Every time I sit down to write in this blog, I am whelmed with the emotions that accompany resistance (a la Pressfield's "The War of Art"). Firstly, I am reminded that I am about to spend time writing in a personal blog, and blogs are generally accepted as a vast sea of ignorance and posturing to gain attention with a few shining stars of originality. I am obliged to surmount this obstacle instead of going around it, being a picky fellow and rather obsessive with protocol. If I'm going to accomplish anything with this blog, it must stand out from the others, and the reason the others are so obsequious is that they cut corners. They skirt around the stark fact that no one cares what they have to say, and say it anyway. But I am able to quell this red flag by remembering that this blog shouldn't be a channel of conformity, but a pure expression of my musings. It's easy to regurgitate information; it takes effort and intelligence to process the hell out of it, keep the good bits, and create something that is simultaneously unique and expressive. So my intention with this blog, as with all creative endeavors, is to turn it into an ATV with the purpose to not only break free of the superhighway of public outlook, but actually to work toward getting somewhere new. This in turn reminds me that in the voyage, I must ultimately be accountable to myself, and not to the established road system.
Secondly, I must acknowledge (quite paradoxically to "The War of Art" and the first paragraph) that there are people who, if I were to pump out boatloads of sensationalized, mass-opinion, group-think crap, would read it and love it, because they love me and somehow find me interesting. This step is vital for me to fight any notion of self-pity that lessens the value of the relationships I have with my people and shrug off "doing my work". Although I am internally accountable, relationships with people are central to my humanity. Being accountable to those connections isn't even necessarily contradictory to original thought; a healthy relationship should desire an ocean of creative freedom, as it benefits the writer to write and the mother to nurture.
These two aspects are where I see resistance most frequently, but today there is another beast that materialized the second I sat down to write. I had nothing I wanted to say. If I've learned anything about the writing process, it's that writer's block is best solved by putting words on the screen. This allows the thought that we're trying to reach to come out like a diamond in a stool. It also leads to a mass of writing about writer's block, but a turd is easier to polish when there's a gemstone at the center.
That said, I don't have anything to write about, but this post is for my benefit anyhow, right?
Monday, August 6, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Identity
It's 7:00am and I've had less than three hours of sleep. I suppose I'm still jet-lagged, but the real ailment is lack of discipline.
I have very few habits in life, and of those, most are destructive. Lately I've finished full-time school and I'm facing independence more fully than ever before. There are certain emotions and reactions that are typical of kids in my situation, and the first mature step I want to take is to admit I'm not immune to them.
One of those feelings I am constantly tempted to believe is to doubt my readiness. Self-reflection is almost always appalling. I'm just a kid. How will I be able to do anything on my own? My habits will stifle any in-born greatness I could have hoped to realize.
Since I talked to Caleb Baber the other day, I've been thinking about identity a great deal. I think identity is a huge factor in the struggle for a life of greatness. There are many things that change the identity we use to make decisions and motivate ourselves to overcome the difficult things we need to do in life, but I think that there is an ideal identity we can strive to become. This ideal gives us the perspective we need to use our meta-knowledge to develop systems that avoid using inherent, immutable weaknesses to overcome those weaknesses caused by habit and lack of vision. I think mastery of these systems is the key to weed out the kinks keeping us from our ideal image. I'm sure this will keep me occupied for the rest of my life.
However, even mastery of this art is an ultimately negative pursuit. Like cleaning, eating, exercise, painting your house, and morality, it's an uphill battle that will remain until we've breathed our last. Familiarity with these sorts of things is non-negotiable in the process of growing up. Entropy is a reality with endless manifestations (ironically) and it is relentless in driving men crazy. Fighting it can be one of the most difficult things to decide to do when we wake up every day, but it can also turn into one of our great joys. What I am starting to understand is that our attitude toward such activities has very little to do with how good we are at it and a great deal to do with how it matches up with the identity we've set before us.
Identity is the gemstone in the crown of greatness. It gives us purpose to do things more difficult than we ever thought ourselves capable of. It is also a many-faceted stone; one can find his identity simultaneously as a businessman, a father, a brother, a friend, a husband, a hobbyist, a genius, a conscious citizen, and a Christian. Different facets are visible in different company, different places, and different times of day. The variation of these facets that comprises a single person's identity, some times additively, and others contradictorily, is beautifully complex and is the inspiration behind every permutation in every narrative throughout time.
Thus, what I am beginning to understand and prod with my thought experiments is the postulate that there is for each person a unique identity to idealize and pursue to the abandonment of certain comforts and even certain friends. The idea is very exciting, especially at this juncture. I want to live as if there is a switch to flip and be certain of every choice I have to make without deliberation and, when pressed for justification, simply cite, "Ibid". This ideal was preached to me often as a child - most frequently within a church context. At times it seemed to be touted almost exclusively as the fulfillment of righteousness. "Pray the prayer and be saved, and in all hardship refer to that day and the path will be clear." This is a great truth that is very effective in my life and will grow in its effect more and more the older I become, I am sure. But it is only true for some of the facets of my identity - the "larger" of them if you will; hinging the weight of personal righteousness on the others may well cause early hypertension. There are so many choices to be made in life(school or work? German or Computer Science? white or wheat?), and as you mature, there are smaller and more arbitrary choices to which the above philosophy provides no reference. In my case, I learned of the theology behind an entirely other Will of God that made almost every decision appear whimsical in comparison to my expectations. I thought that if my moral identity was established the other facets would follow. I had the good sense to realize that, in the event of a morally neutral decision, a wise man could take personal preference into account. But when even that became scarce, I chose based on ease, which quickly led to the absence of both choice and (presently) a college degree.
Recently I was offered the great blessing of traveling to Laos with my parents to visit my brother, who is working as Head Chef/Manager at a restaurant he helped develop. He, unlike me, actually believed that liberal arts is a heap of bunk, at least enough to forgo the typical four-year experience. Instead, he went to a two year trade school and learned solely what he wanted to do. Then he freaking did it. Since his graduation less than three years ago, he's worked on a ship, at a ski resort, and at his current position in Laos, which required him to learn the language, and where he's already been for more than a year and a half and will likely take a greater role if he wants to. His idea for culinary school began as nothing more than a whim, but while I was excusing myself from any actual responsibility to pursue my major field of study beyond graduation, he was becoming a chef. He's been many things his whole life, and a chef for three to five years, but when the acquaintances from high school see me, Eric's restaurant is most frequently the first thing they ask me about. His dedication to his identity has changed even my identity.
In conclusion, University is a terrible place to decide what to do with your life. Also, Eric - you're my hero, dude. I pray for an ounce of the balls it took you to just go into something without knowing if it would make you happy or lead to anything greater. I know far too many fun people to be bored, too many beautiful girls to be single, have too much food in the fridge to be hungry and too much brains to be poor.
I have very few habits in life, and of those, most are destructive. Lately I've finished full-time school and I'm facing independence more fully than ever before. There are certain emotions and reactions that are typical of kids in my situation, and the first mature step I want to take is to admit I'm not immune to them.
One of those feelings I am constantly tempted to believe is to doubt my readiness. Self-reflection is almost always appalling. I'm just a kid. How will I be able to do anything on my own? My habits will stifle any in-born greatness I could have hoped to realize.
Since I talked to Caleb Baber the other day, I've been thinking about identity a great deal. I think identity is a huge factor in the struggle for a life of greatness. There are many things that change the identity we use to make decisions and motivate ourselves to overcome the difficult things we need to do in life, but I think that there is an ideal identity we can strive to become. This ideal gives us the perspective we need to use our meta-knowledge to develop systems that avoid using inherent, immutable weaknesses to overcome those weaknesses caused by habit and lack of vision. I think mastery of these systems is the key to weed out the kinks keeping us from our ideal image. I'm sure this will keep me occupied for the rest of my life.
However, even mastery of this art is an ultimately negative pursuit. Like cleaning, eating, exercise, painting your house, and morality, it's an uphill battle that will remain until we've breathed our last. Familiarity with these sorts of things is non-negotiable in the process of growing up. Entropy is a reality with endless manifestations (ironically) and it is relentless in driving men crazy. Fighting it can be one of the most difficult things to decide to do when we wake up every day, but it can also turn into one of our great joys. What I am starting to understand is that our attitude toward such activities has very little to do with how good we are at it and a great deal to do with how it matches up with the identity we've set before us.
Identity is the gemstone in the crown of greatness. It gives us purpose to do things more difficult than we ever thought ourselves capable of. It is also a many-faceted stone; one can find his identity simultaneously as a businessman, a father, a brother, a friend, a husband, a hobbyist, a genius, a conscious citizen, and a Christian. Different facets are visible in different company, different places, and different times of day. The variation of these facets that comprises a single person's identity, some times additively, and others contradictorily, is beautifully complex and is the inspiration behind every permutation in every narrative throughout time.
Thus, what I am beginning to understand and prod with my thought experiments is the postulate that there is for each person a unique identity to idealize and pursue to the abandonment of certain comforts and even certain friends. The idea is very exciting, especially at this juncture. I want to live as if there is a switch to flip and be certain of every choice I have to make without deliberation and, when pressed for justification, simply cite, "Ibid". This ideal was preached to me often as a child - most frequently within a church context. At times it seemed to be touted almost exclusively as the fulfillment of righteousness. "Pray the prayer and be saved, and in all hardship refer to that day and the path will be clear." This is a great truth that is very effective in my life and will grow in its effect more and more the older I become, I am sure. But it is only true for some of the facets of my identity - the "larger" of them if you will; hinging the weight of personal righteousness on the others may well cause early hypertension. There are so many choices to be made in life(school or work? German or Computer Science? white or wheat?), and as you mature, there are smaller and more arbitrary choices to which the above philosophy provides no reference. In my case, I learned of the theology behind an entirely other Will of God that made almost every decision appear whimsical in comparison to my expectations. I thought that if my moral identity was established the other facets would follow. I had the good sense to realize that, in the event of a morally neutral decision, a wise man could take personal preference into account. But when even that became scarce, I chose based on ease, which quickly led to the absence of both choice and (presently) a college degree.
Recently I was offered the great blessing of traveling to Laos with my parents to visit my brother, who is working as Head Chef/Manager at a restaurant he helped develop. He, unlike me, actually believed that liberal arts is a heap of bunk, at least enough to forgo the typical four-year experience. Instead, he went to a two year trade school and learned solely what he wanted to do. Then he freaking did it. Since his graduation less than three years ago, he's worked on a ship, at a ski resort, and at his current position in Laos, which required him to learn the language, and where he's already been for more than a year and a half and will likely take a greater role if he wants to. His idea for culinary school began as nothing more than a whim, but while I was excusing myself from any actual responsibility to pursue my major field of study beyond graduation, he was becoming a chef. He's been many things his whole life, and a chef for three to five years, but when the acquaintances from high school see me, Eric's restaurant is most frequently the first thing they ask me about. His dedication to his identity has changed even my identity.
In conclusion, University is a terrible place to decide what to do with your life. Also, Eric - you're my hero, dude. I pray for an ounce of the balls it took you to just go into something without knowing if it would make you happy or lead to anything greater. I know far too many fun people to be bored, too many beautiful girls to be single, have too much food in the fridge to be hungry and too much brains to be poor.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
There ya go. The previous two were from my Writing and Literacy class, so I'll probably be posting more of the same in the future. But I'll try not to use them as my weekly post.
Fingers crossed.
I also wanted to make it clear that, although I haven't mentioned specific anecdotes in which my mother plays a role, she was indescribably important in my spiritual and literacy growth. That is all.
Fingers crossed.
I also wanted to make it clear that, although I haven't mentioned specific anecdotes in which my mother plays a role, she was indescribably important in my spiritual and literacy growth. That is all.
Food Court Philosophy
My seventh grade year, I had just returned to Christ is King, my small,
private, christian school, after three years of homeschooling. Our
principal and Bible teacher was a short, stocky, and vivacious Filipino
man named Raul. As a function of the Bible class, he sequestered the top
three grades at our school (7th - 9th grades), whom he called
"forerunners" and formed a book club, among other things. Every
Wednesday, instead of getting a packed lunch, we got money to go to the
food court at the mall. There we would scootch the tables into a shape
that fit us all, and disperse to purchase food. There was a dull roar
that accompanied our discussion after we had all eaten. Being a slow
eater, I was forced to listen to the first part of the discussion with
my mouth full of some salty, greasy staple of fast food. We usually sat
right next to the arcade, which was frequently a distraction. It had
completely clear windows that offered a perfect view of a character on
the side of one of the consoles whom my friend Lewis dubbed "steroid
man". That was also back in the days when Runza used to give away free
balloons, so I started getting them just to suck the helium and make my
voice sound funny.
Overall it turned out to be a hit, though. The book we were assigned was called "The Crimson Tapestry" and it combined the vocabulary of a grad student in linguistics with the plot line and dialog of a horny adolescent. It remains one of my favorite books, and the conversations we had about it were revolutionary to me. Raul was a very passionate and influential man. He was constantly challenging us, especially the boys, in our thinking and worshiping habits. In every function he was involved in at the school, he called for a higher standard of maturity. To this day the seventh grade is one I point to as the one in which I grew up the most, and that primarily because of Raul.
Overall it turned out to be a hit, though. The book we were assigned was called "The Crimson Tapestry" and it combined the vocabulary of a grad student in linguistics with the plot line and dialog of a horny adolescent. It remains one of my favorite books, and the conversations we had about it were revolutionary to me. Raul was a very passionate and influential man. He was constantly challenging us, especially the boys, in our thinking and worshiping habits. In every function he was involved in at the school, he called for a higher standard of maturity. To this day the seventh grade is one I point to as the one in which I grew up the most, and that primarily because of Raul.
Flags and Hot Wheels
One of the most revelatory and pivotal experiences in my life where
literacy is concerned took place when I was probably around seven years
old. What seemed like once a week, my dad would take my brother and me
into the computer room where we had a big world map on the wall. There,
we would sit and read the "Flags" section of the World Book and
memorize, putting each stripe and emblem from the encyclopedia next to a
shape on the map. Every week there would be a recital of the flags we
were expected to know, and for every five new
flags we could name, we would get a brand new Hot Wheels car. Combined
with the atlases and picture books from National Geographic, our
unofficial geography lessons became a color-spangled foundation that
grew into a great desire to experience all the places the world has to
offer. It didn't bother us in the slightest that the scheduled time
meant we couldn't play outside or on the computer, because it was just
plain fun. We learned we could count on that time every week to explore
and get some sweet-action toys. The combination of structure and
creativity became a quality I look for in most all further discourses I
encounter and plays a great role in my dissatisfaction with and
under-performance in a university setting.
Scholasticism
Since it's entirely improbable that I will be able to muster two more of those posts before Friday, I'll give myself a break and post autobiographical snippets that I've been writing for class.
Aren't I kind?
Aren't I kind?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)