The core values, motivations and traits of a person tend to stay constant throughout a lifetime. Yet through the course of a life the manner by which people either protect or project their deepest, most authentic selves may change in a dramatic fashion.
In terms relevant to this blog, we can sometimes become either more or less XYZ than we used to be. Sometimes we can even name the change, instead of having to use XYZ. And the irony of this post is that I, author of Too XYZ, have detected a shift within me that I can actually describe with actual words, and not my trademark Too XYZ.
What is this shift?
I need to interact with more accessible people about more of my issues.
Note that I said "interact" and not simply "share". Because sharing could be this blog post. Or a Facebook update. Or an email. I do that sometimes, with mixed limited results. But to interact with people about my sometime internal horrors would provide me with a ritual cleansing of sorts when the periodic fogs of spiritual and emotional warfare once again descend upon my heart. The notion of interaction in all of this is crucial, because I know a few people who care about me, but have no idea what to say, or even clam up when approached with negative topics. So their love is appreciated but I need those willing to engage with me as well.
I'm not totally silent. There may be a cryptic Facebook status here and there, or a weird tweet that gives some indication of the battle within. I get pissed and write about it here. But those are vague reflexive observances of my internal ordeal. They are almost side effects of the turmoil. That hint of steam emmerging from the pressure cooker as it does its work. Not a concerted effort to lay out in detail what I am grappling with at any given time.
For most of my life I have been okay with that. After all if I am going at it alone and not revealing the weird nature of my intangible plague of spirit, the solutions are all under my control. The attack plan is mine. The PR is mine. There are no questions. No judgment. But when there are no questions, I get to nowhere new. I don't see anything from more than one set of tired eyes. I don't form a new plan of attack. I detect the next enemy charge, dig in, and fire as many rounds as I can. When I am out of ammo, I duck and wait for it to pass, knowing that in the end, if nothing else, I will become too tired to fight against the unseen and will collapse, get looted and be left alone until I rebuild. Afterward I will dust myself off and head to rehearsal for my latest play, or type a chapter up in the novel and nobody knows the difference. Ty, as he always was.
I'm not okay with that anymore. I am still in many ways a private person, and I will always be an introvert. However, this business of polishing my persona to a show room shine before stepping out to be amongst people so they can't see what is happening has run its course in my life. I'm done with shining up the bronze statue of me people walk passed everyday. No matter how bizarre, stupid, or crazy people are going to find my fears and "demons", the time has come to be more frank about them.
The problem is, that will probably mean a mass exodus of some sort. I could be wrong of course, but it seems that over the years people have built up this idea of me. "Ty Unglebower", a character in the play of life, as opposed to Ty, the human being that is over at our house for dinner tonight. (It happens once in a while.) For many years that was easy. I'd go somewhere, be "Ty" for a while, and feel okay about it. Then I'd come back home, feel the fog descend, and fight my way out of it myself. In so doing, not only could everyone keep their idea of "Ty" alive, but I came away with a sense of empowered self-satisfaction. I had fought off the invisible attackers on my own. 50 against 1 victory was mine.
If you will recall in my bold print statement above, I called for accessible people as well. I emphasize I have some people who care. But interaction with the few of the most important ones can be difficult because of distance. There is always the phone or Facebook, yes, but when you are in the bunker, surrounded, and need ammo and reinforcements, nothing really beats having a physical presence there with you to talk out a few things. Yes, getting support from others via social media is better than nothing, but it makes it easy for others to be dismissive of my plight. Even if I share more than I have been, I get met with the atrocious silence, or with the flippant. I mentioned I felt as though I was in serious trouble the other day in my status. One response was "Good luck with that." Thanks a lot...
Yet despite the obvious risk, I think it is time. Time to be more open, more detailed, more frank about my struggles and pains. It won't be easy, to leave that bronze statue behind for a while. But the end result, hopefully, will be not only a greater understanding of me by people near and far, but also fewer solitary battles in the future. I pray that with this new candor, I will find my current people more willing to be there, and perhaps attract new, understanding people into my life that were not there before. Maybe even a few that have already beaten the same enemies I am fighting now.
The fog will lift. It would just be nice to hear friendly voices in it when it descends. Even if I can't see the faces.
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
The Too XYZ Road Show
This weekend was a fun, rewarding, and in many ways an Un-Ty sort of weekend. Perhaps it was exciting because it was so Un-Ty like, and rewarding because it may have in some ways changed what it is to be "Ty-Like."
I am not an advocate of making specific efforts to "get out of your comfort zone". In fact the concept is so oversold online these days that I don't even like to use the term "get outside your comfort zone", but I use it for the sake of making a point.
And that point is you shouldn't be uncomfortable for the sake of being uncomfortable. While many people think doing so is the key to personal evolution, I say it's a mild form of martyrdom complex unless the discomfort is in service to a greater good. In my case, spending time with a friend and showing support for her on her birthday were the good things that far outweighed some of my discomforts.And in so doing, I became comfortable with more things. Hence, a legitimate "outside of your comfort zone" approach.
Here are some examples from this weekend of my being "Un-Ty" like in pursuit of something good.
Being a house guest.
I think I am a bit Too XYZ to be a house guest sometimes. During my stay at someone's house I always feel the need to help clean, or make food, or add a deck to the back of the house. Anything that makes me a full fledged and functional part of whatever household I am in at the time. Most hosts insist I don't worry about any of those things, and my friend was no exception. (Though she did let me squeeze the limes for lime juice she needed for something she was making.) I always feel I need to "earn" the right to be taking up space and consuming food in somebody's home if I am going to be there for more than a few hours. Yet once I just relaxed and reminded myself I was there to celebrate a person, and not be Mr. Belvedere, I was able to feel a little better.
Being a house guest II
I will usually opt to go home late into the night from someone's house instead of sleeping there unless 1) the weather becomes atrocious for driving (frequent around here), 2) I have had too much to drink (rare), or 3) I feel like an honorary member of the family whose home I find myself in. (Has yet to occur.)
This is not to say I have never spent the night in other people's homes of course, because I have, and did this weekend. There is just something in my brain, no matter how nice the accommodations are that says, at least for a while, This is not your home. Your radio is not tuned to this radio station, and sleep is impossible. Ergo, I sleep poorly. I'm okay in hotels, but other people's homes...I don't know. It's a subconscious thing. Even if I know them well.
I got over it this weekend, though. In fact I actually slept pretty good some of the time. Just had to remember I was there by invitation and that I was part of everything, not an invasion upon it. (Though getting up at on Friday at 6:00AM and going to bed at 6:00AM my second night probably helped me crash a bit too.)
Knowing the "Plan"
I am not a control freak. I don't need to control everything that happens around me. But I am sometimes a "knowledge freak". By that I mean that if I am not careful I can get caught up in having to know where I am going, at what time, and for how long. Yet this weekend there was very little of that. I decided I would go with whatever flow my friend created. This was her hometown, her birthday, her deal. And she had to go through enough hoops just to get my sorry ass there and home again because I don't drive long distances. (That much has not changed.) So I felt she was entitled to just go, and I would follow. And that is exactly what I did. I put aside any temptation I had understand everything, and just went with it.
I just did what she did. If she took this flight of steps that seemed to descend into the ancient catacombs, I would be right behind her. (Or try to be, I almost lost her in the shuffle a few times.) I didn't try to reason out the patterns and systems of streets and trains and tracks and so on. Just went.
That got easy after about three seconds. Just going. Abandoning a need to decipher the why and how came faster than I would have thought. Probably because everything moves so fast in situations like that. Plus I learned that if you just trust friends, they can lead you where you need to go. And you get to see and experience a lot on the way. I finally got to see some Non-Postcard New York, which I had never been to before, as well as the more real parts of Jersey City, and Hoboken.
Party!
And I mean party. No joke, it was the second biggest private party I ever attended. And the first place big party was full of friends. I knew exactly one person this weekend, so in a way it was bigger after all.
As I told my friend, I am usually a small informal soiree type, or an outdoor barbecue type. I have many friends in West Virginia who have such events many times throughout the year. A few people, beer, food, talking. Thrown together in a week. There you go. This weekend, I would say this party peaked at 50 people in an average sized apartment. A lot of drink, a lot of food. Not to mention a lot of work on the part of my hostess to put it all together. (Except for the limes. I did that part.) Music, dancing. Lots of shoulder to shoulder super party "epicness" as the kids say these days.
I had a good time, but in this case I was still Too XYZ to fully engage as most of the locals were doing. I am not the most introverted person I know, but I am indisputably on the spectrum. Which meant I spent much of the evening as an observer, in a chair at the food table. (This served two obvious purposes.) Several of the people I met that night wanted to know why I didn't move about, or dance more instead of sitting there watching.
It can be tricky to explain to people I don't know why I need to do this. In fact people who have known me for years still don't quite grasp it. But as an introvert I need to let certain experiences filter into my consciousness in a gradual fashion. There is just too much humanity in a party of that magnitude for someone like me to jump in headlong. Many people are electrified by that, which is great. For me however, exposure to it can be draining under the best of conditions.
It is for the same reason I had to step outside to be alone periodically. Not because I wasn't enjoying myself. Not because the extroverts and seasoned party goers offended me. I just needed to step away sometimes to recalibrate. And even though my friend was going about enjoying herself as she should have been on her birthday, and I didn't see much of her directly during the party portion of my trip, my presence was a way to honor her and thank her for being a friend of mine. Even when I had to get away for a while.
When we make it about someone else and not ourselves we can do all kinds of things we would not normally find ourselves doing, as I said before. It won't change our stripes, as evidenced by my reluctance to dance, or my choice to stop drinking after 1:00 that morning. Those are things about me that remain. But other people make it worth it. True, it's not like I could go home even if I decided to, since I hadn't driven there. But that is not at all the point. The point is I chose of my own free will to attend a party that was larger than I am used to because it wasn't about me. That made even the very Un-Ty atmosphere enjoyable for the most part.
Dancing
Flying totally into the face of what I just mentioned in the previous section, I did dance a bit. I have good rhythm, and back in school I used to dance at the dances a lot. So I am no stranger to it. But there is no way in hell I was going to be able to compete with either the stamina or abandon of some of the party guests. Yes, I realize that dancing at a party is about getting out there, and not about style or form or anything. But that is just the point. Being "out there" is not my strongest suit, and dancing is one of the most "out there" things a person can do in a room full of strangers. A room full of friends would be one thing, maybe, but I didn't know these people, so I was usually disinclined to dance.
But I did a little. It was easier to do when it was just about me dancing for a moment with a single other person who asked me to dance, as opposed to dancing all over the place as the others were. Also easier when I wanted to make sure people knew I didn't consider myself better than them in some way. That was important. You have to sometimes do as the Romans do, as the saying goes. Nothing wrong with that, even for someone that is Too XYZ. But I did sit more than I danced, and had to decline a few times later in the night. But I felt okay about it, because I had let myself wade in the pool, as it were.
Sharing Opinions
Is there anything more insufferable than someone you don't know walking up to you and offering their world perspective or opinions on what you have been discussing? No, "hello" or "My name is Jack." Just walking up to a group at a party and saying something like,
"Actually I find his movies to be so pretentious. He tries to be derivative of Fellini without being obvious about it, which makes it worse."
Okay, thanks for your input. And you are?
But in actual fact, this is more about me being Too XYZ, because I have found in many cases people welcome this. It blows me away sometimes how free people are with their opinions with strangers. More than once this weekend I observed the conversations that were going on around me, but didn't jump in with my own ideas. You see, except around my closest friends, I am built to hold my opinions until asked for them. Even then, I proceed with caution, because when I am the "new guy" as I was this weekend, I think it is my duty to pay attention and know what the conversation is, but not derail or or alter it in anyway. As a guest I feel I should be as unobtrusive on a pre-existing group of people as possible. So I rarely offer anything.
Yet several times this weekend I was asked by people I didn't know for my opinion on something. And I gave it. I still felt a bit like I was trying on somebody else's shoes, but I did it. And I realized that I need to be willing to do that, and in fact probably should have done more of it this weekend. So caught up in experiencing and observing and trying to not be obtrusive was I that I may have painted myself at times into a corner of nothingness to those around me.
My older friends know that I am seldom unaware or uninvolved in what is happening around me, even if I seem totally detached. They know that my ear is to the ground. But I should have remembered that not everyone is going to realize that at first, and that I run the risk of appearing bored, unconcerned or "holier-than thou" by not offering my thoughts on some things. At least minor ones. So I all too late learned that lesson from this weekend. But I did learn it. Or I should say, I was reminded of it, because I have had to learn this lesson more than once. Time for it to stick, I think. But that may be a Too XYZ thing as well. Time will reveal the answer to that one.
In all of these ways, and more, my being Too XYZ showed up this weekend. Sometimes it remained firmly in place, and I wasn't able to change something about myself, regardless. (Stepping outside during the party.) Sometimes I was surprised at how easy it was for me to set aside my more natural tendencies. (Not needing to understand everything that was about to happen.) Most of the time it was an equal blend. Knowing that I am not by default built a certain way, but being willing, for the sake of the people involved, to put in an effort to see and experience things differently than I am used to.
That in the end is the key to it all, isn't it? To know what your boundaries are, and accept what you cannot change about yourself, but at the same time showing a willingness to adapt, change and expand those aspects of you that are not embedded into your very DNA. Not "just because". Not for the sake of change. Not to jump out of your comfort zone because that is what the gurus tell you to do. But in pursuit of getting more out of life in a specific setting. In pursuit of a deeper, richer experience. In pursuit of a greater understanding of not just other people and the world around you, but of yourself. Nobody should be Too XYZ for that, and thanks to my friend, her friends, and a weekend in New Jersey I was reminded of that important truth. And it will stick with me.
And I tried falafel for the first time while I was there. It was good.
Do you go outside of your norms just for the sake of it, or with a purpose in mind? What sort of conditions make it worth it to step outside of your comfort zone? What is a recent example of you doing so for a greater good? How were you affected?
I am not an advocate of making specific efforts to "get out of your comfort zone". In fact the concept is so oversold online these days that I don't even like to use the term "get outside your comfort zone", but I use it for the sake of making a point.
And that point is you shouldn't be uncomfortable for the sake of being uncomfortable. While many people think doing so is the key to personal evolution, I say it's a mild form of martyrdom complex unless the discomfort is in service to a greater good. In my case, spending time with a friend and showing support for her on her birthday were the good things that far outweighed some of my discomforts.And in so doing, I became comfortable with more things. Hence, a legitimate "outside of your comfort zone" approach.
Here are some examples from this weekend of my being "Un-Ty" like in pursuit of something good.
Being a house guest.
I think I am a bit Too XYZ to be a house guest sometimes. During my stay at someone's house I always feel the need to help clean, or make food, or add a deck to the back of the house. Anything that makes me a full fledged and functional part of whatever household I am in at the time. Most hosts insist I don't worry about any of those things, and my friend was no exception. (Though she did let me squeeze the limes for lime juice she needed for something she was making.) I always feel I need to "earn" the right to be taking up space and consuming food in somebody's home if I am going to be there for more than a few hours. Yet once I just relaxed and reminded myself I was there to celebrate a person, and not be Mr. Belvedere, I was able to feel a little better.
Being a house guest II
I will usually opt to go home late into the night from someone's house instead of sleeping there unless 1) the weather becomes atrocious for driving (frequent around here), 2) I have had too much to drink (rare), or 3) I feel like an honorary member of the family whose home I find myself in. (Has yet to occur.)
This is not to say I have never spent the night in other people's homes of course, because I have, and did this weekend. There is just something in my brain, no matter how nice the accommodations are that says, at least for a while, This is not your home. Your radio is not tuned to this radio station, and sleep is impossible. Ergo, I sleep poorly. I'm okay in hotels, but other people's homes...I don't know. It's a subconscious thing. Even if I know them well.
I got over it this weekend, though. In fact I actually slept pretty good some of the time. Just had to remember I was there by invitation and that I was part of everything, not an invasion upon it. (Though getting up at on Friday at 6:00AM and going to bed at 6:00AM my second night probably helped me crash a bit too.)
Knowing the "Plan"
I am not a control freak. I don't need to control everything that happens around me. But I am sometimes a "knowledge freak". By that I mean that if I am not careful I can get caught up in having to know where I am going, at what time, and for how long. Yet this weekend there was very little of that. I decided I would go with whatever flow my friend created. This was her hometown, her birthday, her deal. And she had to go through enough hoops just to get my sorry ass there and home again because I don't drive long distances. (That much has not changed.) So I felt she was entitled to just go, and I would follow. And that is exactly what I did. I put aside any temptation I had understand everything, and just went with it.
I just did what she did. If she took this flight of steps that seemed to descend into the ancient catacombs, I would be right behind her. (Or try to be, I almost lost her in the shuffle a few times.) I didn't try to reason out the patterns and systems of streets and trains and tracks and so on. Just went.
That got easy after about three seconds. Just going. Abandoning a need to decipher the why and how came faster than I would have thought. Probably because everything moves so fast in situations like that. Plus I learned that if you just trust friends, they can lead you where you need to go. And you get to see and experience a lot on the way. I finally got to see some Non-Postcard New York, which I had never been to before, as well as the more real parts of Jersey City, and Hoboken.
Party!
And I mean party. No joke, it was the second biggest private party I ever attended. And the first place big party was full of friends. I knew exactly one person this weekend, so in a way it was bigger after all.
As I told my friend, I am usually a small informal soiree type, or an outdoor barbecue type. I have many friends in West Virginia who have such events many times throughout the year. A few people, beer, food, talking. Thrown together in a week. There you go. This weekend, I would say this party peaked at 50 people in an average sized apartment. A lot of drink, a lot of food. Not to mention a lot of work on the part of my hostess to put it all together. (Except for the limes. I did that part.) Music, dancing. Lots of shoulder to shoulder super party "epicness" as the kids say these days.
I had a good time, but in this case I was still Too XYZ to fully engage as most of the locals were doing. I am not the most introverted person I know, but I am indisputably on the spectrum. Which meant I spent much of the evening as an observer, in a chair at the food table. (This served two obvious purposes.) Several of the people I met that night wanted to know why I didn't move about, or dance more instead of sitting there watching.
It can be tricky to explain to people I don't know why I need to do this. In fact people who have known me for years still don't quite grasp it. But as an introvert I need to let certain experiences filter into my consciousness in a gradual fashion. There is just too much humanity in a party of that magnitude for someone like me to jump in headlong. Many people are electrified by that, which is great. For me however, exposure to it can be draining under the best of conditions.
It is for the same reason I had to step outside to be alone periodically. Not because I wasn't enjoying myself. Not because the extroverts and seasoned party goers offended me. I just needed to step away sometimes to recalibrate. And even though my friend was going about enjoying herself as she should have been on her birthday, and I didn't see much of her directly during the party portion of my trip, my presence was a way to honor her and thank her for being a friend of mine. Even when I had to get away for a while.
When we make it about someone else and not ourselves we can do all kinds of things we would not normally find ourselves doing, as I said before. It won't change our stripes, as evidenced by my reluctance to dance, or my choice to stop drinking after 1:00 that morning. Those are things about me that remain. But other people make it worth it. True, it's not like I could go home even if I decided to, since I hadn't driven there. But that is not at all the point. The point is I chose of my own free will to attend a party that was larger than I am used to because it wasn't about me. That made even the very Un-Ty atmosphere enjoyable for the most part.
Dancing
Flying totally into the face of what I just mentioned in the previous section, I did dance a bit. I have good rhythm, and back in school I used to dance at the dances a lot. So I am no stranger to it. But there is no way in hell I was going to be able to compete with either the stamina or abandon of some of the party guests. Yes, I realize that dancing at a party is about getting out there, and not about style or form or anything. But that is just the point. Being "out there" is not my strongest suit, and dancing is one of the most "out there" things a person can do in a room full of strangers. A room full of friends would be one thing, maybe, but I didn't know these people, so I was usually disinclined to dance.
But I did a little. It was easier to do when it was just about me dancing for a moment with a single other person who asked me to dance, as opposed to dancing all over the place as the others were. Also easier when I wanted to make sure people knew I didn't consider myself better than them in some way. That was important. You have to sometimes do as the Romans do, as the saying goes. Nothing wrong with that, even for someone that is Too XYZ. But I did sit more than I danced, and had to decline a few times later in the night. But I felt okay about it, because I had let myself wade in the pool, as it were.
Sharing Opinions
Is there anything more insufferable than someone you don't know walking up to you and offering their world perspective or opinions on what you have been discussing? No, "hello" or "My name is Jack." Just walking up to a group at a party and saying something like,
"Actually I find his movies to be so pretentious. He tries to be derivative of Fellini without being obvious about it, which makes it worse."
Okay, thanks for your input. And you are?
But in actual fact, this is more about me being Too XYZ, because I have found in many cases people welcome this. It blows me away sometimes how free people are with their opinions with strangers. More than once this weekend I observed the conversations that were going on around me, but didn't jump in with my own ideas. You see, except around my closest friends, I am built to hold my opinions until asked for them. Even then, I proceed with caution, because when I am the "new guy" as I was this weekend, I think it is my duty to pay attention and know what the conversation is, but not derail or or alter it in anyway. As a guest I feel I should be as unobtrusive on a pre-existing group of people as possible. So I rarely offer anything.
Yet several times this weekend I was asked by people I didn't know for my opinion on something. And I gave it. I still felt a bit like I was trying on somebody else's shoes, but I did it. And I realized that I need to be willing to do that, and in fact probably should have done more of it this weekend. So caught up in experiencing and observing and trying to not be obtrusive was I that I may have painted myself at times into a corner of nothingness to those around me.
My older friends know that I am seldom unaware or uninvolved in what is happening around me, even if I seem totally detached. They know that my ear is to the ground. But I should have remembered that not everyone is going to realize that at first, and that I run the risk of appearing bored, unconcerned or "holier-than thou" by not offering my thoughts on some things. At least minor ones. So I all too late learned that lesson from this weekend. But I did learn it. Or I should say, I was reminded of it, because I have had to learn this lesson more than once. Time for it to stick, I think. But that may be a Too XYZ thing as well. Time will reveal the answer to that one.
In all of these ways, and more, my being Too XYZ showed up this weekend. Sometimes it remained firmly in place, and I wasn't able to change something about myself, regardless. (Stepping outside during the party.) Sometimes I was surprised at how easy it was for me to set aside my more natural tendencies. (Not needing to understand everything that was about to happen.) Most of the time it was an equal blend. Knowing that I am not by default built a certain way, but being willing, for the sake of the people involved, to put in an effort to see and experience things differently than I am used to.
That in the end is the key to it all, isn't it? To know what your boundaries are, and accept what you cannot change about yourself, but at the same time showing a willingness to adapt, change and expand those aspects of you that are not embedded into your very DNA. Not "just because". Not for the sake of change. Not to jump out of your comfort zone because that is what the gurus tell you to do. But in pursuit of getting more out of life in a specific setting. In pursuit of a deeper, richer experience. In pursuit of a greater understanding of not just other people and the world around you, but of yourself. Nobody should be Too XYZ for that, and thanks to my friend, her friends, and a weekend in New Jersey I was reminded of that important truth. And it will stick with me.
And I tried falafel for the first time while I was there. It was good.
Do you go outside of your norms just for the sake of it, or with a purpose in mind? What sort of conditions make it worth it to step outside of your comfort zone? What is a recent example of you doing so for a greater good? How were you affected?
Monday, April 18, 2011
Still Too XYZ After All These Years
This post is angry. With reason. Yet, if you are one of those who feel anger is not an acceptable emotion, do me a favor and simply opt not to read this. For today I am angry. Tomorrow I won't be. Today I am weary. I one day will not be. My life is complicated, and if yours is not, or if you feel mine need not be, read no further. And certainly click away now if you judge an entire person by the days, weeks, or sometimes months of unhappiness with which they must sometimes deal as they try to find meaning in anything.
Too XYZ continues to be a very apt name for this blog, as the concept continues to very much apply to me in just about everything I do. There are very specific elements to my psyche that prevent me from doing specific things. Like the color blind attempting to interior decorate, or the tone deaf opting to offer singing lessons, there are things which no matter how valuable, I cannot do.
And I cannot do them because I am either missing something, or something is damaged, or atrophied within my being. Now former friends and supporters of my work have often climbed upon the highest of horses and declared from their lofty position that unless I suffer from a disease that is documented somewhere in the annals of either psychology or medicine, I have no right to claim occasional crippling difficulties with my life. That in the absence of such a diagnosis, any problems, difficulties, or obstacles I have faced as I try ferociously to succeed in a contrary world are 100% my own making. And hence unless I can prove otherwise, I can and must fix everything all by myself.
It is as though they were the principal in the school of life demanding from me a note from my doctor proving to them that I cannot come into school that day (a rather condescending requirement if you ask me).
Yet in some ways, Too XYZ has been my attempt at such a letter. Addressed not to the individual, but to the world, and ideally, those who share my view of same. Those with the same issues, whether or not there is a Latin term out there to describe them.
This blog is a place for me to be frank about my obstacles, internal and external. A place to express perceptions, plans, strategies and simple observations. A place to seek advice, and gain perspective.
Yet, as I have oft written about in previous posts, I usually just get the same perspective over and over again. And that perspective can be summed up in one tidy sentence.
Change what you are and what you do, because it currently isn't good enough.
The type of blog this is. My content. The way I market. The questions I ask. The help I seek, and the people from which I seek it. The problems I face and the solutions I offer. Even down to the font of my business cards, the nature of my profile picture, and the articles on which I choose to comment. No matter what I share with people, or no matter what of other people's advice I observe passively (by going to their blog, or reading their articles), it can just about all be summed up by that italicized sentence I posted above.
I guess if I had a response it would be "Easy for you to say."
Because to tell you the truth, whether it be the big gurus like Godin, or the CopyBlogger guy, or some of the people I have encountered personally in my social media travels over the last two years, I have noticed a pattern; basically none of them had to start what they are doing from Absolute Zero. I don't mean the lowest temperature in the universe, but having zero resources, zero friends, zero experience and zero money when they set off. That is the place I am coming from, and still struggling to get out of. I have not yet succeeded. That isn't to say I won't. Just that I haven't, and that I still don't know how.
Oh I know. Each of the people I am thinking of, whether familiar or famous, (and I am sick to realize that some of the people with which I am familiar are becoming famous by being great at being fake) will quickly point out just how hard it was when they started out. They had to have a big scary cry over quitting their 80K a year job when they started freelancing. "Could this work? What was I doing? Am I crazy?" But their 100K a year spouse reminded them to believe in themselves, and they pressed on. And they will tell you the horror stories of just how dumb they were at first. How they didn't know code, but learned it quickly because they had to. Or hated the idea of marketing but learned to love it. How they were introverted once, but became extroverted, and now can work the room with the best of them and make their fucking millions.
I have called it before, and I will again. Bullshit.
In each of the cases I am thinking of, the "rock star" in question, (whose ass everyone on the internet is happy to kiss in hopes of the magic rubbing off on their lips) had some kind of lucky break, or some kind of helping hand. And I don't mean advice, or a referral.
I am talking about, nobody surviving was based on their need to freelance. They were not in the poor house when they started up their business. They didn't deal with people who viewed them as unpleasant, cold, mean, or not worth the investment at every turn. They didn't have difficulty making people interested in them. Something within them or something about their situation over which they had no control put them ahead.
Now they don't like to think about it that way, because that means god forbid that perhaps they are not ninjas after all. That their own powers might not have brought the world to its knees before them. That they may not be quite as charming or "epic" as they need to believe they are to get through the day.
No, they may not say it, because they may not believe it on the inside, but they had some form of luck or circumstances to help them along. And for good measure they'll throw in an officially diagnosed eating disorder as the grand Deschapelles Coup of their own magnificence.
It is why I have all but stopped reading the blogs I used to read when I first entered the social media landscape on a regular basis. I was at one time subscribed to about 15 blog feeds or so, each of them it seems packed with advice for the freelance writer, the self improvement minded, the spiritually bent and the artistic. I have since canceled all of these feeds. Not just because they became boring (they did), but because I finally realized that despite the language used, such sites really are rather elitist in nature. They are for the most part not worried about helping you, so much as they are interested in making sure people succeed in the same way that they did. (Or at least the version of the way they did that they entertain in their own heads.)
In short, if you don't think you can do it their way, the advice is, "You have to. That's the world, bub."
And when you try to learn from them by asking them how you can be more like what they are, without changing what you are? When you get any response at all, (which I usually do not, regardless of how humble my approach), you get bitchy emails back that mock they very audacity you have shown in even suggesting that you are coming anywhere near their own level of commitment. Arrogant, bile ridden correspondence which made it clear that after reading the first three questions you asked them, they had no desire to even read the rest of your email until you "grow up and learn the ways of the world".
That's networking, to me, folks. Happens all the time. And the previous example is culled from my actual life, not hyperbole. It really happened in much the way I describe. And this wasn't even one of the gurus. Not yet anyway. This ass was a "friend" of mine. But like so many before her in this social media misadventure of mine, she was high on talk and low on action when it came to helping people. Very much willing to bend over backward to take what I had to offer her, but was too busy making her millions and rubbing elbows with the other internet elite to take a moment to offer me something of which I was in desperate need when I came to her.
Typical one-sided "what have you done for me lately" networking hypocrisy. And all because, as far as I can tell, I couldn't do what she had done. Or he. Or they. Or perhaps you? Because to tell you the truth, I shy away from advice these days. Even when I seek it, it is almost out of reflex. Because there is only so much of that sort of "tough love" a person like me can take. And if people only really want to reach out and help those that can in some way help them, that isn't help. That's bartering services.
Whether it be marketing, social media, freelance writing, contracts, fiction, networking, I can't do what everyone says I must. Why? Because I don't have the resources, the knowledge, or the resources to obtain the knowledge. So I seek to do it my own way. That is the message I have gotten from all the big wigs and self help types, and positive thinkers and creative visualizers, and the friendly extroverts. That I just don't have enough of whatever it takes to become whatever it is they say I need to become. And since there is only one narrow way they can think of that can bring about success, (their own), they just don't bother to reply to my questions in a prompt fashion, as they would for people who do it their way. Or they throw up their hands and say, "Don't know what to tell you. You are on your own." You're damn right I am.
I am not inspired by the success of other people, and I am baffled by those who are. This sharing in the joy song and dance is a front. My life is not improved because someone who started blogging a year after I started is already making 5,000 dollars a month blogging, when I make zero. I am not happy when "friends" become famous, because I know what it is they had to do in order to become so. Deep inside, I can't replicate it. Not because I am afraid. But because I simply am not built that way. I was, am, and shall remain, Too XYZ forthat narrow definition of "going after your dream."
I don't know how to do what all of you do. And I was fine with not knowing. And fine with learning what I could learn, and adapting to the rest. But that gets very lonely, and who wants to do everything alone? And if people can't advise those that are Too XYZ, must they spend their energy criticizing us too? Don't take out your obvious frustrations on not knowing the answers to any of my unique questions by scolding me for asking them in the first place. Stop assuming that my obstacles and handicaps make me less of a person, less deserving of success, simply because I don't have a note from the doctor.
I am trying to start this from nothing people. And I am probably not the only one. Take a minute out of your hardworking, successful, Seth Godin reading, friend cheering, article tweeting, extroverted networking, walking on sunshine sort of lives and remember that. We, the ones in the storm need help too. And if you can't provide it, at least have the decency to get the hell out of the way while we try to outrun the lightening.
Too XYZ continues to be a very apt name for this blog, as the concept continues to very much apply to me in just about everything I do. There are very specific elements to my psyche that prevent me from doing specific things. Like the color blind attempting to interior decorate, or the tone deaf opting to offer singing lessons, there are things which no matter how valuable, I cannot do.
And I cannot do them because I am either missing something, or something is damaged, or atrophied within my being. Now former friends and supporters of my work have often climbed upon the highest of horses and declared from their lofty position that unless I suffer from a disease that is documented somewhere in the annals of either psychology or medicine, I have no right to claim occasional crippling difficulties with my life. That in the absence of such a diagnosis, any problems, difficulties, or obstacles I have faced as I try ferociously to succeed in a contrary world are 100% my own making. And hence unless I can prove otherwise, I can and must fix everything all by myself.
It is as though they were the principal in the school of life demanding from me a note from my doctor proving to them that I cannot come into school that day (a rather condescending requirement if you ask me).
Yet in some ways, Too XYZ has been my attempt at such a letter. Addressed not to the individual, but to the world, and ideally, those who share my view of same. Those with the same issues, whether or not there is a Latin term out there to describe them.
This blog is a place for me to be frank about my obstacles, internal and external. A place to express perceptions, plans, strategies and simple observations. A place to seek advice, and gain perspective.
Yet, as I have oft written about in previous posts, I usually just get the same perspective over and over again. And that perspective can be summed up in one tidy sentence.
Change what you are and what you do, because it currently isn't good enough.
The type of blog this is. My content. The way I market. The questions I ask. The help I seek, and the people from which I seek it. The problems I face and the solutions I offer. Even down to the font of my business cards, the nature of my profile picture, and the articles on which I choose to comment. No matter what I share with people, or no matter what of other people's advice I observe passively (by going to their blog, or reading their articles), it can just about all be summed up by that italicized sentence I posted above.
I guess if I had a response it would be "Easy for you to say."
Because to tell you the truth, whether it be the big gurus like Godin, or the CopyBlogger guy, or some of the people I have encountered personally in my social media travels over the last two years, I have noticed a pattern; basically none of them had to start what they are doing from Absolute Zero. I don't mean the lowest temperature in the universe, but having zero resources, zero friends, zero experience and zero money when they set off. That is the place I am coming from, and still struggling to get out of. I have not yet succeeded. That isn't to say I won't. Just that I haven't, and that I still don't know how.
Oh I know. Each of the people I am thinking of, whether familiar or famous, (and I am sick to realize that some of the people with which I am familiar are becoming famous by being great at being fake) will quickly point out just how hard it was when they started out. They had to have a big scary cry over quitting their 80K a year job when they started freelancing. "Could this work? What was I doing? Am I crazy?" But their 100K a year spouse reminded them to believe in themselves, and they pressed on. And they will tell you the horror stories of just how dumb they were at first. How they didn't know code, but learned it quickly because they had to. Or hated the idea of marketing but learned to love it. How they were introverted once, but became extroverted, and now can work the room with the best of them and make their fucking millions.
I have called it before, and I will again. Bullshit.
In each of the cases I am thinking of, the "rock star" in question, (whose ass everyone on the internet is happy to kiss in hopes of the magic rubbing off on their lips) had some kind of lucky break, or some kind of helping hand. And I don't mean advice, or a referral.
I am talking about, nobody surviving was based on their need to freelance. They were not in the poor house when they started up their business. They didn't deal with people who viewed them as unpleasant, cold, mean, or not worth the investment at every turn. They didn't have difficulty making people interested in them. Something within them or something about their situation over which they had no control put them ahead.
Now they don't like to think about it that way, because that means god forbid that perhaps they are not ninjas after all. That their own powers might not have brought the world to its knees before them. That they may not be quite as charming or "epic" as they need to believe they are to get through the day.
No, they may not say it, because they may not believe it on the inside, but they had some form of luck or circumstances to help them along. And for good measure they'll throw in an officially diagnosed eating disorder as the grand Deschapelles Coup of their own magnificence.
It is why I have all but stopped reading the blogs I used to read when I first entered the social media landscape on a regular basis. I was at one time subscribed to about 15 blog feeds or so, each of them it seems packed with advice for the freelance writer, the self improvement minded, the spiritually bent and the artistic. I have since canceled all of these feeds. Not just because they became boring (they did), but because I finally realized that despite the language used, such sites really are rather elitist in nature. They are for the most part not worried about helping you, so much as they are interested in making sure people succeed in the same way that they did. (Or at least the version of the way they did that they entertain in their own heads.)
In short, if you don't think you can do it their way, the advice is, "You have to. That's the world, bub."
And when you try to learn from them by asking them how you can be more like what they are, without changing what you are? When you get any response at all, (which I usually do not, regardless of how humble my approach), you get bitchy emails back that mock they very audacity you have shown in even suggesting that you are coming anywhere near their own level of commitment. Arrogant, bile ridden correspondence which made it clear that after reading the first three questions you asked them, they had no desire to even read the rest of your email until you "grow up and learn the ways of the world".
That's networking, to me, folks. Happens all the time. And the previous example is culled from my actual life, not hyperbole. It really happened in much the way I describe. And this wasn't even one of the gurus. Not yet anyway. This ass was a "friend" of mine. But like so many before her in this social media misadventure of mine, she was high on talk and low on action when it came to helping people. Very much willing to bend over backward to take what I had to offer her, but was too busy making her millions and rubbing elbows with the other internet elite to take a moment to offer me something of which I was in desperate need when I came to her.
Typical one-sided "what have you done for me lately" networking hypocrisy. And all because, as far as I can tell, I couldn't do what she had done. Or he. Or they. Or perhaps you? Because to tell you the truth, I shy away from advice these days. Even when I seek it, it is almost out of reflex. Because there is only so much of that sort of "tough love" a person like me can take. And if people only really want to reach out and help those that can in some way help them, that isn't help. That's bartering services.
Whether it be marketing, social media, freelance writing, contracts, fiction, networking, I can't do what everyone says I must. Why? Because I don't have the resources, the knowledge, or the resources to obtain the knowledge. So I seek to do it my own way. That is the message I have gotten from all the big wigs and self help types, and positive thinkers and creative visualizers, and the friendly extroverts. That I just don't have enough of whatever it takes to become whatever it is they say I need to become. And since there is only one narrow way they can think of that can bring about success, (their own), they just don't bother to reply to my questions in a prompt fashion, as they would for people who do it their way. Or they throw up their hands and say, "Don't know what to tell you. You are on your own." You're damn right I am.
I am not inspired by the success of other people, and I am baffled by those who are. This sharing in the joy song and dance is a front. My life is not improved because someone who started blogging a year after I started is already making 5,000 dollars a month blogging, when I make zero. I am not happy when "friends" become famous, because I know what it is they had to do in order to become so. Deep inside, I can't replicate it. Not because I am afraid. But because I simply am not built that way. I was, am, and shall remain, Too XYZ forthat narrow definition of "going after your dream."
I don't know how to do what all of you do. And I was fine with not knowing. And fine with learning what I could learn, and adapting to the rest. But that gets very lonely, and who wants to do everything alone? And if people can't advise those that are Too XYZ, must they spend their energy criticizing us too? Don't take out your obvious frustrations on not knowing the answers to any of my unique questions by scolding me for asking them in the first place. Stop assuming that my obstacles and handicaps make me less of a person, less deserving of success, simply because I don't have a note from the doctor.
I am trying to start this from nothing people. And I am probably not the only one. Take a minute out of your hardworking, successful, Seth Godin reading, friend cheering, article tweeting, extroverted networking, walking on sunshine sort of lives and remember that. We, the ones in the storm need help too. And if you can't provide it, at least have the decency to get the hell out of the way while we try to outrun the lightening.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
In Defense of Yelling
Psychopaths often yell and scream in anger. They can also be gruesomely silent, and even polite. (Hannibal Lecter, anyone?)
Very decent, mature, all around good natured people can be soft spoken and calm. They can also be...
Detect a bit of a hitch there? If not, points for you. But for many people, and society in general, I think that those who yell are seen as being de facto unstable. Angry. Bitter people who cannot control their emotions. Anger is seen as an unacceptable emotion, and yelling while angry, a mortal sin.
This attitude on yelling in and of itself make me want to yell.
I have been through the fire in many ways. And have come out of it. I am a more secure person than I was ten or even five years ago. I am introspective, and am getting to know myself more and more as time goes on. I am spiritual and polite. I try to be helpful to those who need it, and I work very hard on forgive those who have wronged me to a certain extent. I am, by most standards that matter to me, a good man.
And when I am angry, I yell. At people. At things. At myself. At nobody. I yell.
Now, I don't yell uncontrollably all the time everywhere when something doesn't work out. I have to be pushed to a limit. (Longer with people, shorter with inanimate objects.) That limit is much further than it was ten years ago, ergo I yell less now. But certain things will push me to the point of yelling faster than other things. Usually when it involves something or someone that is very important to me.
Each of those catalysts could be it's own post, but in general I'll yell when I feel it is the only way to get someone's attention about a very important subject that I feel that are sidestepping. (Life, safety, and innate dignity matters, usually.) I'll yell when I get excited or passionate about something non-personal (A football game. A news story.) And, perhaps most significantly, I will often yell when I am yelled at first. Call me what you will, but to me, to sit back and calmly shake you head and whisper every time somebody yells at you is ceding some of your dignity. Even if it doesn't put you in an all out rage, (and I am almost never in one of those even when yelling) you should meet bluster with bluster, at least the first time out, if that is how the other party is going to play the game. Evens the playing field.
I don't make threats of violence. In most situations, even while yelling I avoid swear words. I do not charge closer to someone when I am yelling at them in a confrontation. (I'll even walk away while yelling sometimes, to put a natural, unthreatening limit on it.) But the fact remains; I do yell. And I often get looked at funny for doing so.
I have never understood why people look at me that way when I do it. Probably because most of the time, I am not yelling. Some I suppose get used to a person who yells all the time, and they get away with it. But the person who doesn't do it as often is judged more harshly, maybe. Or at least causes more confusion.
Plus, when I yell, as with everything I put that much energy into, I do it with passion. If I am going to do it, I am damn sure I am heard.
Bottom line: I think yelling can be cathartic. It can be a relief. It can be an effective tool in extinguishing the far more destructive "slow burn" of silent anger. While some argue that by default if you have reached the point of yelling, you have lost control of yourself, I maintain that yelling, like any other emotional expression can, and should be a controlled situation 98% of the time. There are times and places where it will never do, and those are the times you just leave. But sometime it makes a statement. It gets attention, and at least in my case, I am angry for a lot less time if I allow myself to do it, than if I bottle everything up.
So I wish more people would grow up about yelling. This idea that if I can yell in anger at a quarterback on television, I must by default be capable of beating my girlfriend, (I have gotten that complaint before!) is as unfair as it is silly. Yelling can be used in a healthy as well as an unhealthy manner, just as crying, laughing, sex, or alcohol can be used for healthy or unhealthy purposes. It is not some kind of failure, or indication of smallness of spirit. It is simply a faster and louder way of doing what everybody should do in some way or another, and that is deal with reaching one's limit.
I don't hide from my yelling, and I like being around other who don't hide from it either. Speaking softly and carrying a big stick works for much of life. But once in a while, I toss the stick and just yell from a distance.
Why are so many people against any kind of yelling, regardless of the circumstances?
Very decent, mature, all around good natured people can be soft spoken and calm. They can also be...
Detect a bit of a hitch there? If not, points for you. But for many people, and society in general, I think that those who yell are seen as being de facto unstable. Angry. Bitter people who cannot control their emotions. Anger is seen as an unacceptable emotion, and yelling while angry, a mortal sin.
This attitude on yelling in and of itself make me want to yell.
I have been through the fire in many ways. And have come out of it. I am a more secure person than I was ten or even five years ago. I am introspective, and am getting to know myself more and more as time goes on. I am spiritual and polite. I try to be helpful to those who need it, and I work very hard on forgive those who have wronged me to a certain extent. I am, by most standards that matter to me, a good man.
And when I am angry, I yell. At people. At things. At myself. At nobody. I yell.
Now, I don't yell uncontrollably all the time everywhere when something doesn't work out. I have to be pushed to a limit. (Longer with people, shorter with inanimate objects.) That limit is much further than it was ten years ago, ergo I yell less now. But certain things will push me to the point of yelling faster than other things. Usually when it involves something or someone that is very important to me.
Each of those catalysts could be it's own post, but in general I'll yell when I feel it is the only way to get someone's attention about a very important subject that I feel that are sidestepping. (Life, safety, and innate dignity matters, usually.) I'll yell when I get excited or passionate about something non-personal (A football game. A news story.) And, perhaps most significantly, I will often yell when I am yelled at first. Call me what you will, but to me, to sit back and calmly shake you head and whisper every time somebody yells at you is ceding some of your dignity. Even if it doesn't put you in an all out rage, (and I am almost never in one of those even when yelling) you should meet bluster with bluster, at least the first time out, if that is how the other party is going to play the game. Evens the playing field.
I don't make threats of violence. In most situations, even while yelling I avoid swear words. I do not charge closer to someone when I am yelling at them in a confrontation. (I'll even walk away while yelling sometimes, to put a natural, unthreatening limit on it.) But the fact remains; I do yell. And I often get looked at funny for doing so.
I have never understood why people look at me that way when I do it. Probably because most of the time, I am not yelling. Some I suppose get used to a person who yells all the time, and they get away with it. But the person who doesn't do it as often is judged more harshly, maybe. Or at least causes more confusion.
Plus, when I yell, as with everything I put that much energy into, I do it with passion. If I am going to do it, I am damn sure I am heard.
Bottom line: I think yelling can be cathartic. It can be a relief. It can be an effective tool in extinguishing the far more destructive "slow burn" of silent anger. While some argue that by default if you have reached the point of yelling, you have lost control of yourself, I maintain that yelling, like any other emotional expression can, and should be a controlled situation 98% of the time. There are times and places where it will never do, and those are the times you just leave. But sometime it makes a statement. It gets attention, and at least in my case, I am angry for a lot less time if I allow myself to do it, than if I bottle everything up.
So I wish more people would grow up about yelling. This idea that if I can yell in anger at a quarterback on television, I must by default be capable of beating my girlfriend, (I have gotten that complaint before!) is as unfair as it is silly. Yelling can be used in a healthy as well as an unhealthy manner, just as crying, laughing, sex, or alcohol can be used for healthy or unhealthy purposes. It is not some kind of failure, or indication of smallness of spirit. It is simply a faster and louder way of doing what everybody should do in some way or another, and that is deal with reaching one's limit.
I don't hide from my yelling, and I like being around other who don't hide from it either. Speaking softly and carrying a big stick works for much of life. But once in a while, I toss the stick and just yell from a distance.
Why are so many people against any kind of yelling, regardless of the circumstances?
Monday, September 13, 2010
Poor
I sometimes get the impression that at least half of the population doesn't know what being poor is. Or at least doesn't understand what being poor can be. I don't know whether to laugh, cry, or punch someone when I hear what people think does and does not constitute being poor.
I, Ty Unglebower, am poor. And I am not poor due to the fact that I can't eat out 4 times weekly. (The national average regardless of income.) I am not poor because I drive a used car. Renting instead of owning is not what makes me poor, nor is the fact that I buy clothes once a year as opposed to once a month.
My idea of vacation is two nights in a cabin camping, and even then only after enough money has been saved. Actual vacations of more than a few days happen in my life every 6 or 7 years.
If a website does not have a useful free membership, I do not join it no matter how worthy, because I do not have the money for a premium account. I only ever upgrade to the phones that are available for free with the renewal of my calling plan.
Yet none of these things are what make me poor. They are the things which, when you ask most people, are borderline immoral to be made to "suffer" through. As though in order to be a civilized, respectable human being, you must posses all of the things in that list which I currently lack. The very concept of being poor to such people revolves to a very large extent on what is convenient, trendy, or comfortable. The absence of those things simply means I am not middle class.
What makes me poor is the fact that as a freelance writer trying to break into more things, the paychecks are sporadic and smaller than needs be for the moment. (I'm working on that.) Being poor means that I get help from my family to pay the rent that is required on this tiny apartment. That I share groceries with my mother who is 5 miles away, and with whom I may have to live again in the future. That I eat meals with her a few times a week. Being poor means that I have nothing saved at all because everything, everything I do get goes directly to some immediate expense, because I so rarely can contribute to some of my own basic needs.
I am poor in that there is no money in my checking account. And I mean no money. As in balance equals $0.00. Literally. Not that I "only" have a few hundred dollars socked away, and things are getting tight. Nothing.
In fact, I have no bank account with any local bank because they all require a minimum balance and require the applicant to have no debt, if you can believe that. I have plenty of student loan debt. So I am ineligible for even a no interest checking account around here. I have to endorse my paychecks for writing to my mother, who then will cash them for me at her bank.
So, I cannot invest in things like Blackberries. 16 gigs of computer memory. Hiring a tax professional, a resume writer, a job/life coach. A personal trainer. (All things that the rather conventional wisdom says each of us should spend money on, as part of "building our brand".) A resume writer alone could be 500 dollars, and people toss that figure around as though it would be completely unheard of for someone to not have at least that much set aside for their own personal development.
"Yes, it may hurt you for a month," such people say, " but this is an investment in your career. If you are not going to take yourself seriously enough to drop a few hundred dollars when it hurts, why will a hiring manager decide you are worth the company's money? You wouldn't perform your own open heart surgery. You call in the professional. Why won't you give your career and personal brand the same professional treatment?"
Because...I...am...poor. Like, the real thing, "no shit! I have no money" type of poor.
Those who follow me on Twitter, or Brazen, or just here on the blog know by now about my ideas. About my writing abilities. About my experience and perceptions. About my accomplishments and my talents. I am not into "personal branding" at all, but if a brand emerges naturally out of the work and contributions an individual makes online, many of you are familiar with my so called brand. And I wonder how many of you might be shocked by just how poor I am.
Because you see, in addition to the "why not invest in a life coach" stuff, I also hear many other things which indicate that legions of people do not understand poor.
"You're intelligent. Healthy. Young. Unattached. You have a college degree! You write very well. There is absolutely no way you could be truly poor. You are not homeless. You don't panhandle. You can basically write your own ticket. Why haven't you done so?"
So intelligent people have no reason to be poor? The truly poor can only be those who are somehow damaged in the brain? Slow people? Retarded? Mentally ill> Begging for change on the Metro and sleeping under a bridge or over a grate" That's poor, right?
No. That is homeless. That is one type of poor. The type that arises when nobody cares. Fortunately for me, I have a handful of people, (usually my mother) who do care, and won't allow me to starve and wander the streets. But that could be the only reason I don't do so. Because if I had to rely on my own income and saving right now to survive, I would be hitching my way to the nearest Metro station to set up shop. (And for those who say that I would just need to get any paying job for a while, I would advise you that before freelancing, I tried for 5 solid years to get a full time job and couldn't do it. Reasons: Unknown.)
But a person as cultured, refined, and eloquent as me cannot possibly have to end up sleeping in a Metro station. I read, perform theatre. Am a top user at Brazen. I am working on a novel and have inspired people in ways I don't even know. Surely I have no reason to be that poor. I can't be only a mother's love away from having nothing to eat or no place to stay.
I am certain you would all like to believe that. I am sure many people who don't truly grasp poor are comforted by that notion. That to have all of the gifts I have is a ticket away from being poor. I'd like to believe that as well. But I have lived my life too long to buy into that one.
I don't believe I will be poor forever. I have to hold onto some hope that my life will make a turnaround now that I have rededicated it to my passions, as opposed to winning the rat race. As hard as it is to believe sometimes, I tell myself that at some point it will all pay off. That I will break even. That I will prosper. Not simply survive, and that only with the help of family. But until that day, despite it's obvious crippling problems for a free thinking artist like me, I must not be ashamed to be poor. I must own it. I must shine light upon it, and what it really is, not what the movies tell you it is. It is only in so doing that I can hope to change it. You cannot wrestle something from which you are always running away.
The poor exist. Those who have not broken even for most of their lives are out there. Around you. With you. Some of them are easy to spot. Easy to avoid. To cross a street to stay away from. And some of them are lazy. Homeless. Dirty. Addicted to booze and drugs.
But just as many, possibly even more of them, are hard working, cultured, polite and charming people with whom you converse every day. Who you share a ride on the Metro with instead of avoiding at the station. People with whom you exchange emails. Ideas. Hopes. People whom you would even hire, if you had a job to offer them, so much potential value do they represent.
The more horrifying thought is that they can be all of the above and still be homeless and begging. I do thank the Divinities that I am not one of them for right now.
But, despite having just enough food, a place to stay, and (older) clothes to cover my back, I still know the score.
I am Ty Unglebower and at the moment, I am poor. What do you think of me now?
I, Ty Unglebower, am poor. And I am not poor due to the fact that I can't eat out 4 times weekly. (The national average regardless of income.) I am not poor because I drive a used car. Renting instead of owning is not what makes me poor, nor is the fact that I buy clothes once a year as opposed to once a month.
My idea of vacation is two nights in a cabin camping, and even then only after enough money has been saved. Actual vacations of more than a few days happen in my life every 6 or 7 years.
If a website does not have a useful free membership, I do not join it no matter how worthy, because I do not have the money for a premium account. I only ever upgrade to the phones that are available for free with the renewal of my calling plan.
Yet none of these things are what make me poor. They are the things which, when you ask most people, are borderline immoral to be made to "suffer" through. As though in order to be a civilized, respectable human being, you must posses all of the things in that list which I currently lack. The very concept of being poor to such people revolves to a very large extent on what is convenient, trendy, or comfortable. The absence of those things simply means I am not middle class.
What makes me poor is the fact that as a freelance writer trying to break into more things, the paychecks are sporadic and smaller than needs be for the moment. (I'm working on that.) Being poor means that I get help from my family to pay the rent that is required on this tiny apartment. That I share groceries with my mother who is 5 miles away, and with whom I may have to live again in the future. That I eat meals with her a few times a week. Being poor means that I have nothing saved at all because everything, everything I do get goes directly to some immediate expense, because I so rarely can contribute to some of my own basic needs.
I am poor in that there is no money in my checking account. And I mean no money. As in balance equals $0.00. Literally. Not that I "only" have a few hundred dollars socked away, and things are getting tight. Nothing.
In fact, I have no bank account with any local bank because they all require a minimum balance and require the applicant to have no debt, if you can believe that. I have plenty of student loan debt. So I am ineligible for even a no interest checking account around here. I have to endorse my paychecks for writing to my mother, who then will cash them for me at her bank.
So, I cannot invest in things like Blackberries. 16 gigs of computer memory. Hiring a tax professional, a resume writer, a job/life coach. A personal trainer. (All things that the rather conventional wisdom says each of us should spend money on, as part of "building our brand".) A resume writer alone could be 500 dollars, and people toss that figure around as though it would be completely unheard of for someone to not have at least that much set aside for their own personal development.
"Yes, it may hurt you for a month," such people say, " but this is an investment in your career. If you are not going to take yourself seriously enough to drop a few hundred dollars when it hurts, why will a hiring manager decide you are worth the company's money? You wouldn't perform your own open heart surgery. You call in the professional. Why won't you give your career and personal brand the same professional treatment?"
Because...I...am...poor. Like, the real thing, "no shit! I have no money" type of poor.
Those who follow me on Twitter, or Brazen, or just here on the blog know by now about my ideas. About my writing abilities. About my experience and perceptions. About my accomplishments and my talents. I am not into "personal branding" at all, but if a brand emerges naturally out of the work and contributions an individual makes online, many of you are familiar with my so called brand. And I wonder how many of you might be shocked by just how poor I am.
Because you see, in addition to the "why not invest in a life coach" stuff, I also hear many other things which indicate that legions of people do not understand poor.
"You're intelligent. Healthy. Young. Unattached. You have a college degree! You write very well. There is absolutely no way you could be truly poor. You are not homeless. You don't panhandle. You can basically write your own ticket. Why haven't you done so?"
So intelligent people have no reason to be poor? The truly poor can only be those who are somehow damaged in the brain? Slow people? Retarded? Mentally ill> Begging for change on the Metro and sleeping under a bridge or over a grate" That's poor, right?
No. That is homeless. That is one type of poor. The type that arises when nobody cares. Fortunately for me, I have a handful of people, (usually my mother) who do care, and won't allow me to starve and wander the streets. But that could be the only reason I don't do so. Because if I had to rely on my own income and saving right now to survive, I would be hitching my way to the nearest Metro station to set up shop. (And for those who say that I would just need to get any paying job for a while, I would advise you that before freelancing, I tried for 5 solid years to get a full time job and couldn't do it. Reasons: Unknown.)
But a person as cultured, refined, and eloquent as me cannot possibly have to end up sleeping in a Metro station. I read, perform theatre. Am a top user at Brazen. I am working on a novel and have inspired people in ways I don't even know. Surely I have no reason to be that poor. I can't be only a mother's love away from having nothing to eat or no place to stay.
I am certain you would all like to believe that. I am sure many people who don't truly grasp poor are comforted by that notion. That to have all of the gifts I have is a ticket away from being poor. I'd like to believe that as well. But I have lived my life too long to buy into that one.
I don't believe I will be poor forever. I have to hold onto some hope that my life will make a turnaround now that I have rededicated it to my passions, as opposed to winning the rat race. As hard as it is to believe sometimes, I tell myself that at some point it will all pay off. That I will break even. That I will prosper. Not simply survive, and that only with the help of family. But until that day, despite it's obvious crippling problems for a free thinking artist like me, I must not be ashamed to be poor. I must own it. I must shine light upon it, and what it really is, not what the movies tell you it is. It is only in so doing that I can hope to change it. You cannot wrestle something from which you are always running away.
The poor exist. Those who have not broken even for most of their lives are out there. Around you. With you. Some of them are easy to spot. Easy to avoid. To cross a street to stay away from. And some of them are lazy. Homeless. Dirty. Addicted to booze and drugs.
But just as many, possibly even more of them, are hard working, cultured, polite and charming people with whom you converse every day. Who you share a ride on the Metro with instead of avoiding at the station. People with whom you exchange emails. Ideas. Hopes. People whom you would even hire, if you had a job to offer them, so much potential value do they represent.
The more horrifying thought is that they can be all of the above and still be homeless and begging. I do thank the Divinities that I am not one of them for right now.
But, despite having just enough food, a place to stay, and (older) clothes to cover my back, I still know the score.
I am Ty Unglebower and at the moment, I am poor. What do you think of me now?
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