Tuesday, September 1, 2009
multiple personalities?
somehow, i have two personalities on my blog... one is the one i set up expressly for the purpose of the blog. the other is where i've signed in using my yahoo account. now there are two of me out there following blogs. strange.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
HEY, DUMBASS! GO GET YOUR HAMMER!
how do you define success?
in the fairy world (according to Disney's Tinkerbell movie) attaining success is easy! Tinkerbell was born a fairy; she grabbed a hammer; it glowed. done deal. end of story. that was Tinkerbell's gift - to fix things, to use tools. she even tried to "change" her talent, which led to a series of mishaps, ranging from soaking all her friends with dew drops from a spiderweb to almost getting eaten by a hawk. when she did something outside of her talent, the cosmos said, "HEY! TINKERBELL! DUMBASS! QUIT IT! GO GET YOUR HAMMER!"
if the cosmos would be so kind as to yell at me occasionally, i sure would appreciate it!
i think i was always taught that to be successful one had to cram as much knowledge in one's head as possible. success was not about money, it was about brains. i come from a family of teachers. teachers don't make a lot of money. theirs is the success that comes from helping people and being knowledgeable. ( i think doctors are similar, but they have the added bonus of making tons of money too.)
unfortunately, cramming my head full of information hasn't worked out for me so far. i lived a cerebral academic life (uh, sort of) for a while, but a problem i've seemingly always had is that i tend to absorb the information without retaining its origin. so, shit, i don't know if the thoughts in my head come from plato or buber, hegel or homer... i just have all of these ideas with no context floating around in there.
i've read in my horoscope before that i have a hard time finishing things. it's not even so much that, but i have a hard time living up to my own standards, making myself great. when i look around, i see people with goals. it's as though i fear what will happen if i actually follow through with a long-term plan. hell, i still don't really know what i want to do with my life.
when i was in middle school, i was making straight a's (because i was bored). i made a conscious decision to not do as well in a class so i could "improve". the problem was, i never brought my grade back up. i just kept doing crappy work so i could "improve" later. what sort of skewed logic is that, anyway? "if i fuck up, then when i'm doing better, it'll seem like i'm doing MUCH better!" instead, i feel like i'm mediocre behind a veil of potential; and potential can only carry you so far. having potential is cool when you're 21. when you're 50, and all you have is potential, that's not nearly as cool.
dave b. once asked me during an end-of-semester conference, "why don't you want people to know how smart you are?" i've thought about that long and hard over the years. and the only answer i've come up with is that i just don't feel that smart. but i've seen people who i firmly believe are stupider than i am accomplish all sorts of things!
but again, it's not even lack of smarts. it's a mental block that prevents me from doing anything (lofty or otherwise) with my knowledge. how can i overcome this? this fear of living up to potential.
perhaps i'm afraid that if i become the best "me" i can be, i'll constantly have to live up to that form (aristotle, right?). i'll never again be able to just chill- to sink back into the comfy couch of imperfection. once i become the form of me, is there any going back? i think i don't want people to hold me to a high standard. if i don't live up to my potential, no one will ever expect anything more of me than what they see. i'm safe! free to relax! away from the piercing stares of people who want me to succeed. (is it this obvious that i'm a perfectionist? really?!)
i am not a teacher. i am not a doctor. i think success, in large part, is, and should be, measured in whether you can pay your bills. i'm not talking making loads of cash, but being able to live without anxiety about money.
in the fairy world (according to Disney's Tinkerbell movie) attaining success is easy! Tinkerbell was born a fairy; she grabbed a hammer; it glowed. done deal. end of story. that was Tinkerbell's gift - to fix things, to use tools. she even tried to "change" her talent, which led to a series of mishaps, ranging from soaking all her friends with dew drops from a spiderweb to almost getting eaten by a hawk. when she did something outside of her talent, the cosmos said, "HEY! TINKERBELL! DUMBASS! QUIT IT! GO GET YOUR HAMMER!"
if the cosmos would be so kind as to yell at me occasionally, i sure would appreciate it!
i think i was always taught that to be successful one had to cram as much knowledge in one's head as possible. success was not about money, it was about brains. i come from a family of teachers. teachers don't make a lot of money. theirs is the success that comes from helping people and being knowledgeable. ( i think doctors are similar, but they have the added bonus of making tons of money too.)
unfortunately, cramming my head full of information hasn't worked out for me so far. i lived a cerebral academic life (uh, sort of) for a while, but a problem i've seemingly always had is that i tend to absorb the information without retaining its origin. so, shit, i don't know if the thoughts in my head come from plato or buber, hegel or homer... i just have all of these ideas with no context floating around in there.
i've read in my horoscope before that i have a hard time finishing things. it's not even so much that, but i have a hard time living up to my own standards, making myself great. when i look around, i see people with goals. it's as though i fear what will happen if i actually follow through with a long-term plan. hell, i still don't really know what i want to do with my life.
when i was in middle school, i was making straight a's (because i was bored). i made a conscious decision to not do as well in a class so i could "improve". the problem was, i never brought my grade back up. i just kept doing crappy work so i could "improve" later. what sort of skewed logic is that, anyway? "if i fuck up, then when i'm doing better, it'll seem like i'm doing MUCH better!" instead, i feel like i'm mediocre behind a veil of potential; and potential can only carry you so far. having potential is cool when you're 21. when you're 50, and all you have is potential, that's not nearly as cool.
dave b. once asked me during an end-of-semester conference, "why don't you want people to know how smart you are?" i've thought about that long and hard over the years. and the only answer i've come up with is that i just don't feel that smart. but i've seen people who i firmly believe are stupider than i am accomplish all sorts of things!
but again, it's not even lack of smarts. it's a mental block that prevents me from doing anything (lofty or otherwise) with my knowledge. how can i overcome this? this fear of living up to potential.
perhaps i'm afraid that if i become the best "me" i can be, i'll constantly have to live up to that form (aristotle, right?). i'll never again be able to just chill- to sink back into the comfy couch of imperfection. once i become the form of me, is there any going back? i think i don't want people to hold me to a high standard. if i don't live up to my potential, no one will ever expect anything more of me than what they see. i'm safe! free to relax! away from the piercing stares of people who want me to succeed. (is it this obvious that i'm a perfectionist? really?!)
i am not a teacher. i am not a doctor. i think success, in large part, is, and should be, measured in whether you can pay your bills. i'm not talking making loads of cash, but being able to live without anxiety about money.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
icebreaker
i figure the first post is always the hardest... when i used to write in a journal, the blank pages would tease me. you have to make the first page GOOD! as long as the first page is decent, the rest of the pages could be useless...
so, random thought going on in my head:
i really miss a particular book store that i used to frequent... it was Books, Strings, & Things. i LOVED it! i used to drive my friends crazy, dragging them in there to check out the fiction section. i'd pour over each and every (alphabetically ordered) book. i'd drink in the titles, the cover illustrations. i'd almost always leave that store with something! i bought anais nin books there. i bought a d.h. lawrence book there... then it closed and a cigar bar / coffee shop took its place. roanoke hasn't been the same since.
i miss the roanoke of my high school years. it's a strange city to me now. trying to be something it's not... trying too hard to be big. it's like a little pre-adolescent city sneaking makeup and short skirts to school. not letting itself evolve naturally, but being forced into its destiny.
i was a writer then... almost, sort of, kinda a real writer... i used to drink coffee at the coffee shop, smoke my cigarette on the stoop. give people dirty looks when they'd try to peer at what i was writing! (well, okay, that really only happened once.) those were such exploratory times.
love.
so, random thought going on in my head:
i really miss a particular book store that i used to frequent... it was Books, Strings, & Things. i LOVED it! i used to drive my friends crazy, dragging them in there to check out the fiction section. i'd pour over each and every (alphabetically ordered) book. i'd drink in the titles, the cover illustrations. i'd almost always leave that store with something! i bought anais nin books there. i bought a d.h. lawrence book there... then it closed and a cigar bar / coffee shop took its place. roanoke hasn't been the same since.
i miss the roanoke of my high school years. it's a strange city to me now. trying to be something it's not... trying too hard to be big. it's like a little pre-adolescent city sneaking makeup and short skirts to school. not letting itself evolve naturally, but being forced into its destiny.
i was a writer then... almost, sort of, kinda a real writer... i used to drink coffee at the coffee shop, smoke my cigarette on the stoop. give people dirty looks when they'd try to peer at what i was writing! (well, okay, that really only happened once.) those were such exploratory times.
love.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)