Month: August 2019

As a toddler, I had my mother rather worried. I was coming up on turning 2 years old, and still really hadn’t talked much. Although I was her fifth rodeo, so to speak, like any good first-world parent she was concerned that I had developmental issues.

Oh, were those fears ever unfounded. I imagine at one point she started wishing that I would begin my verbal journey and put her doubts to rest. And I imagine it wasn’t long after that when she learned the valuable life lesson of “careful what you wish for.”

I started talking all right. And I haven’t stopped since. Once I’m comfortable around someone, I’m like a word fountain with no shut-the-fuck-up faucet handle in sight.

But we all know my verbosity is not on trial here. That’s not the point of the story at all.

The key detail, as recounted by my mother, is that when I actually began speaking, it wasn’t just a broken word here or there; it was full-on complete sentences replete with mostly proper syntax. Apparently, I had been sitting, watching, waiting; learning all the rules before giving the whole verbal communication thing a whirl. I was posing as a harmless observer, all the while plotting my takeover of the English language.

For most of my life, this was a point of pride, often busted out when I felt the need to #HumbleBrag. However, as I grow older and reflect on life more, I realize that there are some definite downsides to this personality trait.

I think the underlying theme is fear of failure (“What if I get this wrong?”), desire for absolute certainty (“I want to get this exactly right”), or a combination of the two. In a sense, it comes down to aversion to risk, and the lack of skill in regards to being able to accurately assess risk well enough and put it in proper perspective. I mean, what’s the worst that could have happened if I didn’t pronounce “ball” exactly right? I’m sure my toddler mind came up with plenty of doomsday scenarios.

Now, I’m sure that this innate reticence has been beneficial at times in my life. But more often than not, leaning into this instinct has held me back more than anything else.

I probably would have picked up Spanish much more quickly had I been like “Ben del Mundo”, happily not giving a single ----- about his butchering of the native tongue of his host country. I would have started wisely investing my money years ago. I would be an accomplished author by now, with 20+ years of experience and multiple published books to my name. I sure the hell would be a better and much more efficient coder. The list goes on.

I’m not here to wallow in my regrets, though I have plenty of plans for that in future musings. No, this is really about identifying obstacles that hold you back from being a better version of one’s self, owning them, and then managing and mitigating them with mindful intention.

I had to wrassle with several mental and emotional barriers before I could even begin to realistic consider the prospect of exposing myself publicly on a regular basis (aka “blogging”, you ----- perv). In due time, I intend to regale you with my in-depth analysis of all of them. But for now I promise to stay on point and only unpack one of them here.

Critical to making this blog a reality, I had to make peace with the fact that Mistakes Will Be Made. If I don’t dive right into something due to worries about figuring every little detail out beforehand, I will never get started in the first place. Sure, I won’t have bonehead mistakes hanging around my neck, but I won’t have any of the awesome benefits of the endeavor to enjoy either.

This personal life lesson has been several years in the making, but it really has been roughly the last two years that I’ve been able to take advantage of this self-realization. I pussy-footed around with travel hacking for a year or so before finally jumping in head-first. Sure, mistakes were indeed made, maybe missing out on $1k of potential benefits. But I wouldn’t say they even came close to rising to the level of regret. And it has definitely paid off to the tune of upwards of $10k, so yeah, it was definitely worth it.

Another example is 3D printing. I’ve had some passive interest in the field for at least 6 years. Yet, despite having access to 50+ printers free of charge for 4 1/2 years in my recent full-time employment, it wasn’t until I realized I might be losing the opportunity that I started taking advantage of it. It helped to focus on just printing anything instead of getting caught up in the details. Not having a perfect product in mind allowed me to avoid obsessing over how imperfect my creations were.

Ultimately, the important thing in both cases is that something was being done. After all, we can’t learn from mistakes we never make.

And really, there is a point to this story here. In fact, it might just be the point of The Point of The Story.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. I have many regrets, and many, many, more embarassing moments. And I’m wise enough to know that I have many more to come…hopefully with a minimal number of regrets.

And I have a penchant to talk in overly-detailed prose. Or so I’ve been told.

So how is this the point? I’m getting to it, I’m getting to it. I swear. Sheesh, leave me alone. You seriously didn’t come here expecting to find case studies in conciseness and brevity, did you? Cuz you in the wrong place if you did. You are free to leave at any time; my feelings won’t be hurt.

…but I digress.

All that to say, I’ve struggled much of my life with being self-conscious of the thought that I just might be a mistake-prone Chatty Cathy. A friend once described a mutual friend as “the strong, silent type.” But when he continued musing, considering the opposite personality, i.e. “the weak, gabby type,” I had a moment where I was like “wait a minute…is he referring to me?!?” For the record he wasn’t, but it was a thought that was traumatizing to my self-image nonetheless.

You know what, though? It’s never too late to own thy shit. I’m leaning into what assets I have in abundance, bougie self-respect be damned.

I’m done waiting around forever for my idealized self to materialize. These chains hanging heavy round my neck, weighing me down? Aw, shiiiiit. They made of gold. It’s time to cash in on these god-given gifts.

Sometimes the best opportunities arise from simple reframing of a situation. And I’m so happy I’ve recalibrated my perspective, and I hope at some point it can make you a happier person, too.

Fucking up and shamelessly talking about it at great lengths? That’s not a bug, that’s a feature.

Oh, yes, mistakes have been made, and will continue to be made. They might even be sought out on occassion. But I promise you this, Dear Reader: I will tell you aaaaaaaall about them.

It is up to you what you do with this information.

Be amused. Be inspired. Be like me. Don’t be like me. Be entertained. Be slightly shocked out of your sensibilities. Be introspective, armed with a new perspective.

And above all else, consider yourself be-welcomed to The Point of The Story. Enjoy.

Content created on: 24 July 2019 (Wednesday)

The following is a lightly modified excerpt from an email with a close acquaintance. In full disclosure, it was written with the possibility in mind that it would eventually be shared here. In other words, I was workshopping it.

The context: my friend had some personal writing that he asked me to review, and I was giving him some initial feedback on his work.

And I quote…

Speaking of tangential stories…when I was in college, it was the first semester that I was friends with my perpetual romantic pursuit and eventual former girlfriend, Tiffany Chestnut,¹Not her real name. It is, however, her real “porn star” name. along with her best friend (like, I was friends with her best friend, too, but none of the other descriptors apply. I’m not THAT suave). For some reason, one night I found myself pulling an all-nighter with the bff, whom we’ll refer to as ‘K’, alongside my friend Ben who would become my roommate the following year.

K was working on a book for her elementary education class, while I can’t remember what the hell me and Ben were doing. I think we were just being good friends and helping her get the book completed, which was due the next morning at 8 am. A week or so later, she gets the graded book back, and she got a pretty high mark, 97-99 range but not quite 100.

Well, in what I rationalized as an attempt at humor, my dumb ass made some critical comment about getting a point or two taken off. At the time, my comment seemed to be a non-event, and I probably would have never given it a second thought in my life.

Fast-forward to the end of the semester. Tiffany is getting ready to study abroad in Mexico for the summer and fall semesters, and I had stopped at her hometown on the way to mine for the summer to say hi to her family and bye to her for 7 months. This was long before we briefly dated, so naturally, a component of our conversation involved me trying to cajole her into going out with me.

I pressed her on the issue, and she reticently admitted that she knew she could never date/marry me. So I pressed her some more. I should interject here that I was bawling throughout most of the conversation, though I don’t remember the exact point when the water works started. Anyways, even more reticently, she shares with me two anecdotes that shaped her conviction on the matter.

You guessed it: I got dinged for being unduly critical of K in regards to said project. It turns out that my comment really hurt K and deflated what had been very high spirits, as she had worked very hard on the book and deserved every bit of glory that it earned. But no, I thought I had to be the witty one in the moment, or whatever god-forsaken unresolved inferiority complex I had going on when I made that comment.

For what it’s worth, the other anecdote involved a poorly drawn wheelchair by Ms. Chestnut, and my ensuing humorous observation that wheelchairs like that hadn’t been produced for about a century now. In my defense, she was an art major…and living in the year 2001. So she had no ----- excuse for the engineering atrocity that she had created on paper. None. The REAL crime would have been the ABSENCE of ridicule and mockery…

You may be asking yourself at this point “the point of the story is…?” Well, I’m glad you asked! As you can see, I had the rare experience of knowing the exact moments when my chances with a girl in which I was very interested were mercilessly slaughtered–and in true M. Night fashion, I was the murderer. “What a tweest!”

Well, let me tell you, failing like that is shit that sticks with you. One is a bit more sensitive to the otherwise subconscious impulse to provide unsolicited criticism after something like that. Know what I mean? Of course you don’t. You’re too kind-spirited through and through. (Stated without the slightest sense of sarcasm)

All that being said…there was one typo in your work that I found particularly amusing. Just search the document for “plum” and you will immediately see the [humorous] error of your typing ways.

Content created: 5/6 June 2019 (Sunday/Monday) / 22 July 2019 (Monday)