That’s “geek”, not “loser”.
Sunday, November 27, 2005 , 8:28 PM
Oh no, I broke another pair! They split right in two when I was cleaning them last night.
I went to buy new specs today. This means I get to sport this classic look for the next few days:
To be honest, I’ve got an old, old pair that are still in decent shape, but I kinda enjoy the idea of walking around like this, just as a lark.
Bert cited a lyric on his blog that seems a propos: “The loser is the one who cries.”* And I’m laughing, so I guess I’m okay.
*Jennifer Warnes, “I Know A Heartache When I See One”.
Princess Leia is a bigot.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005 , 10:39 PM
Okay, but here’s the thing: In The Empire Strikes Back, Princess Leia says of Chewbacca (a Wookiee), “Get this walking carpet out of my way.” Isn’t that a bit like Abraham Lincoln using the N-word?
This has been bothering me for a while. Global warming? Trade injustice? Nope, that.
Putting Eeyore in the thresher.
, 1:32 PM
My best mate in Toronto just posted a blog entry about how he’s in his mid-thirties and he feels like his life isn’t working. I’ve had some of these moments lately myself — getting dumped, receiving a couple of rejection letters in a row, that sort of thing.
But the difference between a successful person and a failure is often just a matter of who gives up first. (I recently received a request to see the rest of my manuscript from a local publisher I’d sent the partial to, and have been invited to submit a short story to a new magazine*, so there you go.)
It’s also a matter of perspective: I’m sitting here in a cozy jumper, with a full belly, in my giant flat, thinking and writing for a living. What unbelievable luxury! How dare I not be appreciative? If I ever feel unsuccessful it’s because I’ve got my glasses on backwards.
So here’s my advice to my bud. I post it here, partly because it’s a bit long for his comments page (and I can’t correct the HTML there if I made any mistakes), and partly because you might find it helpful on a rainy day. Here goes…
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p>I’m gonna barf on you all the stuff I say to myself in these moments:
- Stop comparing yourself to other people, and stop peeking into the parallel universe of how you think things are supposed to be. There’s nothing but dissatisfaction to be had in either activity. (Or smugness, if you choose to compare yourself with someone who sucks.)
- You’re in what they call “The Gap” at The Strategic Coach — the permanent difference between the actual and the ideal. Instead of focusing on perfection, take a look at what progress you’ve already made. You’ve done a lot of stuff. “Oh, but not compared to…” Forget that. In a couple billion years, the sun will expand and erase all signs of all of it, so whatever we do here should just be for our own enjoyment, not because it’s impressive. None of it is ultimately important, so stop making yourself miserable about that. Take a look at yourself three hundred years ago when I first met you. Believe me, you’ve grown. And I’d still choose to be friends with Old You, so imagine my excitement at getting to know Now You. I also believe that Future You can be even cooler, but only if you stop putting this kind of hair in your mental drain.
- Take the next small step. Don’t worry about sorting it all out. Just take the next insignificant step toward what you’d like to have instead. That’s all you’re responsible for right now. Trying the other thing will just throw you into “The Gap”.
- Do something for the fun of it, not the outcome.Take one of these things you aspire to, and try doing it for yourself instead of doing it because you want the activity to save you. You’re already saved (or there’s nothing to be saved from, depending on how you want to look at it).
- Remember: this is it. Even if you got all the stuff you ever wanted or thought you should have, you’d be no more alive than you already are in this moment. People who expect achievement to deliver them go bugnuts and start eating fried peanut butter sandwiches, downing suitcases full of pills, and wearing white sequinned polyester suits modelled on the flying squirrel. It’s not pretty. Don’t do it.
- Stop hating yourself for not being someone else.You’re using smoking and the gym and probably your writing career as excuses to dislike yourself. You know what? I don’t care about any of these (except that I want you healthy ’cause I need you around for the rest of my life). In fact, we all like you for who you are and want more of that guy. Except he’s busy sticking his hand down the garburetor. Stop it. Get out of there and give us more of you.
- Be grateful. Your stick house hasn’t just been tsunamied away along with your family. You don’t work in the dark making Happy Meal toys. Half full, half empty — sod it! Just appreciate that you’ve got a drink in your hand. Try focusing on what already works around you, what boons you’ve received just by being born lucky, what you love and already have, and watch how quickly your spirits lighten.
- Get selfless. You want people to give you stuff? Do something for them that they’ll appreciate. It’s no use sitting and waiting for mystery people to FedEx gold ingots to you. Why would they? Take the focus off yourself and what you feel you deserve, and improve someone else’s world, then watch how quickly they want to do stuff for you.
- Change your state of mind. Listen to some music turned way up loud. Go someplace completely new. Draw a picture with your non-dominant hand. Drag that needle across the record and scratch the hell out of the boring dirge your brain’s been singing. A change of energy makes fresh things possible.
Yes, life can be hard. Yes, it can suck. But it’s only ever boring if you make it that way. Joy is not the absence of suffering, but a celebration of the totality of life. And that’s always available. Happiness, on the other hand, is just a badly-made kite in the hand of a child prone to temper-tantrums.
*P.S. Confession: I’m proud of myself for setting up a meeting with a woman from this local magazine, because I was nervous about what to write, and about what people would think of it and of me for writing it when they see me around. But I’m not much of a writer if I don’t bloody well take opportunities to write, am I?
It’s allowed to be scary.
The value of X.
Monday, November 14, 2005 , 6:38 PM
I have a new theory: The Love Variable.
The Love Variable, or x, can only contain one value at a time. If its present value is bothering you, you must replace it. It’s not possible to just ignore its present value. Of course, x can also be unassigned. But absence of a value tends to bother people, too. You’re free to pretend that x isn’t real, or to try to substitute it (with, say y, wherey=”career”, “friends”, “new shiny something”), but ultimately x will still exist.
It’s like Newtonian physics: Two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time.
So I’ve been trying to get Mr Previous out of my head and get over him, but it’s been tough, ’cause he’s still x — even though now when I think about it he seems completely wrong for me, and besides that, he just wasn’t that into me. But now someone else has shown up, a new value for x. It’s not even a possibility, really. Maybe a one-time visit. The future of this x is wholly undecided, and maybe even irrelevant. All that matters is that x has been reassigned. It’s a tonic for what was ailing me.
I gotta remember this.
~
Meanwhile, I’m working like a freakin’ elf to get my Xmas presents made (and dread the thought that I stillwill probably find myself in a situation where I should have something for someone important and don’t).
I’m proud of them, and wish I could showcase them here. But that kinda defeats the gifty-surprisey bit of it.
A Blackpudlian adventure.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005 , 6:03 PM
This past weekend, I went to Blackpool with Flatmate Dave, Flatmate Geoff, and Patrick. It was the next in my ongoing series of lessons in British enculturation. And was it!
I packed my valise and went out this morning, which was a great thing to do. I got some work done at the library, then wandered around to pick up bits and pieces for my few remaining Christmas projects.
I was supposed to stay out, but I had a felafel for supper and got pink oogey sauce down the front of my trousers. So I came home to change, and had time to put together my pictures from this weekend. I’ll warn you: I took them with my PDA, so the quality is crap. That’ll have to suffice, if you want to get a glimpse into my high-flying life. Click on the thumbnail above to go to the gallery.
Splutter.
Thursday, November 03, 2005 , 12:05 PM
I have a cold. I’m eating grapes.
P.S. (12:05AM) I just got myself and Flatmate Dave drunk on overproof whisky Hot Toddies so we could both fall asleep and get better.
Air Crapada
Tuesday, November 01, 2005 , 9:45 PM
I’m well aware that customer complaints sent through websites are immediately routed to the electronic equivalent of a paper-shredder, but I had to send this one to Air Canada, just to get it off my chest:
I just received an e-mail informing me of your decision to remove complimentary food service and special needs meals from your international flights.
This is an ugly gesture obviously motivated by a focus on short-term profit, not customer care and retention. It’s bad enough to be bumped around in your constantly-changing schedule, but this is a new low, considering the price of an international fare.
I’ll be bringing a sandwich, and reconsidering using Air Canada for my travel needs. It’s not about the money, but I don’t know if Air Canada can understand that.
I love Dan Sullivan, the owner of the company I write for, because he’s a good man and a great thinker, but I especially love him for his wit. Here’s one of his gems:
“Air Canada’s motto is ‘We’re not happy until you’renot happy.’“
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p>P.S. I just reread Air Canada’s letter, which actually seems to only be talking about domestic flights over 1.5 hours. So I may have shot my mouth off there unnecessarily… In this instance. But the Air Canada experience is not a pleasant one regardless. My friend Gord — who owns a travel agency regularly sending groups from Canada to Norway — visited me recently, and Air Canada cancelled his return flight to London without notifying him. Smart one, AC.
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