Back to the Beginning

There are a few storylines that I have abandoned over the years, one most recently that went on for quite some time. I’d like to say that there is a bunch of reader interest for me to finish, but that wouldn’t be true. I have had one person say that I should finish the story just to get to an ending. He’s talking about completing the story based on principle; to finish what you start.

I tend to agree with this sentiment, both in writing and other aspects of life. You finish for the sake of finishing, and you really don’t need any other reason. I’m held back here because I don’t like the story, where it’s gone or where it’s going. You don’t really control all the turns in a story, as they help develop themselves. And I’ve really gone too long to salvage what I started; so finishing would be an academic exercise. Perhaps I shouldn’t have shared it at all until I knew how it would end.

The truth is that this story has held me back from doing any writing at all. I don’t really want to start something new and admit to failure on the last one. Then again, I don’t have much interest in working on my current project either. If there was justice in a short and simple conclusion I’d definitely take it, but there are too many significant developments that need to be fleshed out. I doubt there is more shame in simple abandonment than in giving up while writing.

This situation has gotten me to think about the writing process, or at least how I tend to write. There are a myriad of methods that people use, feel free to check your local library if you’re curious. And people like to share their methods, some talented and others more like me. I can’t claim to have studied them all, because I really only understand four different ways to write. The first is the easiest, some people are inspired and the stories flow through them and all they try to do is get out of the way. Then there is a puzzle method, where you have the pieces and just need to find out how to put them together. Writing a mystery novel is probably just as mysterious as reading one. Some people treat their stories as sculptures, where the whole world of the story is set and you just have to chip away at the right pieces until the only thing left is what you want to say. And finally there are people who write with academic structure, putting together a story based on a formula.

I imagine most people use all of these variations to a degree, along with others that I don’t understand well enough to speak of here. Inspiration without structure can be anachronistic and incomprehensible. Academic structure without inspiration is a textbook. I’m probably mostly a mixture of the second two, I write by putting together a puzzle and chipping away until I have what I want. I don’t always have all the pieces (and I don’t try to,) and never know exactly where and why to chip away.

The problem I come across is that sometimes (usually) I chip away at the wrong parts, or I take away too much. Once that happens something is broken, whether a character, scene, or entire plotline. When it’s gone it’s gone, there’s not anything I can really do about it. I don’t mind losing a story when I simply can’t find all the pieces or figure out where they go because you can leave it alone and hope to figure it out later. But when you chip away and break something, then the story is ruined. I often wonder whether writing is worth it at all because no matter how well you do much is lost in the process of putting it down on paper.

I’m obviously not telling anybody how they should write, or what kind of method they should employ. I am at best sporadic and unsuccessful, because things come in waves and never turn out how they are supposed to. I really do wish that I was full of inspiration and just had to put the pen to paper. Some of those writers feel guilty because they can’t take credit for their stories, as they are simply the messengers. But I’m not one of those people, nor will I ever be. Gifts of that sort are not broadly given, and I think they come at a great cost.

In the end I’m still not sure if I’ll go back to past stories or not, or whether I should. Maybe I’ll finish for the sake of finishing, or I may just let them sit and simmer. There is time enough for idle hobbles. I just wish that I had a different way to approach writing, because I’d like to be good. But this is the way that I can write, and sometimes it means that I can’t. But you just have to go your own way and hope for the best, there’s not much else to do.

Pittur Sho

How many of ya’ll have kids? How many of ya’ll like children? How many of ya’ll think that you are good with the chilins? And how many of ya’ll think that I really care about your answers?

That’s right, introductory questions are used as hooks to draw you into a topic. When asked a question people feel compelled to answer, so they suddenly have a stake in an article. I may not always agree with journalistic manipulation, but I’m more than willing to use their trade tools to my advantage. But let’s move on.

There are varying opinions on my ability to deal with children. I’ve actually got both extremes pretty well covered. I’ve had the “you should be a father” as an almost moral accusation. I’ve also been told, “you can’t ever have kids because you’d kill them.” I personally prefer the latter group because they never bug me about babysitting. You have to admit, that’s a pretty wide margin of opinions.

Well the other day I was dealing with a friends’ two-year old daughter. She was running around a store we were in, just horsing around as children are wont to do. Some people would say that she’s as cute as a button. I’d say she’s small, loud, repetitive, and still shits in her pants.

Regardless, I was wearing short pants, sandals, and a wrinkled buttoned up shirt, because that’s how I roll. For those in the know it’s never all that surprising when toddlers grab at you, bagging clothing making me a reachable target. For women it’s the necklaces and earrings, guys generally deal with facial hair pulls and shirt collars. And good Lord man, take off your tie!

There’s nothing all that interesting about the kids groping around your shins, if you haven’t noticed, they aren’t exactly nimble on their footsies. Once you stop worrying about stepping on them, you don’t really notice the pocket tugs and face plants. That is, until they stop running around and making noise. Children are at their most dangerous when they are still and silent. It’s the eye of the storm, or the mischief zone; a frightening time where your wits prick up and you start to pay attention to the potential sound of breaking bones.

I look back and this kid is pulling up the back of my right shorts pant leg. Don’t get too excited ladies; she’s two feet high so “up” is about knee level. She looks at me then back at my leg, back and forth, up and down. Flabbergasted is the only word that comes to mind to describe her face. She was remarkably confused.

She eventually asks in a near palateless voice, “what’s that?” I happen to have a very tasteful tattoo on that calf, so I told her it was a picture, which while an understatement is certainly true.

She pulls up the leg again for another inspection and asks, still surprised, “pitture!?!” Yup, it’s a picture. “Pitture?” Almost pleading for validation. Uh-huh, it’s a pretty picture, huh? “Pitture!” Excited at discovering a whole new world of pigmentation. You may be getting a glimpse at my repetitive comment from earlier. Never, ever, under any circumstances, fucking ever… say “mommy.” If you do, you’ll have a ten minute one word conversation in octave just shy of canine.

After a few more moments of incredulity she lost interest in my physiological adornments and started licking her reflection in a nearby mirror. It just goes to show that I’ll say anything to get a kid off my leg.

Shades of Grey

Many of us have people we go to for advice, and some of us are the people who others come to for advice. Likely more of the former than latter, but one never can tell. However, I am willing to wager that we all know at least a couple of people who are more than willing to give out advice freely. In fact, probably a few that demand you listen to what they have to say.

To be fair, I’m pretty free with my own opinions and have little problem sharing my point of view. This probably relates to the fact that I’m indifferent to other people’s opinions, so I have no reason to be shy. I’m not looking for your approval or am vindicated by your acquiescence. This outlook can be extremely frustrating because it’s seemingly arrogant and fundamentally dismissive of other people. Let’s say that you and I have a difference of opinion. You are going to want to make your argument, then defend it, and then probably defend it some more. You will want to convince me, because it’s important I understand where you’re coming from. If I’m amused by the conversation I may even let you go through the motions, but if I’m bored I’ll cut you off. Chances are that I’m more secure with my convictions than you are, so I have no need to defend them. In other words, I don’t need you to believe or agree, I’m indifferent to your stance. Apathy makes the world go round.

Keeping all this in mind, I don’t tend to give much advice. I don’t offer it freely and when asked I flip-flop around an answer. Really, I just don’t like to and therefore mostly refuse. I’ll expand on my reasons in a bit.

Before we get to that, let me characterize the majority of these “advice givers.” It’s really all about worldview, because advice comes from our personal experiences. But an advice giver has a single worldview with minimal peripheral distraction. Their perspectives can certainly change whenever a life-altering event occurs, but they’ll still only be able to see the world one perspective at a time. Marriage, divorce, employment, unemployment, death of a loved one, birth of a child, illness, health, near death experience… you name it. Sometimes these things can completely change their perspective, and I’m talking a complete 180. And they will freely admit the change and explain how it’s expanded their understanding of the world, but we know it really hasn’t. They still only see things on a single plane, it just happens to be a new one.

So it’s simple, right? Black and white opinions are easy to share because they are definitive. If you know what to do because you see the right answer, then you are almost morally obligated to let people know about it. It’s one of the hardest parts of dealing with these types of people. If you ignore them it’s hurtful, because they are only trying to help. Hell, sometimes they may even be right! A broken clock is right at least twice a day, sometimes moreª.

Let’s get back to why I’m not a fan of giving advice. I could take the easy road and say that because I don’t see the world in black and white terms, I don’t have all the answers. I can’t help because I don’t know what to do; it’s a denial of culpability. But that’s not true. I do have an answer for everything. Not only do I have an answer for every possible scenario, I have multiple answers for most of them! There are times in my life where I might not know what I should do, but I always know things that I can do. There has never been a situation in the history of the world where there was no choice. And I know ya’ll hate that, because we want to be able to say that we had no options. But it isn’t true, there are often no good choices and only negative options, but that’s another issue entirely. A shitty group of cards is still a hand to play. If you’re curious about surface levels of looking at this philosophically, you may want to check out BATNA’s and WATNA’s. They are applicable to many situations.

You have to understand that I don’t see the world as a “this or that” situation. It’s far more complicated than that, and the very idea of right vs. wrong is touchy. There are certain extremes of grey that are nearly definitive, but it’s still not black and white. So if you want to go through your options and weigh the pros and cons, you may get me to listen. But if you want someone to tell you what you should so, go find some schmuck who is more than willing to share.

From not on all ya’ll who like to give advice should realize that I’m not going to be trusting. In fact, the more convinced you are about knowing what to do, the more skeptical I’ll be. Just so you know, when you try to steer a conversation hoping that I’ll ask you for advice, I know exactly what you are doing. So feel free to stop.

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ª Time changes

Top O' the Morn

Winnie the Pooh, didn't know what to do,

When Christopher Robin was gone.

So he pulled down the hive, and got stung in the eye,

then cried and cried and cried.

Let's Talk Body Image

It’s a topic that comes up a lot, though admittedly probably in women’s magazines. There’s pressure to look this way or that way, there’s physique and fashion. There are regional, ethnic, and cultural expectations. We talk about Roman conceptions of beauty, or compare Marilyn Monroe vs. Audrey Hepburn[1]. It’s also been in the news, since Howard Stern has commented that Gabourey Sidibe is fat. I should probably provide a link here, but you have google, figure it out. You may think it’s my job, being the blogger and all, but I’m only here for two things, to kick ass and chew bubble gum, and I’m all out of bubble gum[2].

Now, I’m not going to defend Stern because he is a prick of epic proportions, so I’m guessing he was unnecessarily asshole-ish. But then again, I can’t defend that kid either because she is unhealthily obese. You are either scared by her or for her, depending on your point of view.

But let’s generalize a bit here. Body image is important because of self-esteem blah, blah, blah, social pressure to fit in blah, blah, blah, popularity contests, bs, bs, bs, so on and so forth. There’s a myth that it only affects women because of the pressures to look like Hollywood actresses’ airbrushed images. Because men obviously expect everyone to look like Jennifer Aniston, et al. Here’s a tip gals, no we don’t. Do you expect us all to look like Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt? Of course not. But you do expect us to do the ridiculous romantic comedy charade, what’s up with that?

Here’s my question, if this pressure is so crushing that millions of little girls are yakking in the privy, why is obesity such a huge problem in the U.S.? Shouldn’t this pressure have some kind of measurable result? No, that’s right, because we eat when we’re sad about being fat. I forgot. If I had any feelings I’m sure that I’d react to social pressure, but I’m pretty sure I’d come up with something more enjoyable like self-flagellation or drinking. But I’m lactose intolerant, so that drum of Dryer’s is never appealing.

Here’s an idea, let’s shoot for a healthier lifestyle rather than trying to match a particular body style. And I’m not a health Nazi, I drink too much and smoke regularly. My salads tend to have bacon and blue cheese in them, because that makes them taste good. But I do occasionally cut back on the sweets and sodas and whatnot, particular when I can’t afford a new wardrobe.

Also, don’t get particularly attached to “experts,” particularly if they are on tv. I’m bordering obese on any BMI[3] scale. And while I’ll freely admit I’ve got some extra chunk (I did read the previous paragraph,) I don’t think I’m obese, morbid or otherwise. I don’t wheeze when I walk up a flight of stairs and am willing to walk all the way across a parking lot. I can do both a pull up and a push up, just not at the same time. Yay me.

I recognize that I’ve gotten off point, but since this is a blog that doesn’t remotely matter. If you’re bothered consider your subscription refunded. I’m tired of fat people complaining about skinny people; nobody actually expects you to look like a movie star all the time. Have you seen movie stars when they aren’t in a movie? They look like people. Better looking that you and me, but hell, they have to be famous for some reason.

So here’s what you need to do, live your life with the body you have (but take care of it.) Don’t go run a goddamn marathon, that kind of masochism is idiotic. Don’t throw up after every meal because, well, kids with flies in their eyes in Africa are hungry or something. That and the dental can get pretty expensive, that’s shit’s hard on your enamel. And if you are unhealthily overweight get off this “big is beautiful” schtick. If you are a bigger person you are big all around, it’s a body type. We call them proportions, and if you use portion control you can probably keep yours reasonable.

All I’m saying is be reasonable. If you aren’t athletic don’t be an athlete. If you don’t look like a bleached Ethiopian don’t take up acting. And if your knees are threatening to give out try a 20 minute fast from time to time. Let’s embrace the middle ground.

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[1] By the way, the most impossible question I have ever been asked is who is more beautiful, Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn. Completely different looks, impossible to quantify.

[2] Obscure Pop reference 1

[3] Jesus, if you want to know google it already.

Bugger Off

It’s come up recently that I am on the upper echelon of the “world’s most stubborn” list. And of course, you know how I feel about these things… proud. It’s an interesting topic because many people who know me wouldn’t imagine that I’d have that reputation. It’s unusual for me to be particularly willful, because I’m pretty agreeable about most things.

That should really be one of the determining factors on these official lists. When push comes to shove I’m a force to be reckoned with. And the more willful someone gets with me, the more unmovable I become. It almost becomes a competition, and one that I never have to lose. And since I hate losing far more than I enjoy winning, I rarely lose.

Should that qualify me as stubborn? If I make a decision I stand by it there ain’t a whole lot you can do about it. If I don’t want to do something, there’s a strong probability I won’t. These all seem pretty logical steps for the human condition. But as I’ve said, I’m also mostly agreeable, so the whole “stubborn” thing doesn’t come up that often. I don’t need to have my way all the time, and it’s extremely rare for me to try to influence other people. I simply don’t care what you’re doing enough to bother. Is standing by a decision stubbornness or honesty? We could call it conviction.

We all know stubborn people, but I think we should separate the “I won’t do what I don’t want to” and the “you better do what I want you to” crowds. They can both be obnoxious, but the people who try to force everyone to bend to their will seem far more stubborn to me. And are assholes.

The way I figure, the people who think I’m stubborn have stood against me, and are mostly from the “do what I want” variety of stubborn people. They find me particularly difficult because they are used to getting their way. So I’m on their most stubborn list (usually the top.) Other agreeable people don’t find me to be stubborn, because it’s never an issue.

Basically, if you think that I’m stubborn, it’s your own fault. So there.

I'm baack!

And I’ve got nothing to say, really, nothing of even remote importance. In fact, I’m not sure why I’m wasting my time to type this at all. But it is remarkably annoying when someone refuses to update their blog. And by an “annoying someone” I mean me. Hello.

So let’s ramble a bit.

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…

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Well, in the not too distant past I took a personality test. And no, it wasn’t one of those bored at your computer things, it was more of a work aptitude type of test. You know, the ones you don’t enjoy taking and can actually fail. It went through a series of personality traits/flaws, whatever. One of the interesting ones that came up is that I am apparently antisocial.

Remember now, this was for a work gig. I don’t know if you know what I do for a living, and if you don’t it’s none of your damn business anyway. But I will let you in on the secret that it is a public and social position. I deal with people all the goddamn day long. Everyday. Seriously. And I got the job, even with the antisocial manifesto working against me.

I’ve put some thought into it, though obviously not particularly seriously. I mean, if I came up with something life changing and important do you think I’d post it online for free? So what I came up with in the last 30 seconds is that it depends on your definition of antisocial.

adjective

1. unwilling or unable to associate in a normal or friendly way with other people: He's not antisocial, just shy.

2. antagonistic, hostile, or unfriendly toward others; menacing; threatening: an antisocial act.

3. opposed or detrimental to social order or the principles on which society is constituted: antisocial behavior.

4. Psychiatry. of or pertaining to a pattern of behavior in which social norms and the rights of others are persistently violated.

–noun

5. a person exhibiting antisocial traits.

I don’t know that I really fit any one of those definitions all that well, but I suppose you could take one word from each and come up with an approximation of my personality. I’m pretty “unwilling” to do things that I don’t want to do and can also be “antagonistic” at times. I’m “opposed” to “persistent” people, because that just gets obnoxious. And if we’re using loose definitions I’m also a “person.”

So there you have it, I’m an antisocial person, or a person exhibiting an antisocial personality disorder. But only if you spread the adjectives around to the point of complete meaningless. Which, as you can see, is something that I’m willing to do. So I’m going to blame my parents, society, the war in Iraq, Converse All Stars, Keds, the color purple (the actual color, not the book,) and Gandhi.

I’d call up some friends and get together, but all this blame takes up a ton of time. And I can’t feel better until I get it all out.