumed that the dinosaurs couldn't breed, they designed a tracking system based on the total number of dinosaurs they were supposed to have, as opposed to tracking the total number of dinosaurs they actually had.  It was only when they calibrated the program without a predetermined limit that they realized that the dinosaurs actually were breeding and the situation was a lot more dire than they originally thought.  The CR stuff has been kinda like that.

I don't really know what all of this means, and I think that's why I never finished the original post.  I really want to resolve everything with the helicopter flying me off the island and away from all of the people-eating craziness.  I believe that one day I'll get to that part of the story, but I won't be around to 'blog about it when I do.  And, given everything that this post is about, I think I'm okay with that.  I don't need to have a neat little story arc that works itself out in a predictable way.  I can exist in the middle, where everything is up in the air and genetically engineered killing machines may jump out of the bushes at any moment.  That's just life, I guess.

An Open Letter to All of My Ex-Girlfriends (Or Whatever We Were)

Dear All of My Ex-Girlfriends.

For many years now, I have operated with the assumption that you all meet together on a weekly basis in some secret location (it probably changes every week) to talk about what a stupid jerk I am and how much you hate me.  At least, if you don't all physically meet in one location, you've started a Facebook group or are planning to write a collaborative-effort book or something.  There are many reasons for my belief in this, not least of which is the obviously sweet group-rate discount that would accompany a membership so vast.  But I think I might have thought up a couple more reasons why I believe this to be the case.

First of all, most of you seemed so angry and hurt when we broke up (or fizzled out, or burst into flames, or whatever you want to call it) that it just makes sense to me that you would somehow gravitate toward each other and be able to deal with the pain better by  not having to go through it alone; a kind of a support-group, if you will: find enough people who have been or are going through the same thing you are and build a sort of family out of it that helps you work through your emotions.

Second, as you probably learned throughout the course of our dating-relationship, I'm something of a paranoid individual in the first place and a secret committee of all my exes just plays well to that part of my brain.  I like to picture myself as Batman (again, something you probably picked up along the way) scrolling through a super-computer of his rogue's gallery and all your mugshots and bios, strengths and weaknesses, current and/or last known whereabouts, etc. in the event that I end up in a face-off with you again.

Third, finally, and more seriously, I think I tend to picture you guys like this because I'm selfish.  Not only do I regard most (if not all) of you in an antagonistic sense, I think of myself as some kind of innocent bystander who just happened to get caught up in something he didn't understand and can't really be held responsible for that unintentionally didn't work out and has now become some weird, female-driven conspiracy as a result.  I never set out to hurt any of you.  Honest, I really didn't.  Whether you believe me or not, it's the truth. 

But it's also the truth that I did hurt a number of you, and rather than face that truth and ask for mercy and help or anything at all, really, I usually shuffled the blame off on the circumstances and shrugged my shoulders because... well, honestly, because I didn't know what else to do.  At the time, things didn't seem to be working out, and "things not working out" was like a death sentence to me.  The fear I feel from watching my parents "not work out" for the majority of my life has driven me to chop the head off anything I thought was heading in that direction.  It's basically crucifying someone for someone else's crimes.  That's a shitty and horrible thing to do to a person.  I'm sorry I did it to you.

I wish that there was something I could do to fix the damages I've done over the years.  I should probably offer to pick up the tab for next week's dinner-meeting or whatever, but a.) I couldn't pay it if I wanted to and b.) I assume that part of your nefarious scheme is to run up a huge tab in my name anyhow.  I guess I just wanted you all to know that I'm not the heartless pig you probably think I am.  I still remember all the promises I went back on and all the stupid things I said to try and minimize the damage and I still feel guilty for all of it.  You probably think I deserve to and, heck, maybe I do.  Maybe this is just another reason for you guys to keep meeting up like you do. 

But for whatever it's worth, however badly I screwed up with you, I really am trying to get better.  I really am looking for ways to make amends and I really am trying to make sure that your membership doesn't keep growing.  Some days I feel like I'm a failure on all accounts, some days I don't.  But I really am trying. I hope you believe me.

So on that note, and in lieu of saying something cheesy and trite, I'll thank you for your time and bid you farewell.  "The LORD grant that you may find rest, each of you in the house of her husband!"

Sincerely,

Pairsh Wiggins

Priorities

Normally, I would make a huge deal about the whys and wherefores about the priorities I'm trying to set in my life because it's always easier to talk about what's important than it is to actually work things out that way.  I thought that, instead, I would try making a list of what ought/I want to be the things in my life that matter enough for me to be working on and systematically checking off as "done."  Plus, I need to start getting ready to go to work soon, so I don't have time to bore your socks off about the philosophical ramifications of being a man of principle.  So here goes.

First thing of importance to me is getting Bryan and Claire's wedding present together and having it ready for them before they get married in two weeks.  I'm notoriously bad about starting projects that I don't finish ("...he typed as he stared guiltily at the stack of half-made art lying like a dead pet in his closet...") and, for once in my life, I'm going to give myself a deadline and work a little bit every day so that I can hit it.  The wedding is April 2nd, so I don't think it's unreasonable to expect to have everything together and in working order by the end of the month.

Second, I am going to stay committed to my Celebrate Recovery stuff.  In similar fashion to the wedding present, I'm going to work a little bit every day at covering the material for the study and having it ready on time.  I'm not going to wait until I have a full day off to get it all done in one sitting and I'm not going to just let life beat me up between Thursdays.  I am going to work this stuff out if it kills me.

Third, I got a notice in the mail last week that I've been cleared to take my real estate license examination and I have until August 22 to do so.  I went through an online service provided by the brokerage I'm attached to and was given, shall we say, an abbreviated education sufficient to get me through the certification materials, but nothing in the ballpark of "extensive."  I have been assured, and am continuing to operate on good faith, that leasing apartments is nowhere near as complex as selling houses, so the need for me to retain all of the information covered by typical real estate license education classes is extremely diminished.  Thus, the monetary cost and time table difference between what I went through versus what people looking to get into home sales go through was significantly reduced, but I still feel unsure that I could pass the exam if I were to take it today.  I purchased materials to help prepare me, but up until now, I've been kinda dragging my feet about studying.  I don't exactly have a track record of studiousness, but I'm absolutely confident in my ability to appropriate information given in such clear formatting as the study materials I have in my possession.  There's no reason I can't spend three weeks or so covering the material and get to a place where I feel like I know enough to pass my licensing exam.  I am going to work steadily on this a little bit at a time until the wedding present is complete and then hit the thing with a full head of steam once I get over that hurdle.

Lastly, (I have more, but I still need to shower before work) I've been asked by my church to condense my life story down to a five minute video for use as part of a 25-year-anniversary celebration.  I'm not the most concise person in the world, so it feels a little overwhelming to try and whittle my life down to a five minute display.  I almost feel like an interpretive-dance montage would suit me better.  Regardless, it's something I've been asked to do, something I've committed to doing, and something I feel like could be useful  in the lives of other people.  I haven't really done anything solid on it yet (even though I was asked almost a month ago), so I feel kinda guilty for putting it off.  I need to start making time to work on it.  Like, this week.

That's it for now.  I've got more, but like I said, I gotta go get ready for work.  I guess my selfish desire is to be more motivated by actually stating, in clear language, what goals I want to work toward and how soon I want to accomplish them.  My desire for others is to challenge you to come up with your own goals and figure out whether what you're doing with all your time and money is putting you any closer to achieving them.  I know that, for me, it's easy to talk about all the things I'm gonna start doing later and really difficult to turn off my computer and go do them.

Ciao...

The 75% Rule

I mentioned last time that I've been going through a 12-step program at my church and I had my second real, "sit down and answer the questions" small group meeting tonight.  Among the reasons stated in the last post, part of the reason I haven't written much lately is because the material we're covering in my small group is very emotionally intense and I've been getting my tear-your-living-guts-out-and-painfully-expose-yourself-to-others fix through that.  I still kind of hate the idea of sitting in a group of people with "real problems," because to do so is basically admitting by association that I am one of them; that I belong there; that, somehow, my problems really are as bad as I've always feared them to be.

Even though it's only been a few weeks, I've stuck to the process pretty faithfully and it's not totally without reward.  I started going to the open group stuff at the first of the year and realized two things pretty early on.  One, even though it feels like every molecule in my body is screaming out against my being there throughout the entirety of the program, I always leave being glad that I went.  Two, I always realize something about myself or my situation(s) in life that I wouldn't have stumbled across on my own had I not been there.  I've never felt like it was a mistake for me to have gone and I've always left feeling more enlightened about (or, at least, better adjusted to) my circumstances.  Tonight was no exception and I wanted to take a few minutes before I go to bed to reflect on something that dawned on me mid-meeting.

I am, for those unaware, not an athlete.  With the exception of my dad signing me up for little league, I never played sports, I don't watch sports and the idea of doing so holds absolutely no interest to me in the slightest.  I would literally rather slam my hand in a door than watch a football game.  Literally.  I reiterate the point because most people think I'm being hyperbolic or facetious when I say that, but I would honestly be more intrigued by a Discovery channel show about the artificial insemination of cattle than anything including and/or pertaining to The Final Four (a reference, itself, that I'm not entirely sure I get.  I think it's college basketball, but I genuinely don't know [or care]).  One of the main reasons I've never had any interest in sports is because I'm not interested in doing anything that I am not immediately, on some level, good at.  If I don't have an inherent aptitude for something, if I have to spend any time at all working to grasp the fundamentals or, particularly in the area of sports, working to get my body into the proper condition to be able to do whatever it is I'm trying to do, I will have gotten bored and quit long before they get to the part about explaining the rules.

I'm especially bad when it comes to practice.  In fact, I don't even like the philosophical concept of "practice."  I don't want to practice.  I just want to do.  I despise repetition, and how would one go about describing the acts of running drills and ironing out plays without using the word "repetitive?"  Don't make me start over and do the exact same thing again.  If I'm just going to do it again, why did I do it the first time?  Let's get the thing done and move on to something else.

Tonight, I realized that the thing inside me that makes me feel this way is the same thing that berates me with guilt and shame over my own past mistakes and failures.  There's a voice in my head that I call "The Perfectionist Little Shit" (let's call it the P.L.S. for brevity's sake) that screams at me for everything I've ever done wrong.  I screwed this thing up or I ruined that opportunity and I can't ever go back and make it right.  It was the P.L.S. that was with me the day that I "ruined" my cousin's wedding at 12 years of age by flubbing the wedding march on the piano after having only two weeks to learn and memorize it.  The P.L.S. still reminds me of that time I didn't tell my grandfather the truth, and concludes, based on my every other failure to disclose any sort of information, that I am a liar and have been since time immemorial.  The P.L.S. is constantly carrying on about all the horrible things that will happen whenever I finally mess everything up (as, in the mind of the P.L.S., I am inevitably bound to do), and is the voice I struggle so hard to shut off before I can finally relax enough to sleep at night.  According to the P.L.S. I will never be happy because I am going to be single forever because I will always ruin every relationship I ever try to have.

Tonight, though, the P.L.S. was the one who screwed up for a change.  I was listening to some of the other guys in the group share their struggles and admit their own fears about recovery.  Because confidentiality is so important to the recovery process, I can't repeat what was said, but I can tell you that the P.L.S. spoke up and started criticizing someone else in a way that was completely untrue and uncalled for.  Not out loud, mind you, but in my head, I heard the P.L.S. condemn another man for not being hard enough on himself for his failure.  The P.L.S. believed that this man should have been sorrier and more self-deprecating for his misbehavior, and that's when I caught on to the lie that the P.L.S. is based on and operates out of.  The lie I caught on to is the same thing that I spoke on before: that if you haven't done it perfectly, you've wasted your time; that if you can't get it right right away, you shouldn't bother.  And, although it doesn't change my attitude toward sports in the least, it's important to me that this be recognized as a lie.

I'm not entirely sure how it took me 28 years to realize it, but tonight I came to understand that one defective component of a thing DOES NOT make the whole thing worthless.  Having a bad spot on a piece of fruit doesn't automatically translate into throwing out the entire piece of fruit (at least, for most people).  You cut away the affected portion and eat the rest.  So this is where I came up with the 75% rule.  The 75% rule says that 75% good is still pretty good.  In fact, it's mostly good.  If, out of $1,000, I give $100 to charity, save $100, invest $550 and spend the rest on junk I don't need, I did a lot of good with my money.  I didn't waste $1,000, and I certainly didn't waste the portion I invested.  I wasted what I wasted, which was only a portion of it, but I put the rest to good use.  I can make the statement "I handled that money well" without having to make any disclaimers or qualifications or beat myself up for blowing part of it on useless stuff.

I don't know how many of you will be surprised to hear it, but contrary to popular opinion, I am not a perfect person.  In the last two weeks, I've downloaded porn three times.  It was stupid for me to do it and, in hindsight, I really wish I hadn't, but I also did a lot of other really good things and I would diminish those by not acknowledging that, on the whole, I had a pretty good couple of weeks.  It doesn't make pornography any less disgusting and it doesn't excuse my choices or behaviors, but the 75% rule still applies.  Honestly, I wish I could live up to the standards that the P.L.S. tries to hold me to, but I can't.  Even the Bible says that.  As it is, I have to do the best I can with what I have and let grace fill in the gaps.

There's a part of me that worries about whether or not 75% of this is worthwhile material, or if 75% of you even read 75% of the way through it, but I hope this idea helps you in the way I feel like it's helping me.  I love you guys dearly (75% of the time, anyway).  Goodnight.

Out of the Silence He Speaks

Greetings from the wild blue yonder!  It's been a while since I've done any real writing and I'm eager to get back to it.  My last couple of posts came from a fairly down place and, though I must apologize for dropping off at such a bleak moment, I got really wrapped up in using the month of February to put some vitality back in my life.  I spent much of the time converting my apartment/living room into a miniature art studio, expanding my collection of tools and materials, building an easel and, to a somewhat diminished degree, working on moving ahead with my real estate license.  I also started attending a twelve-step program through a ministry in my church called "Celebrate Recovery," which has kinda filled in the remaining gaps of my disposable time and energy.  So I'm sorry for not being as disciplined with my 'blogging, but I'm not sorry for what I've been doing instead.

I just got back from my friend Seth's wedding and it was a beautiful thing.  As with most occasions dealing with other people and their significant events, I spent a lot of time thinking about myself and internalizing the process.  I spent time thinking about how many of my friends have been or are getting married lately and how weird it will be when it's finally my turn; how unfair it is to be a recovering alcoholic in a place with an open bar; how apropos it is to use a wedding banquet as an illustration for heaven.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not so narcissistic that I wasn't able to focus on celebrating the idea of marriage as a concept, or my friend Seth's in particular, I just tend to internalize everything, and weddings are no exception.

I think, too, it has a lot to do with wearing a tie.  Ties, as far as I'm concerned, are a horrible invention and I wholeheartedly refuse to ever be married or buried in one.  They're difficult to coordinate, uncomfortable, and in the grand scheme of things, utterly useless.  I tried to think about how many times I've worn a tie in the last five or ten years and I could probably count them on one hand.  In fact, I can only remember five occasions on which I've worn a tie since I graduated high school and three of them were funerals.

I think it's good for me to reflect on these kinds of things, though, because it forces my memory to reach back further than it typically operates.  In fact, I've been thinking a lot about my memories over the last week or so because today marks four years since "The Calamity" happened.  I won't go into it here because I don't have the time or energy, but basically, my life came apart at the seams and I washed up in the lobby of Hill Country Bible Church.  I don't want to characterize it as some magical day where my life completely changed, but it was certainly the start of something I wouldn't have believed to be possible if it hadn't happened to me.  

If you'd told me then that I'd be where I am now (not only back in school, but graduated, sober, etc.) I would've thought you were joking.  And not just in the way that everybody who says that kind of thing means it.  I mean I really wouldn't have believed that it was possible for the kind of change you were describing to actually happen in my life.  Back then, I lived my life the way that people sometimes describe patients with terminal diseases responding to finding out they're sick: it was like my life was just a foregone conclusion, so nothing really mattered.  I didn't have intimate friends or people around me who would speak the truth to me, even if I didn't want to hear it.  I didn't have anybody close to me who really saw my life as valuable or important at all.  I just kinda did whatever I wanted to do or whatever seemed to be good to me at the time and didn't really ask myself how my actions or behaviors would affect anybody, least of of all me.

It's weird to think back on those times because it seems like a whole different life ago, like some weird, alien brother of mine who died but still gets talked about a lot.  But I like it.  I like being a guest at a really fancy wedding without an RSVP.  I like that celebrating isn't really a celebration unless it's shared with other people.  I like having moments that are dedicated to building an altar and planting a flag in the ground as a time of change and new commitment.  I like remembering that the person I was is not who I am and that there will come a day when who I am is just as distantly gone as the other guy.  I like calling to mind that the Bible describes the whole of the human affair as beginning with your parents' divorce and ending with the wedding of the Man who loves you most in life.

I've done truly horrible things in my life that I extremely ashamed of.  Perhaps, another time, I will describe them in some detail.  But my life exists as it is today solely through the compassion of others whose trash I am not fit to take out, and yet I am invited to sit among their guests and eat at their table.  It is a lesson in grace for which I am thankful to have taken part in today and will forever remain eternally grateful.

Seth, Claudia... Mazel Tov!

The Marshmallow Experiment

If you haven't seen this video yet, watch it now.  Like, right now.  I'll still be here when you get back.

Done?  Okay, good.  Yesterday's post was pretty heavy and I feel like I need to balance it out by at least starting this one with something light.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not done processing through the fallout, but I'm at least in a bit better mood than I have been for a few days, and I'm ready to get on to something less serious and dense.

I saw this video last night after I got done 'blogging and it gave me a lot to think about in light of recent events.  For one thing, it basically sums up the entirety of Wednesday night for me in a few short minutes.  I'm not sure which kid I looked like most at which moments, but between driving to three different grocery stores and pacing their beer aisles for 20 to 30 minutes a piece, all while actively talking to myself, I'm sure the expression on my face was more than slightly similar to several of them.

Even though it's a couple years old, I'd never seen it before.  A webcomic I frequent talked about it in a recent podcast, referencing behavior in their own kids and saying they have no concept for the future.  That idea is funny to me, like every little kid is sort of like that guy from "Memento," constantly stuck in the present with no ability to connect their current situation to any sort of meaningful experience.  I thought about kids as caricatures of the adults who created them, or maybe even self-parodies of the adults they would become.

It's cute and funny to watch little kids struggle through the inner-turmoil of delayed gratification, but it's something else entirely to think of those same children, years down the road, seated in front of a beer or a cigarette or a crazy ex-girlfriend who cheated on them.  There's something innately hilarious about the idea that a child would suffer such anguish for something as trivial and cheap as a marshmallow, but how many times have I allowed myself to run the gamut of depression over a job I hated or a girl I didn't really love or some possession that I didn't have the money for.  I think the truth is less that children can't comprehend the future and more that adults just develop a taste for something other than sweets.

I guess that's the thing that makes me sickest about lapsing.  In total, I went off the radar for less than 36 hours and I was only out maybe $40 by the end of it.  Admittedly, I don't exactly have $40 laying around to waste right now, but this is coming from a person who spent $200 a bar tab for three people in less than four hours.  In short, I've done a lot worse.  The thing I'm really kicking myself for, though, is not just how easy it is for me to buy in to the lie that I'll be happy if I get whatever it is I think I want, but how often that temptation shows up in my life and how often I fall for it.  I don't stop to think that what I want may not be good for me.  I don't consider how often and easily "things" will break and how nobody ever cares about your job as much as you do and that people will always let you down in some way or another.  It's like the adult inside me dies for a minute and all that's left is a kid and his marshmallow.

I dunno... it's a cute video and I like it, but it made me think a lot.  Just thought I'd share it with you guys.  G'night, all.  Here's hoping for a better tomorrow for all of us.

- P -