especially when they get to this part:
"Love it will not betray you
Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be."
I am grateful for music that makes me want to live up to my human potential.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
This Song Puts Goosebumps On My Soul
especially when they get to this part:
I am grateful for music that makes me want to live up to my human potential.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
'Unless Experience Lasts Forever, It Is Meaningless'
~Sam Harris, paraphrasing the complaint of religious folk who say 'if there is no heaven and hell, there's no point to life'(in a way that the weirdness of their claim becomes apparent) , from his Ask Anything part 2.
The answer to that first question alone was worth the time it took to watch this video. Harris basically highlights the fact that knowing our life has a definite endpoint makes it so much more important to savor the brief moment that we have, and suggests that believing we will live forever dilutes the attention we pay to our life. He brings the absurdity of this position to the surface by comparing life to other things that end; meals. movies. relationships. Are none of these things important since they have an ending? No. They're even more important because of that. An illustration that was particularly resonant with me is where he reminds us that there will be a last time we pick up our children. Not something I think about all the time (ever, actually), but it's true; I haven't carried my 10 year old in awhile. Pretty soon, I won't be able to carry my 6 year old. It will only be a matter of years before I can no longer carry my 7 month old. Harris suggests that by remembering every activity (and even life itself) has a 'last ticket', we are more likely to savor these things, and treat them with adequate respect.
I agree with all of this, and am grateful that Harris put it the way he did. But--from experience--I can add that trading a worldview that has a person living forever and ever for one that only gives us 80 or so years if we're lucky, is not as clear of a trade-off as Dr. Harris depicts. At least it wasn't for me.
I am definitely a better person as an atheist. Living under the illusion that someday we would all be in the kingdom of god together, and all of life's many mysteries would be made clear, allowed me to behave somewhat indulgently towards the people I loved. It was easier to brush off making apologies or explanations, because I could just explain myself to God, and work things out with him knowing that in the end, the other person would come to understand what I understood too. It was also easier to justify inaction in certain instances, for similar reasons. Religious belief comes with it's own struggles (the self loathing of 'if it's good it came from god, and if it's bad it came from me', as well as the insecurity that comes with always straining to make yourself as open and subservient to god as possible), but overall, it's a matter of 'everything will come out in the wash'.
When I was religious, I was living under a general anesthesia of sorts. I would compare it to the person who needs a beer or two to get through the day. I was a little more comfortable, but I was also a little crazier*, and definitely more disconnected.
As I said earlier,I believe I am a better person as an atheist; and a more honest one.
But the price of being free from religious delusion is an occasional increase in anxiety: When you realize that this is the only shot you get, you really want to make sure you do it right. When you realize that it's virtually impossible to always do it right, or to even know if you're doing it close to right half of the time, things can get a little overwhelming.
So I get what Harris's religious questioner was insinuating; freedom is daunting. There is no referee, and there is no after-party. This is fucking it. That's a big pill to swallow.
But, in the end, Harris is right: sobriety can be hard, but the beautiful moments--and knowing that you did your best (at least) most of the time--is worth it. Even if I only live 80 years (or 70 years, or 60 years), at least now I'll be able to say at the end that I was actually there. 60 years of real living beats 100 living under a fog of delusion.
worth watching:
*it's crazy to communicate with invisible people and try to divine their will for your life by reading goose bumps and random turns of events as signs.
The answer to that first question alone was worth the time it took to watch this video. Harris basically highlights the fact that knowing our life has a definite endpoint makes it so much more important to savor the brief moment that we have, and suggests that believing we will live forever dilutes the attention we pay to our life. He brings the absurdity of this position to the surface by comparing life to other things that end; meals. movies. relationships. Are none of these things important since they have an ending? No. They're even more important because of that. An illustration that was particularly resonant with me is where he reminds us that there will be a last time we pick up our children. Not something I think about all the time (ever, actually), but it's true; I haven't carried my 10 year old in awhile. Pretty soon, I won't be able to carry my 6 year old. It will only be a matter of years before I can no longer carry my 7 month old. Harris suggests that by remembering every activity (and even life itself) has a 'last ticket', we are more likely to savor these things, and treat them with adequate respect.
I agree with all of this, and am grateful that Harris put it the way he did. But--from experience--I can add that trading a worldview that has a person living forever and ever for one that only gives us 80 or so years if we're lucky, is not as clear of a trade-off as Dr. Harris depicts. At least it wasn't for me.
I am definitely a better person as an atheist. Living under the illusion that someday we would all be in the kingdom of god together, and all of life's many mysteries would be made clear, allowed me to behave somewhat indulgently towards the people I loved. It was easier to brush off making apologies or explanations, because I could just explain myself to God, and work things out with him knowing that in the end, the other person would come to understand what I understood too. It was also easier to justify inaction in certain instances, for similar reasons. Religious belief comes with it's own struggles (the self loathing of 'if it's good it came from god, and if it's bad it came from me', as well as the insecurity that comes with always straining to make yourself as open and subservient to god as possible), but overall, it's a matter of 'everything will come out in the wash'.
When I was religious, I was living under a general anesthesia of sorts. I would compare it to the person who needs a beer or two to get through the day. I was a little more comfortable, but I was also a little crazier*, and definitely more disconnected.
As I said earlier,I believe I am a better person as an atheist; and a more honest one.
But the price of being free from religious delusion is an occasional increase in anxiety: When you realize that this is the only shot you get, you really want to make sure you do it right. When you realize that it's virtually impossible to always do it right, or to even know if you're doing it close to right half of the time, things can get a little overwhelming.
So I get what Harris's religious questioner was insinuating; freedom is daunting. There is no referee, and there is no after-party. This is fucking it. That's a big pill to swallow.
But, in the end, Harris is right: sobriety can be hard, but the beautiful moments--and knowing that you did your best (at least) most of the time--is worth it. Even if I only live 80 years (or 70 years, or 60 years), at least now I'll be able to say at the end that I was actually there. 60 years of real living beats 100 living under a fog of delusion.
worth watching:
*it's crazy to communicate with invisible people and try to divine their will for your life by reading goose bumps and random turns of events as signs.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
An Open Letter To Penn Jillette: Ask What Your Country Can Do For You (But Also Ask What You Can Do For Your Country)
Dear Penn,
I enjoy your persona. I like the work you do. I think you played a part in softening my hard Christian heart to the beauty of atheism.
I also used to be a libertarian, but I question some of that stuff these days. I’m still a civil libertarian, but I think—economically—it makes an increasing amount of sense to share our resources, you know, for the common good (which ultimately is for our own good).
I watched this Penn Says video awhile ago, and appreciated hearing one of our culturally approved faith statements (…ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.) put under the microscope.
I left that video with a vague sense that I generally agreed with you, although suspected you might have gone off the rails a couple of times.
Recently, a facebook friend of mine posted that famous Kennedy speech as a piece of inspiration on his facebook page, and I thought it would be fun to post your rebuttal beneath his post, partially because I like to agitate people, and partially because I think culturally approved faith statements need to be questioned even more than religion-specific faith statements*.
I watched it again after I posted it, and this time I had some objections.
At one point you say,
‘I don’t think we owe jack shit to our fucking country. I think we owe our time our time our hearts our love our creativity to ourselves, the people we love, and the people of the human race.’
This—like the ‘ask not’ line—sounds good, but what does it mean? Why do you draw a line at helping out your country? Don’t you, the people we love, and a sizable population of ‘the people of the human race’ live in our country? When you help make our country a better place, you are helping to make the world a better place.
You are also creating a safe spot for you and the people you love to grow and be healthy. In essence, what JFK is saying on one level is to take care of all of those things you say you want to take care of. Don’t just sit on the sidelines, don’t just suck up resources and not put anything back into the system, contribute!
If that’s not a libertarian-friendly message, I don’t know what is.
You also boil government down to sheer force. You can think of it that way, sure. Sometimes it is that. Sometimes it has to be that. Oftentimes, government as sheer force is an ugly and evil thing. But it’s not always that.
Government (that works) can also be a tool for its citizens to use to create infrastructure to provide the kind of programs and ready-response to catastrophe that makes it easier for us citizens to do the things we need to do. It’s not here to tell us what to do (although certain representatives of government love to tell people what to do), but to allow us to do what we need to do in a better and more efficient way.
I detail why I think a working welfare state is worth investing in here and here.
So those are the major points of contention. A lot of life boils down to our perspective. I think the best way to look at government is not as some frightful, oppressive machine, but as a tool that we can climb into (we have to be careful), and use to build and sustain things.
Keep being awesome, Penn, and keep challenging our culturally approved faith objects. We could all probably benefit from doing a lot more of that.
Sincerely,
Spencer Troxell
*Why? Because culturally approved faith statements cross the boundaries of nearly all religion-specific faith statements, and are generally totally unopposed in the public sphere. They are assumed to be true by everyone; that makes them more dangerous if they’re false.
I enjoy your persona. I like the work you do. I think you played a part in softening my hard Christian heart to the beauty of atheism.
I also used to be a libertarian, but I question some of that stuff these days. I’m still a civil libertarian, but I think—economically—it makes an increasing amount of sense to share our resources, you know, for the common good (which ultimately is for our own good).
I watched this Penn Says video awhile ago, and appreciated hearing one of our culturally approved faith statements (…ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.) put under the microscope.
I left that video with a vague sense that I generally agreed with you, although suspected you might have gone off the rails a couple of times.
Recently, a facebook friend of mine posted that famous Kennedy speech as a piece of inspiration on his facebook page, and I thought it would be fun to post your rebuttal beneath his post, partially because I like to agitate people, and partially because I think culturally approved faith statements need to be questioned even more than religion-specific faith statements*.
I watched it again after I posted it, and this time I had some objections.
At one point you say,
‘I don’t think we owe jack shit to our fucking country. I think we owe our time our time our hearts our love our creativity to ourselves, the people we love, and the people of the human race.’
This—like the ‘ask not’ line—sounds good, but what does it mean? Why do you draw a line at helping out your country? Don’t you, the people we love, and a sizable population of ‘the people of the human race’ live in our country? When you help make our country a better place, you are helping to make the world a better place.
You are also creating a safe spot for you and the people you love to grow and be healthy. In essence, what JFK is saying on one level is to take care of all of those things you say you want to take care of. Don’t just sit on the sidelines, don’t just suck up resources and not put anything back into the system, contribute!
If that’s not a libertarian-friendly message, I don’t know what is.
You also boil government down to sheer force. You can think of it that way, sure. Sometimes it is that. Sometimes it has to be that. Oftentimes, government as sheer force is an ugly and evil thing. But it’s not always that.
Government (that works) can also be a tool for its citizens to use to create infrastructure to provide the kind of programs and ready-response to catastrophe that makes it easier for us citizens to do the things we need to do. It’s not here to tell us what to do (although certain representatives of government love to tell people what to do), but to allow us to do what we need to do in a better and more efficient way.
I detail why I think a working welfare state is worth investing in here and here.
So those are the major points of contention. A lot of life boils down to our perspective. I think the best way to look at government is not as some frightful, oppressive machine, but as a tool that we can climb into (we have to be careful), and use to build and sustain things.
Keep being awesome, Penn, and keep challenging our culturally approved faith objects. We could all probably benefit from doing a lot more of that.
Sincerely,
Spencer Troxell
*Why? Because culturally approved faith statements cross the boundaries of nearly all religion-specific faith statements, and are generally totally unopposed in the public sphere. They are assumed to be true by everyone; that makes them more dangerous if they’re false.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Life Is Shorter Than You Think It Is
“Not just that every day more of our life is used up and less and less of it is left, but this too: if we live longer, can we be sure our mind will still be up to understanding the world--to the contemplation that aims at divine and human knowledge? If our mind starts to wander, we’ll still go on breathing, go on eating, imagining things, feeling urges and so on. But getting the most out of ourselves, calculating where our duty lies, analyzing what we hear and see, deciding whether it’s time to call it quits--all things you need a healthy mind for...those are gone.
So we need to hurry.
Not just because we move daily closer to death but also because our understanding--our grasp of the world--may be gone before we get there” ~ Marcus Aurelius
In a way, it’s worse than I expected; yes, my life is short (the food is terrible, and there are such small portions), but also, I may not make it from one end to the other with my essential self intact.
Not only that, I am constantly distracted. I am only rarely fully present in any given moment. My mind is lost in future schemes and fantasies, or dwelling on past injustices and glories. Or sometimes my mind is nowhere. Is this meditation?
I don’t have any special regard for folks who pursue monastic vocations. Anything that takes a person out of the battlefield of life and into the commentary booth is fine and understandable as a lifestyle choice, but not especially noble. What I’m doing this moment isn’t especially noble. It’s necessary for me--because my brain gets clogged up if I don’t vent my thoughts from time to time--but it’s not special. I’m just wading out of the current to sit on the river bank for a minute. I’m getting perspective.
It’s better to be in the stream though. That’s where the action is, and that’s where things matter most. But it’s very hard to remain in the current for long periods of time without getting caught up in it. It can be strong and surprising, and it’s easy to lose track of meta-goals. It’s easy to get lost in simply trying not to fall down on all the slippery rocks. Maybe that’s meditation.
Whatever the case, Marcus Aurelius caught me by surprise with this one. What’s the point in prolonging my life if it’s going to be a wasteland of distractions? I need to be as conscious and as aware of each moment as I can be, and when I do need to take a breather on the shore, I need to make it as purposeful as possible.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Early Sobriety
"The clearer my thinking became the crazier people appeared. That wasn't what I'd bargained for when I decided to give up champagne. I figured I would stop drinking and everyone would automatically be great to me. Boy, was I wrong. On top of that, I still wasn't so great to them, either.
I was a sober mess. Instead of waking up the next morning in the same clothes I'd had on the day before, I woke up with no desire to put on any clothes, or get out of bed, see anyone, do anything, or even express myself creatively anymore. I didn't want to talk to anybody or, God forbid, listen to my own rationalizations anymore. I knew I was back from the grave but I had no place to go. Even my own shadow seemed embarrassed to hang around.
Early sobriety is hell. "
~Richard Lewis, from The Other Great Depression
If you're interested in recovery literature, honest memoirs, or good stand up comedy , I recommend this book highly. It's currently in the remainder bin at Amazon:
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Emergency!
Jack just came to me with a real sense of urgency in his voice and said, 'by the way, I just poured hot sauce into my ear and it burns! What do you do when that happens?
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Why Tax Cuts Aren't a 'Cost', and Why a 'Robin Hood Government' Deserves Our Support
ey were not 'new costs'. To say tax cuts are a cost is to imply that the government owns all of our money, and is really only lending it to us. That's not how our system works. When you take out the big tax cut chunk from the Bush column, you get a clearer picture of how it is. Also, where's Libya on this chart?
I am a committed liberal, but this is a losing strategy. If we have to misconstrue information to win elections, we're lost (at least morally). Saying 'Bush did it too!' and finding a way to make it look like he did it more doesn't address the issue.
The correct way to address the issue would be to ask what Bush spent money on. Was it worthwhile? Was it better or worse than what President Obama is spending money on? President Obama has spent a lot of money. He is putting a down payment on a working welfare state, and it's a worthwhile investment. He's spent the money on the 'it's easier to ask forgiveness than get permission principle', and is now looking for ways to offset the cost of the infrastructure he has invested in. As far as considering tax cuts a 'cost': it's dishonest. Taxes are monies collected from citizens by force; if you don't give the money that is demanded of you, you go to jail, and the government takes things away from you. People work for money, and the electorate--through the government--demands a certain amount of it to pay for things it wants or needs. It's a messy system we have, and it's a system that will always have victims. We should try to limit the amount of victimization that occurs, but if there has to be some victimization, liberals--like me--are of a mind that it's better to take more from people who have more to give than from people who have less (or nothing) to give. The most educated and wealthy among us voted for Obama more often than not in the last election, so we can take that as at least a tacit endorsement of this kind of redistribution. Even if this group didn't vote the way it did, pluralists and democrats (big D) should support this model. If we are truly going to give everyone in this country a fair shot, we have a lot of inequality to make up for. A true meritocracy would make sure that everyone in the game is playing by the same rules, and that competition--a guiding principle of our nation--would be fair.
So, tax cuts aren't a cost, because the money didn't start off in government hands. Taxes are taken, and taxes should be taken. Some folks should give more. It is also moral--and in everyone's self interest--to ensure that competition occurs on a level playing field, and that everyone who lives in our society is offered a shot at self actualization. This is the ultimate goal of a free society; not everyone will achieve this goal, but if we're serious about it, we'll make sure there are as few barriers in everyone's way as possible.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Blogging Break
It's happened again. I'm blogged out. I just don't feel like posting any new stuff right now. I'm writing--I'm always writing--but none of it is blog stuff. like my blogger friend Lodo Grdzak, I think I'm going to go on intermission.
So I'm going to ignore my blog for a while. I don't know when I'll come back to it, but I always seem to come back. As Morrissey has famously said...
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
We Can't Unite Around God
Today I tuned into Glenn Beck's radio show just in time to hear him deliver a message along the lines of (I don't have the quotation) 'we need to unite around god; our theologies don't matter but we have to unite in our common faith.' etc., and then went on to say that god does not advocate violence and that the god we should find strength and unity in would guide us through peaceful change.
Glenn said it much more passionately and articulately than I did, but that was the bottom line of his thought.
I am sympathetic to peacemakers, and I am sympathetic to Glenn Beck. I think he's really funny at times, and there are things we agree on.
Uniting around God is not one of those things.
In his quotation (I wish I had it, if I can come up with it I'll post it here), Glenn advocates for uniting around a single god in spite of our theological differences, but then he states that god does not advocate violence.
I would ask Glenn, 'how do you know that?' Because God is ultimately a projection of some aspect of ourselves. The God of the people who flew the planes into the twin towers obviously advocated violence. The god of the old testament (slay the canaanites, stone the heretic and woe be the first born sons in Egypt) clearly advocated violence. And what act of violence is more gratuitous and nonsensical than sending your own son on a mission to be tortured and murdered for the vicarious salvation of others?
There are hippy-dippy peaceful gods made up by hippy-dippy peaceful people, but they won't unite us either. God will not unite us, because we all worship different gods, and none of them exist. When we worship gods we are worshipping ourselves devoid of all accountability.
So, you ask, if we can't unite around God, what can we unite around?
I say we unite--more or less--around the principles that Glenn Beck claims are character traits of his god; namely, belief in the virtue of honest inquiry (Glenn loves to quote Thomas Jefferson's 'question with boldness the very existence of God' line), respect for our shared humanity, respect for individualism, the belief that all should be free to pursue life, liberty, and happiness, and a shared scorn and hatred of tyranny, oppression, and anything else that dampens or limits mankind's potential to pursue those goals. In short, humanism. It's what religious folks are always essentially talking about anyway when they lift up the more 'enlightened' elements of their faith, and at least the dictates of humanism are grounded in reason, and not just dictates bounced from us to some invisible satellite in the sky and then back down to us again.
Glenn is close, but there's an invisible man standing in his way.
Glenn said it much more passionately and articulately than I did, but that was the bottom line of his thought.
I am sympathetic to peacemakers, and I am sympathetic to Glenn Beck. I think he's really funny at times, and there are things we agree on.
Uniting around God is not one of those things.
In his quotation (I wish I had it, if I can come up with it I'll post it here), Glenn advocates for uniting around a single god in spite of our theological differences, but then he states that god does not advocate violence.
I would ask Glenn, 'how do you know that?' Because God is ultimately a projection of some aspect of ourselves. The God of the people who flew the planes into the twin towers obviously advocated violence. The god of the old testament (slay the canaanites, stone the heretic and woe be the first born sons in Egypt) clearly advocated violence. And what act of violence is more gratuitous and nonsensical than sending your own son on a mission to be tortured and murdered for the vicarious salvation of others?
There are hippy-dippy peaceful gods made up by hippy-dippy peaceful people, but they won't unite us either. God will not unite us, because we all worship different gods, and none of them exist. When we worship gods we are worshipping ourselves devoid of all accountability.
So, you ask, if we can't unite around God, what can we unite around?
I say we unite--more or less--around the principles that Glenn Beck claims are character traits of his god; namely, belief in the virtue of honest inquiry (Glenn loves to quote Thomas Jefferson's 'question with boldness the very existence of God' line), respect for our shared humanity, respect for individualism, the belief that all should be free to pursue life, liberty, and happiness, and a shared scorn and hatred of tyranny, oppression, and anything else that dampens or limits mankind's potential to pursue those goals. In short, humanism. It's what religious folks are always essentially talking about anyway when they lift up the more 'enlightened' elements of their faith, and at least the dictates of humanism are grounded in reason, and not just dictates bounced from us to some invisible satellite in the sky and then back down to us again.
Glenn is close, but there's an invisible man standing in his way.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
You Can Make A Crowd Clap
you can make a crowd clap by saying conservative things
you can make a crowd clap by saying liberal things
you can make a crowd clap by saying there in no god
you can make a crowd clap by saying 'god is great!'
you can make a crowd clap by being subtle
you can make a crowd clap by being blunt
you can make a crowd clap by stroking them
you can make a crowd clap by poking them
all that is fine, all that is great,
as long as you remember;
no amount of wishing can fill a christmas stocking
and a monkey with an erection is always in love.
you can make a crowd clap by saying liberal things
you can make a crowd clap by saying there in no god
you can make a crowd clap by saying 'god is great!'
you can make a crowd clap by being subtle
you can make a crowd clap by being blunt
you can make a crowd clap by stroking them
you can make a crowd clap by poking them
all that is fine, all that is great,
as long as you remember;
no amount of wishing can fill a christmas stocking
and a monkey with an erection is always in love.
Monday, June 20, 2011
My Negative Catechism
Inspired by a section from Sarah Bakewell's 'How To Live: A Life of Montaigne', I thought it would be fun to make a list of personal failings and things I'm no good at.
here we go:
I'm not very good at keeping up with regimens; exercise, house cleaning, reading, writing, keeping regular dates, performing regular activities, etc. I don't know anything about cars. I couldn't change brakes, spark plugs, or oil to save my life. I can change a tire, but I don't enjoy it.
I'm not good at baking things; all of my cooking acumen is reserved for the stove top. I'm bad at taking criticism, generally a sore loser, I have a hard time standing up to my appetites, and don't generally like other people's children. I don't like small talk and am not good at it. I'm not a fashionable dresser, and don't give much thought to the decorations in my environment. I don't like shaving, so I don't do it. I don't like to get haircuts, so my hair is often out of control. I bite my nails, and am a nervous eater. I pop my knuckles. I am impatient. I often vent my anger against people who don't deserve it, and am overly annoyed by bad eating habits. I am fat. I am moody. I get sick often. I don't like to take direction. I'm overly ambitious and jealous. I fart a lot. I am overly judgmental. I don't know any foreign languages. I'm bad at math. I'm no good at carpentry. I'm not athletic. I don't know the Latin names of any flowers or insects. I have terrible a terrible allergy to timothy hay that renders me basically useless for two months out of every year. I don't know the names of very many trees. I can't play any musical instruments or sing very well. I am not thrifty. I am addicted to caffeine. I don't sleep well. I can't fix electronic things. I don't like camping, partially because I feel compelled to shower every day. I don't like to play cards. I don't understand magic the gathering or pokemon, or any other card game like that. I'm no good at video games. I'm not a strong swimmer. I walk kind of funny. I often think I'm smarter than I am. I don't like to get up early. I don't like to account for anything I do, unless it's something that I want to brag about. I have bad teeth, am bored by classical music, and have no desire to go on a road trip.
I invite you to leave your own negative catechism in the comments below.
here we go:
I'm not very good at keeping up with regimens; exercise, house cleaning, reading, writing, keeping regular dates, performing regular activities, etc. I don't know anything about cars. I couldn't change brakes, spark plugs, or oil to save my life. I can change a tire, but I don't enjoy it.
I'm not good at baking things; all of my cooking acumen is reserved for the stove top. I'm bad at taking criticism, generally a sore loser, I have a hard time standing up to my appetites, and don't generally like other people's children. I don't like small talk and am not good at it. I'm not a fashionable dresser, and don't give much thought to the decorations in my environment. I don't like shaving, so I don't do it. I don't like to get haircuts, so my hair is often out of control. I bite my nails, and am a nervous eater. I pop my knuckles. I am impatient. I often vent my anger against people who don't deserve it, and am overly annoyed by bad eating habits. I am fat. I am moody. I get sick often. I don't like to take direction. I'm overly ambitious and jealous. I fart a lot. I am overly judgmental. I don't know any foreign languages. I'm bad at math. I'm no good at carpentry. I'm not athletic. I don't know the Latin names of any flowers or insects. I have terrible a terrible allergy to timothy hay that renders me basically useless for two months out of every year. I don't know the names of very many trees. I can't play any musical instruments or sing very well. I am not thrifty. I am addicted to caffeine. I don't sleep well. I can't fix electronic things. I don't like camping, partially because I feel compelled to shower every day. I don't like to play cards. I don't understand magic the gathering or pokemon, or any other card game like that. I'm no good at video games. I'm not a strong swimmer. I walk kind of funny. I often think I'm smarter than I am. I don't like to get up early. I don't like to account for anything I do, unless it's something that I want to brag about. I have bad teeth, am bored by classical music, and have no desire to go on a road trip.
I invite you to leave your own negative catechism in the comments below.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
I Kind of Sucked This Week
Now, I'm not a superstitious guy, but on Sunday night I had a dream that there was an angry rattle snake on my front porch. I knew I had to do something about it, even though my neighbor told me to leave it alone. I thought, 'If I just let this thing go, it's probably going to hide in the bushes and attack one of my kids when they're out playing'.
So I went into the house, got a chair, and came back out to...I don't know, chair the thing to death. Maybe I was going to make it sit in the corner or something. You know how dreams are.
When I raised the chair up, the snake twisted around and sprung at me, and I felt a wetness on my arm where it made contact. Then I looked at the snake, which was back in its coiled position. I noticed it didn't have any teeth. 'Thank God', I thought, but then I realized my arm was throbbing. The teeth had come out in my arm! I thought, 'I probably should keep this to myself', and then I picked up the snake (now disarmed), and put it through a paper shredder that was plugged in near the steps. It shredded just like normal paper, except it was green.
Throughout the week, I have had some bad luck, learned about some personal shortcomings that I had hitherto not been aware of, and made some mistakes. Of course, the dream didn't signify that I am actually 'snakebit' or anything, but it's hard not to entertain the thought.
There were good things this week, too. I received some good encouragement from a few respected sources, did a handful of things competently, spent some good time with my wife and kids, and got some reading and writing done. I guess it's just easier to dwell on the unlucky and bad things.
That, or I really am cursed...
Sing it, Frank:
So I went into the house, got a chair, and came back out to...I don't know, chair the thing to death. Maybe I was going to make it sit in the corner or something. You know how dreams are.
When I raised the chair up, the snake twisted around and sprung at me, and I felt a wetness on my arm where it made contact. Then I looked at the snake, which was back in its coiled position. I noticed it didn't have any teeth. 'Thank God', I thought, but then I realized my arm was throbbing. The teeth had come out in my arm! I thought, 'I probably should keep this to myself', and then I picked up the snake (now disarmed), and put it through a paper shredder that was plugged in near the steps. It shredded just like normal paper, except it was green.
Throughout the week, I have had some bad luck, learned about some personal shortcomings that I had hitherto not been aware of, and made some mistakes. Of course, the dream didn't signify that I am actually 'snakebit' or anything, but it's hard not to entertain the thought.
There were good things this week, too. I received some good encouragement from a few respected sources, did a handful of things competently, spent some good time with my wife and kids, and got some reading and writing done. I guess it's just easier to dwell on the unlucky and bad things.
That, or I really am cursed...
Sing it, Frank:
Monday, June 13, 2011
Law School
I'm used to jumping into things, and then challenging myself to finish what I started.
It's partially why I proposed to Abby when I was eighteen, and partially why our marriage has been able to grow with us, and us with it (the other part to our success, if you're curious, is that Abby is similarly driven, and we are passionate about each other).
This cavalier attitude has gotten me in trouble, sure. But it also got me into college, was the impulse that said, 'why not?' to creating 3 beautiful children, got me into the human services, and led me to learn how to ride a unicycle.
I don't back down. It's not in my character. It's a point of pride for me to finish the things that I start. I am driven.
That being said, I am backing down from my latest proclaimed project; I will not be going to law school.
It doesn't hurt as bad as I expected it to. Although I started off in the normal way (announcing to everyone that I was going to law school), the post-manic research has led me to determine that it's not a good fit for me right now, and may not be something I can succeed at (regardless how much I enjoyed Boston Legal).
My family needs me right now, and I've been plowing through projects since I've been married. I've never 'just' been a dad, husband, and guy with a steady job. I've always had some kind of scheme up my sleeve. I've always been working on some arbitrary monument.
But I'm tired. The success demon isn't as attractive as he once was, either; I think I'm more comfortable than I'm ready to admit. But, like the guy at the shelter told me the other day, I'm not sure I know how to be comfortable.
Like all of my other projects, it will take practice.
So, I won't be applying to law school. I'm going to try to maintain what I've already got and stop trying to collect new tricks all the time. Even if it kills me.
Can it kill me?
It's partially why I proposed to Abby when I was eighteen, and partially why our marriage has been able to grow with us, and us with it (the other part to our success, if you're curious, is that Abby is similarly driven, and we are passionate about each other).
This cavalier attitude has gotten me in trouble, sure. But it also got me into college, was the impulse that said, 'why not?' to creating 3 beautiful children, got me into the human services, and led me to learn how to ride a unicycle.
I don't back down. It's not in my character. It's a point of pride for me to finish the things that I start. I am driven.
That being said, I am backing down from my latest proclaimed project; I will not be going to law school.
It doesn't hurt as bad as I expected it to. Although I started off in the normal way (announcing to everyone that I was going to law school), the post-manic research has led me to determine that it's not a good fit for me right now, and may not be something I can succeed at (regardless how much I enjoyed Boston Legal).
My family needs me right now, and I've been plowing through projects since I've been married. I've never 'just' been a dad, husband, and guy with a steady job. I've always had some kind of scheme up my sleeve. I've always been working on some arbitrary monument.
But I'm tired. The success demon isn't as attractive as he once was, either; I think I'm more comfortable than I'm ready to admit. But, like the guy at the shelter told me the other day, I'm not sure I know how to be comfortable.
Like all of my other projects, it will take practice.
So, I won't be applying to law school. I'm going to try to maintain what I've already got and stop trying to collect new tricks all the time. Even if it kills me.
Can it kill me?
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Public Speaking
I am a decent public speaker. I think part of the reason I am a decent public speaker is that I know I am a decent public speaker. Like a good singer, I know my range; Tom Waits doesn't try to hit Mariah Carey notes, and I'm not trying to inspire the masses like Barack Obama. I'm mildly amusing, I convey information clearly, and I'm likable in my way.
The best advice I ever got as a writer is 'write the way you talk'. Similarly, I can give any aspiring public speakers out there similar advice: talk the way you talk; It's tempting to pick up a kind of speaking persona that isn't your own, but don't do it. Bravado is forgettable. Be real, and people will listen to you.
I've had the opportunity to talk a lot recently on behalf of the homeless shelter I work at, during tours and various events and meetings. It's very fun. It's fun to feel out your audience, and fun to try to get to 'tough customers' in the crowd. As a skeptic myself, I appreciate the urge to throw up a pokerface when someone is talking to you about things that may be emotional, or controversial, or unfamiliar to you. But there is a path to everybody's heart and reason, and it's fun to try different approaches to climb the craggy exterior of some hold-out's indifferent countenance.
A final rule: Believe what you say. Lying is harder work than telling the truth, and if you're insincere, most people will catch on eventually.
Whether or not public speaking is something you're interested in, the takeaway from this post is that you don't need to be a genius in order to be effective. Competence counts. Sure, maybe we'll never be absolutely brilliant at everything we apply ourselves to, but we can at least leave a few scuff marks on the wall. 'anyone can play guitar', you know, or--as my former colleague and blogging friend Malcolm Varner might say--you've got to live, learn, and apply.
The best advice I ever got as a writer is 'write the way you talk'. Similarly, I can give any aspiring public speakers out there similar advice: talk the way you talk; It's tempting to pick up a kind of speaking persona that isn't your own, but don't do it. Bravado is forgettable. Be real, and people will listen to you.
I've had the opportunity to talk a lot recently on behalf of the homeless shelter I work at, during tours and various events and meetings. It's very fun. It's fun to feel out your audience, and fun to try to get to 'tough customers' in the crowd. As a skeptic myself, I appreciate the urge to throw up a pokerface when someone is talking to you about things that may be emotional, or controversial, or unfamiliar to you. But there is a path to everybody's heart and reason, and it's fun to try different approaches to climb the craggy exterior of some hold-out's indifferent countenance.
A final rule: Believe what you say. Lying is harder work than telling the truth, and if you're insincere, most people will catch on eventually.
Whether or not public speaking is something you're interested in, the takeaway from this post is that you don't need to be a genius in order to be effective. Competence counts. Sure, maybe we'll never be absolutely brilliant at everything we apply ourselves to, but we can at least leave a few scuff marks on the wall. 'anyone can play guitar', you know, or--as my former colleague and blogging friend Malcolm Varner might say--you've got to live, learn, and apply.
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