Too XYZ

The End of the Too XYZ Blog

2012-02-06T16:08:00.003-05:00

It is with no small amount of irony that less than a week after the (unobserved) two your anniversary of the launch of this blog I should post this to announce what I alluded to months ago; I will be discontinuing Too XYZ. This will be, for all intents and purposes, the last post I make on it.

When I first created this blog in February of 2010, I was no stranger to blogging. My other blog, (which will remain unchanged) called Always Off Book has been a place to share my theatre related adventures, experiences, plans and opinions since October of 2005. Yet during the fall of 2009, as I began to gain an all too temporary and transient esteem from some of the folks at Brazen Careerist, it became clear to me that I may in fact have something to say about things other than community theatre. Things that could help others, make people think, and start conversations.

The glut of self-help and opinion based blogs was obvious to me. Obvious due in no small part to the fact that just about all of them were advising things that were contrary to my natural state. The modes operandi of many blogs then, as now, seems to be, "Shut up, suck it up, smile, and accept the fact that everything in the universe is either under your control, or is entirely your fault. Get on the right side of this fence today."

Not only was that sort of militant "positive" thinking not enough for me and usually ineffective as presented, it bordered on the offensive. Who exactly are these blogosphere drones to tell me that there is one, and only one way to do shit? One way by which to get out of a funk, fix a career, gain money, get published, find a relationship, garner respect, start a business. You name it, and the vast majority of blogs and articles out there insisted upon the same worn out, cookie cutter, "go out there and get it" solutions, all predicated on the idea that luck, privilege and assistance have never and will never contribute to the success or failure of any human being. (And certainly not to their own.)

I wasn't buying that bumper sticker. I knew, from a life filled with disappointment, struggles, failures, limited resources, and at times stupefying bad-timing and bad luck that there was more to the picture than simply wanting it enough. That there had to be something else to be offered to people like me besides, "Want it more! Work harder!". And I felt, in a place deep inside me, that there were others like me who, for reasons they could not quantify, had found themselves unable to catch a break. Unable to get ahead. Unable to even kick open a door, let alone get their foot into same. An entire demographic of people who, like myself, were left always exhausted as well as exasperated by the enormous amounts of energy they spent spinning their tires, and making little to no progress in the world. And even the successful people had to feel this way sometimes, beyond a certain point.

It was those people I wanted to reach, with the help of my Brazen Careerist platform and connections. So I began to plan out a second blog. One dedicated to expressing both how I was too...something, and reaching out to others who were too...something. I wanted a blog wherein I could explore, with other like minded people, why everyone thought we were too poor, too old, too cautious, too shy, too introverted, too, unconventional. A place to explore why we were always far "too"...something. Fill in the blank, I thought. Too XYZ was born.

This was before I was on Twitter, and therefore my blog, and my activity on Brazen Careerist was my key to reaching people. And reach them, I did. For a time. Mentioning my blog posts at BC made me a frequent recipient of the "Featured Post" honor. Comments would come, and conversations would start. It started out well.

But then other things began to happen. Those who enjoyed my candid, zero-bullshit approach when they agreed with what I was saying suddenly became abrasive when I applied it to things with which they did not agree. When I applied my at times acerbic commentary towards my own life, people got testy. I gained and lost several "friends" after the first year of Too XYZ. (Thankfully, I have kept most of them.) My content began to be seen, I imagine, as more of a crusade against the status quo. (Which it was.)

Yet I think a certain demographic of people expected that I was trying to be the next Seth Godin (god forbid that vapid future), and document some kind of personal journey into fame and wealth which I too would enter by kicking doors open and taking the world by storm, as all of their other blogging heroes had done. I theorize many of my initial, enthusiastic reader expected me to adhere to conventional gurudom, monetize my blog, write some damned e-book or another, sell it, talk about it all the time, make money, and polish the all important "personal brand". A brand which would, in essence, be built around the idea of being Too XYZ in a way that was more marketable and conventional. (Even Dan Schawabel shared one of my early blog posts once, which is apparently a big deal.)

This didn't happen. My goal wasn't to be king of the blogosphere. My idea was to start conversations and meet people.

Some would say I failed to achieve my blogging goals because I didn't capitalize on the excellent notoriety and platform I was building. Many left my readership as well as my "friendship" because I failed to seize what they felt needed seizing. I wasn't doing what Gen-Y has been bred almost to the genetic level to do...take what I had built, draw blood with it, and double it every eight weeks. In short, many expected me to become "Ty, Inc." This notion made my skin crawl. I enjoyed posting about and responding to Gen-Y career-related content, yes, because I believe I offered a view that nobody else was considering. But my point was to express that view, and encourage others to express that view in order to make a hole for those of us who know that by and large the Seth Godin and CopyBlogger way is mostly bullshit. I didn't want to use my statements against such things in order to become such things. And I think a lot of my early readers couldn't grasp that. Kicking ass is kicking ass, after all, right?

So I backed away from the "Gen-Y" "How to succeed at your career", type of posts, and moved more into the nature of being Too XYZ in a world that doesn't want to deal with such variables. (The blog's reason for being in the first place.) I initially thought that my success at BC would carry me through in this regard as well. It didn't. I don't want to get into a bashing fest, but suffice to say that like so many other good ideas before it, Brazen Careerist over the course of the next year became anything but Brazen. The same tired, cookie cutter responses, sullied by corporate interest and editorial interference by new employees beholden to same. The sense of exploring the whole person with which the platform was founded, and under which I thrived, vanished in favor of exposure and perks for the already privileged. The elite. The ones with mile long resumes and the connections to rub golden elbows.

In short, I was now Too XYZ for Brazen Careerist. And when the final indignity of being treated like a total newb by one of the so called "editors" took place, I bid my farewells to the place, after gaining 400 followers, (most of which never responded to my private messages...so much for networking) and being labeled a "Top User".

But this blog remained, in hopes that I would still reach that same disenfranchised group of people, while at the same time offering an example of my writing skills to those who wished to observe same. By now I had started on Twitter, and was getting the hang of that; I never really adopted it as most others have, but have learned to use it to some small advantage in the networking department. I'd continue to blog on topics of Too XYZ, while also tweeting about same. Only with a more philosophical bent, as opposed to the analytic and critical approach from earlier in the blog's life.

The readership changed somewhat. It remained steady, though quiet. I won't get into numbers here, but most posts didn't match the numbers of some of my early posts from the career-oriented days of BC. There were some exceptions; people on Twitter were eating up my posts on introversion. As well as my occasional posts on my writing. I began to think that if I could somehow meld my views on being an introvert into being Too XYZ, I could perhaps reach those who were both. And if I could share those experiences through the lens of being a writer, all the better. So I tried to do that with my posts. I succeeded somewhat, but the writing was on the wall; the mission of my online content had changed, and this blog, as it was, no longer quite fit that mission.

I was losing the desire to create this "otherness" about what I am. I maintain that there is something different about me, and that solving my problems is not as simple as most people think that it is. But as my posts began to lean more towards introspection, I came to a conclusion, expressed in this post, that I wasn't serving either myself, nor other people that are Too XYZ very well at all. I was conceptualizing the state of being "Too XYZ", and trying to write and discuss that, when what I should have been doing was sharing myself with the world...an individual man who happens also to be, in some areas, Too XYZ. Let people get to know me and what makes me tick, and not just my existential proclivities. (After all, not all of me is Too XYZ believe it or not. I can be damn practical too.)

My research and work over the last few months has been pursuant of this realignment. And by Easter, a brand new website and blog will be the culmination of this perceptual shift.

My new site will still be dominated by a blogging component, but the content will vary a bit more. Instead of posts about being Too XYZ, you will find posts about being me. Not confined to mere navel-gazing, I'll be posting thoughts, experiences, advice, observations, questions and links pertaining to such topics as writing, introversion, daily life, and yes, being Too XYZ. That aspect of my blogging will not vanish, and indeed, 100% of the content from this blog will be folded into the new one, to be categorized appropriately as per the new broader, Ty-Based approach.

In addition to the blogging, I will provide informational pages about me, how to hire me, writing samples, how to contact me, current projects and more. It will not be the fanciest, plug-in crazy website you will find. It will not be dripping with fancy code and all of the latest widgets. It will be, as this site has been, minimalist in presentation. Clean. Clear. Direct. The depth of content, however will hopefully be up to what you have come to expect from me and my writing. Indeed I hope to continue to improve and expand my content as I give a better idea of not only who I am, but what I can do.

If all goes as planned, I'll be engaging to more people. The site will be place where you can come and get to know either one single aspect of me, such as my writing, or multiple aspects of who I am, and what I do and want. Simple at first where content is king, and perhaps later on, if thing goes well, somewhat more fancy, where, you guessed it, content is still king.

The true work on that site begins this very week. And while I could continue to post here as I set up the new place, (or at least continue to repost Too XYZ Classics), I have decided that now is a good time to make the break and concentrate more fully on making the new site. Which is why I'll not be blogging again until the new place is up and running. When the address and domain are set-up I will probably post one more entry here announcing where to find me in case any stragglers show up and read the blog. But for all intents and purposes this is, as I said, the final entry of any substance for Too XYZ.

I want to thank all of you who have read, commented on, and subscribed to this blog over the last two years. Some of you I know, but most of you have remained in the shadows, leaving no contact information with which I can thank you personally. I hope that if you have been a regular reader of Too XYZ, you will make the switch and come on over to read and subscribe to the new place, once it's all ready. In the mean time, if you don't already, do follow me on Twitter @TyUnglebower. I'll be posting site updates and other things there as well. If not, check back here periodically next month for the official address once I create it.

This blog in this space will remain up for the foreseeable future, both for archival purposes and so that I can respond to any comments I might get on any posts. (Yes, I will still engage in conversations about any of the topics I have brought up over the last two years.) But for now, my short blogging hiatus begins. I hope to see you all on the other side of it. Until then, remember we're all a little Too XYZ sometimes, and that is okay.

sincerely, Ty Unglebower

Too XYZ Classic: Optimizing Optimism

2012-01-30T15:11:00.000-05:00

In one of my first ever posts on this blog, published on February 22, 2010, I spoke of optimism.

I have had a love-hate relationship with the concept of optimism for all of my life. Perhaps it is better described as a like-hate. I have been through resentment of optimists, confusion of them. I have been briefly intrigued by them, and for an even briefer period of time, tried to become one. Currently, I have an uneasy alliance with the concept and its disciples. I accept it in just about the same proportions that I accept the fact I am no and cannot be an optimist myself. Not when defined by a life long, ubiquitous sense of seeing the silver lining.

I came to that conclusion not long before starting this blog. In fact, knowing I was not an optimist is one of the components that led me to conclude I was Too XYZ for most people.

The good news is, psychiatry is starting to catch up to the idea that I have espoused for so long; Unchecked, universal optimism is not much healthier than is incessant pessimism. Indeed, a recent edition of Psychology Today contains an article addressing this very subject. An article that encourages the tempering of optimistic expectations. It was quite a satisfying read for someone like myself. (Paul, Annie Murphy. "The Uses and Abuses of Optimism (And Pessimism)" Psychology Today Dec. 2011: 56-62)

Since writing this post, as I said, I have a more diplomatic approach to optimism. One that has it seeds in the classic post I am directing you to now. Optimism focused upon a specific project or moment in time, and not applied as a life philosophy has sometimes kept me from going crazy. Perhaps it will help you as well.

Too XYZ Classic: Screw Cartography

2012-01-26T14:57:00.002-05:00

Just over a year ago, I published this post, decrying the rampant need for people, organizations and institutions to put themselves "on the map".

Success, and even fame are one thing. But they ought to be the result of working towards a mission. That mission, I said a year ago, and maintain today, cannot be fame and notoriety in its own right. If being "put on the map" if the underlying impetus for everything you do, you aren't doing much.

Since I published this I have announced the start of my own theatre company, The Parapet Players. I am currently in the midst of building a new website. I am revising my first novel, and outlining a second. I seek my freelance writing work. And yet in each of these cases my goal is to create a quality product, not to "get on the map".

I'd like to be on the map someday in any and all of these endeavors, of course. But I simply won't rearrange what I have in order to go right for the map. I should get on the map because of what I have done, not because I have pursued a course of action designed to do so.

You wouldn't believe how many times I've seen something that is established go to pot because the decide they need to "expand" and get on this map. And don't even get me started on placed that aren't even established, who decide the answer is to shoot for the map right away.

And my old high school? Their plans to build a new facility which I mentioned in the original post? They have now been totally abandoned. They will instead take over the facility of middle school that has moved out of the area. That just about sums it up as far as they and their "map" are concerned.

How important is "getting on the map" to you?

Too XYZ Classic: Why Introverts Hate Small Talk

2012-01-23T13:52:00.002-05:00

This post was only published back in June, so I don't know if it's truly old enough to be a "classic". But just this weekend I got two more fresh comments on small talk from two different people. (One of whom actually Googled "I hate small talk".) So given it's initial popularity and the continued interest people have on the topic, it has attained Too XYZ Classic status.

My thoughts on the nature of small talk have not changed much in a mere seven months, of course. It is still tedious, still pointless, and still grates my nerves. The world still expects it and in general I still refuse to yield to that expectation.

There are over 25 comments on the comment section of this post though, and each of them makes an excellent point in a way I didn't cover, or otherwise shares a personal anecdote that I feel enlightens the subject even further.

In other words, those commenting on the post are not engaging in mere small talk.

Too XYZ Classic: Sculpting Relationships

2012-01-19T14:07:00.000-05:00

Back on March 16, 2011, I posted this somewhat lengthy but quite satisfying piece about how I think we can forge and strengthen our relationships with people. The advice within the post came about as I pondered the things I found most lacking in my own relationships that were also the things for which I most yearned. In a few cases these tips were, I admit, also the things I myself found most difficult.

I don't know how successful I have been in implementing all of these things. And I know that the state of my relationships since I wrote this is roughly the same, overall. Some of my relationships I have only recently concluded are actually never going to be any good for me. Others are just starting out, relationships that didn't even exist when I originally published this post. So perhaps it will be easier for me to follow my own advice with new relationships than it is in regards to old ones?

That isn't to say I have not followed any of my own advice already. And when I have it has been advantageous more often than not. I really have felt closer to certain people since putting a few of these things into practice here and there.

The one that tragically remains the least utilized among my friends is "always apologize." I literally have been hurt many times by certain people, and those people have never once thought to apologize. I have even been shut out, and told that the conversation is "over" when I attempt to equalize the bad feelings. The hurt over people who behave this way continues. But as I said, at least I am starting to see the true nature of some of my so called friends. Maybe, in part, due to my greater focus on the concepts mentioned in this piece.

Would you add any other actions or perceptions to my list?

Too XYZ Classic: Five Ways to Make Networking Events Introvert Friendly

2012-01-16T14:18:00.003-05:00

Despite popular belief, we're allowed to enjoy and even love our own work. And for my part, I love this post I wrote back in October of 2010. I really feel I captured the most potent reasons that standard networking events, (such as business card exchanges) are such anathema to the average introvert.

Further, I am proud of how well I articulated just exactly what needs to be present at a network event if anyone ever wants to spearhead an introvert-oriented meet and greet. Not that anybody has jumped at the idea to do this.

Yet they should. They should indeed. Introvert creativity is some of the most forward thinking and inspiring you can come across. No offense to extroverts out there of course, but the predominance of your kind in the design of office space, loathsome "team projects", brainstorming sessions, and the previously mention networking events all do a disservice not just to introverts, but to organizations that execute such strategies. Yet the sad truth is, business is becoming more and more an extroverted affair. That is as unfair as it is unwise.

Yet, as I said there is some hope. I have yet to encounter a networking event that incorporated some or all of these five elements I mentioned. But if I did, I'd be happy to attend. Introverts need help too after all.

Too XYZ Classic: 8 Reasons Volunteering Sucks

2012-01-12T13:16:00.001-05:00

On April 20, 2010 I wrote this piece on volunteerism. It has been either first or second on Google searches for the phrase "Volunteering Sucks" for most of the time since. Which means more than a few people must punch in that phrase. And if the many comments on this post are any indication, quite a few of those Googling the phrase have recently been burned by volunteering their time to some cause or another.

Let's face it, volunteering isn't really all it is cracked up to be as a concept. Sure, we want to help people who need it, and there are for many people lots of opportunity to make use of our talents to assist others for free. Yet if we are not lucky enough to land the perfect volunteer position? Let's just say that the pre-packaged notion that volunteering is it's own reward was never vetted by offended and unappreciated former volunteers such as myself and those who read this post originally.

Since publishing this piece, I have yet to look for, and hence have yet to find, any rewarding volunteer services to provide my community. So my thoughts remain in large part the same as they did when I wrote this.

Do you volunteer anywhere? Have you noticed any of these things?

Too XYZ Classic: I Hate Dating

2012-01-09T13:28:00.005-05:00

In some ways, this post from June 10, 2010 is one of the most "Ty" posts in this entire blog. Few things in life have been as consistent for me as a hatred of the whole dating scene. In the 18 months or so since I originally published this, my views have not been tempered much. That is to say I may find myself able to enjoy one or two standard "getting to know you dates" in the course of an entire year. And that is only a maybe. Yet the lion's share of this post's sentiments remain in tact. I still despise conventional dating. The games. The unfair judgement. The standards for a partner so lofty they border on indecent. The hoops of fire through which I am to jump in order to make the "correct" impression on the drill sergeant that is my date. (Assuming I haven't scorched my manhood during said leap and lost all interest in such things by that point.)

Until dating changes, or until women who run the dating circuit like it's an Olympic event become less dismissive of guys like myself, (not rich, not tall, average looks) I will stick to actually relating to people, and making sure people relate to the real me. Not the "dating me".

Too XYZ Classic: Look Before You Melee

2012-01-05T13:12:00.000-05:00

In this post, originally published here on the blog on March 18, 2010, I used video game playing as a metaphor. I did so to show how effective it can be at times to go slow and finesse one's way to success. I have to say that in the intervening time since I wrote the post I have become more adept at strategic approaches to certain things. The temptation and inclination to melee, however, is still present. It's something of which I have to remain aware as I go forward with my plans. (Though I still have gone to melee, not without some success, in the nearly two years since I wrote this piece.

What I didn't specifically mention in the post, but which I nonetheless find applicable to same is the notion some people have to be always moving. Always changing. Always rushing into the next big thing. Brand changing, loyalty changing, spend two years creating something only to drop it 4 days after it's official, and move on to something else to build. For something that is "keeping it fresh". To me that is but another form of ill advised melee attack. Blasting your way through life for the sake of blasting and getting to the top of...whatever.

I didn't have a huge readership the first time, and as you can see, little commentary. But I count it as one of my favorite posts because it illuminates one of my favorite lessons over the last few years. A lesson I try to apply each day in some way.

Online Plans for 2012

2012-01-03T16:37:00.004-05:00

Whew. After a month of posting daily as part of the fabulous and enlightening Reverb11, I have taken a few days off of blogging before starting up again.

And even now, it is just a brief stay so I can lay out a few things for those of you who follow me.

To begin with, as I said, Reverb11 brought out a rather copious amount of new material to the blog in a short amount of time. I am proud of myself, and I don't regret the decision. Please go back and read everything I wrote in December to get a great idea of what I am about, and plan to be about in the near future.

However despite the fact that I could create some more original content, I am going to give that portion of my brain a rest for at least January. But I don't want to go dark for that time, so I will be posting "Too XYZ Classics". Throughout this month I will be re-posting what I think have been some of my favorite, most successful, most controversial and most commented upon posts of the last two years. If you haven't had a chance to read them, and haven't explored my archive yet, here will be your chance.

Perhaps they will kick up some conversations all over again. I'll still be responding to any comments, so feel free to offer up your thoughts on what you read. I will also up a brief overview of the post, and some thoughts on what if any conversation came about the first time it was posted.

Also now is as good a time as any to remind you all that this year my online presence will change. Too XYZ as you know it today will cease to exist, as I design and build a more all purpose website. It will be a place to learn about me, read samples of my writing, get information on hiring me, and, naturally, blogging. (On more than one topic.) It's all part of rebuilding and strengthening my freelance business.

All of the posts for Too XYZ will be, ideally, folded into this new site, so all of these old posts will remain accessible for you to read and comment upon. I will keep you posted on the progress of that project periodically by posting about it here. I may even need your advice as time goes on.

The goal is to have the new site up and running no later than Easter Sunday. So stay tuned for that.

In the mean time, I hope you will continue to check back here to the blog for the Too XYZ Classics, starting later this week.

Reverb11: The Finale. Looking Back.

2011-12-31T16:26:00.002-05:00

Take a moment to think back on your Reverb11 responses. Have you learned anything? What surprised you about this experience? Which of your responses was your favorite?

So I now reached the end of Reverb11. What started off as a way to kill some time in the first few days this month as I was housesitting for my sister, something I assumed I would only take part in occasionally but ended up committing to in whole concludes with this final post. I guess the fact that I posted each days from the 3rd on is one of the surprises of this experiences. I will get to the other surprises in a bit. First, let's break down the final prompt.

Have you learned anything?

I have indeed. I learned, or in the very least was reminded just how prolific a writer I can be, given deadlines and structure. One doesn't always have such things, and I would not want everything I ever write to be confined in the way the Reverb posts were. Yet I can't deny how well I tend to cook with just a little bit more fire under me, as it were. (At least when the writing doesn't involve interviewing other people.)

I learned that I am both on top of some things more than I thought I was, and in need of work in some more things than I thought I was. I am a little darker in places than I realized, and I have the means to examine that. I learned to pay more attention to things happening to me every single day than I tend to do now. I thought I was good at being present, but I learned I can be lacking at that sometimes.

Also learned was a small degree of detachment from my difficulties. Like anyone I have had and will have ups and downs in regards to how bothered I am about the darker aspects of my life and thoughts. I will find myself bothered more by such again in the future, I have no doubt. Yet it will fade again because by writing about my troubles, fears, and obstacles with the intention of explaining them to others, free of the maudlin language I wanted to make sure I avoided this month, I learned that most of my issues have a looser grip on my throat than I feel sometimes when I am in the heat of the moment. That whether through my own means or the eventual hired help of various types of professionals, the things with which I struggle can in most cases appear much more surmountable when shared in an open, yet modest and efficient nature.

I learned that I am a bit fearful of the future, but I also learned I have the means to make a plan because I am able to look at aspects of the whole from a distance, and react accordingly. I guess I already knew this, but I learned I can be better at it than I thought.

What surprised you about this experience?

My own candor.

Now being who I am I have never had much of a problem speaking my mind. I tell it like it is, or like it should be, and to hell if the gurus, thought leaders, or Blog Royalty agrees. Nor have I been shy about sharing my bad luck, or my tribulations. (Regardless of many people figuring I had little of either.) I was committed from the inception of this blog to be honest about what I was up to, and feeling. I have maintained that agreement with myself and with readers.

Yet with these Reverb posts, and the previously mentioned detachment some of them brought about, I was able to open up with my readers in a way I am not always so famous for doing. The less obvious, under the surface, emotional motivation for some of how I think and act were revealed with more frequency, and yet more subtlety than I would have expected before this began. I assure you I have retained my privacy when I needed to, yet Reverb provoked in me a frankness that comes from someone unconcerned about personal judgement. Which, biggest surprise of all, I was. Some of the sharing muscles may be a little stiff from lack of use, but despite the fact I have not bared my whole soul, I have bared more than before, and not felt that worried about it. I still feel some guilt and some shame about where I am in life, but for the first time in a while, not so much that I can't mention it to others.

Also I was pleasantly surprised at how appreciative people were of my posts, as well as how many new friends I made in the process of Reverb. I welcome them, and hope they stick around for my future online content.

Which of your responses was your favorite?

I guess it depends on the metric, as is so often the case. There are several posts where I quite enjoyed the prose I came up with. I think some of my best formed lines of non-fiction in years have come about as part of these posts. Sometimes they just flowed and sometimes they took some thought, but in either case I am pleased with the results. Some of my favorite prose among my own writing this month was in Traveling, I think. I am quite satisfied with the metaphors I used there.

Then there are the posts that were my favorites to write. Loathing was great fun to pound out. I also got a kick out of writing the inside jacket blurb for my own, as of yet, not realized book in Author, Author.

The most socially important piece, when viewed with as objective a view as I can muster for my own work was probably Let's Do Lunch, and I almost chose that as my favorite.

Yet in the end, I think Self-Forgiveness is my favorite post from among my own Reverb11 work. It has a little bit of everything in it, from prose I am proud to call my own, personal satisfaction in the composing, a frankness that is the hallmark of Reverb11 as I understand it, and a call to take the most important step we can take in loving other people. Yes. I maintain that if he can begin to truly forgive ourselves, there is little we cannot do for ourselves and for others.

And that, as they say, is that. The temptation is to sum up with some long, sentimental, complex and poetic analysis of the entire experience. Yet I think I will fight with my own inclinations and refrain from doing so. I would hope you could see what each individual post meant to me, and what I was trying to convey in same on the day. Consider it all carefully, and what each prompt as well as the whole Reverb experience meant to me should become clear to you.

In the end, I suppose it was not about each individual stop, but more about the entire month. The journey, as is so often the case, was perhaps the main point of Reverb. And I can think of no better way to end my experience with same then to mention that it was an enlightening and worthwhile journey to me, and I thank each of you for taking it with me.

Happy New Year, and be sure to check back here at Too XYZ in the coming weeks as I announce some exciting changes.

Reverb11: Three Wishes

2011-12-30T13:48:00.002-05:00

If a genie could grant you three wishes for 2012, what would they be?

For the sake of this prompt, let us assume two things. First, that the laws of physics cannot be ignored. Things get way too fanciful otherwise. Second, that the "Monkey's Paw" Effect is suspended. It may seem like a silly thing to point out in this context, but being a writer and story teller, it is difficult to get the reference out of my mind.

So, if the wishes were just wishes, with no negative consequences, mine would be as follows:

1) I would wish that my mother could 100% retire.

Because enough already. These are the years she should be enjoying, not raking together just enough to pay bills all the time. A lifetime or working hard should lead to some point of not having to do so. It doesn't. I hope to have the money to allow her to stop working altogether some day.

2) I would wish for better business sense.

I am right now not that great at marketing, and I need to be if I am to be a full time freelance writer. Or even just a part time one. Or just a novelist. I don't want to change my personality. I refuse to cold call and hard sell and carpet bomb market as many people do. Yet I know there are more respectable ways to market one's self and one's services. I have just been 100% unable to do it. Something is blocked in my mind about it. I hope to fix that on my own of course, in the coming year, at least somewhat. Yet if we are talking wishes, I would wish it to be already done, and in place. Or at least wish for a person to arrive out of nowhere and do it all well for me.

3) I would wish for my own self sustaining theatre company with venue.

Modest stage. Some basic equipment. Dedicated volunteers. Creative control, and no fear. Art for art's sake. Not art that gets altered in just such a way to squeeze a few more dollars out of people so we can turn on the lights and the heat.

Perhaps not the sexiest set of three wishes you will read about. And I am sure if I thought about this prompt every day, I'd come up with different answers everyday. Plus wishes change over time, whether they are fulfilled or not. However, at this moment these wishes would do a great job in setting me on the right road towards fulfillment and peace. They of course would not provide those things, but they would give me some nice tools with which to do the job myself.

Reverb11: Shake It Up.

2011-12-29T18:32:00.002-05:00

Looking towards 2012, what can you do to shake things up a little next year?

Can one shake things up by tightening one's focus and continuing to pursue that which they have already pursued? Can ridding one's self of extras actually cause a shake up? It sounds like an oxymoron at first. Yet if you consider that often during 2011 I was anxious about so many goals and plans and problems and thereby running around everywhere trying to put out fires all of the time (some of which were actually there), slowing things down could in fact be a ways of shaking things up. I say that because if my mind and spirit are approaching my work and life from a different perspective, things are by definition, shaken up.

I don't mean it will be a year of leisure. Far from it. I will keep time for leisure of course, but 2012 is to be, if I have my way, a year of some intense work. More work on things with which I am good, and familiar, and the hard work of tackling some new, (and necessary) things about which I know little right now. (I beg of you not to call this "stepping outside of my comfort zone", because not only am I unsure this applies, but I am just exhausted with hearing that term.)

When I moved into this spare room in Mom's house, I knew that it would be sink or swim. I have not been here long enough to be certain which it will be. I cannot predict the future. I do however know that if it is to be swim, I will have to in some ways contract my universe, so as to have more control over it, in order to subsequently expand it later. It is this overall theme of contracting in order to expand applies to many plans I have that will certainly shake things up in 2012. I will in a sense be retreating not only more into my own physical room more often, but also more into my own style, my own work and art, and even my own eccentricities at times. (Things against which I think I have too often rebelled in the interest of financial success.)

My friend Becky likened it to Dr. Who's Tardis machine, wherein the inside is somehow bigger than the outside. My life shall expand even as it appears to the outside eye to be smaller, both in terms of time spent in one room locked away working, and the metaphorical focus upon my own brand of life, more free of the judgement of others. (Please know in my life I have watched exactly one full episode of Dr. Who. I had to look up key aspects of the series to fully understand Becky's imagery. But once I did, it worked.)

I mean to delve even deeper into fewer yet more soul strengthening aspects of my existence. Not as some flight of fancy, (though no doubt the business and productivity oriented out there will call it so), but as a matter of health and sanity. It is time to embrace fully that I am Too XYZ, and nourish the things of which I am built. Story telling. Acting. Writing. Spiritual balance. Truth seeking. Greater self-acceptance through self-exploration and examination. Not mere artistic indulgence coupled with navel gazing, but a concerted effort to fully immerse myself in that for which I appear designed in this life. Even if that means I remain a pauper for a while, it will, in theory mean I am at least maintaining my sanity. Sanity brings clarity. Clarity brings options. Options bring confidence. Confidence brings both inward and outward success.

Naysayers to this approach to life abound. On websites, message boards, television, and my own family. I cannot turn them all off, but I can minimize their impact by moving as much of what I am into this spare room/office. To trade in the lack of certain bills that this crucible of comfort provides me in exchange for an intense cocooning into my creative environment. An environment which, I hope, will eventually be a place where I can better my writing, my art, and my business practices. (The latter being by far the most fearful undertaking on this list.) My own pace, in my own way, adopting the ways of others in the small increments I so require, instead of leaping headlong into the vat of Kool-Aid sold by so many gurus.

My goal is not, and indeed my hope is not that I will become a recluse, or hermit. That is no way to be a story teller that affects people's lives, let alone a man of good business. I won't be doing the business card exchanges and the other conventional networking stuff of course, because I never do. Yet I will be making connections in my own way, and making that a priority. I will be changing things in my human relationships department. The frequency, nature, and duration of my connections to people will be shaken up.

As will my concept of time. I plan to focus more on the potent omnipotence that is now, and what I can do with it, more than the unsatisfying what-ifs of the too far future times. I want to build towards a greater, more satisfying personal future with bricks made of the present. They add up, if we pay attention and lay them in their proper order and location. At least that is my theory. And that alone will be a bit of a shake up in the way I have approached such things before.

I will also, as I mentioned, be shaking things up artistically. I have some big artistic news that I will not elaborate upon here, but will announce in multiple ways once the New Year is a few days old. Stay tuned for that, but for now suffice to say that it too should shake things up for me in 2012.

It's all rather counter-intuitive. True, I've never had any problem telling that status quo to get stuffed, and if you read this blog or know me as a person, you can confirm that. Yet I usually do so in advocacy of people or ideas far greater than myself. Now that I plan to direct all of that in service to me for a while, I am not sure how it will all feel. Yet one thing is clear; it will without a doubt shake things up for me in 2012.

Reverb11: Self-Forgiveness

2011-12-28T16:42:00.000-05:00

(Note: please check out last night's post, if you have not already. It is a corrected post. I read the prompt incorrectly before. T.U.)

*******************************************

What one thing do you need to forgive yourself for this year?

Well, damn. Who would have guessed that I would have answered this prompt in my response to a previous prompt? Yet I have.

Of course, if I had any notion that the subject of forgiveness would be revisited during Reverb, especially as it relates to forgiving myself, I would not have chosen myself as the person who most needed my forgiveness earlier in the month. I would have spoken of someone else.

I thought briefly of writing in this prompt about the someone else I should forgive. The old switcheroo. Yet that seemed tacky.

I have some general thoughts on forgiving one's self though.

Even the people who appear most forgiving of others can find it almost impossible to forgive themselves of their own trespasses. As my previous forgiveness post indicated, I am one such person with this difficulty.

In the end, I think there are several reason we do not forgive ourselves with the ease we appear to forgive others. None of them healthy.

To begin with, it's not unlike the reasons doctors make lousy patients. We are so close to the problem, so close to the pain and the guilt, and we think we are so knowledgeable about the source of the discomfort (in this case, our own soul) that we figure we have a handle on it. We not only know our crimes, but our motivations. We are 100% clear on what we were thinking when we commit a sin. That is a luxury we do not have with others who sin against us. At some point we need to either cut them off, or accept that they are telling the truth about their reasons. Yet we have this assumption that our own motivations are so much more horrible than those of others could possibly be.

Yet they are not. They are just more familiar to us. They are so much a part of us we assume we know better than anybody else the things for which we cannot be forgiven. And like the sick doctor who is so sure that his profession makes him uniquely qualified to determine how to heal himself, we lack the distance and perspective to see things as a whole. Which means that we tend to assume we even understand all of our own motivations for doing things. Which of course, we do not. We act out sometimes in ways we cannot explain to ourselves. We are, after all, only human.

Which is another reason why it may be so difficult to forgive ourselves. It confirms we are not only human, but as human as the other people we forgive in the course of our lives. And we may find it uncomfortable to place ourselves in the same species as a few such individuals.

Which means that contrary to the notion we sell ourselves, we are not actually being selfless and humble when we do not forgive ourselves. We are in fact, being quote arrogant. Think of how it really appears when we forgive others and avoid forgiving ourselves:

"You are forgiven because so little is expected of you. But up here in my ivory tower where only the absolute most well developed and pure people with the highest standards live, we cannot get away with such things. I have failed to live up to the lofty standard of my superior race, and hence, I cannot forgive my mistakes they way I forgive yours."

Not an appealing sentiment, is it? Yet if you delve into why you don't feel you earn your own forgiveness, you may find more of this creeping in than you care to admit.

In the end, we are all human. Some people are less evil than others, and that will never change. However in the area of forgiveness it is often easier to forgive the other person than it is to forgive ourselves, because the latter requires us to get dirty and recognize that perhaps we are just a frail, stupid, weak and dark as those we can forgive with ease.

This doesn't mean we live lives without hope. If anything it means that there is more hope than we choose to accept sometimes. That by realizing we have made mistakes, but that those mistakes are for the most part not much worse than the mistakes many people in our lives make, we come to understand that commonality between us and others. And if we work hard at it, we can perhaps find it easier to forgive both ourselves and others when we consider it from this standpoint.

In the end, it is about love, for ourselves and for others. Can we truly love a person we have not forgiven? If not, we had better get on with forgiving ourselves before we try to forgive others.

Reverb11: Author, Author.

2011-12-27T00:35:00.000-05:00

Share with us the title and inside jacket cover of the book you would most like to write.

Now that I have the prompt done correctly, (I didn't before,) I am still faced with a difficult task. Asking a writer what book he would most like to write is probably a bit like asking a baseball player which particular seat he would like his home run to land in. It's swinging for the fence and scoring that is of the utmost. Plus, the book I "most" wanted to write recently is already in the process of being revised, so I am not sure that counts. So I'll make a deal with you; I will answer the prompt with one of the ideas I have for the future. Just remember, there are several where this came from. I can't put it on a pedestal above the others. But at any rate...

Interim-in-Chief
by Ty Unglebower

Chester Andrews, the popular and respected Vice-President of the United States has but one major public appearance remaining before leaving office after two terms; to deliver a speech to the party's election year National Convention. Despite many pleas from all over the country, Andrews, 67, has no desire to seek the presidency. The speech, both a defacto endorsement of the party's nominee, Senator Harris Gruber, as well as a first step in his own farewell to public life, is a rousing success with both convention delegates and the punditcracy.

Yet Vice-President Andrews barely has his shoes off in his bedroom after the short flight from Madison Square Garden in New York when he gets the unthinkable news; President Jacob Turner has suffered a massive heart attack. The fears of both Andrews and the nation are realized when three days later, the President is dead, and with a mere six months remaining in his tenure in office, Andrews is elevated to the presidency.

Now the job Andrews never sought is his for six months. And with war brewing in the Middle East, a recalcitrant Speaker of the House with his own Presidential aspirations, and a now hobbled party nominee that believes he can assert influence over affairs of state before winning the election, newly sworn in President Andrews may find those six months more of a trial than the seven and a half years of his immediate and beloved predecessor.

Reverb11: Music Is Powerful

2011-12-26T18:47:00.000-05:00

Think of one song that you turn to time and again and describe why it's important to you.

As with so many such prompts, the list of possible answers is considerable for me. For how does one choose between so many songs that one goes back to over and over? What is the metric? The most powerful lyrics? The most moving music? Or is it simply a matter of describing a song I listen to with a high degree of frequency?

So many inspiring songs in my collection. So many songs to which I have rocked out many times throughout life. So many beautiful lyrics or stunning arrangements. A few songs posses more than one of the above qualities. It will seem ridiculous to not have picked any number of songs when all is said and done, because I go back to so many of them so often.

I have opted in the end, however, to describe the song that has been a song I go back to for as long as I can remember. The song that seems to be in the background of my consciousness even if it has been a long while since I have listened to it. The song that in many ways, (as one of the first songs I ever knew, and loved) serves as the cornerstone of my entire musical aspect of my personality. Like a literal cornerstone, my eclectic musical tastes have been built up from and around this song for my entire life. It isn't front and center, but it is always there deep within me doing its job.

I am referring to Country Roads by John Denver.

The song is no virtuoso accomplishment, from either a technical or artistic standpoint. I do believe John Denver was a good poet, by and large. An accomplished songwriter who obviously touched millions of people. Yet strictly speaking Country Roads isn't even Denver's own best song, in terms of compositional difficulty or lyrical potency. It was never ground breaking, but that is not why I select it.

And it isn't that I have a huge esteem for West Virginia itself, despite having many friends there, and having lived no further than 15 minutes from its border at any time in life. (The song even inspired an essay of mine on this subject, entitled, "The Place I Almost Belong, West Virginia.) I don't care for the politics, religion, or general feel of most of West Virginia. I am not a fan of the terrain when I have to drive in it to see certain friends. Now in general, despite my objections to a lot of its culture, I bare no hatred for West Virginia. Yet I have no desire to move there.

So, why do I select for this post what some consider the unofficial state song of West Virginia? To begin with, personal history. I have no memory of not knowing this song. I was listening to it in infancy, thanks to Mom. This is the song I wanted my friends to like as a child, because it would mean that something important to me actually meant something to other people. Having my friends like this song would mean that I was not as alien and unlovable as I always felt. Kids of course did not love this song. Ever. They disliked me even more for ever daring to reveal I liked it. It was "lame". It was "slow". It was only for "old people", or "retarded people".

So I spent most of my childhood alone. (No surprise there.) And when alone, whether my mood be celebratory or anxious, whether I was preparing for bed, or trying to pretend I wasn't afraid of what would happen to my oldest sister in the hospital when she needed emergency surgery to deliver my first two nieces, I would listen to the album with Country Roads on it. Along with other music, and other artists. Yet that song always seemed to be the front door into a musical session.

Years go by and tastes change, somewhat. While I don't think a person can truly ever get away from the foods, areas and music with which they grew up, people do begin to expand their horizons. Venture further away from that which is familiar in hopes of understanding a broader sloth of the human experience. We seek out other cultures, other genres of writing, other sources of music in pursuit of new feelings. Or fresh catalysts for the familiar ones. We fall in and out of love with new sounds, growing weary of some fads, while adding other songs to our permanent collections. Yet still, the seeds of what we experienced as our "firsts" almost always remain to some degree.

Through many dangers toils and snares I have listened to music. Not always John Denver, but he is often one of my considerations when flipping through the collections of music to choose a mood. Because the song seems to transcend any given mood. The lyrical longing fits in with a melancholy. The harmonies work well to soothe in jittery times. Yet the tempo is just upbeat enough to provide a toe tap when needed as a pick me up. And of course, despite being about a state, it is in the end a love song, so I turned to it many a time when I found myself in what I foolishly at the time determined to be love. A song for all seasons indeed.

I have often felt that if a song plays in the light tunnel through which many believe we pass after death on the way to the next world, mine would be Country Roads. So deeply ingrained into every aspect of my consciousness has that song been, for song a long period of time, I can think of no more appropriate human tune to transition me forever away from the things of being human at the end of my time on the earth. The song I would listen to most in life to get me quickly back into shape when feeling out of sorts. To make me feel well when I got sick.

Sometimes I go months without listening to it. Yet I have owned Country Roads in some form my entire life. The record my mother played for me in my crib was eventually sat on and broken in two during a family party. (It was the only record I was allowed to handle as a child. I'd play it all the time at Christmas, as a celebration of the season, and to this day it even reminds me of Christmas a bit.) I was about six when it got broken. It was as though a friend moved away. Worse. It was as though an imaginary friend had moved away. So much so Mom purchased the same album, this time on the far more durable cassette format, a mere few weeks later. A cassette I had with me into young adulthood, playing to thinness.

The CD was located for me in time for Christmas one year, and I have had the CD to this day. (Transferring the song on a regular basis onto an MP3 player for walks and such.) I don't know what the next music format will be in the future. But I do know that whatever form it takes, one of the first purchases of it I will make will be of Country Roads.

Reverb11: Memorable Gifts

2011-12-25T18:30:00.001-05:00

What is the most memorable gift you have ever received?

How appropriate and yet open-ended a prompt for Christmas Day. So many answers, depending on the criteria used. Even just within the boundaries of "memorable" lie all kinds of definitions, yielding any number of possible answers.

Some years you get exactly something you had on your list. Sometimes it is a total, wonderful surprise you had not even thought of yourself. And it need not be a large or expensive gift, either. One year the best gift I got was one simple Greatest Hits CD filled with songs I loved.

I am going to go, though, with a gift that required the most thought, and hence is the most memorable in that regard. It is a ball point pen.

Not just any ball point pen, though. It is a ball point pen fashioned out of an antler. And antler from the final deer my father ever hunted. My father died when I was seven years old.

Mom had it done. While my father was not obsessed with hunting, he did enjoy it. I do not hunt, but always think of my father when I think of hunting. So a connection with that aspect of my father's recreational life, for which I was far too young when he died, represents a nice connection with my father.

It was especially thoughtful because it was a pen. It could have been a figurine, or a lamp or something, and would have retained it's sentimental value in my eyes. Yet Mom in her wisdom chose to make it a pen. Practical, because I am often looking for a nice pen with which to do certain thing. And symbolic, because being a writer, I make frequent use of a pen. Not to write drafts, but certainly to write notes, and outlines and the occasional letter. The pen is too special to carry with me all the time, as I fear I would lose it. Yet I don't want it to be an icon, and hence too precious to be used. So I use it for writing I do within the safe confines of my room. Outlines. Letters. Some miscellaneous planning and listing. The exciting and the mundane. The point being to make regular use of something that in some tangential way connects me to my father and his leisure.

It had been out of ink for a while, and mom replaced the cartridge for Christmas this year, and gave it to me early so I could use the pen again. It's nice to have it back, and since it is a gift from my mother, it will in some ways always connect me to both of my parents.

Merry Christmas to everyone.

Reverb11: Somebody Has To Say It

2011-12-24T19:34:00.003-05:00

Somebody has to say it...

The prompt for today came with the suggestion that it be just one sentence. So, here is mine, which I find appropriate for Christmas Eve:

Some of the most Christ-like people , now in through history, have not been Christians.

Enjoy your visions of sugar plums tonight, my friends.

Reverb11: Travel

2011-12-23T14:58:00.000-05:00

Did you visit anywhere new this year? Any plans to travel next year?

In May I traveled to Jersey City, New Jersey to attend a friend's birthday party. (In that case though, "party" doesn't begin to cover it. Birthday Bash, perhaps.)

I have been to New Jersey before, but not that part of it. I didn't know much about Jersey City, and Hoboken, and all of those places, though of course I had heard of them. If there is such a thing as "small town big city" life, I think the places I visited while in New Jersey would qualify. I remember shopping at one point, and this street we were walking down had all kind of store keepers selling things on the sidewalks outside of their store. Fruit and vegetable stands, and that sort of thing. I admit to not thinking much about it before that time, but part of me sort of assumed that you couldn't really find city streets like that in this country anymore. Not that there is never an odd fruit stand here and there, but the idea of blocks-long lines of eclectic local merchandise being sold by an even more eclectic mosaic of people from all over the world, literally) I figured was just about gone in 2011. It was encouraging to see it was not. At least not in Jersey City.

I had falafel for the first time while I was there. From a shop in the city with just two tables inside. I enjoyed the meal quite a bit, and hope to have some of it again someday. I learned that the tiny shop, (the name of which I cannot remember) has some kind of rivalry going on with another tiny falafel shop on the other side of the city. (Or it may have been in a nearby city, I also cannot remember that exact fact either.) But that amused me for some reason.

Then there was Hoboken. We weren't in Hoboken much. I wish time would have allowed a longer stay there. For some reason I think I would have enjoyed hanging around Hoboken the most out of the places in New Jersey I went to. That's no disrespect to Jersey City, but Hoboken, or at least the parts I saw, spoke to me a bit more, if you will. Downtown at least had a certain presence that appealed to me specifically. I'd love to be able to elaborate on that, but I can't. Again, maybe if I had been able to absorb more of it. The best I can say is that there seemed to be an almost equal mix of past and present that you don't always see in cities of comparable size. Even other cities in New Jersey.

One thing I did get to experience in Hoboken probably had nothing to do with it being Hoboken, per se, though it was without a doubt an Urban New Jersey experience. It took place when we went to get the beer for the party at this huge beer warehouse. It was literally a warehouse you drove into. Cases of beer everywhere. While I waited I counted no less that 25 varieties of brew just within my eyesight. A crew of maybe five guys in overalls and hand trucks moved the beer hither and yon. They were my favorite part of my brief stay at the warehouse. They should have their own reality show on television.

Not that I watch those kind of shows in general, but this group of guys were, (at least from my outsider's perspective) sort of like New Jersey personified. Not like those Jersey Shore assholes, but true, working class, sarcastic and blunt Jersey. Though you aren't supposed to stereotype people, they did say many things and did so with accents that one associates with the area. Most of what I heard from this colorful crew came from the guy I assume was the floor supervisor. "Hey, why is case of Milla still sitting ova heeya?" He didn't appear to be happy as he asked this question. The Miller was not there much longer, though the yelling and snappy repartee between the workers remained.

I did spend a few hours in New York City itself, which of course is nearby. As always I enjoy getting to see Manhattan. Yet we were in area I had never been to before. Far from the usual tourist infested areas. On our way to and back from dinner and the short film festival we attended, I saw many sites that were also in the "small town big city" category. New York City is of course immense, but when you get as deep into Manhattan as we were, (we had gone on for so long I thought for sure we were in a different borough) it was like a different city. It's own neighborhood. (And again, my apologies, I don't know which part of Manhattan we were in.)

Local basketball tournaments under the evening lights in a park. Old buildings from a bygone era with their ornate architecture housing things like Starbucks and Apple outlets. Art. Bars and taverns. All lit street lamps, not by the glaring, ever present fluorescence of Times Square and Broadway. I love Times Square and Broadway, but I got a lot out of my time spent in the deeper parts of the borough, where the garish, manufactured, though intoxicating enormity of the famous hot spots faded away to reveal a slightly foreign (to me) but nonetheless more relatable and accessible humanity. The "everyday" of New York City, if that makes any sense.

Sometimes you can "learn" something you already knew. A concept can begin to dawn on you when you experience it first hand in a way it never could when it was just a concept of which you were aware intellectually. I of course knew there was more to New York City that the swarming, glitzy, warp speed mass of neon illuminated homo-sapiens that is Lower Manhattan. Yet that has been the only part of New York I had ever been to. This trip in May reminded me that even that city is made up of millions upon millions of regular people living lives not that unlike my own in scope, even if they differ greatly in culture and attitude.

If I do travel in 2012, (and I would like to, but money is an issue), I'd like a chance to experience some more of that everyday neighborhood flavor. Both in this country, and in other countries. (The United Kingdom in particular.) Where people are not quite as anonymous. Where it's clear that the neighborhood is an extension of the citizens within, as opposed to the masses of people crashing like so many ocean waves to be broken on the rocky coast of a nebulous downtown megatropolis.

Please do not misunderstand me. There are many big cities I long to see for the first time, (Boston, New Orleans, London), and some I want to see again (Seattle, Chicago, and yes, New York City.) I love the hugeness of a major city. The lights. The sound of traffic. The adventure and the site seeing. I'd never want to be denied that kind of experience. Yet in the meantime, (or perhaps, with the right guide, while I am in those big cities), I want to make sure I see more neighborhoods like the ones I saw back in May.

Do you live in one? Perhaps I will visit you next. If your town has falafel.

Reverb11: Passion

2011-12-22T16:04:00.002-05:00

If you could quit your day job and your quality of life wouldn't change, what would you do?

I do have to say upfront that I am not currently at my ideal quality of life. I am not in hell, but I want and need some things to improve. Part of that improvement will be contingent upon how will my freelance reboot goes in 2012. So I will approach this prompt as though it were asking me if I could have my as yet unrealized ideal quality of life, and hold on to it without working.

That being said, I am a story teller. I would spend almost all of my time facilitating the telling of stories. Stories to move, to entertain, to illicit thought, to frighten, to comfort. Stories of being human, or what it should be to be so. I excel at doing this in two ways. Through my writing, and through my work in the theatre. And despite the fact that I spend a great deal of time on both now, (I am a freelance writer after all), the lack of needing money all the time would open up avenues of pursuit that right now are not as attainable I dare say.

For starters, I'd spend more time researching and experiencing the things that can help a writer become a better story teller, outside of the words themselves. Traveling. Visiting museums. Attending shows and concerts. (I am a firm believer that participating in one of the arts improves one's ability in the others.) Some days I am sure I would just spend pacing about working out a plot, or once in a while a specific sentence. I do this a bit now and I know it takes up more time than it should for this freelancer. But with money being no object I could be more at ease to do so.

The prompt doesn't mention if I have unlimited money in this alternate universe, or if simply my quality of life doesn't suffer once I quit my job. But assuming I can live my life at leisure because of money, in addition to my greater focus on writing my own way, I would either buy some kind of medium sized theatre venue, or buy another building and convert it into same, for the sake of housing my own theatre company. A company that despite my resources would remain modest in means and accoutrements, but big on material, talent and dedication. One that I could build, mold, and run according to my vision of theatre. A company I could take around to other venues for visiting performances, while hosting the performances of others in my venue.

I'd spend my time promoting, brainstorming, writing, acting, connecting, directing, and just in general creating art by way of this company and this venue. And of course my time running the theatre would inform my writing, and my writing would inform my acting/theatre work. Art nourishing art, creating a product in both cases into which I can pour my heart and mind, and subsequently offer to the community at large for their betterment. Their enjoyment. Their enlightenment.

And to do so without guilt. The guilt of being in debt. Of struggling to pay bills. Of writing things in my own pace instead of according to a deadline. The guilt of...well you understand by now. Pursuing the passions within my spirit without feeling the need to justify it. Truth be told, I have gotten better at just doing what it is to be me without explanation in the last few years. I even said once I'd rather be a pauper and a story teller than a self sufficient man with a cubicle. Not sexy to most people, but it is closer to being authentic than anything else.

Yet I would be lying if I said that guilt hadn't held back my art somewhat even now. I hope that I don't have to become rich in order for me to finally feel free to be the story teller I want to be and can be, in both writing and theatre. Hopefully I can find a way to do make these contributions without having to abandon the idea of making any money. I believe I can.

Yet in this little fantasy, money is not an issue, and therefore writing and theatre, and the auxiliary things that improve those arts, would take up the lion's share of my time.

Reverb11: Party Time

2011-12-21T12:30:00.002-05:00

Tell us about the "best" party you attended this year.

Despite not being much of a "party person", I did attend a few this year. Some were huge, mind blowing affairs, the likes of which I have rarely seen. Others were more modest. Each had their own appeal. But if I had to choose the best one, I think I would go with one of the smaller ones I attended at a local friend's house back in April.

I have known members of this family in one way or another for the better part of ten years. Over those years I came to know the other members. I am simpatico with some of them in a number of ways, especially in regards to introversion. Back in the spring, I had, with much fanfare, just finished the rough draft of my novel. On schedule. Always supportive of me and my endeavors, a few of my friends in this family suggested I come over to their house the following week, for some drink, food, and camaraderie, in celebration of my writing accomplishment. Touched by their consideration and generosity, I accepted.

The party itself was low-key. One or two other people outside of the family did show up, but it was mostly just me and the family. They asked me about my book, what the next step was, and what it had been like to write it. How it felt to achieve the rough draft. More than once one of them told me that just finishing the draft was an accomplishment that most people only talk about, but never actually achieve. I am still not sure if the act of finishing a draft is as worthy of the gracious praise they bestowed upon me that night, but I appreciated it quite a bit, nonetheless.

Some people are drawn most to the parties that are the biggest, the loudest, the most expensive, the most well stocked with refreshment. Some are drawn to the hosts, or the venue, or other expected guests. Each of those things, and more are legitimate metrics to determine the success of a party. Yet for me, it was the spirit and purpose for this party that made it my best in 2011.

The fact that friends of mine opened their home and offered their food to me for the specific purpose of taking an interesting and celebrating an accomplishment that was so personally significant to me says a lot about them. And a lot about that party. Outside of my own mind, it was the first and thus far most demonstrative expression as to the importance of my writing the draft. Outsiders looking in may not have judged it to be a great party, but I have rarely appreciated a celebration more than I did that one.

Reverb11: Friendship

2011-12-20T21:37:00.001-05:00

What kind of friend were you in 2011? What kind of friend do you want to be in 2012?

It is hard to determine what kind of friend I was in 2011, exactly. You would probably have to consult my friends for their take on this question. I assume, as far as quality is concerned, I must have been a fairly good one to at least some portion of people I know, otherwise I would not have gotten such a moving response to my difficulties as often as I did. True, some people could have responded out of pure altruism, but not that many in one group of people, I dare say. I am grateful either way, but I have gathered one has to be a good friend to have good friends.

Yet if by "kind" the prompt refers to what type of friend I was, I suppose I'd have to say the invested kind. The friend who works at understanding what makes the other people tick, and knowing how their most important issues at the moment are unfolding. Their projects, their hobbies, their health, etc. The friend who asks many questions about the nature of what someone is doing, and what the goal is. The friend who makes as many constructive, or at least aesthetic observations about the things that matter most to any given friend at any given moment.

I try to educate myself on what my friends are living.

I'd like to continue to do that in 2012, of course. But I would also like to be the friend that is called upon in the middle of the night, or for the unique help he can bring. I want to be the friend of action as much as I am the friend of words and sentiment. To an extent this requires a choice by my friends to let me in and have those chances to make a direct difference through action. (Not that expressing support is not action. It is. But one can be more confident in having made a difference if he is directly taking a specific, outward action sometimes, I think.)

Which means I may have to be less ambiguous. I may have to work a little harder on letting people know how I feel a little more often. And I might have to risk losing a friend here or there by honestly expressing larger concerns. There is a time for tact and for holding one's tongue, but I'd like to be better at saying the bold thing that needs to be said for the good of the person in 2012.

A friend that both loves, and challenges, but only when needed.

Hopefully 2012 will not bring much need to do that, but will bring my ability to make that decision during the times it actually does arise.

Reverb11: Acts of Generosity

2011-12-19T16:21:00.002-05:00

Tell us about a time this year that you were moved by the generosity of another.

Would it be selfish or lack creativity to answer this prompt by mentioning my own friends and myself? If so, I may have to live with the label, because without a doubt, it is generous actions of about a dozen of my friends in particular that fits the bill best for this prompt this year.

They were generous with their time and support when about eight weeks ago I mentioned in a rather public manner, (Facebook updates) that I was in the midst of a difficult, trying time. That I in no way expected anyone to do anything about my situation, but that I wanted people to at least be aware of it, so if they were inclined, they could send me the proverbial "good vibes".

And send them they did. Not just mentally, either. I got emails, Facebook messages, comments on the status, texts and even a few tweets from a select group of people who wanted right away only to help me in some manner. I got invitations to visit, well wishes, reminders of my importance, (to them and to the world at large), suggestions for how to proceed and professions of love. It was all quite uplifting to me.

This is not to say that those who didn't respond directly are lesser people, or even that they care about me less. Yet given that a simple word or two, or even no response at all because of the potential awkwardness would have been the easier thing to do, the fact that that select few took the time, energy, and thought into offering me their support and love was, in my mind, quite generous. Especially when in some cases I had not known the concerned party for an extended period of time. I found it moving that someone would put forth the effort, even without knowing me at such an intimate level as some of my other friends do.

Yes, I was the beneficiary in this case. One may wonder if I would have been so moved had the affection been directed at someone else. The answer is, yes. If I could in some way be made aware that people were putting forth a sincere effort and taking time out of their days to remind someone other than me that they were going to be all right, and that loved ones were never more than a phone call or text away, I like to believe I would have still been moved. A person's time and emotional energy are commodities that I feel are not easily parted with, and that is what makes the sharing of same so generous.

Sure we can all click a "Like" on Facebook without much thought, or shoot off a "Sorry to hear that" message, without much investment. I got a few of those as well. However, to think about a response, tailor it to the recipient's personality and situation, without pandering or condescending? That is something that can't just be shot off in a moment. It requires a willful, gracious bestowing of sentiment upon the needy soul. That is a choice that is made. A gift that is given. A generous gift at that, and I would be moved by anyone I witnessed taking such time to add depth to their responses.

So I thank my friends for their generosity, the most moving example of such I have witnessed this year.

Reverb11: Let's Do Lunch.

2011-12-18T15:48:00.000-05:00

If you could have lunch with anybody, who would it be and what would you like to discuss?

An age old prompt that people have been asking almost as long as there have been lunches. And so many possible ways to look at it. Is it anybody living or dead, entering the realm of the impossible? Can it be a fictional character, thus entering the realm of fantasy? Certainly famous people are the most common answer one way or the other, despite the low likelihood of ever dining with them. The prompt itself doesn't specify perimeters.

Plus, knowing me, I am unlikely to have lunch with anybody unless I know them fairly well already. I'm a reserved introvert who doesn't do much conventional networking after all. I don't often do lunch with total strangers, and any friends with whom I could possibly have lunch have at some point already joined me in same. As much as I would love to lunch with my friends again, that seems to be an uninteresting source of potential mealtime companions within the context of this prompt.

Though I like to think I would not be star struck into silence, given the chance to prepare for a meal with a celebrity I admired, there are all kinds of famous people I would love a chance to converse with over a meal. Actors. A few athletes. A writer here and there. I think it would be impossible for me to pick one single individual with whom I would long to have lunch and conversation above all others. So instead of trying to pick the most intriguing celebrity option, I will go with a more down to earth but nonetheless desirous partner. One that in this context is anonymous.

I'd sit down to lunch with an American Muslim. I don't know any devout Muslims in this country personally. And while I know in my heart I am not a Muslim, nor could I be one, I would want to sit down with one first and foremost to discuss how they feel. How they are doing personally, emotionally, and spiritually in a climate that seems to me more committed to their destruction, or at least their subjugation, with each passing day. I wish to be the set of ears and open mind in person for them that I suspect they have found lacking in society as a whole over the last several years. I'd want them to tell me if they are angry, forgiving, confused, hurt, or perhaps even unfazed by the way so many vocal elements of our society view and speak of Islam.

I'd also want to hear about the people who have not succumbed to the bigotry and ignorance that associates the religion itself with terrorism. (There is zero connection.) I would ask where they have found American non-Muslims who treated them with dignity and respect, when earned. I'd be even more interested in examples of such people who belonged to other religions. Those who know that respect is earned by an individual person, not denied based on a warped interpretation of an entire demographic.

I'd want to know if they, the Muslim, being on the bad end of this witch hunt, have any reason to be optimistic about the United States. I'd want to know from them what they think can be done. I'd ask of this to satisfy my own need to find hope about the future of my society.

Finally if it would be of any use, I would do my best to convey to them that I see them as personally guiltless in terrorist acts that have affected my country. That I see Islam as blameless in same, and that while not adhering to the tenants of Islam, I find nothing threatening about them doing so. I doubt they require my exhortations of magnanimity in order to feel complete, yet I hope hearing them would provide at least a minor salve to some of the possible pain they feel.

I'd mention that these problems are beyond me in such a system, and that the only things I could see myself doing that would counteract any of it would be having more lunches like our lunch, and encouraging others so do to when they could. To resist my potent desire at times to retaliate with my own vilification of certain other religions that I see as stoking the anti-Islamic fires in this country. To nonetheless speak out against rumors and untruths that are sold as fact and history. To educate myself even further so I could be even more effective at this. And of course to keep in mind any suggestions they may have for cooling the increasing heat over religion that is scorching the earth of this country.

It may not be a comfortable lunch. It may not be the most upbeat meal time conversation that either me or my companion would ever have. Yet if it were the right companion, that would be patient with my conversational idiosyncrasies and such, I can think of fewer lunches with greater potential to effect those certain parts of my soul more effectively.

Reverb11: Loathing

2011-12-17T22:49:00.000-05:00

Who or what do you loathe, and how have your expressed that in 2011?

A simple prompt that the author suggested be taken lightly, so as to step back from the sometimes serious, introspective nature of Reverb11 in general. This means I could possibly answer this in a million ways, but I will narrow it down and indeed have some fun with this.

I loathe the fandom of three specific sports teams, as much as I loathe the teams themselves. The teams are the Pittsburgh Steelers, the Dallas Cowboys, and the New York Yankees.

Notice I say the fandom, and not the fans themselves, though I hate a good share of them as well. But I have friends who cheer for some of these teams, so I won't single out individual people for hate. But the overall concept of fandom for these various packs of assholes? Fair game.

Let's start with "Steeler Nation". I'm not sure what exactly illicits the hatred from within me. The lard-ass bum of a quarterback with questionable sexual proclivities? That ever present shampoo shiller Troy Polamalu with his obnoxious horse mane hairdo? Those ubiquitous rags that are too ugly to use even as emergency toilet paper and yet are treated like Holy Relics? The borderline mass delirium among them which causes them to believe that the Steelers are somehow the only team ever called for penalties, when they actually get away with more penalties than any other team in American history? The endless shifting of responsibility when they get their asses kicked (bad calls, Troy was out)? The Deschapelle Coup of claiming to be better than the world when they win with a backup quarterback, but being the first to blame the back up quarterback if they lose? The insistence, regardless of how they perform in the post season that they are the best franchise in the history of football?

Oh yeah, it's all of those.

I am a Baltimore Ravens fan, and so I find all of it particularly loathsome. Yet if you know football you know you don't have to root for Baltimore in order to hate the Steelers. Because the Steelers are worthy of hate. A hate they claim to welcome and love, but whine and bitch about. They complain incessantly the minute anybody expresses even the slightest bit of contempt or criticism of their team, their plays, their front office, Mike Tomlin, Heinz Field, or anything remotely connected to any of the above. For a team that loves to be hated, they sure do a lot of bitching when the trash talk comes their way.

I expressed this loathing this year by talking up on Facebook how Baltimore swept them this season. I may in the future express this by buying a terrible towel to use as that cloth everyone needs to tie around a slightly leaky pipe somewhere in the house.

Now let's talk about the Dallas Cowboys. A team I hated before I even watched football, because growing up in Maryland, you have to hate the Cowboys. It started with the idea that they are Washington's arch rivals, even though I don't pay much attention to the Redskins anymore. But the arrogance of the franchise, even when their record is dismal, keeps the hate alive.

There have been billionaires more arrogant, unpleasant, and weasel-like than Jerry Jones...but not many. The man acts like the world owes him another Super Bowl. An arrogance that carries over into the team's unsubstantiated and vilified nickname "America's Team". Few things that are American bare any resemblance to anything so Texan as the Dallas Cowboys.

Making it worse is the fact that the largest population outside of Dallas of jackasses rooting for the Cowboys can be found in Washington, D.C. and surrounding areas. Natives of this geographical location. Meaning of course that 90% of "authentic" Cowboys sports bars nestled into the suburbs of Silver Spring, Maryland and other such places consist purely of people that chose a football team specifically for the purpose of giving the middle finger to everyone around them. They didn't come from Dallas, have nobody in Dallas, and no plans to move anywhere near Dallas. They root for the Cowboys because more than they love football they love to cause trouble, get into bar fights, and scream at the top of their longs, "I'm independent, rugged, and individualistic! I root for Dem Cowboys even in the shadow of FedEx field and I am proud of it!"

Kind of like the guy with the really loud motorcycle that blasts through small towns rattling windows is proud of his "masculinity". No compensation being made there. I expressed this loathing this year by giving the New York Giants a standing ovation when they blocked Dallas' final field goal in week 14, handing them a much deserved loss.

Finally, we have the Bronx Bastards, I mean, the Bronx Bombers. The New York Yankees. I loathe everything about them, and I don't even watch baseball.

Yankee fans also have a touch of the Steeler Nation, Love/Hate relationship with being hated. They claim they love the insults but can't ever keep their mouths shut about them. They strut about claiming they do their talking on the field, but fans wouldn't shut up about defending their team if the ghost of Babe Ruth himself showed up and told them to put a sock in it.

They thrive on how much other teams hate them, but anything I have written here in this column would get me murdered in New York, and will probably illicit nasty comments here on the blog. That's because try as they may to be "too talented to care", nothing gets up a Yankee fan's ass quicker than simply saying something like, "Piss on the Yankees." If violence doesn't ensue, a loud, bloated, rambling, borderline incoherent defense of all things that have ever or will ever come out of New York City will follow. (As though the totality of New York itself is encapsulated best, and exclusively by one of two baseball teams within its borders.)

I actually stopped being friends with a guy who turned the fact that I hate the Yankees into the fact that I wouldn't have to if I ever knew what it was like to take pride in where I lived. That only those from New York City can know what it is to love a city immersed in culture, history, and some of the greatest parades in all of the post-World War II era. And of course, better than all of that, they have the Yankees.

I'd pay money to be present when such people tell citizens of Boston they have no idea what it is like to love a city, and embrace its history and culture. Let them then tell people in Chicago. In Los Angeles. Or any number of I don't know, hundreds of cities anywhere on earth. Yankee fans, you love your city and your ball team. This makes you somehow unique in the world? You haven't even been World Champions in two years, and you claim superiority over not only all other teams, but all other cities? If your team is that great and you love to be insulted so much, why not convert some of that energy into explaining the choke for which your team has been so famous the last few years? Sounds like some people are a little insecure.

Especially when we go back further than two years ago. Yankee fans are the biggest legacy whores in the history of professional sports. No matter how often you watch Jeter choke the team right out of the post-season, I have to hear some New Yorker spew off about how many times the Yankees have won the world series lifetime. How nobody has won more titles than they have all together. How yeah, they may be watching this year, (and last year's) World Series on TV, but how many times has any other team won five championships in a row? Zing!

My response? How many times have the Yankees achieved such a feat since Ike left the White House? Answer: zero. More than half of the Yankees who were part of that dynasty are now dead. How long do you get to claim any kind of team superiority on the backs of men who were in their prime before color television was available? If you want to play that card, on behalf of Maryland, I claim the Orioles superior, because when they were a minor league team, they had on their roster none other than Babe Ruth.

But I will cut you some slack, Yankee Nation. Tell me about the last time your team just went back to back as World Series victors. What's that? You say that last happened when the Y2K bug was a news story?

All that matters to most people is what the team did this year. And if you are anything but a Yankee or Ranger fan, you congratulate the Cardinals this year for winning one of the biggest come back World Series victories in history. If you are a Yankee fan, you stand there the minute the Yankees are eliminated from contention, accuse the world of being intimidated by your team's non-existent swagger, and count off on your fingers:

"Hey, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio, Roger Maris, Reggie Jackson..."

When they finish listing 20 minutes later they will say something tot he effect of; "They will be remembered for all time. Who the Cards got ? Nobody will be talking about them in 50 years."

Yeah, and nobody will be listening to you trying to win today's argument by talking up the 1950 ALCS. Fuget about it. Your team not only has choked more than once in recent years, but is filled with some of the most unpleasant athletes in all of baseball.

I of course only hate them because they win, right Yankee fans? Even though I don't hate the 2011 World Series Champion St. Louis Cardinals anymore than I hate the 2010 World Series Champion San Francisco Giants. I don't hate teams because they win. I hate them because they are staffed with jerks who console themselves after their teams latest choke job by trying to convince each other that legacy, name, and "swagger" are more important to anybody than winning the whole thing. They're not, and never will be.

I expressed this loathing earlier this year by, as I said, deleting a colleague right off of my Facebook, after it would seem he had to focus on a jealousy within me that simply wasn't there. He invented it to have something to attack me with, because defending the New York Yankees of this generation was, it would seem, too difficult a task.

So there you have it. Some things I loathe and how I expressed same in 2011. The author was right; I did have fun with that.

Reverb11: Community?

2011-12-16T17:18:00.004-05:00

Online and in real life we're all part of a multitude of communities. Tell us about one that moves you.

For the first time during this Reverb11, I think I have to flat out cheat. (That is assuming you don't find some of my previous answers cheating.) I will begin that cheating, (that is to say, sidestepping the prompt) with this provocative, and controversial statement; I am a part of no community that moves me.

To lessen the blow that I am sure many readers will feel that statement delivers, let me mention what this doesn't mean.

It doesn't mean I have no friends. It doesn't indicate there have been no noteworthy people enter my life, either online of offline in 2011. It is not a refusal to take part in communities. Nor is it casting any aspersions upon those who are a member of a community that moves them.

What it does mean is that I have not had a great deal of luck with becoming a solid, important and valued member of a community. Since I am not a hermit, I am by default a member of some communities, but do they move me? Am I made to feel welcomed, protected, supported or loved by any of them in particular? Do I find their mission to be inspiring in its own right? The astonishing and depressing answer is no.

"That's bullshit. I happen to know a few communities of which you are a member that you could talk about for this prompt. Based on your writings and the fact that I am in some of the same communities, I know this isn't an accurate statement you make."

The above is the generic version of the response I anticipate from some people who read this. Yet consider my preemptive answers in each case.

The blogging community. I am in it, and have met some people through it. But I am not a powerhouse within it. My readership, though at times pleasing, is by no means impressive, and is usually without comment and anonymous. I appreciate all patronage, but without comments, or with comments that are anonymous, I can't really call that a "community". Plus the blogging community, like Twitter, is so nebulous, it isn't really defined by one set of rules, norms, or missions. So I am in the blogging community, but not of it, as it were.

The theatre community. It is a large part of my life. Has been for years. I blog about it even. (Did you know that?) I have been in many shows, often with the same people. Certainly in the same area. I volunteer for a theatre wherein I do most of my theatre work. It is not the same theatre where five years ago I did most of my stuff, and that is part of the point; I have never truly been assimilated as a full fledged, appreciated, loved and accepted member of a specific community theatre, or the community OF theatre in general. Don't get me wrong, I have made a lot of friends through theatre. Good friends. Lots of excellent individual people. Many fine individual productions. Yet meeting friends through theatre doesn't mean the community itself is a moving one, and for me it is not.

Now theatre can be that way. Supportive. Loving. Creative. And there are people in my group who are ingrained into the fabric of any given theatre in the area. Yet I myself am not. I don't know if it is because I lack networking skills, or that once I step off of the stage I don't make much of an impression on anybody personally. But I can't get my own projects off the ground, get boards and directors to collaborate with me very often, and in general don't feel overall warmth from the theatres of which I have been a part.

That is not to say there are no warm decent people involved with any of them. There are. Again, it is not so much the individual here and there, but the community as a whole that eludes me. In some cases, the pettiness, competitiveness, arrogance, fear of change, and other such negative traits in arts organizations tend to outweigh other aspects too often for me and my personality to make much of a dent in the way of "community".

I am a good actor, and have been in some great shows and met some great people. Yet in the end, I am on the outside looking in when I am not in a show, and sometimes even then. I move about within the theatre community, but I am not personally moved by it. (Though I would like to be of course.)

The writing community. People bristle at this the most, because they find it impossible that I could have been a blogger, writer, and tweeter for so long, and yet not have found at least some branch of the writing community by which I could be moved, loved and accepted. Yet again, like theatre, I have met some fellow writers, (all online), and even made some writer friends.

Yet the community itself is not "moving" to me. Not that it can't be, but once again, I am on the outside looking in. I have never been successful at breaking through the cliques so common on internet message boards. There are no local writing groups for in person contact, (yes, I am serious). I don't go to conventions and conferences because I know I would have a miserable time, and the one or two local magazines with whom I work semi-regularly have not given much of an indication that friendship is on the table. I socialize with none of them, and really only hear from most of them when it is time to pitch, and time to file a piece. (I did recently join the Agent Query Connection message boards. Perhaps I will have better luck there.)

In other words, I write where I can, spend most of my time hoping for more places to write and make money for it, and follow a few writers on Twitter. Yet I am not a full fledged member of the community, despite meeting some great fellow writers and aspiring writers.

Where I live. Two months ago someone in the apartment building I had lived in for three years said something to me for the very first time. It was a nasty comment about how I wasn't parked well. I ignored him. Then there is the fact that back when I used to believe in small town democracy and email city officials with questions, most would be ignored or answered with "thank you for your comments." No answer to the question, just thanking me for comments. Rubes. Also very common in all of the cities near here. That is but one example of why I have never felt connected to whatever neighborhood I find myself in.

So it is obvious that there are many communities out there that are moving to many people. Loving, supporting, interesting, fascinating, fun communities covering everything from art to hobbies, to sports teams and so on. Many of my friends are members of them, and I'm happy that they get so much from them. Yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust?

How can I not have found a stable, supportive community of some kind that moves me? Welcomes me? Honors my contributions long after they are made, not just when they are required? I have no idea. I know that it has usually been the case in my life. I hated pep rallies in school because I could usually give a shit if the team won or not. They certainly never cared if I aced my final or not. I have felt no loyalty to schools I have attended, and still do not. I didn't bother with clubs very much either. (The Young Democrats in college gave me the wrong time to meet them for an Al Gore rally on purpose so that I couldn't get a ride with them, though I saw them drive right by me on the street. They said later it was because there was no room. There was also no phone call explaining why the time and location of the meet up had been changed. I left the group after that.)

That kind of stuff is common when it comes to me and groups and communities.

The reasons could be numerous. That I am a quiet person, and nobody wants to hang out or invite the quiet introvert. It could be my intelligence and perspective intimidates a lot of people within communities. (Sorry for the horn tooting, but I take pride in what I am, and the fact is I am an intelligent person, and have been previously ostracized for being such.) I am not overtly handsome, charismatic, wealthy, or unique, and that may keep me out of some communities. Yet you find plenty of communities filled with outcasts and oddities. Those who cannot or refuse to meet the status quo. Those that are in fact Too XYZ. Yet I am a member of none of those either.

Plus, I expect to get something out of a community at some point, if I am to put something in. Even if all I receive is a warm welcome or a curiosity about my presence, that is something. Not silence, or begrudged nods and obligatory "welcome aboards" that become the first and last thing ever said to me by the group.

It may just be timing. That I have just so happened not to have found the right communities yet. However, I cannot help but wonder sometimes, when an actor doesn't feel moved by his theatre community, a writer doesn't feel moved by a writing community, and so on. It starts to feel like my own fault after a while. And if I have to abandon my principles, pretend I love people I do not love, or sublimate my opinion into group think in order to be a part of a moving, loving community, I suppose I will forever be without such a community. Yet if there is ever time or a way wherein I can take part in a community like the one described in the prompt while still being true to who I am, I will line up to get in.

There are suggestions. I am not a member of any volunteer service communities, and many swear by them. I have attempted it here and there, to no avail, however. I am amazed at the stories I hear of the loving communities so many people out there find through volunteering. That has never been my experience, and I have given up on the notion of volunteering in general. (Read this oldie but goody to understand how I got to that point. It is honest to God the number one Google return for the phrase "Volunteering sucks." Try it.)

Also a friend told me recently that I should consider finding a local Goth bar and frequenting it, as that community would appear to embrace personalities and histories of all types, black clothing and white make-up optional. Perhaps, though there is no such bar near where I live. (Another reason I am perhaps not a member of many communities: geographical area, though that doesn't explain the online problem, or the problem when I was at school.)

So there you have it. For whatever the reasons, despite knowing some great people, I can't claim to be a member of a community that moves me.

Reverb11: Surprise Teachers

2011-12-15T15:35:00.001-05:00

Sometimes we find teachers in the most unexpected places. Who surprised you as a teacher this year, and what did you learn?

As with so many of the Reverb prompts, I find this one invites questions before answers. For example, in order to be a teacher, must one be aware that they are imparting a lesson of some kind? Is intention an intrinsic component to being a teacher? Or is someone a teacher simply because I learned something as a result of their existence and behavior? And would the lesson learned have to be a positive one? Or might we learn what we do not want to do?

Is being reminded of something one forgets the same as being "taught"? Is it still teaching if the lesson is reiterating "curriculum" from other sources?

I can't say for everyone, but for me, let's say that there doesn't have to be intention to teach, and that being reminded is a form of being taught. Those ground rules being established, I am going to go with my sister's pets as examples of teachers this year. How's that for surprising?

Actually though, it isn't that surprising. Animals often make us think or react in ways we otherwise would not. (So can people for that matter, and therefore I think anybody could teach me something, and I am not usually surprised at who becomes a teacher. But I'll let that go for now.)

Earlier this month I was house sitting and pet sitting for my sister while she was out of town. She has one dog and two cats. Don't ask me the breeds, because I am never good at remembering such things. Thankfully I am good at remembering that I am quite allergic to cats, and I brought a full supply of Allegra with me.

An animal person I am not. I think they can be fascinating, and great company in the right circumstances. While I am not a Vegan, I do believe that all animals should be treated humanely and with respect. Which I do. Most of the time. That is to say I put a great deal of effort into doing so. Yet depending on the animal, I will sometimes yell the occasional (and I realize, useless) "Shut up," in their direction.

My sister is an animal person. She showers her pets with far more attention than I tend to shower upon animals. To be frank, I think her pets are pampered to a degree. Now they are her pets, she has a right to pamper them as much as she wants, don't get me wrong. Yet it makes for an interesting situation when someone else is running the house in her absence.

One cat and the dog would have been content I think to be carried around by me as I made my way around the house all day. So insistent were they about sitting next to or on me when I was trying to eat, or read, or do anything other than acknowledge them that I spent a great deal of my time and energy keeping them somewhat at bay. I don't usually like animals on me. Even animals I like. So this was one of the bigger adjustments.

They had to adjust as well. They have much freedom over the house, and while I didn't deny them any freedom over their surroundings I did deny them freedom to touch me most of the time.

Yet they would not be denied my attention when it came time for meals and other routines. These animals are definite creatures of habit. When 5:00PM rolled around, no matter where I was, it would become clear that it was time to begin the feeding ritual. (And it very much was a multi-step ritual, believe me.) Lest I forget that it was time for said ceremony, every step I took during the appointed hour had to be a careful one, as animals were at my heels for every moment. (Except for the female cat, whom usually did not participate in all of the meal time ruckus of the other two pets. She, therefore, was my favorite all week.)

The dog also goes out at certain times, naturally. But he will only go out of certain doors at certain times. Most times, he goes out of the basement door into the back yard, barking at non-existent threats the entire time. But after the glorious meal time mentioned above, he expects to go out the door leading to the deck, from the living room. (The barking remains in place once he is outside.)

I had a print out, authored by my sister, explaining these intricacies. I was there for about three days before I had it down cold. And I did try to follow it to the best of my ability, even though I was dumbfounded that a dog that had to shit would refuse so to do if he was set free via a different door than that to which he was accustomed. (I tried it a few times.)

Now what does all of this have to do with being taught? In the process of keeping the animals literally out of my face, off of my lap, and nowhere near the guest room in which I slept, (they tried to invade that all the time before I closed the door behind me), I realized that it probably wasn't easy for them either. Their idea of being inconvenienced is not the same as ours, but I feel certain they realized I was not the master, and that things were not proceeding as normal. I was determined therefore that since I couldn't have them nuzzling me as they do my sister, to at least make the daily march of the immortals that was 5 o'clock in that house as normal for them as possible. Sort of to make up for my personal coldness.

What they taught me, (or as the case may be, reminded me) was that no matter how different certain environments are from what you are used to, once you find yourself in one there is only so much alteration you can expect to make. When in Rome (or Annapolis) do as the Romans (or the pets) do, to put it another way. One must try to be aware of which settings can be altered by their presence, and which cannot.

One should always be aware of personal limits. Just as I was when I was firm in keeping the animals out of my lap. It was not going to happen. Yet if I didn't want total, barking, mewing, spitting, earth shattering, work interrupting, floor cleaning chaos, I needed to embrace the meal time expectations and the routines of "toilet" time. Not that I couldn't have just ignored what they wanted and forced my will upon these animals. I could have. Yet I was not there to create a house in my own image. I was there to be the back-up quarterback who knows the playbook, and does his best to follow it. Had I not, I would have heard about it in loud, angry fashion, and I don't mean from my sister or any other human.

It's all rather Taoist, I guess. Once you step into a river, you are not going to change its course by any more than the tiny divergence the water makes around your body. Embrace that, learn to use it to your advantage, or stay out of the river.

Reverb11: Gratitude

2011-12-14T13:55:00.001-05:00

What Five Things Are You Most Grateful For from 2011?

- I am grateful that I, and everyone in my family appears to have been mostly in good health for another year.

I can't elaborate on this much, but I remain aware of how many people cannot say this. So despite the cliche of it, this is on my list.

- I am grateful for the first shadows of the ideas I have pertaining to rebooting my life and my writing/business in 2012.

Make no mistake, I know there is still a great deal of planning to go. There are many steps I have no idea how to take going forward. I have pretty strong fears about trying some of this stuff. But I am grateful that at least a loose framework came to mind during 2011. I won't be starting cold in the very least. Chilly, but not cold.

- I am grateful that I don't have to sleep in a shelter or in the street or a car while I engage in said rebooting and strategizing.

Despite the embarrassment of having to make use of my mother's spare room for a while, I have to be grateful it was there. Otherwise it would be the unthinkable. (And because it is unthinkable, I don't wish to write much more about it.)

- I am grateful for the people who continue to consume the material I create, whether on the stage or on the page.

Those that have been doing so since before 2011, and those who are "new" this year. I confess that I prefer more frequent comments on this blog, and more feedback in performances than I get. However, what I do get is appreciated, as are the silent patrons of what I offer. I know some of them are there too, and they do count.

- I am grateful That I was able to finish the drafts of my first novel this year on schedule.

Getting people to read it has gone slower than I thought it would, and I may have to give up on as many people proofing it for now. Yet as far as setting down the deadline for myself, and achieving it, all went according to plan. Editing is an easier form of writing to me in most cases, so I am very happy that is what I have to do with this novel now. That the process of first drafting is behind me.

Reverb11: What Scared Me.

2011-12-13T13:50:00.000-05:00

What scared you this year more than anything else? Did you learn anything new about yourself?

The question is a bit unfair to me. I think deep down everyone is most scared either of dying, or loved ones dying, whether they have reason to be scared of same or not. It is especially true of people like me who might be suffering from higher than normal anxiety levels on the whole. (See yesterday's post for brief thoughts on that.) So even if in a technical sense that would be the answer, I am not going to explore that in this post.

I think perhaps it would have been better had the prompt been "what did you fear this year more than anything else." Synonymous to most people, to me being scared is different than fear. The former is the result of a specific occurrence. A reptilian brain response to stimuli. Fear, however, is something more ephemeral, less immediate most times. More conceptual and more internal. (Though by no means less potent.) A fine line, perhaps, but I sometimes think my mind is a tapestry weaved out of fine lines.

So, while I can't say if I am following the spirit of the prompt or not, I am going to mention one of my greatest fears of 2011. A fear that was not unique to 2011, because it has been in place for a while. Ensconced in both my conscious and subconscious for years. It is the fear of irrelevance.

It is not quite the same as the fear of failure. Failure to me is humiliating, enraging, and far too frequent in my life. I am fed up with failing, and to an extent I fear it will continue. But I am somewhat anesthetized to it by now. (That's a whole other post for another time.)

No, the bigger fear is of my talents and accomplishments rotting, like so much corn in a forgotten and unharvested backfield. Going without attention and recognition for what they are, or what they could be with the proper help and collaboration. I have a great fear of my talents being unseen or unappreciated.

To not matter because nobody thinks I write well enough to be read. To go through life with unread stories, articles, blog posts and tweets because nobody out there thinks I have anything to say, and no style with which to say it. Performing in shows that nobody comes to see because my vision and talents on stage are not deemed artistic, creative, inspiring, bold or good enough. To be seen as someone who is full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. These are some of my biggest fears.

I have always said that the two skills I have that have remained immune to self-doubt and outside influence have been my writing and my acting. I feel in a part of me deeper than I usually feel things that I am a legitimate talent in both of these areas. That I am quite frankly good, and at times great at both. When I have the proper motivation, venue, co-stars, and opportunities and such that is.

Yet I have a choking, bone-chilling fear that nobody is seeing that. An apprehension of semi-epic proportions at times that my pedigree, my credentials, my artistic educational provenance, to coin a phrase, has stamped, NOBODY across my forehead. A collection of scarlet letters that have the potential to fence in my talents, vision and creativity, and deem them of little worth. Confine me forever to a place where I am free to shout ideas into the wind, and be unheard, whilst the same wind carries the flashier, better loved, better marketed and sexier lesser talents into influence and stardom.

Have I learned anything about myself as a result of this fear? Nothing new, I don't think. It reiterates what this fear has always reiterated to me; I am uncertain if I have the luck, talent, strength, tenacity, nastiness, power or support to break through the coldness of a dark cynical and at times celebrity and credential obsessed world. It reminds me that I often see the world as a cruel, unforgiving, and destructive place for people like myself, with my given set of personality and talents.

At times I see a vision of the future, not unlike Scrooge saw, wherein the cracked, overgrown and ignored grave at the back of the obscure churchyard turns out to be my own. Not in regards to my life, but in regards to my potential. My art. My desire to tell the stories I want to tell. My relevance.

Can I, like Scrooge, alter this shadow? Is the shadow even there, or have I created a false image in my mind as a result of this fear of which I speak? I don't know. I only know that my experiences in life have lent themselves to incubating a real fear within me. The thing that outside of safety and health of myself and loved ones was probably my biggest fear, the thing that scared me most in 2011. As well as in 2010, 2009, 2008...

Reverb11: 12 Things I Could Do Without

2011-12-12T18:39:00.000-05:00

What are 12 things your life doesn't need in 2012? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these things change your life?

I want to mix fun with serious in this post. Some of these things can not be done away with entirely. Yet let us explore my list. (This was not as easy as I thought it would be. I guess I don't have as big a list of things I'd like to do without as I thought. Perhaps I am not a total downer after all?)

In no intentional order, I could do without the following in 2012:

1) Snow/Ice

Just being cold I can handle, even if I don't like it. I can bundle up. Stay inside. The times when I do have to be out, cold is doable. Yet I have had it with snow and ice. And I have had it with people that are so in love with the shit they beg and pray for more of it, even though power lines are going down, cities are coming to a standstill, and people are suffering through lost work, health issues, and who knows what else. It's easy for people who live in an isolated area and don't have anywhere to go to love foot upon in foot of snow. The rest of us have lives that require, at minimum, electricity, and the ability to transport ourselves. So we don't need all that. Some of my best friends love snow, and that is the least lovable thing about them.

I used to be okay with snow, but I survived Snowmageddon. After that, I would be happy if it dusted snow here and there at Christmas time, and never snowed again for the rest of the year. Sorry, Bing, I don't need a White Christmas that much. I can't drive in it. I have never been good at driving in it. Scares me, and screws everything up, and I could do without it. I can't take steps to eliminate it in 2012, but I will take steps to stay out of it as much as possible. I check weather reports constantly before going anywhere in winter.

2) The Presidential Campaign

Not the election. We need the election, this being a republic and all. But I could do without the campaign. At least as they are defined these days. It will be a very important election, but it will take a year of some of the ugliest politics ever to get there. I vote, and keep track of current events, but campaigns in the United States have become endless, corporate sponsored, bloated, mean spirited shallow messes with which I tire quickly. I am sure I will pay attention to some of it, because that is who I am, but I could honestly do without it as we know it. I wish it were like it is in the UK: limited money and limited time. You get those weeks, and that money and that's it.

Again, I cannot eliminate the campaign of course. But I can keep my political TV show viewing to a minimal and I certainly will do so.

3) Tyler Perry Movies

Seriously, we have had what, about 13 "Medea" centered movies so far?

I have several problems with these movies:

-The idea that he has to play the old fat woman himself. Were there no women who could do it? It isn't funny.

-The idea that less informed people of other races, or those unfamiliar with this country will think the popularity of the series means they are an accurate depiction of how black Americans behave. I have never once met an African-American who acted anywhere near they way Perry's characters do.

-The ego of having "Tyler Perry's..." in front of everything he does. Even Spielberg doesn't do that...

-They pull down the culture curve for the entire nation.

I can't do anything about it but refuse to watch them, which is what I have always done.

4) Positive Thinking Gurus/ Gen-Y Ninjas

Don't get me wrong. I think being positive is useful and healthy. And I think there are plenty of Gen-Y experts and consultants that have something meaningful to offer the world. But I spent nearly two years online almost exclusively in their company, and man did I get tired of the "If there is anything wrong, think it away" and "I have nobody at all to thank for my success but me", crowd. Yes, yes, I am sure that a person needs to take risks, have some optimism, and believe in themselves in order to go forward. Yet the extent to which some people take it is as grating as it is fruitless. Luck exists, bad days or months are legitimate, and thought patterns are not the root of all good and evil. Period.

I plan to eliminate that "negative positive" by doing what I have already done; unsubscribe, unfollow, unfriend those that espouse too much of that. And I will also make an effort to not comment upon it much anymore. Many of my posts, tweets and writings of all kinds were burned on refuting the unfairness of that approach before now. I don't want to continue such a use of my time and words.

5) Ambiguity

There is always going to be some of it between people. Timing, appropriateness of the thought and such things will on occasion dictate a non-committal answer. Yet I could do without most personal ambiguity.

"Are you attracted to me or not? Is this any good or isn't it? Are you keeping a secret from me for a good reason, or do you just not want to tell me? No, what do you want to do today?"

These are the sort of questions, along with many others, to which I spend I great deal of time guessing the answers. Or otherwise I am pretending I do not see the various elephants in the room, and don't broach subjects. I am hoping to eliminate at least some of that this year, by being more direct. Not blunt, and not without tact, but if I don't want to be somewhere, I am going to say I want to leave. If I find that somebody is doing something I find objectionable, I am not going to equivocate when they ask for my thoughts on it. And I will tell someone when I think they are attractive. (Okay, maybe I will remain ambiguous about that one sometimes.) But to get less ambiguity, I suppose I have to project less of it myself.

6) Anxiety

I'll be honest, I am not sure if my levels of anxiety about things fall within the normal range at times. I worry about the safety of others, and of myself quite a bit. To the point where if I am not fully engaged in a complex activity, I can't always shut it off. I could do without that kind of at times encumbering worry. (I use that term because thus far it has not been paralyzing.)

How to eliminate it? The sad truth of the matter is that I may not be able to determine if it is excessive, or how to eliminate it if it is, without the professional advice of a trained counselor. I am not happy about this option, despite the fact there is supposed to be no stigma attached to it. I attach no stigma to other people who seek this sort of assistance. And yet when it comes to me, I hesitate.

Yet it probably needs to be done, if for no other reason than to determine there is nothing wrong that requires a remedy.

7) Career Uncertainty

I know. I can hear specific people already telling me that this cannot be eliminated totally. Perhaps not. But I could do without the notion of having no clue how I am doing, and where I am going next. To an extent that is the lot of a freelancer, but I intend to draw up a bigger, tighter, more custom fit plan moving forward than I have had before. Trying to follow how others do it did not work, and led me to wonder all the more what would become of my career. If I lay out my own plan, tailored to me, and researched to the ompteenth degree, I may have a better shot at knowing at least what I can expect from my talents. It will be long, scary, draining, grueling work, but it should at least begin to answer the question, "What is next for my career?"

8) Mid-Day Fatigue

This has actually improved somewhat in the last few months. Nonetheless, my freelance schedule, combined with a perpetual night owl status and a shortage of restorative sleep have combined over the years to make me feel as though I am dragging between 1PM to about dinner time. Sometimes after. I get tired of being tired, as it were.

Some may just be the nature of who I am, and my sleep cycles. There may be a limit to what can be done. Yet I plan to take some steps. I already have started taking a multi-vitamin each day. I hope to add an hour of sleep to my normal duration, if I can. I am investigating more natural sources of energy in foods that are healthy. Perhaps a decrease in anxiety will result in a decrease in mid-day fatigue as well. In which case, solving one problem will contribute to solving another.

9) Proselytism

It's on television, in newspapers, on signs, in the middle of certain streets. Even in my Facebook feed. (Without liberal use of the unsubscribe button at least.)

Spending energy, time, and money in an effort to beat into the heads of your fellow man that you are deep and important enough to be totally aware of the intentions of the Almighty, and to further indicate that if your word is not taken for it, other parties will suffer infinite suffering in the afterlife? Yeah, I could do without that in 2012. And 2013, 2014, 2015, and every year for the rest of my life, and the afterlife. I hate it.

Like I said, I unsubscribe from feeds on Facebook that do too much of that, if not outright unfriend the people. I also make the effort to avoid the topic of religion when in mixed company. I will at times feel the need to post an anti-organized religion thing on my Facebook, but by and large I try to keep a lid on that indignation and just let the topic remain private as it should be.

10) Whole Family Gatherings

Most combinations of people within my family, at least among my siblings, do not get along. (Which is why I wonder about getting together for Christmas this year for a gift exchange.) Some of it is because there are some asses in my family. People whose individualism and sense of personal morality always trump cohesive family togetherness. Direct fights are uncommon, though they happen. Yet the number of people when we all get together that say nothing to one another in order to keep that peace certainly add to the absurdity of everything. I could do without more family drama this year.

Despite the pull, I may opt out of some of the all-in events that happen next year. I need my space from a good portion of the family that has never understood me, nor never attempted to do so. I tried to understand them, as one of the youngest, for a long time. They didn't want it, and their apathy towards my position in life hurt at first, and now has caused a scar of numbness. I don't care what they think anymore, and would sometimes rather just not see them. Let them go visit the members of the family with whom they do want to get along. I will do the same.

11) Friends that are "too busy".

People have kids. Jobs. Lives. I get it. I hear it all the time. I respect it. Usually. Yet I think all of the above are used as an excuse as often as an honest explanation as to why messages go unreplied to, invitations go unaccepted, and people tend to vanish. You are not too busy, especially when I see that you are spending a great deal of leisure time with other people. You just don't want to invest in our relationship, whatever it is.

And you know what? That's fine. Hurtful sometimes, but if you don't want it, you don't want it. Yet if you do want it, put some effort into things once in a while. Friendships take work, and I could do without people who don't seem inclined to contact me or respond to being contacted.

So I will carry over a few things that I started this year. Such as the Rule of Three. If I send three messages to someone that go unanswered, or no effort is made by them to contact me over the course of three solid months, they are history. I will waste no more time on people who can't do any better than that. I am another piece in their collection, not another friend in their heart.

Professionals hate when I say this, but fuck them I am saying it anyway...friends make time. Period. That's how it goes. You set aside time for your friends. We all have shit to do, but a real person sets some of it aside to let a friend know they matter. (Like, for instance, returning a message at least once a summer.)

12) Being far from friends.

As I mentioned in a previous post, most of my dearest friends are not accessible due to distance. I can't drive to their place when I need to vent, or call in the morning to ask if they want to see a movie that evening. I can't hug them, sit in their homes, hear their voices on a regular basis. Some of the most important people in my life I have not seen in ten years. I could do without such absences.

So, my hope is to maybe call a bit more often at first. And then, if all goes well, set aside some of the increased income I hope to be earning this year to go visit some of these people across the country. (It will take more because I don't fly. I do only trains and buses.) But I have never visited any of my dearest cross country friends at their homes. True, none but one of them has ever visited me in mine either, and don't think I overlook that truth. Yet my schedule is generally more flexible than others. So I hope I can see at least one of them in 2012. Maybe even two.

***

The second part of the prompt is How will getting rid of these things change your life?

Of the things I can get rid of, each one will change my life in a different way to a certain degree. Yet if there were a universal among them, I would say by ridding myself of each of them, my life will improve by allowing me to sense more of what is creative, artistic, positive, and productive in my life. (Not something I am good at without help.) Moving these things aside, or at least diminishing their influence will begin to blow away some of the fog, and reveal what is behind it. The solid things. The powerful things. Things that, like a giant bridge or a building you know are there but catch mere glimpses of through the fog, will become a constant part of the new landscape.

As a result, in theory, more positive sensory input will fill my spirit, and direct things in a more gratifying direction. Leaving a store of ammo within my heart for when the fog does descend for a few days at a time again.

Reverb11: What I would Have liked More Of in 2011.

2011-12-11T16:52:00.001-05:00

What do you wish you had done more of in 2011?

I think in order to answer this question, I first have to rely a bit on types. For just about every answer I could give could be countered with proof that I did engage in the activity to some degree, and in some cases to a large degree. But not in the right way. The best way to explain it is to just give the reader some of my most obvious answers, with the appropriate qualifiers.

I wish I had met more of the "right" sort of people in 2011.

Don't get me wrong, I have met quite a few decent and even wonderful people online this year. For that I am grateful. And I have met a handful of nondescript people in person this year. My regret is that I was not able to encounter more local people that are of the sort I most need. Whether professionally or personally, it seems those that are the most supportive, useful, or comforting are far away. And those new people that are local are not in general the sorts of people with whom I feel I share much in common. So I wish I had met more people that match me well who are also accessible in person.

I wish I had seen more of the local people I value in 2011.

Many of them are busy, or say they are. Many of them just do not invite me to things, frankly. I myself am not in a position to do a lot of hosting given my crazy living situation. And even the local people are about 45 minutes away in most cases. Again I have seen some of them. I just wish I would have seen them, and had that social "out" a bit more often. I am home 99% of Friday and Saturday nights, but full disclosure? The introvert in me did turn down one or two invitations that sounded overwhelming this year.

I wish I had done more of my ideal type of theatre in 2011.

I co-directed one show this year, and appeared in two others. Most of it was fun, with some set-backs. Yet none were quite the ideal experience in theatre for me. I wish I had had some more challenging roles. I would have preferred to be in at least one drama. I wish I had been able to direct something on my own. I hope to remedy all of these things next year to an extent, but that will have to be elaborated upon at another time. In relation to this prompt, I wish I had done more theatre that spoke to me on a deeper, personal level, despite being grateful for the theatre I did get to do.

I wish I had written more in 2011.

To some of you that may seem strange. I have after all done quite a bit of writing in 2011 both for myself, and for publications for which I get paid. I have blogged at least weekly all year in two separate blogs, and completed a first and second draft of a novel. Not to mention a handful of guest posts here and there, some Facebook notes of fine quality, and other miscellaneous wordsmithing. I would be lying if I said I did no writing this year.

Yet my own inner standards tell me that I could and should have been working a little faster, and a little more on a few projects. My second novel, for instance. Pitches to websites and magazines. My short story ideas, (always the hardest for me to complete for some reason.) I suppose a writer can always wish to have written more. But in my case there are specific instances of writing that remained undone in 2011 for various reasons. Some valid, and some less so.

I wish I had gone more places in 2011.

And I don't just mean the perennial wish to go to Europe that many people have. I mean things within my own country, or perhaps my own state. Money and reliable transportation are often a problem with me getting to different places, events, and sights. (Though I have spent a weekend in New Jersey this year, as well as been to Annapolis with family a few times.) Yet I don't like driving in certain conditions, nor do I like to go do certain things alone. Even as an introvert, having nobody with whom to share certain experiences does wear thin on one's psyche. So even if I could have managed a few trips here and there, being unable to convince anyone to go with me, (I have tried in some cases for five damn years) took the air out of the balloon a bit.

Then we have the things I wish I had done more, that are not a matter of type at all. Just a matter of not doing them enough, looking back. With the following things, I probably could have done more, had I put just a bit of extra effort into them. Yes, circumstances beyond my control kept me out of them somewhat. However just as often it boiled down to me not choosing to do these things as much as I would have liked. Things such as:

-Study in my basic Latin book
-Walk/Hike/light exercise in general
-Take pictures of new places. (Or different pictures of familiar ones.)
-Read more novels
-Cook

***

Written down like this it makes it appear as though I did little to nothing in 2011, which is not at all true. Like I said in the first half of this post, in many cases I did do these things, just not quite in the way I would have found most fulfilling or useful. Some of the reasons were beyond my control, and some were not. Some were important to my spiritual health, and some were just silly things I wanted. Yet in each case above, it was something of which I wanted more in the last year than I had. Hopefully, 2012 will allow me to increase my experiences with at least some of these deficits.

Reverb11: Beauty

2011-12-10T16:17:00.001-05:00

Describe of moment of beauty that you witnessed this year.

It concerned me at first that I could not name a moment of beauty from this year. I wondered what that may say about me, in a way that being unsure about the moment of joy also made me stop and wonder what I may be lacking in my soul.

Even when we spiritually understand the beauty behind an oak tree, we don't always encounter an oak tree and say, "How beautiful." I don't think this makes us lesser people though. If it did, I would be indicting myself, because things that I know to be beautiful in concept do not always strike me as a proverbial "thing of beauty." Yet even taking that into consideration, I can't fire off a list of beautiful things I witnessed per se this year. (There is my latest niece, but I wrote about her already for the laughter prompt.)

Am I blind to what is beautiful? I think sometimes we all are. I don't feel guilt or panic just yet at the small amount of beauty from this year I can recall, but I suppose I should at least consider the possibility that I am not taking in as much of it as I could or should be. Duly noted.

Of course like joy, I could be over defining beauty. I am a man of words, and so I hear "beauty" and think of something much more profound than a lot of people. My "pretty" may be the next man's "beautiful."

All of that being said, I get hung up not just on the beauty part of this prompt, but on the "witness" part of it. What is it to witness? Does it mean that which is beautiful must be apart from what I am, as though I am the mere observer? In order to witness something, must it be free of my own influence? Or may I witness the beauty of something in which I have played a part, the beauty being greater than the sum of the parts? If we say that we can "witness" such a thing, than I have my answer to today's prompt.

A thing of beauty I witnessed this year was the unfolding of the final scene of my novel.

I had known the gist of the scene for quite some time. A year or more. The ending in fact was one of the first things I saw when the idea for this novel came to me back in 2009. In a way everything I did, from outlining to rough draft, to second draft, (and soon) future drafts was leading towards that moment, making it right. I knew in other words, the destination. Yet I didn't know which roads I would take to get there.

Back in April, after about a year of spending time with these characters, their setting, and arranging things so that they could each go through the journey they seemed to "want" to take, I wrote the final scene. Just as I had seen it happening for all the time leading up to then. And yet, even more so. I knew right where it was going, yet once I got there, the moment of writing it led me into this sense of connection with the creative process. The story. The characters. That this universe I had assisted in revealing had unfolded in such a way that all was as it should be. There is much work left to do in the novel, but I could almost sense the whole thing nodding its acceptance and appreciation for having gotten to the point I had created for the final scene. This understanding of the ending being what it should be for the story I had written was a beautiful moment to me.

I will be spending more time with these characters of course. But the first draft is perhaps the most intimate time a writer spends with his fiction, because even he is just getting to know who and what is going on. Listening, being guided, getting into it all, nudging things when needed. When I got to the end of that first draft and felt that those in it were "happy" as it were, I was able to take a step back and enjoy the scene as it was unfolding. Not as the writer, but as the interpreter. The chord the novel strikes in the end is beautiful to both the character and to those who read it, hopefully. And to this writer.

I am uncertain if this was beautiful because of the nature of the particular scene, or because it was the end. If you asked me if everything I have written has that moment of beauty attached to it when I am finished, I would have to tell you no. Satisfaction. Joy. Excitement. Relief. These are all natural feelings at the end of a piece of any length, if I have done my job. But to say that the end always presents a certain beauty in its own right? No. The finishing of this novel is one of the few writings where that has happened, and the only time it happened this year. Or for many years in fact.

Am I guilty of hubris for finding something I took part in creating to be beautiful? I hope not. I don't sense that it is though. I do not get the impression the Divinities are angered by it. If anything, perhaps it is an acknowledgment that anything created is only partially due to the creator. A writer guides, but does he create everything he writes? I am not sure. I only know that when I got there, this time, it was a thing of beauty, and I have no problem stating that it was more than just myself at work.

Reverb11: Disappointment's Blessings

2011-12-09T19:09:00.001-05:00

What is the one disappointment that has turned out to be a blessing in the last 12 months? How will this affect how you will deal with disappointment in the future?

This has been the most difficult prompt for me thus far in Reverb11. The fact is, I have many disappointments from which I could choose, but I am not so sure any of them this year have actually turned out to be blessings. Truth be told, I am not the most adept individual when it comes to finding the silver lining around the cloud. I will try not to cast judgement on myself for that here in this venue, and instead just consider it a given within this context.

I suppose it is because I have rarely had the experience of a personal plan working out. And because it is so uncommon for me to set a specific goal, lay out a plan for it, and achieve success as defined by accomplishing said goal in the manner I choose, I have an extra potent desire at times to do so. So thirsty am I in my life to have something go successfully from point A to point B in the manner of my choosing, that I am prone to consider any detour a failure in its own right. Even if I get to something similar to my destination in the end, I don't like being constantly told, by people or the Universe that what I have reflected on, considered, reflected on again, discussed with others and decided upon after a soul searching session is in fact DOA.

Something, somewhere at sometime needs to go the way I choose, quite frankly, or what is the point of doing anything? Why not just lay down in the grass and hope the wind blows things into your lap? Why make plans if they are never carried out? I do get this way at times, and that is why I am not much into the "blessing in disguise" thing once trains start jumping tracks.

In order to fulfill the prompt, however, I have opted to choose one thing. Certainly not the only disappointment, or even the only big disappointment for me this year. But it is the one from which half a dozen others spring.

I am disappointed that my writing failed to yield the money and connections this year that I sought.

I closed up shop at the once promising Brazen Careerist because of how much the quality and clientele had degraded. I increased my presence on Twitter, and have met some good people there, but I have not landed much business from it. I have not made much of that networking lucrative. And the clips I do have here and there have never yielded anything further. Not bigger work within the company, nor more work at another. The writing just did not take off, and thus far still hasn't. (Despite some compliments from some accomplished people.)

As a result, I was unable to make a dent in my debts like I wanted to. Unable to live in a better place like I wanted to, and I was forced to move into my mother's spare room as I have often mentioned here. This blog's original concept and purpose never got off the ground, and I have just in general not put myself where I wanted to be by the end of 2011. Huge let down for me that I am still working through.

I have to reboot. Start over. Try to find a way to remain Too XYZ, and true to myself while breaking through the thick cloud of bad luck and little opportunity I have been fighting for quite some time now. Though I am already behind schedule, I have begun to lay out plans to ask questions and research who I need to be talking to in order to build me a new website (cheap) and discuss marketing solutions (even cheaper.) I have discovered I need to do more types of writing with which I am not as familiar, and market those services as well.

And I need to do it all with little money and even less know-how.

So that is, by the definition of many these days, the blessing. By my failure this year, I am once again forced to reevaluate where I stand, where I need to be standing, and what steps I need to take to get closer to some form of success. I am not sure I have yet gotten to the point where I see all of this as a blessing, though doubtless many of my contemporaries would extol the promise in having to start from square one. (While they of course are not required so to do.) I see a bit of where they are coming from, and while I cannot toot my horn about it, I will at least pay lip service to this prompt and declare that this professional failure in 2011 to meet my goals contains at least the potential for blessing, despite the large disappointment it brings with it.

This of course leads into the second part of the prompt. How it will affect the way I handle disappointment in the future? I remain less certain about this. I suppose in some ways it has taught me that I can never be truly secure in my plans, goals and aspirations, and that at any time I may have to be ready to settle for second third or fourth best behind same. That in a Buddhist approach, I should seek to not become too attached to an outcome, and instead seek to learn something from the experience. If I am changed at all, it is towards a more cautious cynicism.

In short, I will not be as surprised or knocked down by future disappointments and will instead wait around a bit, tread water, and see what island I wash up on before I start building a shelter.

I can't help but wonder though that if this is what I have come away with in regards to my biggest disappointment of the year, if it has done me much good. It does not sound like an upbeat approach to me, and I would rather be happy than ready for anything. Yet that wasn't in the cards for 2011.

This prompt and this post did not make me feel happier at the end than when I first sat down to write it, unlike the other prompts. I think it is time, now that I have fulfilled the "obligation" to move on without much more thought on this one. Disappointment and I do not get along very well at all.

Reverb11: Unadulterated Joy

2011-12-08T12:54:00.001-05:00

Take us back to a moment this year when you experienced pure, unadulterated joy.

I have a bit of an issue with the "pure, unadulterated" part of this prompt. It makes it sound so earth shattering, heart stopping and life changing. Though I have probably had a few of those moments of joy, I cannot right off recall one from this year.

Yet perhaps the inability to recall such a moment is in and of itself indicative of a few things that are worth exploring. While I promise to answer the prompt, (that is part of the deal, after all), I would like to expound for a moment on why it may be difficult.

To begin with, perhaps I am over thinking it. After all, the prompt doesn't mention "life changing" or "heart stopping". It may be that I am interpreting something simple as something complex. It would not be the first time. In which case the prompt may simply be asking me to recall something that made me happy without guilt this year, and not something that was a peak experience of my entire existence.

The darker possibility as to why I had some difficulty with this prompt would be that I don't recognize or appreciate joy. That something within me is so bitter, so jaded, and so cynical that I either simply don't feel any kind of joy as much as other people, (a possibility I have considered before), or I have a more difficult time recalling it. While I know this less appealing possibility is at least part of the issue, I am not yet willing to determine it is the entirety of the situation. I am a bit deeper and warmer than that, even if I do appear somewhat "Vulcan-ish" at times when it comes to expression. So I will file this possibility under "things to keep an eye on", but not dwell upon it for now.

So I tackle the prompt mostly out of the first assumption I made here; that I am overselling the prompt to myself. I declare therefore that the prompt is not asking me to describe a life affirming miracle, but a far simpler though no less wonderful encounter with joy, untainted. A little more than finding a quarter on the sidewalk, but not so much as the birth of my first born.

Proceeding within these perimeters, various things could apply. I could again mention my niece. The finishing of my novel's first draft. Or for that matter, sitting on my couch and watching the Baltimore Ravens sweep the Pittsburgh Steelers in the regular season this year.

Yet I will write about a rather recent event.

I have a friend. A special friend to me that I have known for several years now. They live on the other side of the country, and I have not seen them in person for many years. And the last time I did see them, they occupied a different place in my life than they do now. For a while this shift left a silence and a distance between us. For several years I didn't hear from them, and I got to the point where I assumed that was that, and I would not hear from them again. (It has happened more than once in my life, after all.)

But after a while, I did hear from them again. Slowly, we rebuilt our friendship into something different than it was before, but something I value. I still don't hear from them often, but there are times I hear from them in a concentrated string of messages for a while.

Like last month. I still wish them a Happy Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year each year. This year's Thanksgiving greeting spawned several messages back and forth. One of them mentioning that I had been thought of a lot.

It was one of the things for which I was most thankful this year, even though I didn't get the message until a few days after Thanksgiving itself. It may not seem like much. I know there are those out there who will accuse me of being insecure, paranoid, or just plain weird when is say this, but it meant a lot to me to actually be told they were thinking of me. In my heart of hearts I suppose I knew all was well between us. Yet there are times when distance, time, stress, and other factors can cloud our instincts. Make us ponder if things are okay between us and someone else. Not everybody else perhaps, but certain folks. In this case, the other person holds a unique position in my heart, and to just hear them mention that they had been thinking of me brought me joy. Joy without guilt, and contingent upon nothing else.

Being told directly that you are on the mind of someone that matters a great deal to you, even if somewhere deep inside you already know it. That's a joy that seems quite pure to me.

Reverb11: Who Have You Forgiven This Year?

2011-12-07T10:59:00.001-05:00

Who have you forgiven this year and what was the journey that brought you to forgive them?

I had to think about this a bit, and I am still not sure if my answer is totally in the spirit of the prompt. Despite that, it still feels like the best answer.

The process is far from over, but in 2011, the most significant person I have forgiven is myself.

I have always been hard on myself, when it comes to performance and success. Sometimes I have been guilty of perfectionism. And while holding one's own feet to the fire can be an effective way of initiating progress, one must view one's self correctly and honestly or the same approach can be self destructive. Or at least self-sabotaging.

If one is either unwilling or unable to recognize and accept their limitations, uniqueness and weaknesses, life becomes a series of hit and miss. Goals that go unachieved. Staying in the slow lane, or even being derailed completely. All because we refuse to accept that perhaps there are reasons we are unable to accomplish what we set out to do in the way we set out to do it. And when we fail, we double our efforts to force ourselves into something we are unable to be. Which of course leads to more failure and frustration and depression. And then we feel that we are of little value, which in turn leads us to not think highly of ourselves.

Then the judgement sets in. The ridicule. The chastisement. And that is just the voices in our own heads. We wound ourselves deeply if we are not careful. And at that point, something has to stop the cycle. Forgiveness of ourselves is the best way to do so. This is what I have done in 2011 in certain areas and in varying doses and on different levels of my personality.

For example, one part of me has started to forgive the other part for not being the total success I was "supposed" to be by the time I reached this age. Forgiven me for not having all of the relevant talent. Forgiven me for taking a longer time to learn certain skills and truthes than it takes other people in the same situation. Forgiven me for not being an obvious winner and over-achiever.

But that aspect of me that has been forgiven all of the above must also exercise some forgiveness of its own. It must forgive the other aspect of my consciousness for its unfairness. Its coldness. Its name calling and berating. Its judgement and its dismissal.

And of course the talented, artistic, gifted and at times brilliant aspects of my psyche must forgive them both for being at times so counter-productive.

Then there is the aspect of me that has not gone the extra step in certain key places in my life. I have to forgive the lack of taking the specific risk, and accept that there will be others, and that obsessing over the lost chances will be of no use to me now.

Then there is the forgiveness of the darker thoughts...

As you can see, forgiving ones self is not always a matter of thinking, "I regret having done that one thing, but now I forgive me." It can be a deep, sprawling, multi-faceted introspective process requiring more bravery than you think.

What was the journey that brought you to forgive them?

The journey of course is ongoing. If I wanted to be obtuse, I could say that life itself was the journey. Yet specific to this year, I think a large part of the journey lie in two things:

1) Finishing the first two drafts of my novel. Looking back on that helped me remember that there is a great deal of talent and determination within me when I believe in what I am doing. Something which allows me to create even when nothing else is working.

2) The total failure of my financial goals. Having to move into Mom's spare room for a while. My freelancing business stalling a bit, and my 9 to 5 jobbing being DOA. It made me focus on the fact that something was not working. I will never, ever give up the notion that much of my situation has been due to pure dumb bad luck. And I refuse to drink the "think positive and it will all go away" kool-aid. Yet I did come to realize that some aspect of my journey must not have been as it should be if I could posess so much promise and have so little to show for it over all of these years. There must have been an X-Factor. Or of course a Too XYZ factor.

A few months ago I determined that there are things about myself that I do not yet understand. Things that I should have taken time to explore and with which I should have familiarized myself and sought to understand long ago. I didn't. But being stuck in the mud encouraged me to start to do so. Which led to the first inclination that perhaps I need to consider there are aspects of me that can explain some of my difficuly in grasping certain concepts. And whether or not the can be totally corrected, forgiving myself became an important step in a greater self awareness that I hope will continue and lead to postive things.

Reverb11: What Made Me laugh This Year?

2011-12-06T12:03:00.001-05:00

Prompt: What made you laugh this year?

Many things made me laugh, and normally I would find this question too broad for an effective answer. Yet this year one thing stands out. My youngest niece.

She was born in June of this year. My tenth niece overall, but my younger sister's first child.

It may sound like an easy answer to say that an infant made me laugh this year. Babies have been making people laugh as long as there have been people, after all. Unique or not though, more than once I have laughed at her and her antics.

Yes, I laugh because she is a pretty baby. And I laugh when she laughs and smiles. That is obvious. However, I also laugh at the things that are not the normal "babies are funny" things to laugh at.

For example, I laugh at her non-laughing neutral face. Her default look if you will. Not that she is funny looking of course, but she has an expression, that I haven't seen in all babies, that would seem to be communicating, "this situation is acceptable. It's not fantastic or anything, but it will suffice." A seemingly out of place (for an infant) detachment. She makes it clear sometimes that the world and the people in it do not always impress her, and I am amused by that.

I guess the closest thing I can think of to this face is the one the Caterpillar has in the 1951 Disney cartoon version of Alice in Wonderland. A "who ARE you" mentality she will opt to display sometimes.

She is also wise to cameras. She doesn't often get caught laughing or smiling in a picture. So we get the wisdom of ages expression in most shots so far. Perhaps she is an old soul? Even if she is not, she is a unique, discernable soul already, and one of the things that has made me laugh most this year.

Reverb11: Five Guilty Pleasures

2011-12-05T18:10:00.001-05:00

Today's prompt was simple to understand.

Describe 5 guilty pleasures.

Easy to understand, perhaps. Yet not so easy to execute. For my usual position is that if it gives one pleasure, one shouldn't be guilty about it. Yes, some sordid types do take pleasure from criminal acts, and my view would not apply in such cases. But by and large I am pretty close to the Wiccan edict of "If it harms none..."

The very concept of the guilty pleasure seems to me to be rooted in peer pressure. The notion of enjoying that which may not be deemed cool or admirable by those by whom we are surrounded in society. And I have never been one to sacrifice my preferences, tastes and tendencies at the altar of social popularity and acceptence.

In the spirit of the prompt, however, I will list five pleasures that, while not eliciting straight up guilt in me, probably would not be enjoyed by the more discerning or wise elements of my consciousness. Maybe. (Give me a break here, I am trying to shoe horn a pretty free spirit into these confines for the sake of blogging.)

In no special order:

1. Soda.

Soda is shit, let's face it. A mild sugary acid with zero nutrional value. It is fattening, dehydrating (so they tell me), eats away at teeth and is particularly bad for someone like me who has had to deal with two specific medical conditions in the past. (Kidney issues and stomach ulcers.)

Yet if it were not for its unhealthy nature, I would have soda all the time. Coke in particular. (I used to have soda all the time...which is why I think the above mentioned issues occurred. Well, one of the reasons. Maybe.) If someone told me today that ice cold cola had no deleterious effects, I'd go out at by a 48 pack tonight.

The bubbles. The taste. The thirst quenching refreshment that would seem to fly in the face of biology. There are times when only a soda will do for me. Times even when only a Coke specifically will do it. (I want to hear nothing about them all tasting the same. They don't. Period.

And somehow, it makes me feel better when I am fluish. I was told once it was the caffine. I don't know. I just know it works.

2. The movie Strange Brew

Despite borrowing certain elements from Hamlet (yes, that one), this movie about the misadventures of the Mackenzie Brothers, two idiot Canadian stereotypes based on characters that originated on SCTV is not what one would call high brow comedy. While it does have a few clever references during its occasional moments of satire, it is mostly a goofy farce revolving around misunderstandings, over the top theatrics, and beer. Lots of beer. It gives beer drinkers, Hamlet, and most certainly Canada a bit of bad name. It is Three's Company with a bit of accuman. It's too adult to be a cartoon, but not by much. It elevated being inane and clueless into an art form. Everything that in theory Adam Sandler tries to do in all of his movies today, and I hate his movies.

Yet Strange Brew is one of my favorites anyway. Ever since my mother, in an ill advised moment picked it up at the video store for me to watch as a child, based mostly on the cover art. I am sure she didn't know what she was getting into, though she never objected thereafter.

I laugh at this movie even after all of these years. They say it takes more talent to play stupid than to play anything else as an actor. That being the case, Rock Moranis and Dave Thomas should have been Oscar contenders for this one.

3. Fantasy Football

As I type this I am only hours away from the final game of this, my second fantasy football regular season. I will once again, odds are, end with a losing record. And be pissed about it. Just as I have gotten pissed, royally pissed several times during my lackluster season this year, and royally pissed during my disappointing season last year. Luck is always against me in this game. Players that are sure things break a thumb on the bus, and can't play. People I put on the bench have the game of their careers. Those players on my oppoonant's team that have never done a thing suddenly become the biggest thing in the NFL, and beat me in the process. In the final two minutes of the week.

Second guessing. Indecision. Consistently bad, dumb luck. What ifs. And all of the frustration that goes with those things. There is a reason they call it "football bingo", as 60% of it is total chance, and getting pissed or depressed about it is almost as bad as cussing out a slot machine.

Yet I play. Despite threats to not do so again, I play. I am not as intense as I used to be, usually, but when a victory is close I still get antsy and excited. Especially when the player I need to excel appears on TV, and I can watch him live, upping my point totals towards an all too infrequent victory for me.

And the prize is nothing. I am in a free league. No money changes hands. It is not very temperate of me to delve so head long into such a luck based activity, knowing how unlucky I continue to be, just for bragging rights. In fact, it may be foolish. But I do it and probably will next year as well.

4. Power Ballads

Some are good and some are lousy. Like anything else. But my musically and artistically inclined aquaintances have for years pointed out that power ballads, like much pop music, follows some kind of formula of math, notes, and tempo, and hence all of them are, without my realizing it, exact replicas of one another.

"Play something at 3/4 time, start in an A or a G, include are high reverb guitar solo in the bridge, and end with a crescendo. People eat it up every time."

Yeah, that's all Greek to me. (I had to make up the terms to prove my point, don't correct them please.) While I am not willing to concede that all power ballads are the result of a predictable formula moreso than other music, and while I am also not willing to accept the idea that in order to be good a song must always do something that nobody else has ever done, I will acknowledge similar elements among some of my favorites. That is what I am supposed to be guilty over, I guess. That it's too easy, or caters to the masses. Or something.

But slow dance to Can't Fight This Feeling with someone you find at least somewhat attractive and see if you don't fall in love for a minute. Or at least in bed for a minute.

5. Perfume

It's an antiquated, superficial, masochinistic remnant of a less informed past that appeals, in theory, to the more reptilian, less evolved parts of our brains. Not to mention the fact that much of it makes me sneeze. Perfume is like the soda of hygiene, having exactly zero to do with the person wearing it. Totally unnatural.

Yet there are certain fragrances that I find appealling when worn by a woman. In some ways certain personalities suit certain fragrances more than others, and when the correct combinations show up, they will increase the attractiveness of the woman.

I'll never fall in love with a woman over perfume. But I could see myself choosing to sit a bit closer to her at a party because of it, and who knows what from there. (Bearing in mind I am still an introvert, and not going to let perfume trump my hate of small talk.)

And of course, I myself use cologne at times, completing the guilt factor.

So there are some pleasures over which many would feel guilty but I do not. What are yours?

Dabbling in Reverb11

2011-12-04T15:16:00.001-05:00

Last year, several of my blogging friends took part in "Reverb": a year end reflection on different subjects related to the previous year and its impact upon a person via daily blog posts during December. Each day had a specific prompt about which the blogger would write. It made for some enlightening reading.

I don't want to promise that I will blog with intelligence every single day. That may not be doable. Yet the idea appealled to me, and though it would seem that the event is not as organized and centralized this year (there are multiple sources for the prompts in 2011, as opposed to one a year ago), I have decided to give some of the prompts a try, and see what happens. (Being here at my sister's housesitting both frees and limits the nature of my daily activities. So it seemed like a good way to keep my writing and thought process sharp. Hence my Sunday post.)

So, for the 4th of December according to the list I am following, I am to answer this question:

What have you let go of this year, and how has it affected you?

Some things I have had to let go of by force. Such as moving into my mother's spare room while my finances improve. Letting go of having my own place. But that involuntary relinguishing has spawned a set of voluntary releases. There are several sub-categories, but I think they can all be placed under the umbrella of having let go of my previous definition of success and worthiness.

I have been through many of those, and the truth is, I don't usually acquire them, for one reason or the other. Some see the difficulty of my situation. Most just blame me for being a downer, and think I deserve my lack of success. But in either case I find throughout my life I have had to continually update what it means to be successful, or a good person. Or at least, the timeline for same.

Three years ago, when I moved into my now former apartment, I had planned to move out with enough money to upgrade by the time I was finished there. This was before I was on Twitter or even before this blog, so I was seeking the more coventional job route at the time. Obviously that traditional job hunt was unsuccessful though the process led to my desire to become my own boss even more so than I had been in years past.

Again, the goal was to move out under my own success and money. Again, I was unable to do so. It was, and continues to be, somewhat depressing to me. Yet I could have railed against it more, or gotten even more pissed, or gotten nostalgic here on the blog about it. I didn't. Nor did I insist on continuing in my new habitat the way I had expected myself to in the previous. I set aside the notion of success in a certain way, by certain means, by a cetain date.

I cannot say I am totally happy about this. This letting go could lead to my seclusion and complete surrender to failure. Don't think I have not considered that risk. But by letting go of those mostly unattainable standards, (though they remain very much nearby in my mind) I opened the way for me to another possibility; I could also let go of the self-judgement of which I have been guilty for so long. This last year in particular.

How has this affected me? It may be too early to tell, as I have only just begun to engage in this perpective. As I mentioned, relinguishing my stern definitions of what it means to be a successful man could either lead to total desolation, and remaining in that spare room for years, without ever coming out. After all, I don't know how to turn things around just yet. I am not sure if my ideas are sound, or if I am built for all of this.

Yet perhaps it can also affect me in a constructive manner. By letting go of my judgements of myself, my expectations, my very rigid timeline and the comparisons I was making between myself and the social "norm", I could perhaps achieve a greater self-acceptence. It remains several blocks away and the sidwalk is icy, but I can see a corner I must turn, even before I am able to turn it. Releasing these definitions may allow me to slow down, reboot, and accept that by society's standards I may be a failure though by my own I need not be.

So there you have it. Not the most compete answer, because this one is still unfolding. Like with most of these type of questions, I am not sure which of the many possible answers would be the most correct, or the most applicable. But this one, despite its recent arrival, seemed a good choice with which to start my Reverb experience. Whatever it may end up being.

Repost: "Yes Virginia. There Was a Writer."

2011-12-01T13:42:00.001-05:00

As December opens and with it the holiday thoughts sounds and smells, I decided to repost one of my favorite blog entries from among my own work. It didn't get much attention first time around, as you can see from the zero comments. But I am quite proud of the piece. Enjoy it here.

An Introvert Jackpot?

2011-11-28T13:48:00.001-05:00

On Black Friday, I joined my visiting sister and her husband on a visit to a local casino and horse track, about half an hour from here. Poker for my brother-in-law, slots for my sister and myself.

I don't frequent casinos, though I have been to them once or twice before. I am too intimidated by table games, so when I do go, it's all about slots. But it has been over ten years since I even did that much.

I ended up buying 20 dollars worth of spins on a nickel slot machine. Good news: I doubled my money by the time I cashed out. Better news? I came to an interesting realization while I was there. One that perhaps seems oxymoronic at first glance:

Casinos are an introvert haven.

Read that again if you must. If I had read it on someone else's blog before having gone to play slots myself a few days ago I may have had to do a double take too. Yet despite the crowds, the lights, the noise, and the general hullabaloo in a casino, I was not overwhelmed, like I at first feared I would be.

What I discovered was simple. At a casino, nobody gives a shit about you. That isn't to say they wouldn't call an ambulance if you had a heart attack or something, but all things being equal, people are there to gamble, in one way or another. And the vast majority of gamblers want to just be left alone to their gambling rituals while they do so. Their rabbit's foot, or lucky clover, or prayer, or dance, or whatever it is they do. It isn't always a solitary act, but it sure as hell isn't a social/community undertaking either.

Even if one is not superstitious and is just there for a good time, there is something about gambling oriented games at a casino that makes people quite isolated, mentally. They are almost cocooned from everything else going on. They shut out the things around them that have nothing to do with their immediate task, and bristle at the audacity of anything that interrupts their dance with lady luck.

Does this sound like a certain temperament we all know and love?

Sure, people sometimes make friends, or find one night stands while at a casino. Of that I have no doubt. Plus, extroverts gamble too. Yet in the midst of all the lever pulling, button pushing, whirring sounds of countless 7s, Bars and Watermelons clicking into place, and the occasional beeping or horn blowing of a big winner, there really isn't a lot of opportunity or desire for mingling and small talk.

The casino is rather accommodating to this desire to be left alone to one's own devices in the middle of a crowded room. So much is automated, to minimize the need to interact directly with people. You can break a 20 into a bunch of ones, cash out your winnings, even choose which horse you want to bet on, all through computers. Unless you are ordering food or a libation, (which they let you take with your back to your bunker of one armed bandits), you could spend both hours and hundreds of dollars and not talk to anyone.

Then there is the eclectic nature of the people who show up at a casino. I wore jeans and an orange fleece. I saw people in jackets and ties. Evening dresses. But also in sweat suits. Young, sexy girls on eight inch heels and skin tight pants accentuating their every curve, amongst frumpy, stooped over old women who didn't even speak English. Goths. Nerds. Jocks. (And because of this people watching, I imagine more than a few observant writers such as myself.) Introverts like that sort of scoffing individualism. There was, I guarantee you a broader swath of humanity represented within the casino than there is in the West Virginia town outside of it's gates.

A casino is not for everybody, whether an introvert or extrovert. Those bothered by loud noises or given headaches by lights shouldn't be there. And I of course would grow tired of it after a while. It isn't an everyday sort of activity. Yet if you are an introvert and have never been to a casino in fear of it being exhausting in the way that a club or large house party can be, I'd encourage you to reconsider your evaluation. You may just find it easier to disappear into yourself there than at other places you frequent.

Check it out. Some of you may hit the jackpot in more ways than one.

My 2011 MVPs.

2011-11-24T10:08:00.001-05:00

On this Thanksgiving it is of course appropriate I show somegratitude in my blog post. In this case, I am proud to present my list ofsocial media MVPs!

A bit of explanation is in order to begin with.

This list was difficult to compile. I started thinking aboutit in early October. It is not even close to an exhaustive list of onlinefriends and acquaintances that I appreciate. That list would indeed run verylong. Too long for a blog post. So instead I present a rather particular list.Those that do not appear on it are of course not without value, and I hope thatis clear. I didn't want to create a popularity contest. Simply to make sure onthis day of thanks that I acknowledge those who have meant the most to me in2011, in various different categories.

To narrow down the list even further, I decided that thelist would include only people that I met initially through some sort of socialmedia. Twitter, blogging, or, back when I was still active there, BrazenCareerist. I also limited those in this list to people I have known for atleast the entirety of 2011.

Nor do I want anyone to assume that I am necessarily onintimate, personal terms with everyone on this list. With some I am, and withothers it is more professional, or distant. But in all cases, each personmentioned has made what I am calling a positive, sustained impact on me or onsome aspect of my life in 2011.

I present the list of nine individuals in no particularorder. I hope each of them will accept my deep and sincere gratitude for whateverpart they played in my perceptions and observations in the last year. I hopethat if you don't already follow these folks on Twitter, or read their blogs,that you will consider doing so after reading this.

Here we go. My 2011 Most Valuable Players from social mediaare as follows:

J. Maureen Henderson

One of the very first people that paid attention to thisblog, and took it seriously. From the beginning, though with much moreintensity this year, she has pushed me professionally, and is directly responsiblefor at least some of my online success this year. (I never would have heard ofthe site in which a piece of mine appeared this year without her telling meabout it, and encouraging me to send something to same.)

But she does these things without sacrificing acceptance ofmy personal eccentricities and concerns. She may not ever understand why Ithink much of what I think, but unlike many within the internet career advicecircle, she has never made me feel of less value for thinking it.

I admire her motivation and determination, even if I haveyet to replicate them myself.

Generation Meh

@GenerationMeh on Twitter

Becky Benishek

One of the kindest, warmest people I have met through socialmedia. Her personal support and constant friendship over this year has buoyedmy spirits at times when they have been low, (such as the last month or so.) Ifshe doesn't consider herself an optimist, it is certainly quite easy for othersto assume she is one, as the bright side is always more apparent when talkingto her. At times the most valuable commodity a person can give to someone elseis a reminder that they still matter. Becky has provided and continues toprovide me that.

@bbenishek on Twitter

Laryssa Wirstiuk

The only one of my social media contacts that I have met inperson so far. Though I suspect that my introverted, quiet, and sometimeswithdrawn personality probably resulted in my being quite the disappointment toher and her friends earlier this spring when I attended her smashing birthdayparty, the whole experience as well as her graciousness in hosting me for thewhole weekend did have a major impact on me this year. She reminded me of theimportance of spontaneity, trying new things, and of trusting someone else toguide the action sometimes.

And the reason I began to read her blog and follow her onTwitter in the first place was her thoughts on the writing life. Not just thenature of the actual prose, but the style of her observations and analysis oneveryday topics. A writer who doesn't know how to observe doesn't know how towrite, and Laryssa's knack for observation and dissemination has inspired thewriter aspect of me this year.

Comma 'N' Sentence

@ryssiebee on Twitter

Noel Rozny

Noel has been an outspoken supporter of my blog and otherwritings. Her expression of appreciation for my writings this year has gonebeyond simple stroking of my ego. She has confirmed that I have accomplishedwith my writing one of the goals I consider most important and most gratifying;I have made her think. She also has admired my candor. Knowing that I have hadsuch an important impact on such a professional, intelligent fellow writer justby being honest and well written has done me a great service this year, and Iam grateful to her for it.

NoelRozny.com

@NoelRozny on Twitter

The Thawer Sisters

Mehnaz and Zoyah. (I flipped a coin to determine which ofthem I would list first.)

On Twitter I call them the "Sisters ofAsskicking", though I of course recognize that they are not some amalgam.They are two individuals, each with their own unique perceptions and lives. Idon't overlook that. Yet I include them both here in one section because it istheir team work, the nature of their relationship, and the way they bothcounteract one another's weaknesses while complimenting one another's strengthsthat makes them as a unit so valuable.

In them, I see perhaps the single greatest example of theyin-yang concept known to me personally. Through their differences and theirsimilarities, (neither of which they are shy about sharing with the internetvia twitter and their blog) I am reminded that nobody can be shoehorned intotheir own personality, including myself. The obvious love they have for oneanother despite the opposing nature of their personalities is something Ienvy…I do not share that with most of my siblings. I do not even get along withmost of mine. So they are refreshing and encouraging to me, both when they aregetting along, and the few times they are (quasi-publicly) not getting alongfor a time.

Speak Softly and Carry a Red Pen (Mehnaz's Blog)

@mehnazt on Twitter

Two Spectacles (Their joint blog.)

@zoyahthawer on Twitter

Steph Auteri

The nature of her writing success is probably the bestexample of where I myself would like to be someday. (Meaning her marketingskills and clips are enviable to this writer, who has at present, almost none.)

But it isn't simply her high rate of writing success thatmakes her an MVP. I know many successful writers. It is her humanity and lackof pretense about it. My default position, I will admit, is to recoil frompeople who are highly successful in the same field as I am trying to conquer.They are more often than not difficult to relate to, inaccessible, and overallnot easy for me to get to know. Their rags to riches stories annoy me more thaninspire me.

Yet with Steph Auteri I was finally able to see a successfulwriter as a human being much like myself, with difficulties and worries oftheir own. She of course is not the only one, and by now I have met a few morelike her. Yet her initial and continued willingness to share herself, herstory, and to include me sometimes in same have gone a long way in altering forthe better my feelings towards those of the same level of success as she.

StephAuteri.com

@stephauteri on Twitter

Melissa Breau

I first met her even before I joined Twitter, or had thisblog. (She in fact was one of the people that sold me on Twitter, though Istill remain less impressed by it than she initially promised. ;) )

Not only does Melissa have an enviable amount of drive,energy, and marketing savvy, I am personally grateful for the time she hasdedicated to sharing with and explaining to me certain concepts of her success.It is my own thick head, and not her lack of effort that causes some of theconcepts she has related to me to elude me even now. (Especially when it comesto the nature of the internet.)

Yet she has allowed me to be a part of Moxy Mag, a projectthat is of great importance to her, and in so doing has given me a bit morefocus during times when I had none. I value my small contributions to her"baby", and hope I can continue to meet the expectations she has beenkind enough to have of me.

MelissaBreau.com

@MelissaBreau on Twitter

Moxymag.com (The zine she published.)

Paul Edmondson

Quite literally one of the world's foremost Shakespeareanscholars, as well as an ordained minister and intellectual. Despite hisundoubtedly busy schedule he has often taken time to comment upon myactivities, and to inquire as to same. It is that generosity of spirit and timefrom this gentleman of academic prominence that I am grateful. How easy itwould be in his position to turn his nose up at anyone, yet how thoroughlyunlike him that would be. He reminds me that I should not hesitate to approachor speak to anyone in any position, so long as I feel I have something worthyto say.

@Paul_Edmonsdon on Twitter

**********************

I hope my list has convinced each of these people, if therewere unsure of it by now, how much I value their advice, or friendship, orobservations, or simple presence. Each is very different from one another, andyet they all possess that quality of generosity in some form or another which Iappreciate. Especially on this day of Thanksgiving here in the United States.

Who are your MVPs for this year?

The Post I Didn't Write

2011-11-21T13:11:00.001-05:00

Friends, this is the first blog post I have written from the spare room in my mother's house in which I will be living for the foreseeable future. I have mentioned a few times that I would have to be moving out of the (rather unpleasant) apartment in which I have been living for the last three years, and that process is mostly complete. Anything vital to my identity and daily functioning is now here in this room. Only some random sundries and a few large pieces of unwanted furniture that require a borrowed truck to be hauled away remain at my previous residence. I took the bed apart the other day while I was packing boxes. I didn't have to, but I wanted to. Something about the bed being apart made it feel more final. And I wanted that finality.

Not that I had slept in it in several days. There was already a bed in this room, and I have been sleeping on that since the transfer. A transfer that passed a milestone before I knew it was going to. For you see, when I went to bed in the apartment for the final time, I didn't know it would be my final time sleeping there. I figured I'd have at least a few more evenings there.

Yet a few unforeseen circumstances made it easier to sleep here one night. The next day I had moved several more pieces than I thought I would, and before I knew it, I was back here at night permanently. I never bedded down with the sensation of it being my final night in what I have called home since 2008.

I've decided it was better that way. It decreased the likelihood of me dwelling on this already difficult step I am taking.

I do have the tendency to dwell. To be sentimental about change. Believe me, I won't miss this particular apartment for very long, as I have wanted to live elsewhere for at least a year. Yet I will miss the idea of having an apartment, as I have covered on the blog already. That's its own thing.

Yet even if I had moved directly into another, better apartment, I still would have had the tendency to observe the "last meal in this apartment. Last shower in this apartment. Last full night in this apartment." That's just what I am, and in about half the cases it not only is unproductive, it is probably counterproductive.

This week, I haven't had time to do much of that. A separate crisis here, a fire to put out there. All happened during the already stressful final week of moving out. (Luckily I have been moving bit by bit for the last month.) So I have really only been catching brief glimpses of my soon to be former apartment this last week as I wisk in to pack a box or two and wisk out again. All of a sudden, very little clue remains in that building that it was my home for years. Just a few things.

And I was going to write a post about them. The markings on the wall. The indentations in the carpet. The last vestiges of my three years there which have remained unpacked, sitting where I last put them when I still lived there, serving now as the only reminders that someone had a life in Apartment A for the last three years.

But I opted to not write that post.

I have been doing a pretty good job, as I said, of not thinking too much about this whole unfortunate situation. The extra flurry of unfortunate events that has surrounded my move has forced me to push some of those mental tendencies off to the side of my mind, and focus more on actions. And while the sentimentality is still very much present, standing on top of a nearby hillside looking down on me as I move about, there simply wasn't room for it to stand right by my shoulder this week where it normally would have been. There was too much extra shit going on outside of my move, and I just refused delivery.

And you know what? I discovered that some of this has been easier as a result. And though the manic running about and crisis management has stabilized in the last few days, I have been unwilling to allow the sentimentality monster to take its frequent place beside me now. Even though there may be room for it again. It's not a horrible creature, and in some cases it serves an admirable purpose. But not in this case.

When I pack what few boxes still need to be packed, I consciously make the choice not to ponder the symbolism of a now empty room, or the outline of the framed picture that I took down from that section of the wall. I have been making the choice to be as clinical about all of this as possible. Being forced to be so last week showed me what an advantage such an approach can have.

Plus I know that times ahead will be difficult enough in some ways without being all poetic about what is over. That place was home. It no longer is. I do not live there anymore. It is nothing more than a storage facility that my rent entitles me to hold on to for another 12 days. And it's not like I had my first child there, or that it was the first place I had after getting married. (I may have allowed a bit more nostalgia if that had been the case.)

I now reside in my mother's spare room, which I have painted, furnished, and continue to tweak so as to allow for maximum privacy and seclusion. (Though I will admit I have arranged certain things in a manner similar to the apartment, so I feel a bit more "at home" as it were.) It is from here that I have to rebuild and reboot certain things. Things that in their own right, by the sheer volume of the energy required will take up quite a bit of thinking.

I admit I am not sure I am up to the task. But I do know that I now have every intention to just let the apartment go. Let that chapter go. As fate would have it I won't even be in town on the final day of the lease to turn in the key. I have to have someone else do so in my stead, because I will be out of town. It's as though everything conspired to prevent me from dwelling too often on this situation.

So, other than to mention that this blog, my Twitter presence, and the vast majority of people from social media came into my life whilst living in that apartment, I will take no further time in considering the end of my residence there. I have work to do in the coming months. (And a pie to bake in the coming days.)

Even Extroverts Need a Break

2011-11-14T11:28:00.001-05:00

Those of us who are introverts can get annoyed with extroverts sometimes. Even those extroverts that we count among our friends can get to us. Their need to always be talking. Always moving. Their seeming inability to understand our needs and desires. A frequent lack of empathy for our way of processing the world. Their attempts to bring us out of a shell that is in most cases non-existent in the first place.

Yes, extroverts can be tiring to us.

However, we must be careful not to do to them what we don't want them doing to us. We must not assume what we can and cannot do around, with or to them simply because they are extroverts. It may sound unlikely, but think about it.

Have you ever needed to rant, and without question called an extrovert? Have you enlisted the help of one of your extroverted friends to be a wing man at a party, assuming they'll love to help out. Do you avoid deep conversations with them because you know they haven't been introspective enough to consider such things? How about calling them at 2 in the morning when you can't stand the silence of your own home any longer? Or maybe you buy them rock concert tickets for their birthday every single year, because, "they are really into that kind of noise. They are extroverted."

Yet hold on a moment. Remember what has often been mentioned in this blog, and by psychologists all over the world. That introversion and extroversion are spectrums. And that nobody is 100% one or the other.

You, my fellow introvert, are certainly not. Sometimes you actually want to be at a big party, because you don't want to be alone. In the right situation you even enjoy meeting the right kinds of new people. You may even want to be the center of attention sometimes, and work the room. These are infrequent but nonetheless very real moments of extroversion.

It's just as natural then that your extroverted friends will have moments of introversion. Irony alert: as an introvert you may have to work extra hard to respect those moments for them than you do for fellow introverts. You expect it from others of "your kind", but you may find yourself getting comfortable with the extroversion of certain good friends of yours, and come to expect it from them, whenever and wherever they happen to be. It makes it easier to overlook their need to be introverted at times, and leads to an assumption that whenever you happen to need a shot of extrovert, you can tap them for it, without question.

"Hey, they get their energy from people doing that kind of stuff to them all the time, right?"

Well, once in a while, wrong. Quite wrong.

I have an extroverted friend who posted on Facebook recently mentioning that her extroversion didn't mean she was emotionally available all the time to everyone around her whenever it was they wanted her. That she was feeling crowded and wanted a bit more space in her life in the coming months. Another wrote of how he wanted to take a break from "new people" for a few weeks. Some of them that felt like this wondered if it meant they were sick, or becoming depressed. The answer of course is no. They were just coming into contact with the introvert that is inside all of them. Just as even I at times explore the world with the extrovert inside of me.

Remember how you feel, introverts, when you are deprived of the things you need to recharge, or stay calm? How frustrating it can be when those things are not respected by those with whom you work or live? Believe it or not, the extroverts you know and love can feel that way too. It is the minority report within their consciousness, and they may not always recognize it for what it is when it comes round, so they may not express those needs and frustrations as well as those of us who live that way almost all of the time. Yet it remains just as vital to acknowledge those times in their lives as it is for introverts.

You have to remember to consider the person when you are dealing with anyone, and not the extrovert. Their level of extroversion is merely an aspect of their temperament. It does not define the totality of who they are, anymore than preferring sometimes to be left alone for a few hours defines all of what an introvert is.

In short, assume nothing just because a friend of yours is always at a party, is not often alone, and gets antsy when she is at home for too long. This gives you no right to assume what will and will not be acceptable behavior with them in any circumstance. They are a person, not a type. Just like you.

The good news is your beloved extrovert will recover more quickly in most cases than you will. They will not require as much of that time alone, and will not want the excitement to stay away for an extended period of time. In short order after needing to be left alone in the quiet of their room, they will probably be right back out in the living room asking you if you are okay, and wondering why you don't want to dance. It may in some case be so fast that you don't even realize that their inner introvert has come to call. (We are the ones more likely to brood over these things for nine hours at a time, remember.) Yet those moments are still there, and extroverts are entitled to them.

Yin and Yang for everyone, my friends. A little of the opposite in everyone. Respect that dash of the opposite in those you know, and I think you will get further with them.

Of Sweatshirts, Paint, and the Familiar

2011-11-07T11:57:00.000-05:00

The other day I was goofing off. I got home, took off my sweatshirt and swung it around like a lasso, before tossing it onto the couch. (I think many of you have done this at some point.) Only when I picked up the sweatshirt later, I realized that my little mindless stunt had torn a big hole in one of the sleeves. Large enough to render to garment basically worthless. I could still wear it, but the torn fabric would be dangling all the time, and that would get on my nerves. So, I managed to ruin my own favorite sweatshirt.

Actually, it is my only sweatshirt at the moment. Mom thinks she might be able to sew it, but the point is, it is my only sweatshirt. As of next month, I will have had it for three years. More than one person, my mother included, has told me that this is about one year longer than anybody should expect to have the same sweatshirt anyway.

True, the once deep blue of the fabric has faded to a dull blue-gray. Tiny holes have developed in it here and there. Just last month I managed to stain it with food. The majority of people I know would have replaced it a while back. Yet I rarely spend money on clothing, outside of socks and undergarments. (Even when I have extra money, which isn't often.) I keep the same clothes for years and years. Even if I had plenty of money to do so, I doubt I would buy a new wardrobe every few months.

You see, my sweatshirt was still comfortable, and still kept me warm on chilly days after three years of ownership. Ergo, I wore it everywhere during the colder times of the year. Not a uniform per se, but if ever I were at a friend's house and left it there, there would be little question as to who it belonged to. People are probably used to seeing me in it. The same with other clothes.

It's not that I fear change. (In this regard, anyway.) Nor am I making some kind of statement by wearing the same clothes for years. When I am gifted new clothing, I am perfectly capable of liking something new. (Indeed much of my new clothing over the years has been from other people. Which I will then wear for years after the fact.) But as I said, if something is working, I don't tend to go out of my way to change it for the sake of change. I don't know what it says about me. I don't have a diagnosis. And in some areas I very much long for variety. Yet in other areas, like clothing, food, to a large extent music, I just don't change often.

Many people do. Most, in fact. When I tell people I have listened to some of the same albums since I was seven years old, or that the shirt I am wearing has been around for five years, they think I am joking. Once they believe me, they explain how they would feel trapped if they did that. They extol the importance of "remaking" themselves. Getting new shirts, pants, dresses, hats, albums, diets, (in rare cases, boyfriends...) every two months or so. Not to mix in with their old stuff, but to replace it. My mind spins at the idea of having to get used to a new wardrobe every eight weeks. And getting rid of the old music to which I listen would be impossible. Even as I do discover new music periodically, and embrace it.

Change for its own sake. It's not usually my thing.

Though this week I have done it a bit, believe it or not. As I mentioned the other day, I am going to have to move into my mother's home for awhile again. But I have spent the last few days painting that bedroom. The same room I lived in for years during college. (The same room that looked of course mostly the same for years.) I up and decided to paint it. Totally different color. A light greenish, which they say stimulates reading and writing, by the way. I also plan to have different furniture in there when I move back in. Same space, different room. Perhaps being away from it for these years has made me less attached to it. As has the fact that it has been several things in my absence. Or perhaps I am just ready for something new in this crossroads era of my life. The room will hopefully reflect more of what I am now.

This is a big decision for a guy who is not always demonstrative outside of his writing. And there is little fear of me becoming the guy who never wears the same shirt twice. I'll always be content to leave some things the same far beyond the point that others think I should. Yet a little paint, and a lot less stuff in a space may just be the catalyst for a perspective shift that I quite need in the coming months. We will see.

How often to you change the outward expressions of yourself?

A Crucible of Comfort

2011-11-03T12:03:00.002-04:00

November is to be a month of uprooting for me, though I have known about the impending changes for some time. I have hesitated to make a point of blogging about them, but have decided putting it out there may help illuminate the positive sides of some of the impending disappointment.

I have lived in this apartment for over three years now. It was intended as a stop gap measure until something better could come along. Until my writing was solid. Until I had some money saved up. I have never especially liked living here, and have for at least the last year wanted very much to leave this place.

I will be doing so, but only so as to move in with my mother for a while. I am not proud of this, as you can imagine, but the depressing fact is that the money is not there. Not from writing. Not from any kind of side job. Not from anywhere. This place is a dump, but I can no longer even afford that.

Plenty of you that have read what I write or tweet will without a doubt conclude that the reasons I have not been able to support myself totally is because I didn't want it enough, or that I didn't establish a personal brand. That I use Blogger instead of Wordpress. That I am an introvert. That I haven't made up my mind to just positive think my problems and obstacles away. I haven't made the effort each day to step outside of my comfort zone and be scared. I don't network enough, and when i do I don't do it properly.

That insulting and inaccurate list goes on and on. None of it being applicable. But to those who apply it to myself and to others who have not met their goals, you cannot be convinced otherwise anyway, so there is no point in my attempting it. Circumstances, and not my lack of drive are responsible for this particular failure.

And it is a failure. It is at least the 11th or 12th timed life goal that I have set for myself in adulthood that I have been unable to reach. (Moving out of here under my own power by the time I did so, to a place of my choosing.) If I think about it too much, I will spiral into a depressive state which can be of no use to anyone. Yet I will not pretend that the anger and sadness isn't there. It is. I cannot, once again, make any fucking thing work.

My biggest fear at this point is that living with my mother in her home will remove any spirit that is left in me to continue doing the things I do. The novel, this blog, the freelancing, (if you can call making a few hundred dollars a year freelancing.) I fear that once I move back in there, the final blow will have been struck to my desires to improve myself, and after a long string of failures comes into sharper focus, the awful clarity of the situation will reveal that I am simply not cut out to succeed. That I will sit in my room, and come out for dinner, and nothing more.

This worrisome descent is of course not my plan. It is not what I want. And despite the potential for crippling self doubt at this point, I will follow the advice of many of you out there as far as I can. I will look at this situation and evaluate what could be made to work in my favor. I won't give a comprehensive list of what opportunities this may entail within the darkness, but I will point out a few things, so as to keep this post balanced for you "think positive" types.

For one thing, I will be getting rid of a lot of shit. I don't own that much to begin with, but if I am going to live in a room instead of in my own place, now is the perfect time to cut back on the sheer amount of matter for which I am responsible. I estimate that if all goes well, I will posses on third less material than I do at present by the time I complete the move. Less is more.

That applies to mental stuff as well. If a person can only process so many things in their brain at any one time, then the less mental energy and stress I spend on maintaining an apartment and finding desperate ways to afford same, the more of my brain will be freed up to dedicate to writing and creating. Part of me feels that I have never felt truly free to delve completely into my writing, from both a creative and business angle. Reducing my universe to a smaller entity with fewer outside distractions may help me at last determine what the miss X Factor has been. An even more minimalist approach to my daily existence.

I may even be able to become one of those reclusive writers that becomes so absorbed in the nature of what he is writing, and for whom, that he has no need for anything else very often. My life reduced to a dark room, books, tea, and ideas. I come out to shave once a month, and do what networking I need to do online, (as usual) until such time as I need to go do an interview or meet a publisher or something. I don't know exactly how that stereotype works, but if becoming it would help my writing, I am all for it.

It can be a convenient rebooting point, (assuming I don't get swallowed by depression.) With a new surrounding will come a new perspective that is ripe for an altered approach to things. In theory I can use the change of venue and pace to view what i am doing differently, and perhaps come up with something more effective.

Then there are the more practical things. I will no longer live within a block of an ambulance, fire and police station, each with their own sirens that go off 30 times a day.

I have no idea what the future will hold in this move. I was talking to a friend of mine on the phone the other day, and she put it this way. "Do you really have any choice but to succeed?" I saw her point, but the scary thing is, that won't help matters if I can't get the job done. I may need to succeed in the new environment in order to survive and to change things, but just because I need to, that doesn't mean I will be able to. People fail to get what they need all the time...

Yet I may find myself, at least for a while, in what I am calling a Crucible of Comfort. Wherein certain pressures and worries will be removed from my daily life, thus necessitating and even greater focus upon that which I am built to do. Write. Act. Create. Once moved in, I may face the truest test of them all in regards to my goals about writing. I will have literally nothing else to think about, and nowhere else to go. If I can't make it work under those conditions, I may not be doing the right thing.

In any case, I plan to hit the ground running. I want to be moved out of here by Thanksgiving Day. As soon as I am there, I want to begin rearranging the way I do things. Simplifying. Maybe hiring someone eventually to offer some suggestions. Build a new website. I don't even know all of what I will do yet. But I won't be tarrying. I cannot afford to do so.

Thoughts? Advice?

Brief Thoughts on an Introvert Halloween.

2011-10-31T13:01:00.001-04:00

I am a little disappointed this Halloween. I had no Halloween party to go to. You know me. I am not a huge party person, and indeed I would have only gone to any for Halloween had it been of a certain size and attended by certain types of people. Yet no such event took place, and I am a bit let down by it.

Not because I need an excuse to buy candy or beer or play games. I can do all of that at any party. But this year I was going to try something new. I bought some face paint and was going to work up an interesting design to paint on for a party, as opposed to dressing up as something particular. (Every year I say I am going to go all out and get a mega-fancy costume, but it never happens. I usually end up as an NFL referee because someone once gave me a ref shirt as a gag gift.)

I'm not sure, but I think my plan was to paint my face black and white only. Either a black face with white tears running down, or vice-verca. Symbolism? Kind of. Not so much that I am always crying on the inside, but that being an introvert, most things for me are on the inside most of the time, not just tears. A "mask", even a painted one, that expresses emotions so plainly would have been an interesting experiment. The one time when perhaps an expression of the internal could be made to the external world.

Halloween of course is a time for masks. Disguises. Make-believe. People of almost all stripes become something else on Halloween. Many of them gory. Or goofy. Cute or sexy. Some fancy, some minimalist. All sorts of ways to be something else for a night. Something with which your regular persona may have little in common.

Yet with an introvert, I think the potential for one of the greatest ironies comes about on Halloween. If, like I was planning, an introvert were to wear a costume or mask that accurately depicted in a very public manner how they were feeling and what they were thinking inside their heads, then Halloween could in some ways be the polar opposite of what it is to many others. While the world tries to be as creative as possible in designing a costume that transforms them into something far removed from their real selves, an introvert could use Halloween to actually show more of their real selves right away than ever before.

Yet would people recognize this? Most would not, I dare say. Most would either miss the point, or would even ask "what are you supposed to be?" But then again, introverts are used to that, so maybe Halloween wouldn't be so different when it comes to that.

At any rate, Happy Halloween to all of the introvert and extroverts who do have parties and events to go to!

Do you think modern Halloween has different uses and meanings for different people? What is Halloween to you?

Introverts and Extroverts: Ten Dating Tips

2011-10-24T15:10:00.000-04:00

Dating, and expressing interest in someone can be a tricky, depressing business for anyone. Yet I feel bold enough to declare that it is easier for extroverts than it is for introverts in most cases. And extrovert's gregarious, energetic nature lends itself well to the way the dating scene works these days.

At least with other extroverts. If they begin to pine for an introvert, they may find themselves up against certain challenges. When this happens, they may feel just as clumsy and out in the cold about dating as introverts tend to do much of the time.

Yet neither introverts no extroverts should fret. Here I offer two sets of five dating tips. The first is a set of tips to make dating easier for introverts. (Who face some of the same challenges dating one another as they do trying to date extroverts.) The second set of tips is designed specifically for extroverts who may be pining for that certain introvert in their lives.

Extroverts already know how to date extroverts, and introverts already know this stuff about themselves. So no separate list was needed for extrovert-on-extrovert action. And while it may not always be clear right away if someone is an introvert or extrovert, let's pretend at this point, you have already determined that about your potential hunka-burning love for the time being, shall we?

Dating Tips for Introverts

1) Find something, anything you can stomach doing in a group outside of the house.

You love your bed, your books, your lap top. Your warm tea. The quiet and the solitude. Believe me, I am the last person who would ever take those things from you. But chances are, you want intimacy at some point as well. So you will have to interact with people at some point.

Relax. I don't mean small talk. I am one of you, remember? But if you find an activity that suits your preferences that involves interacting with other people, the conversation can right away become focused on what you are doing. Join a bowling league, a yoga group, a book club. Doesn't much matter, so long as the exchange of ideas is the main vehicle by which you get to know someone. I can promise that relationships of all kinds will form more organically for you than at a bar or club, romance or not.

2) Group Dating

No, this isn't quite the same as the first tip. What I mean is to get together with groups of people you already know and go out to eat, see a movie, or whatever. People you know mixed in with people you don't know. Let your current friends know you are interested in meeting some new people the next time you get together, and then perhaps they can invite someone you have not yet met. So you can get to know some more people, without the pressure of actual dating. At least not yet. You get the benefit of meeting someone new wrapped in the comfort of being with people you already know.

3) Use the internet...the RIGHT way.

There is nothing wrong with a dating site. I have used them here and there. No shocker that it didn't ever lead anywhere. Dating sites, despite being online, are still essentially an extroverted environment. Just because it is an online platform that you can explore from the comfort of your home doesn't mean it is introvert friendly. And I find most dating sites are not. There is just as much of an expectation of pandering and bullshit and small talk on dating sites as there is in offline life. It may be easier to stomach for a while, with the shield of anonymity, but if you are an introvert, you will still get tired of it quickly, and still not appeal to most people who use such sites.

Instead, read blogs. Join Twitter. Visit message boards. I am not even going to specify what kind, because it doesn't matter. What matters is that you engage in them directly. Leave comments. Ask questions. If possible, send a private email to the author if you liked what they say. Participate in threads that interest you. Much like number one, it allows you to get right to the task of discussing ideas, as most blogs or message boards are centered on a certain topic. From there, relationships, even romantic ones, can evolve. It might be a gamble, but to me, no more so than asking someone for a date every time you bump into an attractive person at the post office. Plus, until you are ready, there is no added pressure to pretty up before the conversations you have.

4) A little mystery is good stuff.

We introverts can get some mileage out of this one. Not forever, of course, but let's face it, many people, introverts and extroverts alike, are intrigued by a little mystery. And to be frank and fair about it, introverts are a bit better at this one, even when they are not trying to be. Our natural tendency to observe much and say little in social situations can be taken the wrong way, but it can also work a little bit of magic. But only if we make the effort to break that mold at the right times. Being quiet and mysterious doesn't work to your advantage unless you on occasion say something. (I have blown this part more than once.)

So, even if you don't think it is the most clever thing you could offer, throw in a comment from the corner of the room once in a while. Surprise those around you that don't know you as well with your attention to detail of the conversation.

You get extra points if you quietly share with that "special" someone across the room a comment just for them based on something they said to which you were paying attention, while others passed it over in the extroverted mess of the gathering. It won't get you everything, but it is one of the few advantages in dating/attraction introverts have over extroverts right from the start.

5) Do not, I repeat do NOT try to be an extrovert.

As I often remind my readers, being an introvert is a spectrum. Some are more so than others. And introverts have their extroverted moments. Yet we mustn't confuse this truth with the notion that we can become "former introverts". The internet is replete with articles that teach you how to do this, and it cannot be done. Period. No need to discuss it further. End of movie, roll credits. Your are the temperament that you have always been. So embrace it and use it. Don't run from it. You don't need to. Because if you do, and try instead to be an extrovert, you are going to not only be uncomfortable, but you won't be yourself. You need to be yourself in the dating world.

Improve your weaknesses, of course, but remember that being introverted is not a weakness in and of itself. Anyone worth your time and effort will accept your introversion, and not expect you to become extroverts just to be "datable".

And now, from the other side of the table...

Tips for Extroverts Wishing to Date an Introvert

1) Ask them to teach you about one of their interests.

Introverts crave discussion of ideas, passions and observations. It is just that most small talk dulls our senses before we can get to that. But you can peak our interest with our interests. By that I mean if you want to get to know us as people, explore our passions with us right off the bat. Find out what moves us, and ask us about it. Even if you don't know us yet. Most introverts will not recoil from, and in fact many will appreciate your built in conversation topic.

Don't pretend, though. We detect bullshit well. Have a genuine interest in learning more about our passion. Or keep looking until you find something we like that you may also like, and discuss your own opinions about it with us. Just make extra sure you give us enough time to respond with our own views!

2) Compliment them on something they said, wrote, or an idea they had.

Look, introverts like to look good too. We like to know this, and hear it from others. Compliments about what we are wearing or our eyes are not anathema to us. Yet if you want to score quick points, and prove you are not a superficial cad, compliment us on something we created. Again, most introverts are idea oriented. Many of us write about our ideas. And we almost never express an idea in a group unless asked or until we have thought about it quite a bit. When you show an interest in that expression, it opens a door for us. It won't get you in right away, of course, but you will have responded to the deeper part of us from the start.

3) Try enjoying an event the way we do, instead of trying to convince us to enjoy it your way.

If you meet us at a party or other social gathering, respect our desire to not get up and dance or mingle. We rarely do these things, but in most cases it isn't because we are shy or because we are not having a good time. It's because we process the party differently. When you insist we need to get up and dance, or ask us if we are okay all the time, you will annoy us. That is stamping your version of a good time on us. Ask once, and then leave it at that.

You may or may not be able to understand how we are having a good time, but if you really want an introvert at a party to open up to you, sit nearby (not too close =) ) and converse with us. Quiet. Calm. Take in the party like we do. We'll feel less of a need to be on guard then, and you'll get to learn more. Plus it shows that we are worthy of your extra attention, despite everything else happening around us. That's kind of nice for anyone.

4) Make dates conversation oriented.

Are you sensing a pattern yet? Yes, we like to converse about ideas, and explore topics. Deep thinking. Remember, it is probably what we were doing when you first approached us, what we were doing while we were getting ready for this date, and to a certain extent, something we will be doing during the date. Yet that doesn't have to be a negative. Tap into our deep, imaginative minds. First dates to a museum, a short film viewing, a play, and other such things that will just beg all involved to share their thoughts afterwards, or during, will really set many introverts at ease. Despite it being a date, most of us hate "tell me about yourself" conversations. That isn't to say we will never do so, but if that is why we are out with you, we won't have a good time. But if we can get to know you through your views on something, we will be more relaxed earlier. Often, ideas and opinions are intimate to us. Think about that.

5) You don't have to understand.

Even if you want to with every fiber of your being. That's noble of you, but if you are an extrovert, that may not always be possible.

But we introverts know how infuriating we can be. We don't say much, except when we do. How can we enjoy a party more, the smaller it is? Why do we go out in public if we are not always trying to meet people? Just what the hell could we possibly be thinking about all the time? It can be hard to understand for an extrovert. And some of the questions you may have about us, we have about ourselves. But being who we are, we have learned over time to just accept our unique take on the world. Usually...

And that's all you need to do. Accept us. We don't expect you to know why, even if you are in love with us. Yet it's really okay. We can still find you attractive, and eventually fall in love with you even if you don't have the slightest idea why we need to vanish into our room for hours at a time, need time to think about an answer to your question, or don't chat up the people around us at the bus stop. Our need to be alone is usually not a reflection on you. It is how we are wired. And we no more expect you to become like us, than hopefully, you expect us to become like you.

*********

As much as I love being an introvert, I still recognize some of the difficulties, both in being one and for those extroverts who love us. Yet I have always believed that such a difficulty is not insurmountable. It just requires, as it does with all human relationships, acceptance of the differences between two types of people, willingness to change if we can, and a greater focus on that which about the other person we appreciate the most. In most cases, those fine qualities we seek in others are present in both introverts an extroverts if we allow ourselves to look for them.

The Silence Between the Notes

2011-10-20T14:50:00.001-04:00

Have you ever been to a gathering wherein somebody strikes some kind of humor cord and says/does something that gets the group roaring, but then ruins it by making the story, joke, or stunt go on far longer than it should have? To the point it becomes stale, predictable, annoying, and of course unfunny? Can't you just feel the "entertainer" milking the room for more laughs, more clapping, more attention? Isn't it pathetic? Wouldn't it have been much better if that person had just stopped about five minutes ago, when the laughter was filling the room, instead of now, when half the room has moved on, and the half still laughing is doing so mostly out of nervous politeness?

I think you know this person. And the term "quit while you're ahead" means nothing to them.

Nor do any of the following proverbs which, though slightly different on the surface do in fact advise the same thing:

"Brevity is the soul of wit."

"It is the silence between the notes that makes the music."

"The space between the bars keeps the tiger in."

"Bow out gracefully."

I am sure you sense the pattern now, and can think of even more examples of this sentiment. That sentiment being one of perfectly timed restraint.

Believe it or not, my friends consider me quite a funny person at times. This may come as a shock to some of you, because you may not be able to imagine me working a room for laughs. And you would be correct. I never work a room for laughs. I don't say things that are even intended to be funny or witty every chance I get, and even when I do, I say them and leave it at that. If a whole room is laughing at something I say, I don't feel the need to keep saying it, or adding on to it to get even more laughs. Not that I have never went on a sustained presentation that others found continuously amusing, but in those cases the story or stunt had on obvious beginning, middle and end. People laughed at the journey. But in most cases, I am content with the knowledge that at a given moment, I made several people laugh and that a moment in the future will come when I do so again.

Even though I could probably coax more laughs out of whatever group of people I find laughing at my antics, hitting them over the head with how funny I am being feels like an insult to the wondrous, mysterious honor one receives when they make people laugh on purpose. No, it's the down time of quiet simplicity or quasi-stoicism that takes place between the amusing moments that makes the laughs more special. That goes for professional entertainers as well. Few comedians are more annoying than the ones who are one constant, loud, drilling scream of joke.

Put another way, the secret to being funny is being willing to sometimes not be funny. To have an "off" setting. Even most of the time, I am not funny to most people. And because I embrace the times when nobody is laughing, and I am not trying to make them do so, I get more out of the times when I am going for the occasional laugh.

Not that this applies only to humor and wit. I think one of the essential ingredients to any kind of success is to not be "on" all of the damn time. By that I don't mean making a mistake, or being imperfect in your efforts, which will happen to everyone. I mean a total cessation of effort. Whatever you enjoy, create, or desire cannot take up 100% of your focus. You can't always be selling, advocating, relieving or whatever. Your success in any given endeavor is directly proportional to how willing you are to spend time not being/doing/saying whatever it is that drives you.

Want to be funny? Take time to be serious. Do you want people to be respectful to your position? Throw in some humor sometimes. Want to be generous? You'll have to learn to be selfish at times.

The list could go on forever, but it doesn't need to in order to make my point, which is to know what you like, work to get it, but be willing to engage in times when you don't have it. Not due to circumstances or luck, but due to your own conscious desire to refrain from that which you seek. You'll be better off for it the next time you actively seek what you want.

Do you ever choose to not engage in something, to create that "space between the bars"?

Half Closed Doors

2011-10-17T14:03:00.003-04:00

I share a lot of my thoughts and observations here on this blog, as well as on Always Off Book. I am also fairly open and candid about what I may be going through at any given time, as well as the circumstances of my life.

But lately I have been asking myself the question, at one point is it none of their damned business?

Nobody forces me to blog, or tweet. I do it of my own free will. At least to a certain extent I do. I choose when I post to those platforms, and what I will say. How often I will say it. Yet in the world of "personal branding" and networking, and all of the other ridiculous, (and may I say for the 13 trillionth time) ineffective methods of making one relevant, respected and sought after online, there is a little less free will and a lot more expectation.

If a person wants to attract business, or interest in their talents, or simply readership to their platform, there are a whole slew or rules, methods, guidelines and expectations one supposedly must follow. Certain products you have to use, certain key phrases you must pump into you content, certain platforms that are considered acceptable. Each of these things in constant flux as one tries to keep a float amid the fickle seas of online public esteem. Petty things that by Christmas won't even apply any longer, thus requiring ever more potent bouts of sea sickness as one attempts to adjust again. And again and again.

If you read this blog, and especially if you have one of your own, you know what these things are. I won't go into them again now. But suffice to say that the vast majority of the things I am expected to do in order to gain the sort of lucrative or influential presence online are things that go not only against my style, but against my nature. My grain. Beyond my scope. Yet when I can, I have twisted, turned, sucked up, swallowed down, and dealt with those contrary to my nature things. Each time much to my own at times greats stress, anxiety and discomfort, as you might imagine.

Trying to maintain one's own voice, approach and goals while being deemed as worthy by the pack is a draining, soul sucking, mind numbing investment. So in this sense, a lot of what I do, or have tried to do online has not been totally of my free will, because I actually want to be a thought leader. I want to have influence, and I want to use that influence to land jobs so I can support myself.

And what's worse; it doesn't fucking work most of the time. Not even a little bit.

Therefore I ask myself just how far I am supposed to walk down a blogging/writing/thought leadership road that isn't leading me anywhere. Does it make sense to continue to follow the distasteful rules and crippling norms of a world that has given me absolutely nothing in return? I say no.

That is to say, I feel less and less like being open and honest about certain aspects of myself. Maintaining that fucking "personal brand" everybody talks about of course demands candor. Openness. Full disclosure and public, verbal exploration of my discomforts and insecurities. Or else, nobody will respect me, right? Nobody will want to follow me, engage in me or hire me.

Guess what? In many cases, that has been the case anyway, when I have been frank with my thoughts, and frequent with my posts. So why put forth extra effort now?

I am a little tired of the small voice inside of me that says I ought to be sharing with the blogosphere, or with Twitter things such as my financial problems, the confusion I have over things others find easy, the need I may have soon to make a humiliating change in my lifestyle, the uncertainty of my future. The resentment I have towards all of the success surrounding me, and the fortune cookie advice I get to fix things.

I have never been one to give much of a damn about my "brand" whatever that is, and if it requires me to share even more of what I am about, what I am going through, and what I desperately want to do to a mostly unresponsive medium that hasn't made me more marketable by one jot, to hell with my "brand."

Sometimes, what I am going through, even if it's a huge change in my life, is just none of anybody's damned business. I want people to get to know me, and understand what I am about, but unless it's an all or nothing proposition, sometimes I'd rather them just know part of the story. And if that part of the story is not enough to reply to my blogs, retweet my tweets, or determine that I am an intellgient, talented individual worthy of time and money, than perhaps I am not meant to ever make any money.

I can only hope that the small inclination within me that says, "this is writing material", or "share this story on Twitter" quiets down a bit. At least until I see some evidence that the investment I make in candor reaps dividends in something else.

In Defense of Anger

2011-10-13T14:31:00.002-04:00

How often do you suppose that someone with a broad smile on his face is told that they need to learn to "control" their emotions? Do you think people who smile at everyone are ever told that the world is full of bad things happening to good people, and that a constant smile may be encroaching on those who are unhappy for a justifiable reason today? How many times have you encountered someone who started laughing to himself and thought, "if he can be laughing at nothing now, he is bound to laugh at me and my pain" ?

As with almost every human based scenario that can be imagined, this one has probably happened to someone, somewhere on the earth. Yet I will be bold enough to assume that most of you would find the situation described above as silly at best, ridiculous at worst.

Now let's change things up a bit, while keeping the same premise in tact.

How often do you suppose that someone who yells out loud at something which bothers them is told that they need to "control" their emotions? Do you think people who scowl and seethe at everyone are ever told that the world is full of kind, wonderful things, and that their anger is likely encroaching on someone's ability to maintain a positive outlook on their day? How many times have you encountered someone who in frustration kicked a piece of debris across the street, or maybe slammed his fist down onto a table and thought, "my god, if he can get angry enough to pound his fist onto furniture, he can certainly get angry enough to pound his fists into me" ?

You may or may not identify with the second scenario either. But I bet it sounds less "out there" to you. Not as contrived. More socially acceptable. And I imagine quite a bit of you would agree with the second set of statements, despite the fact that they are in most ways the same as the first set of statements. With one difference that should be obvious by now: in the first scenario, the subject is happy and in the second the subject is angry. In both cases, an emotion is involved, though according to most, only one needs to be "controlled".

We live in a society which is conditioned to believe that anger is a negative emotion. That it serves no purpose, is destructive, and makes us want to be further away from the angered. We even threaten those that are angry with, "if you don't stop being angry, I am going to leave". We don't tell people they are too happy to be worth our time. (Though in the interest of full disclosure, I have come close with a few people.)

It is ironic that in such an angry society we find it not only acceptable, but perhaps expected that we "fight" against anger. Flatten it. Avoid those who dare express the trait, and measure our maturity in terms of how often we get angry. As though the very definition of immaturity is feel anger.

Over the years I have been the target over and over again of people who do not approve of my getting angry at something. I do not express or even feel anger now as much as I did ten years ago, but if you are to believe the sanctimonious among us, I still get angry way more often than I should by virtue of the fact that I ever do so to a degree that people are able to detect it.

Why do we do this? Years of hearing it have led me to a few conclusions, and probably all of them apply to a degree, though it depends on the person eschewing anger at any given moment. At any rate, three big ones come to mind.

The first is simple fear. Somebody is angry...are they gonna kill me?

Then I think anger is a buzz-kill to many people. Somehow they have over the course of their lives brainwashed themselves into thinking that life is so grand, there need never be a reason to express anger about anything. It's either part of "God's Plan", or "That's Life". Either way, they have established a personal psychology which, like a house of cards can collapse in short order if they have to interact with someone who is angry, even they are not the target of said anger. This to me is a better example of immaturity.

Then we have the "anger as destruction" crowd. To them, anger destroys the spirit. It lowers the level of energy in the room to darker levels. Brings bad karma, signifies attachment, or whatever term you wish to use. By not being angry, such people argue, you are pushing yourself towards an evolution of the spirit. This denial of baser reactions strengthens you for some kind of enlightenment. (This one tends to ignore the many examples of spiritual leaders becoming angry at some point over their life stories.) For such people anger is an excluding force that replaces all emotion or thought patterns within consciousness. Anger, even if it does not start out so, will, by necessity, grow into an all consuming fire that will suck the air out of the person and all of their relationships. As though one who is angry is incapable of also feeling love at the same time. That anger and control are mutually exclusive.

To an extent all of these reasons for hating anger assume that the default state of our existence should be happiness. That anything which deviates from happiness and contentment in unnatural. And while it makes perfect sense to want to spend most of one's time being content, does it make as much sense to conclude that the infinite experience of being human has one fixed point to which we all are to pin our existence? That there can be but one fulcrum for the pendulum of our lives, and that fulcrum is calm happiness?

Many have argued with me that it is not anger per se, but the manner in which people express anger that is unacceptable. That it is the yelling, the cursing, the throwing of objects that brands someone as "immature", "out of control" or "dangerous". And yes, if you go around beating people up when they make you angry, you need help. However too often people leap to that conclusion with no evidence to support the charge. Such as the table pounding situation. I know women who have broken up with men simply because they slap a table in anger. Because the next time, "it could be my head". Really? Someone passionate who vents by banging a table, or tossing the blender that has broken down for the 15th time out into the backyard is de facto guilty of being a future abusive boyfriend? There is no difference at all between grabbing you during an argument, and grabbing, say, a pillow? You want to talk immaturity?

Yet anger remains an easy tool for instant indictment. Neighbors hear a man yelling in the next apartment, it has to be domestic abuse. Not that perhaps he is weary of being cheated on, or trying to get through to his wife that her drug problem is ruining their marriage. The voice was loud, he was angry, and so, it was the wrong thing to do. Just the very nature of being aware that someone was angry negates any and all justifications for actually being angry, because justified anger can only ever be quiet, hidden anger. Only when we bottle it up and keep it to ourselves are we even approaching the so called "correct" way to handle an emotion that ideally we shouldn't be feeling at all.

Works every time in so many cases, because you can point directly to the things that the babies inside of us squirm about...loud noises, passion, the possibility that they world may not be fairy land, and that we may at some point have actually done something to hurt someone else. We assume the loudest and angriest is probably the guiltiest in any confrontation, because it takes extra work and depth to look into the actual details of a situation, and we don't want to go there.

Even those who feel anger is destructive don't go there. How often does someone like that ask, "why are you angry" instead of telling someone to not be angry? If you feel that anger is destroying someone, do you attempt to save them somehow, or do you say, "Dude, you harsh my mellow, I would really prefer we not hang out anymore." Helpful.

Then there is the great hypocrisy among many "anti-angry" folks.Many have that one subject, or that one situation wherein not only will they allow themselves to get very angry, but actually pride themselves on it. As though they had the sole definition in the universe for "acceptable anger".

A person can be too angry, too often, and express it in ways that are too extreme. But you know what? One can be too happy, too often as well. One can be calm to the point of extreme. The way people express their contentment with their lives can also be disruptive to other people, and destructive to themselves. Yet excess of those emotions carry a far smaller stigma than excess of the so called "negative" ones. And to be frank, that makes me a little angry.

Problems with the Positive

2011-10-10T12:42:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, in one 45 minute period of driving, three idiots on the highway cut me off, passed me illegally, and played chicken with me running me off the road until I yielded.

I should have let the last bastard, who smiled and waved as he did it, run into my car. He would have had to face me then, or face jail.

But I didn't. And I regret my characteristic timidity. I did however veer off the road, horn blaring, and followed him several miles down his little road in town. I hope he felt very threatened, and I hope he was afraid for at least a moment I was going to hurt him.

I had no gun of course, and even if I did, I wouldn't use it. But enough had been enough. I am always made to feel as though I don't count when I am driving by people who act this way. My life, my safety, and that of any of my passengers is of no significance to such people. It is bad enough when people park illegally in a handicap slot, or go tearing down the highway at 100 miles on hour (with nary a pig in sight as usual). But when they put my life in danger, I want them to face consequences of some sort. To hell that "sending good vibes" song and dance routine. It doesn't work for me at such times.

This road incident is like many others that have nothing to do with driving, and even those that lack the immediate physical threat response of being on the road. We live in a world where people like me, (those that do not take everything from everyone, regardless of the cost) are fucked with constantly. A world of rednecks in pick up trucks, line cutters, terrible customer service, shameless self promoters, arrogant and hairy motorcycle gangs that ignore traffic laws, (redundant I know), and duplicitous friends who are in support of you until it is inconvenient and then you never hear from them again. And more and more different people who make victims of the respectful, socialized human beings of the Earth.

And I find the need to respond when I can. Sometimes I think if they pull out a gun and shoot me while I am cussing them out, so be it. At least I will have died standing up for myself, and they will have wasted a bullet. And with any luck will go to jail for the rest of their lives where they won't be free to make victims anymore.

Response. Not changing anything, but response. Because heaven knows people like my don't ever change anything in those situations. You see, I am not a menacing looking person, and a lifetime of these sort of symbolic castrations as exhibited on the highway has made me weary of just about anyone who advises to "let it go". Because you see, when one "let's it go", one is giving their assent to being a victim. Even if all you can do is make noise, or on a good day, scare the other person into thinking you are just crazy enough to somehow harm them for a moment without actually doing so, you are at least sending a message to both them, and the universe, that you are not a pin cushion into which psychopaths can stick their pins whenever they find they want to. It provides some small degree of proof that you do in fact take up space on this planet as a human being, where "looking on the positive side" and "letting it roll like water off of a duck's back" does not.

There are times when I am not even as angry as I appear. Where I could simply say nothing and seethe on my own, and not do so for very long. But lately I am fighting against that outward calmness because enough is enough. Turning the other cheek in these situations has very rarely made me feel any better about them. I just brood over them in silence for days. This is better than responding?

Now, fighting back doesn't usually solve things right away either, but in the very least I can go to bed that night knowing that I at least did something. No matter how rude, loud, or vulgar, I have at least proven that I am not to be toyed with. Proven it to myself if nobody else, (because other people are, in the end, out to crush as many people like me as they can in pursuit of whatever it is they want. They are trained by a lifetime of entitlement to not give a shit about anyone but themselves, and that includes you.)

And to be frank, sometimes chasing somebody down, yelling, or making a scene will make me feel better. Like I said, that moment of the perpetrator being uncertain just how to handle what is happening.

There are also times when I can feel some degree of satisfaction in the knowledge that I may have at least caused the other party inconvenience. Such as the slow moving and unresponsive check out woman at the department store who's immediate supervisor I emailed after going to the website. She had to at least take time out of her day to be quizzed about my experience, while her machine history was checked. (So I was told in the return email.) Or writing down the plate number of one of the many maniacs I dealt with on the road last night, and reporting it to the police, mentioning just how erratic the driving was. (Perhaps they will want to investigate just enough this morning that the guy will be made late for work when he is pulled over, and get yelled at by his boss, even if nothing legal comes of it.)

Not much, but we do what we can to make a sound in the echo chamber that is our lives. I don't have riches, influence, importance or fame on which to fall back. Outward success has not come to me. If/when it does, will I feel less put out by people running all over me for their own convenience? Perhaps so. Especially when connections and wealth have time and again proven to be effective counters to all kinds of trouble. I won't know for certain until I am wealthy and successful.

But until then, when I have had enough I will shove those carts out of my way at the market without a word, waste the cashier's time as they wasted mine, take down plate numbers, call restaurant managers five minutes before I know the place is getting ready to lock up in order to complain about a waiter, (they are more likely to get pissed at the shitty server if you wait until they really want to be home to make your long, time consuming phone complaint. Good tip for the future.), and any number of other small retaliatory strikes that are within my legal disposal.

Will that kind of non-response ever be good enough for me? I don't really know. I know I have tried it for years in some cases. I know I have previously tried to remake myself in the image of a Gandhi. And I know that such attempts by and large have failed. Letting karma handle it, or keeping positive thoughts, or sending love their way, or any number of other things that success gurus and feel good swamees advocate usually does exactly nothing to equalize my place in the universe of which I have been robbed by such ape-like behavior. If one day the timid approach does work, fine. Yet until then, I have a place in the universe for which I need to stand up. And when you go through the things I sometimes go through, having a place in the universe is sometimes all you've got.

Holiday Presence

2011-10-06T16:34:00.001-04:00

We are now entering the final three months of the year. A time weighed down in richer foods, soaked in beer and other spirits, kissed with cooler, crisper temperatures and moved along nicely by many get together, soirees and informal gatherings to celebrate the several holidays.

Actually those holidays are the catalyst for all of the above. Except the weather of course.

This time of year can go so quickly. It is made worse by the fact that immediately following this festive quarter, is the most boring, darkest, coldest; bleakest time in the year in this part of the world; the frigid malaise that is January through early March.

You are savoring your first pumpkin spice latte of the year one day* and your turn around and realize it's January 15th all of the sudden, your knee deep in snow, and nothing anywhere means anything.

It blows.

Which is why I plan to engage in all of the holidays more this year. Don't get me wrong, I have always been a huge fan of Christmas, and a pretty big one of Thanksgiving. Even Halloween, when I am around people who enjoy it. But for years I have let the holidays go buy and paid just lip service to being fully engaged in them. Full present in the festivities. Yes, I have enjoyed the time of year, as usual, but I have not reinvented my absorption of the sights, sounds, smells, and emotions of the holiday season in many a year. And I think this year is a good time to begin such a re-calibration once again.

It's not just about going more places or doing more things, (though in the right context that can help.) But being more present at each of the things I do. And choosing those things to do and places to go not simply because that is what everyone does, or because tradition demands it, but because it can offer meaning and spiritual value to me on the moment, and not just overall.

My picture tends to be too broad sometimes. I spend a lot of time planning the so called "long-game." Well I hope to use the holidays coming up this year as a way to remember the close up. The tight shot. The short yardage running play. And in so doing, grab more of the essence of festivities around me.

How do you celebrate holidays? Or anything at all?

Too XYZ Defined. Or Redefined? Or Undefined?

2011-10-03T14:35:00.001-04:00

I knew exactly what I was doing when I named this blog. I would say roughly 60% of the posts actually mention the phrase "Too XYZ" as it pertains to my potent yet undefined non-conventional make up, in the areas of spirituality, psychology, emotions, career, and, well, you get the idea. On and on. Even when the phrase itself is not used almost everything I have blogged here has in some way been moved by the spirit of my being Too XYZ, even if the phrase itself is absent from a post.

I am just as XYZ today as ever I was. In some ways perhaps more so even as in other ways it has lessened. And my hope was that by blogging about it, I would come to a great understanding of the exact nature of what makes my views and approach to the world so unique. The goal was to make this blog a place where others who also felt Too XYZ about things to come, discuss, share, and ask questions. I thought that in so doing we'd all be able to come to a few more conclusions than usual, when left to our own devices.

Despite some minimal success in attracting some high profile attention here and there, and a few posts of mine going ever so slightly viral for a short time, it hasn't worked out this way.

As a whole, this blog has not had even one tenth the readership I had hoped for. Nor has it spurned the conversations that I hoped it would. Again, I have endeavored to create something that simply, despite my best efforts, does not take flight, or catch fire, in this world. I'll admit it saddens and frustrates me, (despite some of my pieces on introversion getting some mild form of acclaim in very tiny circles online.) It would appear that I am even Too XYZ to make being Too XYZ successful.

The blog has failed to be highly successful by external metrics, as measured by the amount of readers, subscribers and comments, all of which would lead towards an exploration of my uniqueness and that of others. Not unrelated is this blog's general failure by internal metrics as well, as measured by the personal satisfaction of having had a positive impact on other people with similar view points, while coming to a greater understanding about my own.

My need remains, however, to define, (or perhaps I should say to at least understand, as I may never be able to define) those parts of me that can't be nailed down by the status quo and conventional wisdom. In its current form, this blog has not done that as often or as deeply as I would like. And while I am not shutting down this blog for the time being, I do hope to at some point have a new internet presence which may include aspects of what I try to do here, while also being about more. I'd mention more, but that is at least several months away, and I am not even sure how to go about doing it. (It takes hundreds of dollars I don't have, time I can't find, and help from other interested people that, like most of my projects in life, I seem unable to secure.) But when I know more, so will you.

Yet the broader message of this already-longer-than-it-should-be post is that I must begin to find other ways to define and explore what it is that makes me such a poor fit with the rest of...everything. And it is quite possibly everything. With the exception of writing and theatre,(and sometimes even they are not the exception) I don't fit into much of anything, and in most cases I don't mind that too much. I do after all explain this blog to people as "Observations of being a square peg in a world of round holes." Yet that lack of worldly success, understanding, and even lack of company from others on a similar frustrating journey can get old. After all, I'm an introvert that is Too XYZ, not an ascetic monk that needs only religion, or a hermit that needs only himself. (Despite accusations to the contrary.)

So, I will be focusing some more efforts in the coming time on the idea of finding out what exactly makes me tick. (Or what doesn't let me tick?) At least partially, as I don't think I will ever be 100% aware of what I am all about.

Now those that know me may observe that this has always been what I do. And you would be correct. To a certain extent, this search has been the trademark of my life, both online and offline. So what is different about it now? The best way I can answer that question is by mentioning my willingness, (perhaps by necessity) to explore aspects of myself that I have not put much interest in before, and furthermore do so with some methods in which I have chosen not to participate previously.

What aspects? By what methods? The truth is, I really don't have much of an idea myself at this time. I don't yet know how it will all take place. I'm not certain what exactly will go down. And I sure as hell don't know if it will even work. Often it doesn't. However, the failure of this blog to launch as envisioned, as well as other aspects of my life lately have brought the need for a different approach into a clearer focus in the last year.

I do have to say this isn't about the "get out of your comfort zone and take on the world" song and dance routine that Gen-Y and self help gurus like to spew forth constantly. I have said before and will say again now that all of that "Challenge yourself and be positive about life" secret to getting everything you want is fucking cow flop. At least it is when you are Too XYZ. (Or, let's be honest, too poor to afford most of the shit those type of people say you need to invest in.)

However it is about deciding that there comes a time when, no matter how much endurance you have to keep walking miles and miles and miles down the path, the path on which you find yourself is leading nowhere. It may good exercise. The path may have some nice scenery, and you will probably meet some nice people along the way if you walk for long enough. Yet you end up just walking. And walking. And it may start to look like rain...

And what of this blog? As I said, its days are most likely numbered in its current form. Yet for the time being, that number is a very large one, as I am nowhere near building anything else yet, and don't even know if I can. In the mean time, however, I don't know in what precise ways Too XYZ itself will change during this interregnum. I plan to blog just as often, and much of those posts will indeed be about the same things about which I have blogged over the last 18 months. (Introversion, for example.) Who knows, maybe to some people it won't appear to be that much different at all. Yet astute observers my see it as being less formal, less focused, more personal, and less constructed towards social media influence than it used to be.

The story however, is not this blog, in the end. The story is me, and in some ways that story is changing. Or, to use some writer's metaphors, a bit of the tone and direction of the story has to change, so I am probably going to have to go back to the outline and move some things around. Again, I don't know how just yet. But I suppose I, (and you, if you stick around) will soon find out.

No Comment

2011-09-29T13:21:00.001-04:00

I do it several times a day. Or perhaps the more accurate thing to say would be, several times a day I don't do it.

I will find a blog post or article somewhere, and get something out of it. Sometimes a lot, sometimes just a tiny bit. I will scroll down to the comments section, ready to respond with a question or praise for the piece. I'll look at the little box for three, four, sometimes more minutes. I will type two words then stop. I'll erase those, think another minute, and then in one effortless flow type off about a paragraph in response to the piece in question.

When finished I'll read it over. I'll let my cursor hover over the "Comment" button for a moment...and then I will erase the comment, and leave the website totally.

This is enhanced when there are anymore than say 20 comments on a post. Beyond that, I feel there is even less of a reason for me to say anything.

Comment block?

I try to be a frequent commentator on my friends' blogs. I grow weary of getting almost no comments after year and years (and years) of blogging, so I try to help out those I know when I can with some comment love. Yet if I barely know the person, or do not know them at all, the bar is much higher. I often have to be quite inspired or quite irritated by what has been posted in order for me to get passed this little mental force field I have described.

Truth be told I am not 100% certain what the deal is with my opting so often to abandon comments with such regularity. Yet I have a theory; I want to say something profound, unique, or exquisite every single time.

This feeling of, "who cares" creeps in once I form my comments in most cases. Without that added fuel of amazement and delight, (not frequent) or disgust and indignation, (more frequent), my comments feel like unflavored rice cakes to me. Sure they are there, but are they really actually anything at all? You can see, feel touch, and on some rudimentary level taste them, but once consumed do they have the slightest impact?

I'm an intelligent, witty guy and a good writer. Yet if all of that is not in evidence with every little two sentence comment I leave on a blog post with which I agree, I feel I am wasting my time, and the time of other readers as well as the author of the post.

Of course even geniuses are not on all the time, I realize that. I also realize that a comment section is not exclusive for most people. That many writers appreciate just a simply sentence expressing agreement, or at least enjoyment of said post or article. That is certainly the case for me. (Hint.) Yet when I am the one doing the commenting, I suddenly feel there is a higher standard.

Is it my usual quasi-perfectionism? Is it my subconscious belief that if I have nothing new to offer a conversation, it is better to offer nothing? Is my being an introvert somehow tied into this? Would I rather not be seen at all than be seen as being like everyone else? I hate talking to the wind, so perhaps not having a standout comment, that sounds like many of the other comments on a thread feels like I am talking to nobody because I am being drowned out by all the identical mediocrity. Or perhaps if I don't feel the comment is ever going to be read, I am likely to not even post it. I just don't know.

Perhaps all, or perhaps none of the above. I'm just Too XYZ to leave comments as often as I should.

How often do you leave comments on articles or blog posts you enjoy? Do you have a criteria, or do you just go for it as the proverbial spirit moves you?

What Interruption?

2011-09-26T12:37:00.000-04:00

I am an introvert, but I have my extroverted moments. Remember that there is in everyone a bit of their opposite temperament. I am no exception.

Sometimes my extroverted moments do come naturally, I swear. At other times I need to manufacture such moments. There is a limit of course, because despite what anybody tells you, true introverts cannot become extroverts. Yet there are certain extroverted actions I can opt to take if the need arises. (And provided I have a few days to recover afterwards.)

In order to initiate such extroverted moments however, I have to remind myself that not everyone is an introvert. This may be the hardest part about me being extroverted at times, even when it is acceptable and possible for me.

You see, in most situations I would prefer not to be approached by a stranger on the street. And as I go about my day I let myself assume that nobody else wants to be approached either. As a matter of fairness I say to myself, "Now if you were sitting on that park bench you would not want a stranger to come up to you and ask you a question. And even if you wouldn't mind, you owe it to a stranger to be extra careful about taking up their time. You therefore have no right to walk up to a stranger yourself and ask a question, even during the rare occasions when you find the need."

The truth is even I do not always hate being asked something. But I give an even greater bubble to other people than I expect of myself, because my immediate thought is to leave everyone alone at all times. After all, I usually want to be left alone too.

As an introvert, I believe that everyone deserves to be left alone. And for the most part I do leave everyone alone. But there have been times where it would have been in my best interest to engage someone, but I didn't, out of a heightened sense of propriety.

Just as extroverts tend to assume that anybody sitting alone would welcome their company and conversation, we introverts tend to assume that they would not. Sometimes we are correct, and sometimes we are mistaken.

So the key to me is to prioritize. If as an introvert you have determined your reasons for doing an extroverted thing are legitimate and likely to be of benefit to you, go on and do the thing you are considering, (assuming of course you are comfortable with it.) If the person wants to be left alone, you of all people can understand that. And if they do not mind engaging you, than you can be surprised, and receive whatever benefit you were hoping for in the first place.

A Market for Stability: Lessons from Facebook, Netflix and the like.

2011-09-22T14:26:00.002-04:00

I am convinced that despite all of the talk and action to the contrary these days, there is a market for stability. As in, a large portion of consumers who are content with the status quo of their product or service for now. Any changes are best made slowly and with as much explanation as possible to such a demographic.

Not only am I convinced that such a type of consumer exists, but I feel bold enough to state that for at least some services and products they represent the largest group, and companies often ignore them, if not to their peril, than at least to their regret for a while.

There are plenty of examples lately. Netflix/Quikster. Facebook. Brazen Careerist. All had a great idea to begin with, and for a while made gradual adjustments to improve the execution of said unique mission. Then this disease of innovation for the sake of innovation crept in, and the very people who made these entities what they are, (as in, the current majority of consumers) are left out on the cold to either adjust to the whimsical desire to "jump out of our comfort zone", or leave the service.

This wholesale abandonment of the masses that have quite simply, made such places is not random. It is driven by a stupefying and discouraging desire to cater not to the 95% of users who are happy for now, but to the maybe 5% of users called "trend setters".

These are the people that always want the "next" thing whether it works or not. The people who geek out at every small possibility that a phone could have next year, and are not satisfied unless their phone, and every other damn phone in the world shifts to have that very thing, whether the vast majority of humanity needed it or not. The people who see it as their responsibility to somehow insist that their own personal "edgy" preferences are always implemented. This, so that they can can singlehandedly pull the dissatisfied and ignored consumer majority into their version of the "future." And of course by the time the inertia of so many customers being forced towards the New Jerusalem is complete, the 5% is again calling for a new trend, service, policy, procedure or some other "it" thing. And the process begins anew.

It is allowed to do so all of the time, because companies like the ones I mention above, along with countless others, always cater to that 5% who says it is possible to change something, ergo it must be changed. The prescient elite have determined that a popular feature is redundant, so the 100 million other people who still make regular, comfortable use of same will have to go without, their ire be damned. Then it all gets wrapped up into the concept of "leaving the comfort zone" or "pushing the envelope", to which more and more trend setters, business people, and especially social media gurus feel the need to genuflect before taking their morning piss.

There is an irony to all of this. The very act of changing the fundamental nature of a one's brand, mission, product, service, or demographic, in order to "stay fresh" (that term always sounded vaguely foul to me), in fact makes a company just another run of the mill, boring bottom line oriented fad chaser left shaking in their boots. In other words, they "go corporate" and in so doing, lose any real distinction to which they could lay previous claim. It's almost to the point where remaining a solid, constant brand which is open with its thoughts about change, and gradual in the implementation is in fact the most unconventional way to do business. In a world where a brand is considered outdated if it hasn't changed its logo today, being committed to a mission is being edgy.

I have said it before and I will again. You can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar. But you know what? You can catch even more flies with a big steaming pile of shit. in other words, yes, a company may continue to see success by the numbers, (Facebook's atrocious changes aside, they still have 750 million users), but those numbers will likely be people who try everything ones. Or people that have no discernment. Or people that just follow the crowd because they don't know any better. Such a crowd will keep you afloat for a while. But beware; they know no loyalty. As soon as the flavor of the month changes, those flies will be all over the other shit.

Change is sometimes needed. Nobody makes a living building covered wagons anymore. But evolution and innovation are not always the same thing. Especially when a move as radical as Facebook makes every month leaves almost everyone confused, annoyed, and less likely to use the service.

Instead of the reinvention, focus changes, divestitures, mergers, consolidations, pushing of envelopes and shocking of the system, show me a company that knows it offers something that could be changed in a radical way every few weeks, (based on that whiny and vocal 5% needles them about all the time), but opts instead to be content to let true brand loyalty build overtime based on a consistent, stable presence.

Live Every Moment?

2011-09-19T12:55:00.003-04:00

I was lightly kicking myself the other day when a friend of mine asked me on Facebook if I went to see REO Speedwagon at the local Great Frederick Fair. No, I had not, despite my being a fan of not only their music, but their overall attitude. I had heard they would be appearing at the event about a year ago, but didn't think more about it, and forgot until my friend broached the subject. (They probably will never again be performing in my very own county, dammit.)

There are many of their songs, both their most famous hits and their lesser known tunes that I like. Sometimes for the music, sometimes for the lyrics, and some for both, of course. One upbeat tune of theirs is "Live Every Moment." It is part love song, of course, because it is after all an REO Speedwagon song. Yet the message of the song, especially the opening, rings true in many endeavors.

Live every moment. Love every day.

'Cuz before you know it your precious time slips away.

Live every moment. Love every day.

'Cuz if you don't you might just throw your love away.

Sounds obvious. Somebody says something similar just about everywhere you go. So the message is not unique to Kevin Cronin or course, and the lyrics are not stunning poetry. Yet the message is there, and on principle, I do agree with it.

Yet I have been thinking about this whole thing. While I agree that life is best lived when we live it to the fullest as often as possible, I have determined that despite what many will tell you, your life has to be of a certain size in order for this to work.

Don't get me wrong. I don't mean you need riches, fame, power, or any such outward accouterments in order to live every moment. The point of this philosophy is in essence the exact opposite; no matter what you find yourself doing, take each second and infuse it with as much life and love as possible, because it could end at anytime. Without fail it will end at some point, at least in this form, regardless.

Yet is this oft cited advice practical? We like to think that even those confined to a bed in a room without a window that get non-medical visitors once a month at best can still jump wholeheartedly into life. I have no doubt that evolved souls in just that type of situation are able to live every moment to the fullest. They are stunning examples of inspiration for the rest of us. I, however suspect I may require a specific degree of breadth and depth to my life before I can engage in carpe diem.

Furthermore, I find at certain times in my life I am Too XYZ to create that breadth and depth by myself, ex nihilio. Perhaps this is a weakness, or perhaps I am just a little more realistic about living every moment to the fullest. And by realistic I mean that I have no problem confessing that an outside purpose, circumstance or most importantly, human company helps me to more fully engage in existence. I have attempted to force my mind into, "every moment is a miracle" mode when I am alone for long stretches, and to an extent it works. For a while. But after a time, when I am alone, with nothing at all to do but sit, eat, write,pitch, and edit and read, living every moment seems more of a concept than a practice. Even to an introvert like myself.

Maybe it really is all a matter of expanding my mind enough, or deepening my perceptions enough, I am not sure. It could be that I am revealing I am a lesser person when I state my view that sometimes our lives have to be bigger in order for us to live every moment, and that we don't always have the tools to do that on our own. I can't say for sure. However I do believe that sometimes our lives become too small to allow living in the moment, or for every moment, or as though we had an hour to live. Even if that were a feasible approach, (and I am not sure it is) my ability to initiate that modus operandi without regard to my circumstances is limited at present.

I concur with those who will say I need to expand my thoughts in such a way that my life then becomes big enough to live every moment. That isn't a bad suggestion, but again, is it practical for everyone?

Maybe grabbing life by the collar, (or whatever other damn metaphor you want to utilize for this approach), is only possible once we get passed a certain point. Maybe some of us can't create an entire universe teeming with life with just our own thoughts. Could it be that the point is not so much to live every moment under every circumstance, but rather do whatever we can to make sure we optimize as many moments as we can for each other? Perhaps we need to help enlarge the lives and consciousnesses of others when they are too small for all of this living for the day stuff. Or maybe we only need to do that for less evolved folks such as myself. I really don't have the answer. But I do believe if it were a simple matter of my choosing to do it, I would have done more of it long ago, and far more often.

Do you "live every moment"? If so, what does that entail, exactly? Just how engaged are you with every ticking second? Is "living like you are going to die" a true road map of how you live your life, or is it more of an ideal to which you aspire? Is it always possible to expand your own life enough to live every moment without some outside component brought into the mix?

Planned Spontaneity?

2011-09-15T13:38:00.001-04:00

I have a love/hate relationship with spontaneity.

As a struggling freelance writer, not to mention an introvert, sometimes the formulated, lonesome existence of reading, researching, writing, pitching, corresponding, not getting paid enough becomes monotonous. Numbing. A little spontaneity can breathe life into a day, or a week, or a month. And if I am not careful, I don't allow enough of it in. I admit I may not do enough spontaneous things. Nor am I fortunate enough to have friends who invite me to anything very often, so I have to be spontaneous on my own more often than not. Which isn't easy, and as I said I often don't do it.

Not that I could run off with a group of friends every time they came knocking. But to have at least the chance to say "not today" would do wonders for my sometime need for breaking routine. (To which I sometimes allow myself to be enslaved.) Last minute adventure and/or exploration can be a nice anecdote to drudgery and restlessness.

But then at times I think about a woman with whom I was in a play once. She told me that she was the type to "move to a whole new city one day with 20 dollars in my pocket, and all of my clothes in the car."

That is spontaneous. It is also for the birds.

To me, that is uprooting more so than spontaneity and I confess it is an extreme example. Yet there are more everyday examples of being spontaneous that also put me off of my lunch sometimes. Like when I make time to accept an invitation to a party someone is throwing, and an hour or so after I get there everyone decides they want to go into town and see a movie. Spontaneous, yes, but not appealing to me. In fact, it's annoying. The plan was to have some food and play some games at John's house. I situated my day around that. I prepared my introverted nature for that. Why are we not still doing that?

"You need to be more spontaneous," some people will tell me in response to my reluctance in such scenarios. "You can't plan your whole life out by the hour. Fly by the seat of your pants sometimes! It's what makes life worth living."

Yeah, except I spent half a tank of gas getting here, I've never been to the city you are talking about before, and I have a strong preference for seeing movies alone.

Moments like that would represent the times I hate spontaneity.

Look, I am not an Alpha. I don't need to be in control of everything. Sometimes in fact I can enjoy letting someone else take the reigns while I go along for the ride. But I like to at least know what I am getting into, and if there is a better than average chance that everyone will be doing random stuff every other minute because they can't stay with one thing for long enough to have a single drink, I will probably opt to stay home. Or otherwise prepare myself for a night of flying around constantly. (Which takes more out of me.)

Perhaps in the final analysis that is what bothers me about some versions of being spontaneous; there is no sense of committing to anything. It is one thing to not have every last second planned out in your day. It is entirely something else to feel the need spin around and bounce off of everything like the Tasmanian Devil cartoon.

It isn't surprising that I prefer what I call "introvert spontaneity". That is to say having an outline of a plan to define the boundaries of an activity or a period of time and then allowing myself to be more random and carefree within same. For some that defeats the whole purpose, but for me it is like writing form poetry vs. free verse. Despite extraordinary pompous conclusions to the contrary, both methods can yield fine poems. Yet when you need to follow a certain rhyme scheme, meter, and structure, you have to become even more creative than you do when you are can basically write whatever you want all over the page and call it poetry. The required structure helps you focus on what needs to be written, and giving as much life to the words within those borders as possible. Gives it a direction which, despite its freedom, free verse cannot provide. The same can be said for activities.

A road trip is an excellent example. You could just get in your car and drive until you run out of gas. I know people who do it that way, and they certainly find their share of adventure. To me, however, if I say that on Saturday if the weather is nice, I want to find a road trip destination no more than three hours away in any direction, and take two people with me, I can do all kinds of things. Plus I don't have to worry about a billion uncertainties and decisions. I know going in I will not let myself go further away than three hours from home. So there are fewer worries, and more mental energy spent on actually enjoying the trip within the preset boundaries. And within those boundaries, already agreed to, there is room for all kind of spontaneous behavior.

As with most things, it isn't all or nothing for me.

How spontaneous are you? How much do you plan ahead?

September 11, 2001: My Story

2011-09-11T11:53:00.002-04:00

I had no room mate in college, and people on campus rarely ever called me to do anything. Especially not a few minutes after 9:00 AM on a Tuesday. So there would be only three reasons why I would be woken up by a phone call at that hour. Someone punched in a wrong number, my academic advisor needed to ask me something, or it was my mother, and she would have been the least likely of the three possibilities.

I leaped out of the top bunk and rushed to my desk to answer the land line phone. It's a reflex action for me to grab the phone as soon as possible whenever a call wakes me up. I don't know why. The result being that I often answer such calls before my sleepy consciousness has thawed to the world around me. That morning was no different.

"Are you watching the news?"

Mom's voice. She knew I would be asleep at that time. Yet given that Unglebower family business is not generally covered by television news, I at least knew right away that this unusual call was not about my kin in some fashion.

Yet she had asked the question in such a calm manner, I wouldn't have guessed the enormity of what she was about to reveal. I may have even been somewhat annoyed for a moment. It was 9:00AM on a Tuesday and I was asleep. She knew damn well I was not watching the news.

"No, why?"

"You need to turn on CNN or something. Two planes have crashed into the World Trade Center Towers in New York, and it looks like some kind of attack."

I stopped moving, but not out of shock or even disbelief. I tend to do that when I want to be certain I am processing important information correctly. I also tend to bend forward just a bit at those times, and I remember doing so then. The phone receiver was in my left hand, and my gaze happened upon my as yet unneeded winter coat hanging in my open closest, as though it had delivered this message to me.

"You mean, like terrorists?"

Mom confirmed it. Not that she had a particular authority to do so. But she explained that she had been watching the Today Show as she got ready for work that morning when what was thought to be a small engine plane had slammed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. She told me that like everyone else, she believed it was a horrible accident. But than the second plane hit the second tower, again as mom was watching, live. That was all she needed to see.

"I debated about calling you earlier," she told me, "When it was just one plane. But just a few minutes ago a second plane hit the second tower, and there is no way this isn't some kind of attack. The news people are saying the same thing."

My mother might have been giving very clear and precise driving directions to a picnic, given her tone. There was no screaming. No crying. This was important I could tell, but hysteria was not her style.

"And they are sure of it?"

Remember I have been awake for 120 seconds at most by this point. I am not as bad as some people are upon getting out of bed in the morning, but consider trying to process this while still blinking sleep out of your eyes and trying to shake the heaviness of semi-consciousness that still drapes around you like a wool blanket even after you have been awake a few minutes. Sometimes understanding that someone is headed to the store, asking you if you want anything is difficult enough at such times, and here my mother was telling me that New York City, the New York City, was under attack.

"Yes, the people I am listening to say there is no way that this could be an accident, it is a terrorist attack."

"Does the president know? What is he doing?"

"The president is in Florida at an event."

It went on like that for maybe ten minutes or so I can't be sure. Speculations, a few sighs, some comments along the lines of "damn" or something to that effect. How at first it was believed to be a small plane, but now both were thought to be passenger jets. 747s. There was actually footage of the second one hitting the second tower, which I would soon see. Each of us advising the other to stay alert. I had my TV on by then, and told Mom to let me know if she heard anything new, and she told me to do the same. We hung up.

We were not off of the phone very long.

I flipped around to various channels to see how they were covering the event. And of course, they all were. I would flip between about 13 channels without stopping, just to see the universal coverage. Events seem more real and more potent, and in this case, more mind-numbing and tragic, when covered by everyone in all of journalism at the same time.

The result was live footage from various angles and perspectives of black smoke billowing out of sickening gaping holes in two of the largest buildings on the planet. Helicopter shots, shots from the ground, shots from adjacent buildings. Looking straight up. Looking down the block. People shouting. Reporters attempting to assimilate the information but clearly being just as clueless as I and my mother were at that point.

Yet the most memorable angle for me during that early coverage were the shots taken from the harbor, or from neighboring New Jersey. Perhaps the most iconic skyline on Earth set against a perfect cloudless blue sky, marred by a huge black plume of smoke. A slithering endless snake that made its way along the top of a postcard image. A thick, vandalizing streak of permanent marker across a masterpiece. I of course had no idea at the time, nobody did, that this image would pale in comparison to footage from the same vantage point less than an hour later, when the skyline itself was no longer visible for the debris cloud.

I had been watching such coverage for just over half an hour. The whole event was not even an hour old. And yet it already felt like the center of the Universe. That the entire country, if not the eyes of all of humanity were looking at the very things I was observing at the time. That a new focal point of existence had been established in our lives, made up of the shots I mentioned, hysterical interviews, wild speculation, fearful rumors, and overall pandemonium both on the ground in New York and in newsrooms everywhere. Nothing short of the alien invasion could possibly wrench our collective attention from New York City, I thought.

I was wrong.

At about 20 of ten, barely 35 minutes since Mom had woken me up, a new report. An explosion, no, another plane. A third plane had smashed into the Pentagon near D.C. Another plane. Even knowing it could be mere speculation, as there had been much of it that morning already, the possibility was more stunning to me than even the sight of the Twin Towers ablaze. Could there be a bigger, louder, and more frightening "fuck you" to American security than to hit the nerve center of the Armed Forces? A building we all felt, as sure as the sun rises, was untouchable?

It was not untouchable, and the story was not rumor. For the first time since the start of this whole affair, live shots pulled away from the nightmare in Manhattan and up came a new image. Not quite as gruesome yet as the shots from the Towers because the view was more obstructed and the surroundings less recognizable. A more distant shot from an unknown vantage point labeled only as "Arlington, Virginia" revealed a wider, not quite as dark collection of smoke, rising more slowly than the mega-plume in New York. From a journalistic standpoint it was not a great shot, to be frank. You couldn't even see the actual Pentagon. To that end the frenzied, rattled journalist, ( I don't recall which one) emphasized that the news of another passenger aircraft flying into the Pentagon was at the moment an unconfirmed report, despite confirmation that several passenger planes had yet to be accounted for by air traffic control.

Yet I knew. And not just on instinct. Living in Central Maryland one gets used to all kinds of live, establishing shots of DC and surrounding areas during local news casts and sporting events and such things. I'm no expert on geography, but I know the area surrounding the Pentagon when I see it. It had been hit. And it felt like a whole new nightmare for any number of reasons.

To begin with, they, whoever the hell they were, had gotten to the headquarters of the most powerful military force the world had ever seen.

Second, it meant that this attack was now on multiple cities. The notion that I would soon be viewing reports of major buildings in dozens of cities across the country being blown up was very real in my mind. The first hint in my mind of a possible guerrilla war on American soil had begun to take root. We still had no clue who these attackers were, but if they could hit New York and D.C. within an hour of each other, who knows what else they could do or would do?

And finally, it was now hitting closer to home for me. My whole life, as I mentioned, I have lived within an hour of D.C., not counting my time at college. The events unfolding in New York were a bit like being knocked in the head. Hitting something as close to DC as nearby Arlington, and the Pentagon no less, was more like a direct hit to the stomach. Or maybe a direct hit to the heart.

Then of course, there was the family angle. My younger sister drove in and around the District for work all the time. Where was she? Her boyfriend of the time did the same. What about him? A brother-in-law of mine, same deal. Were they accounted for?

I picked up the phone and dialed for Mom. Even now I was not in a panic, but the outer reaches of my nervous system and consciousness were starting to initiate crisis management. The department of survival in my mind had not yet been activated, but the lights were on in the building, if you will.

Mom answered. She too was still calm, but I think I could detect a bit more tension in her voice now that the news of the Pentagon had reached her. (She had seen it when I had.) She had not yet heard from my sister, or anyone else, and nobody at that point had cell phones. The consolation was that my sister never had any business in the Pentagon itself, though her boyfriend did. We assumed she was in transit somewhere, and would get to a phone as soon as she could. As would her boyfriend, and my brother-in-law.

Given my propensity for anxiety you would think I would be a wreck at this point, but I wasn't really. There was an unfolding understanding that there may be a sort of danger coming from the horizon, and that I had to be prepared for it, but nothing that had me screaming, crying, or curled up into a ball on the floor. I can't swear I could never be that way, but at that time, I wasn't.

After exchanging notes again, I asked Mom a strange question. I had gotten up to use the bathroom down the hall once during the New York coverage, and everybody's door was shut. I had in fact heard nothing from anyone all morning. Not outside, and not in the hallway. I figured everyone was still asleep, and I hated waking people up. For the New York thing I wasn't going to, but once the Pentagon was hit, and fears of a nationwide attack were becoming more real by the moment, I thought I had to share it with someone in person. I was tired of being seemingly the only person in Marietta, Ohio that had any clue about what was happening.

"Do you think I should wake somebody up," I asked Mom. It was against my nature to intrude on anybody's sleep even then.

"If there were ever a time to do so," she said, "This would be it, I'd say."

After giving Mom firm instructions to call me back as soon as she heard anything from any of our local people, I hung up the phone.

It is so strange to me what I do and do not remember from that day. As I will cover later, there were key moments you would think would be forever branded into my recollection, never to fade for the rest of my life, and yet are fuzzy. Other things about that day that would seem mundane and trivial are in fact the things that might as well have been yesterday, as fresh as they seem. One of those vivid recollections of the mundane was the moment I stepped out into the hallway, intent on waking somebody, anybody up so I didn't have to watch a war break out on American soil alone.

I swung my room door open and stepped into a hallway that in my years at Marietta College had never seemed so damn quiet. The hallway was like a tomb. Bright sunshine came in through the window at the end of the hallway, creating a morning glow reflecting from the off-white cinder block walls. It was almost 10 in the morning now, on a Tuesday. Yet there was not a sound anywhere. Nobody typing. Nobody showering. Nobody on the phone. No stereos. No custodian cleaning up. Nothing happening out in the lobby. I lived in a place called the Arts and Humanities House, so as you can probably guess, rare was the time that nothing was going on. The average weekday at 1:00AM was livelier than the moment I stepped out to be the messenger.

I wondered if I should just stand in the hallway and wake everyone up. Sound a general alarm, as it were. They all deserved to hear it. Everybody in the world needed to hear it. Yet even then I was reluctant to be that much of a pain in the ass, and besides, it would be more about me if I did that, and it should be about the gravity of the situation. So I walked two doors down and on the opposite side of the hall, where my two friends, Joe and Dave lived. With one more look down the silent hallway, (at what, I don't know) I remember rubbing my hands together. I was wondering what would become of all of us, and knowing that I would be the first person either of them ever saw in a world that was now vastly different from the one in which they went to bed the night before.

It was Dave that opened the door. A very tall man you do not want to see angry. Nor do I believe he was angry upon looking down to see me there, but he did seem confused as to why I would be there at that time interrupting his sleep.

"Tytus," he said, half asleep. At least I believe that is what he said. It was his nickname for me.

"I'm sorry to wake you up this early," I said, my hands rubbing together again, "but I had to let someone know."

I did pause for a second, and in that second, Dave nodded. I have never asked him, but I have often wondered if he thought I was about to relate some sort of half-assed personal triumph to him.

"They blew up the Pentagon."

Dave's brow furrowed and he reached for the remote for his television which sat nearby. I continued talking, something to the effect of,

"They don't know who they are, but they also attacked New York about an hour ago. The World Trade Center is on fire."

By this time Joe had sat up in bed in the bottom bunk, but hadn't said anything. I stepped into their still dark room, (the curtains were drawn or something), and continued to relay all the information I had about the situation to them both, which of course was not much. From what I recall, Dave asked most of the questions I was trying to answer. At this point what had still felt somewhat like a dream, or hallucination began to take on a reality. In sharing it with other people who would now experience their own first impressions of this insanity, the final step towards the reality of the situation was complete. It was happening.

The live coverage on Dave's TV I remember happened to be back on New York for the moment, so that was his first glimpse of that. I am sure he said something, but I do not recall what it was. He didn't say much, though. None of the three of us said a whole lot for the next few minutes, other than perhaps a few stray and half-reflexive "shit"s.

My phone rang a few minutes later, and I jogged back to my room to answer it. Mom again. She had somehow hit the jackpot and confirmed that all three of the local people we were concerned about were accounted for. Sis had in fact been driving and heard about the entire thing on the radio. All three were remaining extra vigilant and staying put. Confident in that, but not as relieved as one might expect, I made my way back to Dave's room. It was now only a few minutes before ten o'clock.

It is at this point, during perhaps the most critical, stunning, and important moment in all of the 9/11 attacks that things in my mind seem odd looking back. I say that because on the surface it seems impossible. Yet the facts and the timeline bare it out.

I distinctly remember standing in the middle of Dave's room, still in the dark other than the TV. Joe still sitting up in bed to my right. Dave, remote control in hand to my left, near the door. Why we were in that formation I don't know, but in either case I was straight in front of the TV. And as we watched, the South Tower crumbled into dust. I am thinking it was CNN's coverage.

I did nothing. I said nothing. Truth be told I am pretty sure I felt nothing. Nothing. This is what has sometimes over the years made me question if I actually saw the Tower fall on TV. For surely if I had, surrounded by two of my friends, somebody would have reacted. The people on TV were, that's for sure. Could it be possible that I and two friends of mine could just be standing there, free of hysteria as we watched one of the most recognizable sky scrapers in the world implode in the largest example of carnage ever captured on live video?

Over and over my mind has said no. That I must have not seen it happen live after all. But considering the fact that I had been the one to wake Joe and Dave, and that it was at most 15 minutes later, at 10 o'clock that the first Tower fell and that there was zero chance of my opting to stop watching coverage less than an hour into the event, I have concluded that not only must I have seen the collapse live, but I did in fact see it on Joe and Dave's television, and not reacted. All I can remember thinking was that in the end, it wasn't shocking. Stunning, yes, but the idea of someone trying to blow up those towers at once felt inevitable. And when I saw one collapse, it was almost as though there were no other way it could have gone. I just observed that hell on earth as I would a complicated movie scene. My arms folded standing two feet from a television.

Nor did I hear screams from anywhere else in the building, or nearby dorms, or outside. It was as though we three were the only ones watching this act of utter devastation.

"I'd say at least 30,000 people just died."

Joe. It is the first thing I remember him saying, though he must have been saying something before then. Yet perhaps not. Perhaps he felt a numbness to the moment as I did. I don't know.

"At least," I agreed, with clinical distance. We had no clue of course that the death toll, still horrendous, would end up closer to 3,000.

After that, a vague sliver of memory sometime later of New York Governor George Pataki making a live statement, followed not long afterward by an inside joke made by Joe. A joke at which I laughed, despite what was happening. If that makes me heartless, than I suppose I am heartless. But I wasn't about to ignore one of the few funny things about that day.

Yet would you believe it if I told you that that was the last moment of which I have any clear memory for about an hour? Again, the things you forget vs the things you remember are mind boggling. For example, I remember no reports of United 93 going down in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, though obviously I would have heard them. Nor do I recall watching the second tower fall at around 10:30, about half an hour after the first one, according to the official timeline. I can't remember presidential statements, or the shot of Air Force One leaving Florida, or Gulliani's press conference. I don't remember getting dressed, leaving Dave's room, calling mom again, or much of anything.

The next clear memory I have is a group gathered in the lobby of the dorm. It is a jarring jump cut of a memory review for me. I go from the dark silence of Joe and Dave's room, to the semi-active brightness of the lobby and its old TV set surrounded by at least ten or twelve people, most of whom I knew, some of them foreign exchange students that lived in the dorm, but didn't say much to anyone. When all of these people arrived, and how they entered the narrative, I just don't remember.

There was one girl who lived in the dorm that came in at some point, and I think I remember asking her if she had been watching things. She said she heard something about a plane hitting a skyscraper when she left for morning class, but clearly she had not been aware of what followed. (Was nobody watching, running from class to class talking about this?)

It was CBS news on in the lobby, because I remember it being Dan Rather anchoring the coverage. The more reports of missing planes and burning buildings that came in during the second hour of coverage, the more I thought I should actually plan for escape measures, and self defense. I considered arming myself, though with what I didn't know. But the sense that at any time any of the major city within driving distance, Cleveland, Columbus, Pittsburgh, could be hit next was weighing on my mind now. I was not alone in this. I recall a few rushed conversations with a handful of people about what the best course of action would be if we had to evacuate. At no time during that day or any other day did the campus security make any efforts to inform, calm, or serve the student body.

Not that I believed that terrorists would target Marietta, Ohio per se. Again, it was our proximity to major cities that worried some of us. Then there was the possibility of not an attack, but a guerrilla occupation or something. Keep in mind the idea of American soil being attacked was all new to us, and we didn't know just how many enemies there were, what their plans were and of what they were capable. But they had hit the Pentagon, (now confirmed not to have been destroyed as previously believed), so they seemed capable of anything. Then the possibility that overall pandemonium might overcome ordinary people in town, or even on campus, and spark riots or looting, or who the hell knows what else. So whether it was World War III or civil unrest, I remember calmly packing a bag at one point and having it near the door to my room.

Yet still I felt no panic. Obviously the concern that "this isn't over" began to permeate throughout the dorm and in my inner circle. There were still planes unaccounted for. But I never felt a sense of urgency until I heard Dan Rather say, "There are unconfirmed reports that another plane may be on the way to Camp David, the presidential retreat." At that point I was in the lobby with the rest of the gathering group, and I will confess to running back to my room to grab the phone and call mom again. Camp David is in Thurmont, Maryland, the northernmost part of my very own county, Frederick County, Maryland. If a plane was heading for Thurmont, and the controls were jostled or the calculations were off by just a fraction, a plane of that size at that height, going that speed could easily end up in the middle of far more populous Frederick, Maryland where I and family spent much time. Or, the back yards of half my family members.

"I'm keeping my eyes open," Mom told me, having not heard that particular report. She assured me that everyone else back home was on extra alert, and advised me once again to be on the same. I shared with her about having an escape plan, packing a bag, and maybe arming. Not one to sensationalize anything, Mom confirmed the gravity of the situation again by expressing agreement with my preparations.

The report turned out to be false, and no plane was headed towards Camp David. All other planes were being slowly accounted for, because, the news was reporting, the FAA had shut down all air traffic in the United States. That was one of the most stunning things about the whole day other than the loss of life. Until that point I didn't know anybody anywhere had the power to ground each and every flight in the entire enormity of this country. Yet they did, and that is what happened. The idea that nothing would be flying anywhere in the country, except military and rescue aircraft as needed, amazed me. (The following night, I did see a single small plane fly across the night sky while I was up on the roof of my dorm. I assume it had clearance, but it was strange to see just the one plane for a week.)

News of the universal grounding of American flights was the last bit of live information I clearly remember seeing on 9/11. I, like most, spent a great deal of time in front of the TV for the rest of the day, and the rest of the week, but I don't remember much of that. I do remember at last being stunned by footage; later in the evening the ground level shot of the second plane just vanishing into the South Tower was released, and that did jolt my stomach a bit.

Still on the alert, but feeling more with each passing hour that no further attacks were imminent, I went for a walk on the mall on campus that day. I don't remember what time of day it was, only that it was mid-afternoon. It was the first time I had left the dorm all day. It is a jarring irony that it was one of the top five most gorgeous days I have ever experienced, before or since. It was about 70 degrees. The sky, without a cloud in sight was a shade of blue I didn't even know the sky could be, so dazzling and deep was it. A perfect breeze was blowing, rustling the first stirrings of autumn leaves along the ground, as well as the American flag on the pole in the middle of the mall. If we get to pick the weather in our heaven, I'd use that day as one of my reference points.

Marietta College was a bit of a party school when I went there, and was never known for its stoicism. Yet during that walk there was a reserved quality to the campus. There were students out and about, some going to class, (though I didn't), some on other business. If I had to encapsulate what the feeling of campus was as whole at that point, the best I could come up with would be, "What?"

Not, "What the hell," or "What's happening," or "What are we going to do?" Not even the often used improper punctuation of "What???" covered it. Simply, "What?" A pervasive, collective bewilderment hung in that perfect early autumn air.

Over the next few days and weeks, there were student run charity drives for victims, dedications by the college choir, candlelight vigils, and any manner of early healing and commemoration on campus and around the world. There were presidential addresses, cautious and nervous late night talk show hosts returning for "duty", and calls for revenge. I participated in some of those things, avoided others. I have positive thoughts about certain aspects of the post attack time frame, and negative thoughts about other aspects, both in the immediate aftermath, and since. Those could fill an entire book. They have filled many books in the last ten years, and will continue to fill books probably as long as this country exists, and even afterwards.

Yet the purpose of this post is not to share my dissatisfaction with the way things were handled by those in authority over this country as well as the way the events described here have been used in foul ways to do foul things. The purpose of this post was to at long last add myself to the national narrative. I have not avoided it until now, but I have not delved into it much either. Not out of shock, and not out of fear. But because it is my nature to move forward when possible.

Remember, but not relive, is my motto. The problem with much of the memorials, and TV shows, and books, and speeches, and expectations of society, and "as it happened" coverage every year on the anniversary is to me reliving. And while I don't believe in making that a habit, this ten year anniversary seemed at last the proper time to, as a writer set down in words the minuscule dot that I myself posses in the tapestry of stories that was born out of the epic tragedy of September 11, 2001.

Seven Things a Guaranteed Success Wouldn't Care About

2011-09-05T15:24:00.000-04:00

Rejection and Failure
If it didn't at all bother us to look stupid, to not accomplish what we set out to do, or to be told we were not good enough for that play, that magazine, that girlfriend, we'd have just as much energy to invest in the 500th attempt at something as we did for the first or second attempt. And with nothing to make us even a bit reluctant, we could get to attempt number 500 in half the time as it would take when we need to pause for a while and recover from the failure.

How Long Something Takes
This is a cousin to rejection and failure, but need not include either one. Sometimes we know that a specific undertaking will be time consuming right from the start. Even as small success is made ever so often, and we have not had particular obstacles thrown in our way, the nature of a mission, goal, or assignment requires so much of our present and our future that the sheer size of the time investment can freeze us, or make us abandon it right away. But if we never cared for a even a moment about how long it took to accomplish something important, even if it took 25 years, we'd be more inclined to take more journeys towards more destinations.

The Status Quo
I myself am already quite well positioned to not give a damn about this one. I am after all, Too XYZ for most conventions. My success has not been anything near where I want it to be in most aspects of my life, and that may or may not be because of the select places wherein I do let convention, have too much influence over what I say and do. But when when we go forward with an idea with not even the slightest consideration for how well it may fit in with what everyone else is doing and has done for decades or centuries, our focus can be 100% dedicated to realizing what we have set out to do, and 0% of our energies are lost to determining how to adjust it to outside expectations.

The Presence of People in Your Life
I have often written of introverts, and by extension have commented on extroverts. How the former sometimes wants nothing more than to be left alone when crowded, and how the latter wants nothing more than to be surrounded by lots of people when left alone. (Except of course, when the opposite is true.) But what if, whether introvert or extrovert you didn't much care one way or the other about who was or was not around for the lion's share of your time? House full of people? Fine. Haven't seen a soul in weeks? Fine. To put it another way, imagine if your own sense of happiness, value and enjoyment remained unchanged by who did or did not come to visit you? Was a constant even in the midst of guests? Sustainable through outward abandonment by friends? It would mean that your entire perception of yourself, and hence your dedication to what is important to you would not in the slightest way be determined by the thoughtfulness of others. The decisions, (often cold, thoughtless and random) to come in and out of your life would have no bearing on same. That's a freedom most people can only imagine.

Sleeping Conditions
One of the things I most envy in any person is not their talent, or their looks, or their money. Those are all sometimes a strong second place, but in truth, I would rather be able to so as a few people I know can do and just "decide" to sleep. My father it seems was one of these people, as are a few of my friends. They find a bed, couch, cot, or if needs be a bathtub, fold their arms, close their eyes and are asleep for the night. I shit you not. Maybe there is a party going on. Maybe a freight train goes by every hour. Barking dog. Could be pitch black or maybe a neon sign from the strip club across the street blinks into the room for the duration of the nighttime hours. It just doesn't matter to such people. When it is time to sleep, they do it.

Imagine the power and convenience of this. You could go on any trip, find yourself in any circumstance, be spontaneous and go an on adventure, or your presence could be required somewhere odd in the case of some kind of emergency. And when the time allowed and you made the choice, you could lie down and decide it was time to sleep, without caring where you are or what was going on. You could recharge your body and mind nearly at will, and be ready to go full blast the following morning, no matter what. It sounds like a minor thing, but imagine the near infinite flexibility of a life wherein you could get the sleep you needed no matter what.

Where You Live
Not unrelated to, but more important than not caring where you sleep is not caring where you live. You will of course do a lot of sleeping where you live, but you will also do a lot of the other mundane everyday things at home. A lot of time, thought an heartache is put into where one should live. (As someone who is hoping to move to another apartment before the end of the year, I am well aware of this.) But supposing you had no living preferences? You could feel at home anywhere outside of a battle zone. (Desert, urban, or otherwise.) You could go where you could afford to go. Whatever was open and available, you'd take. No view? No problem? Third floor, eighth floor, dirt floor, it would all be the same to you.

The ability to imbue any domicile with the trappings and spirit of "home" is indicative of someone who can create their own atmosphere, or more accurately carries one with them wherever they go. Someone such as this would never be homesick, never long to return to someplace they left, and could more quickly feel a part of whatever community in which they found themselves. In so doing they would be able to mine the benefits of blending in far easier than others.

Success
Yes. It is now time for the irony portion of our program today. But consider what sort of freedom one might gain if they were not so much concerned about whether or not they are a success. And I do not just mean financial matters. Imagine someone who could care less if they are seen as a thought leader, spiritual guru, social commentator, or famous anything. What if someone were to be concerns only with being kind, and feeling warmth? not from other people, because that would dip into the previous category of not giving a damn about the company you keep. But warmth of spirit.

Suppose that someone cared only for increasing the amount of light in the world, whether or not it got them a job? What if a person could live in a homeless shelter, or in the proverbial "mother's basement" and gave not a second thought to whether or not his friends, potential mates, society, a particular church, or the blogosphere considered him a success? Would that person not eventually be free to spend his time however he damn well pleased, with whomever the hell he wanted, without having to worry about personal brands, rate races, nailing the interview, pitching the article, or any of that damn noise that keeps most of us up at nights? Would they night eventually find themselves in a place that also valued such an approach, surrounded by like minded people? And what is success but the ability to improve both one's life and somehow the lives of others or even the world through the use of one's unique powers and talents? Success would come to someone who didn't care to look for it.

********************

In conclusion, a person who could pay no attention at any time to all seven of these things would, I feel, be nearly bullet proof. I don't think such a person exists as a whole. I am certainly not he, as I can lay claim to apathy for only a portion of what I describe here. I imagine that would be true for most people, as many of these things are very seductive, prevalent, and possibly genetic. Yet as I have thought about it I have determined that although no one person may fit the bill entirely, each person is in fact made better if they can find a way not to care at all about at least one or two of these. If you can do that, you are still far ahead of most people in the Western World, who eat sleep, breath and piss all seven of these things.

Did I miss anything? What would you add to the list?

Looking Back on AuGuest: The Importance of Self

2011-08-29T12:21:00.001-04:00

On this, the final Monday of August, on wanted to take some time to reflect on AuGuest 2011, and what it has meant to me and this blog.

To begin with, I once again wanted to thank my four contributors; Zoyah Thawer, Samantha Karol, Diana Antholis, and Noel Rozny. They each took time out of their busy schedules and their own writings and social media activities to add something to Too XYZ. An effort for which they received no compensation, and for which they will in all likelihood gain no fame, given the small reach of this blog of mine. It is much appreciated.

All four of these people offered something a little different, and did so in a different style. To each of their posts I wrote my own response, so I will not go into my thought on each again here. But I will say that despite the diversity of views and background for my AuGuests this year, I have in fact detected one commonality: the important of knowing and caring for the Self.

In Zoyah's case it was making sure she did not let herself become consumed by the bitterness of her situation. Samantha did not allow confusing and frustration over her unfair exclusions from groups affect the way she reached out and offered herself honesty to other people in a similar circumstance. Diana expressed how vital it was for her, and all of us, to remain confident in the direction we feel out inner most self is calling us to take in life, and Noel mentioned that despite her extroversion she has been faced lately with the occasional need to take a step back and look inward, to get a better understanding of and to provide better care to herself.

Yet it none of these cases did the slightest hint of selfishness appear. That is because caring for your self, and letting that all important center of our souls guide us as we nurture it and take care of it is not the same as selfishness. Selfishness is an ego driven state of mind with no regard to morals or the affects our actions have on other people. It caters mostly to immediate gratifications piggybacking on greater lifetime goals. That is as destructive to the selfish person as it is to the people they trample on the way to what they want. Perhaps more so.

Yet to be careful with our self, respect our inner life and make-up, no matter how different from the status quo that may be, and to, yes show love to what we are at our core, even as we accept the chance to improve upon it without pressure is to bring about the best possible version of who we are. To enhance that with which we are born, and to add to it things that we have determined we can achieve through heard work, thus giving both ourselves and the world the most potent entity we can be in service to the good around us. Not self serving cads nor slaves tied to the leash of a demanding society. Right in the middle can be found the transcendence of caring for the self.

That is what I got out of the messages of all four of my AuGuests this year. And I hope they, and each of you readers got something out of their contributing to Too XYZ as well. I'd like to hear your thoughts on that as time goes on.

AuGuest: My Response to Noel

2011-08-25T13:52:00.000-04:00

On Monday, Noel Rozny wrote about how despite being an extrovert, she sometimes, especially in recent times, felt the need to withdraw and take some time to herself to look inward for strength. That there was a little bit of introvert in her, despite being an extrovert all of her life. She touched on an important universal truth, though many people would not accept its universality. The entire concept is in fact summed up quite well in the title of her post; "A Whole Lot of 'E' And a Little But of 'I'"

In her excellent book, Introvert Power, Dr. Laurie Helgoe makes use of the ancient Yin-Yang symbol to illustrate that inside every extrovert there are aspects of introversion. And yes inside every introvert are aspects of extroversion. No well adjusted, healthy person is 100% either temperament, no matter how it may appear on the surface. (Nor how much one may object to the possibility.)

For some people, whether extroverted or introverted, it is easier to see the aspects of the "other side." That is because introversion and extroversion are measured on a spectrum. Within the entire demographic of healthy introverts in the world, some will be closer to the extrovert border, and go to parties frequently, let's say. It will exhaust them, but they will find it worth the investment. Then there are introverts who never go to parties and prefer to spend every Friday night at home, alone with a book or movie, inviting or visiting only one or two select friends once in a while. Both types are introverts, just at different points a long the spectrum. In the first example, it is not difficult to detect the yang amount the yin, as it were. In the second example, we may never see the extroverted. But it exists.

And as Noel proved, the concept of yin-yang and spectrum exists for extroverts as well.

I don't know where on the spectrum of extroversion Noel falls. The irony is to know where one falls on either spectrum requires some introverted introspection time, which extroverts have to approach when the time is right, but introverts approach by virtue of being awake. So I leave it to Noel to explain or explore how far on the extrovert spectrum she can be found. I can however explore the topic as applied to myself, and share with you readers when this introvert has his extroverted tendencies.

Let us say that the introvert spectrum can be measured on a scale of one to ten. A "one" would live on the border town with extroversion. A "ten" would remain content to live a monastic existence with their family and a library on a secluded mountain for 11 months out of the year for the rest of their lives. Yours truly tends to be left of center on the spectrum towards introversion. I put myself somewhere between a six and seven depending on what i have been doing, or how life in general is going.

This means my extroverted tendencies can be detected, if one is looking. But the require certain circumstances to come about.

For example, my trace of extroversion means that I do not wish to spend huge amounts of time alone at one time. I require alone time each day, sometimes quite a bit of it. Especially at the end of a long day, or at the start of a day that I know will be particularly trying or unusual. Only with that time to myself can I begin to sort out the sensations and thoughts that come about. Yet I can begin to feel lonely and a tad depressed if I have been around nobody for days or weeks at a time.

As an introvert I am in an almost constant state of introspection and looking inward. That's sort of what we do, you know. Yet unlike some introverts who can be sustained forever by doing that, I need a break from myself sometimes. To prevent being sunk into my own ennui I need to be amongst other people. Friends works better than family, because my family members tend to spend a lot of time sunk in their own ennui. Yet if I have been alone for long enough I will go over to Mom's, just for another presence outside of my mind. It doesn't always work, because as I said sometimes Mom and I have the same tendencies. Yet when the sound of silence gets too great, it works in a pinch.

It is sometimes my only choice, because most of my best friends are not accessible, and those that are are often so busy, I don't get to see much of them despite their being on 30 minutes away or so. And for whatever the reasons, I do not get visits from anyone else most of the time. So when this introvert needs to re-calibrate by interacting with people and us unable to do so, you can imagine how frustrating it can all be. I have known for years that I need more local friends to whom I can go whenever I feel this way, but as yet I have not been able to make such friends with ease. (I am an introvert after all.)

Another way in which I behave more like an extrovert sometimes is when seeking a solution to certain problems.

In general, introverts do not think out loud. In mot cases I don't that is for sure. Introverts will speak once they have thought of something cogent to say. Extroverts on the other hand will continue speaking until they have something cogent to say. Sometimes without breathing. It can be overwhelming to an introvert.

Yet there are times when I find it not only necessary but preferable to explore an idea from start to finish by talking it through out loud.Granted the framework for my comments will often have been already built within my mind as a result of typical quiet introverted reflection. Yet the flesh and bone or a solution or approach often feels more useful when I talk it out with other interested parties in the extroverted way of processing. I find this most often happens during a creative collaboration such as a theatre production. But even then only if the other parties are people I know I can trust. If I don't know them or trust them, my creative thinking will remain set on "introvert".

I am sure there are other times where for a moment, or for the sake of a specific task I can bring out more of the extrovert minority within my psyche. Yet I have given what i feel are the best two examples of the yang amongst the yin within my personality. The point of course is that for everyone on both sides there is a little of both. No matter what side of the "troversion" fence you fall on, and understanding that there is a little of your type in the other can lead to better understanding of and perhaps better relations with people you otherwise might not have related to.

AuGuest Post: A Whole Lot of "E" and a Little Bit of "I" by Noel Rozny

2011-08-22T11:38:00.000-04:00

I stood at the outskirt of the bachelorette party speechless. For once in my life I didn’t have much to say.

This, for me, was unusual. I love talking to people. Being in loud, rowdy conversations at a party on a Friday night is as essential to me as food and water. Without human interaction, I wilt. (Really, it’s true. I tried it one winter when I worked from home during a blizzard. By the third day I was so bored I was talking out loud to the voices in my head.)

Perhaps it’s genetics. Or perhaps it’s conditioning. Or perhaps it’s because my parents decided to drop that umlaut over the “e” in my name. But whatever the reason, I have always considered myself to be a highly-expressed extrovert.

That was until recently. In the past few months, there has been much of my usual desire to get in touch with friends on the East Coast, see old roommates for coffee, and make jokes to the lady next to me on the train. But there have also been instances of an extreme need to be alone, to shut out the noise of the world and sit in the stillness of my apartment. They arise like the aurora borealis on the horizon, unexpected and unexplained and strangely hypnotic. They suck me into their gravitational pull, and I find myself unable to resist.

When they first showed themselves, I felt a rumble in the distance and a slow, oncoming cloud of fear. When you have thought of yourself one particular way for most of your adult life, as a people person or a social being or whatever you want to call it, the threat of that piece of your personality disappearing is terrifying. It means trying to find a new way to exist in the world.

But after the third and fourth and fifth time these spells appeared, I figured that like any natural phenomena, there was no stopping them. So I decided to sit down and shut up and ride out the storm. And by doing so, I found the center. I found the eye.

There have been a lot of changes swirling around me these past eight months (a whole different blog post or four) and in the chatter of the world, I found an escape from them. But the hidden introvert in me, the one I never even knew existed, knew better. She knew I needed some quiet and some space and some time to reflect to get my house in order. And she wasn’t about to go unnoticed.

So after my initially panic, I slowly learned to embrace this need for quiet. I found that there is as much energy to draw from the inside as I often discover in the world around me. I learned that I have more “I” in me than I ever imagined, and I’ve learned that can be a very good thing.

AuGuest: My Response to Diana

2011-08-18T13:27:00.001-04:00

In her AuGuest post on Monday, Diana Antholis uses her experience in graduate school as a backdrop. Having never been to graduate school myself, I can't relate to this aspect of the post. Yet one of the reasons I liked this post so much is that the perspectives she provides in same are applicable to many situations in which one might find themselves overwhelmed, alone, or afraid.

For her it was graduate school. For you it may be a new job. Or you decision to move across the country, or start your own business. Whatever it is that made, or perhaps still makes you feel a bit paralyzed or afraid, let's take a look at the five things Diana mentioned which helped her "avoid insanity" while attending graduate school.

"I had to learn to learn to not become so emotionally involved in school."

Emotions are a wonderful, important and natural thing for a human being to experience. Unlike some success gurus of the current generation, I feel this includes anger, sadness, and fear. We mustn't punish ourselves for feeling emotions. Yet at the same time a large undertaking sometimes cannot proceed if we attach those understandable emotions to them and allow them to define the experience too much. Even when something is very important to us, there is a time and place for the emotion of said experience.

Consider emergency room doctors. Dedicated professionals who obvious have an intense passion for healing and medicine. But emotional investment in each patient, procedure and judgement call is impossible. Such people would be destroyed in short order. To best serve their passion, they must create a certain emotional distance on a day to day basis. Not become robots, but rather stage coach drivers. Holding the reigns and making sure the powerful horses go where they are supposed to go.

"I had to learn to create a balance between school and personal life."

I have learn from my previous conversations with Diana that she is an extrovert, and unless you are visiting Too XYZ for the very first time right now, you know that I am an introvert. Yet it is crucial for both types to maintain a personal life. Diana may have gone out on a Saturday night during grad school whereas I would probably visit a single family and talk for a few hours. Yet the point is we must remember that personal time. Maybe yours would entail swimming laps at the YMCA once a day, or reading a book all by yourself with your cats. Personal time is exactly that; personal. What it consists of is 100% up to you, but the key is you have to honor its value.

Some of the hardest people to get to know, some of the hardest to love are those who are always sacrificing personal time in pursuit of a degree, a job, a house. Or even a spouse. If we are investing so much in an endeavor that we become convinced there is no time to be had away from same, we have already become immersed too deeply. The old Chinese proverb says it is the space between the bars that holds the tiger in. In other words we can offer more to our mission when we remember there is more to our life other than the mission. We step away for a while and come back to it refreshed, and ready to tackle even more. The alternative is burning out, and that suits nobody.

"I had to stay calm."

"Keep calm and carry on" was a phrase on posters plastered all over London during World War II. An exquisite example of British simplicity and determination during some of the most trying time that nation has ever known, the phrase has recently made a bit of a pop-culture resurgence. Possibly it is nostalgia at work here, but I like to think that it is due to a slow but certain realization in our frenzied, uncertain, rapidly changing smart phone culture that remaining calm is more important than ever. Nothing can be accomplished from a state of panic. It may be part of our reptilian brain response to panic, but if we hope to get further than a reptile under attack would get, we must remember we are creatures of higher reasoning. We do this be keeping as calm as we can as often as possible.

You may not be facing the Luftwaffe, but it can feel like it when everything in your world feels like it is blowing up or falling apart around you. But if you keep calm and carry on you are far more likely to find either a solution to the problem, or an escape to another set of circumstances. Remaining calm reminds you that you are still alive, can still exert at least some control, and don't need to surrender to what appears at first to be chaos.

"I had to stay out of the drama."

I don't know if this one, or the previous admonition to stay calm is the most difficult for many of us. "Drama" in this context seems so seductive to so many people. I wonder why. Gossip, personal attacks, making a scene, going nuts. Squabbling. Backbiting and manipulation. Accusations. Even the best of us get sucked in to such a maelstrom at times. I theorize that being the center of such drama is a manifestation of a deep, latent desire for significance and attention we feel we lack. Participating in such drama from the outside I think is an indication that deep down we want to have influence on the world around us. I affect change, and not necessarily for the better.

Or maybe this is also a reptilian thing, and fighting and screaming is in our DNA. I only know this; that drama will happen. It too is a nature part of the human experience. Though some claim they "avoid drama" at all costs, I don't know how practical that is. Yet when we see drama we must be extra careful about becoming a part of it. It saps our energies, wastes our time, and, worse of all it has a bubble effect; when you find yourself in the midst of it your entire universe seems to be confined to the particulars of said drama. It becomes almost impossible to see, contemplate or engage in anything not connected with the drama. And if that happens, how do you move forward? How do you keep calm and carry on?

"I had to stay confident in my goals."

Forget trying to decide whether staying calm or staying out of the drama is more difficult. Staying confident in one's goals has both of them beat. I speak from personal experience.

There are so many expectations placed upon what we do with our time, our money, our talents. Even our love. These expectations come from convention, from society, from our churches, our friends, our families. Even from our television commercials. When we decide we have a goal, (or heaven forbid, a dream) that doesn't conform to any or all of these expectations, we hear about it right away. We here that it isn't traditional. That we need to settle. That the economy is too poor to start a business, or that we are getting too old to not be married. These sentiments can put us off of our personal vision for ourselves. Worse than that, it isolates us and makes us feel alone. All things are more difficult to accomplish when we feel we are alone.

Yet if we don't remain confident in our own goal in spite of all of that, nobody else can do it for us. Lack of focus on our own goals is a form of surrender to what other people determine about our lives. People who do no have the entire story, no matter how well they know us, or think they know the world. Goals change, yes, but that should only happen after deep introspection and revaluation based on what you truly want out of your life, as opposed to pressure from those who say it isn't feasible or goes against the status quo.

I hope I have demonstrated how Diana's approach to surviving graduate school is in reality a usable template for surviving most trials. What she did to keep her sanity in academia you and I can do to keep our sanity in our own lives.

Have you ever used any of these approaches? Would you add to this list? Tell me about it.

AuGuest Post: Confidence and Grad School, by Diana Antholis

2011-08-15T12:47:00.000-04:00

Confidence and Grad School

I was always a confident, independent woman...until I went to graduate school.

Self-assessments and personality tests hold no ground compared to the self-realization process I encountered during graduate school. I was stripped down to my core while simultaneously being built back up. A truly bizarre experience.

During my time in school and at work in New York City, I was doing pretty well. I excelled in school, I had best friends, I did fabulous things, and I was promoted at work. Even when I moved to San Diego when my boyfriend returned from his deployment in Iraq, I easily found a job, made friends, and lived THE life on the beach.

I was never arrogant or obnoxious. But I knew I was smart and lucky. Though I do believe that you have to work hard and make the right decisions to have good luck.

Graduate school was something I had always wanted to do. After about three years in advertising, I was ready to pursue that goal and take on a career change. The change would be difficult, but not impossible. I never lost confidence in my ability to make things happen and get things done.

So, when my acceptance letter came in the mail for The George Washington University in Washington D.C., I was ecstatic. THIS Organizational Management program was for me. When I was offered a spot in the “Fellows” program, a chance to complete the master’s in 10 months with a small cohort, I said, “Why not?!” and jumped on the opportunity. I was honored that I had been chosen.

This program differed from the two-year traditional program as it consisted of seven-week semesters back-to-back completed with the same small cohort of people. It sounded so fabulous as we were given the titles of “Fellows,” special attention from professors, and the ability to charge through a master’s degree while really getting to know our classmates.

I was nervous, anxious, and excited at the same time. I was curious about my classmates and professors. I was interested to see what being in a graduate program would be like.

Well, let’s just say that 10 months of constant contact with the same group of people allows you to REALLY get to know people - including yourself. The eleven people in this cohort couldn’t be more different from one another: professionally, personality-wise, and demographically.

While the whole class was composed of genuine good people, I felt out of place. So out of place that I began to question myself.

Friends and Pressure

Usually, I can easily find friends or people I’m compatible with, but I was having trouble with this group. The more I tried to create friendships, the more I became disappointed. I was putting unnecessary pressure on myself.

School and Balance

School was hard. I had 300+ pages of reading per week per class (with anywhere from 2-4 classes at a time). I was preparing research papers and presentations nearly every week. I was the graduate research assistant for the Chair of the program. And I was trying to maintain my relationship with my boyfriend at home.

Pep Talks and Confidence

Every other month or so, my boyfriend had to give me pep talks because I would completely break down. I would lose confidence in my abilities. I didn’t think I could handle any more. I thought others were smarter than me. I didn’t know if I could keep up. I felt bad energy from certain people. I felt like everything I knew was wrong. The pressure was overwhelming.

Then I became mad at myself for feeling insecure. That wasn’t ME. How could I let myself think those things??

Then I would snap out of it and give myself a pep talk. Deep down, I knew I would excel in my classes, but I’d let the little things get to me.

Then it would start all over again.

Later I found out that most people feel that way in grad school.

What Had to Happen to Avoid Insanity

I had to learn to not become so emotionally involved in school. I had to toughen up, go to class, do my work, and have confidence in who I was and who I was going to become.

I had to learn to create a balance between school and personal life. I’d watch other people completely stress out and exclaim that they would be writing papers all weekend long. I’d easily tell them I was planning on going out Saturday night and having a good time.

I had to stay calm. I’d listen to other people argue with one another in class about things that really weren’t necessary to become so enraged about. My patience was tested, but I passed.

I had to stay out of the drama. I’d hear others speak negatively about each other behind their backs (and to their faces as well!). Competition, personality differences, and pure immaturely fueled this. I’d try not to get involved in the drama and avoid thinking about what they could possibly be saying about me.

I had to stay confident in my goals. When we talked about our futures, my thoughts were so drastically different from every classmate. When I talked about starting my own business, I was given strange looks. I knew I was different. I knew my experience was different. And I knew that I also knew things they didn’t. That’s how I made it through.

By the end of the 10 months, we had all had it with one another. But surely, a few months after graduation, we realized how much we all meant to one another. Being in that program with all of them was the best self-realization process I have ever been through. I was put to the test in my knowledge and my personality. I appreciated every single person in that class for challenging me in a way that I never would have challenged myself. Being so uncomfortable made me ready for anything.

I still keep in touch with almost every single one of my classmates. I’ve even seen half of them in the past year and we all live around the world. We have a special bond now that only we can understand. We know and appreciate what a strange group we really were. We can talk about everything that happened between us openly and with laughs. We appreciate being given the chance to experience one another, because we were all so drastically different that we never ever would have crossed paths in this lifetime.

I believe that’s why many things don’t scare me now. People have so much fear, but once you go through certain things in life that really have an impact, fear becomes less significant. When you are pushed to your limits in every single aspect of your life, you start to prioritize the things worth stressing over.

That process was eye-opening. And as uncomfortable and insecure as I was through the whole thing, I’m so happy I went through it because it made me the person I am today.

Too often, we let fear and insecurity take over our thoughts. But this is not a bad thing. We need to acknowledge these emotions and challenge them. We become better people once we understand who we are and why we act certain ways. Socrates couldn’t have said it better, “Know thyself.”

Diana Antholis helps young adults who have been in “adulthood” for a few years transition to a new career based on their wants and goals to ultimately make them much happier, healthier individuals at Enter: Adulthood. She has been known to accept bribes concerning chocolate.