Author Archives: thewordswillgosomewhere

Year of the Shooter

38 is a pretty boring age, I think. I don’t know anyone in their late thirties who are doing things that are challenging. I’m not talking about an exercise regimen or any other kind of temporary escape or distraction, either. I’m talking big things. Shifts-of-reality things. My thirties have been a strange time, to be sure. Twenty-somethings are still discovering all kinds of stuff, and some forty-somethings are already beginning to reap the rewards of years of hard work. Then there’s the rest of us. We’re in some kind of holding pattern. Some kind of wait-and-see. I’m not into it.

To be fair, a lot of thirty-somethings have kids. That’s a game-changer, as everything becomes about the kid(s) as soon as that reality changes. If you make a list of people you know who have kids, a significant portion of their lives (calculated daily, weekly, monthly–whatever) goes toward the preservation and promotion of the kid(s). I get it. I sure as shit wouldn’t want to be a kid right now, either. Terrible music, a shit president, and a pretty rotten culture all-around. I’m also sure the same was said about my scene when I was younger. That’s the way it goes. I’m worried about the inherent cruise control effect that seems to go along with this part of my life.

The Ohio Valley Formula for living seemed to be something like this:

A. Find a “good” job with a “good pension.”

B. Work that job, and raise a family.

C. Retire from that “good” job and enjoy life, presumably until the age of death.

I have a big problem with the Ohio Valley Formula. I think a lot of people my age might have a problem with this formula, too, but there doesn’t seem to be a lot of people talking about that. I also don’t know anyone who casually discusses the giant timeline of whatever-age-they-are-now and age 59 1/2. So, what exactly is going on?

Does everyone have that “good” job? Tell the truth. And also, please tell me where to get that “good” job. I’d love to put in my resignation and sign up for the new/other scene. We don’t have kids, though, so I’m not sure that my metrics match yours. I also don’t really care about that “good pension,” either, so if that is part of your formula, I have to keep looking.

Do you know a lot of healthy retired 59 1/2-year-olds, up to age 70? Really? Are they spry? Traveling? Exploring? No. No, I don’t think they are. Why do we pretend that working for 30 years and progressively giving up things is a good way to spend half of our lives?

Here’s a big shift: I don’t know anyone talking about being financially independent. We talk a lot about jobs, and what we want to buy, but no one seems to really care to discuss what life would look like if we actually got to dictate the majority of it. It’s overwhelming and empowering at the same time. As with anything of value, there’s a catch: we have to rewire our brains and behavior, and we have to swim against the tide to pull it off. Being financially independent looks different to everyone. For some, it’s a certain financial number arrived at through luck, investment, inheritance, or some other method. I’m not even sure what my magic number would be right now, as we still have a little bit of debt which will soon be gone. I have a working number buried deeply, but it will take one more career shift and some behavioral maintenance, combined with some investment before I can reassess that value.

What is the difference between “financially independent” and “retirement,” anyway? I don’t know any retirees that say, “I’m financially independent.” To the contrary, retirees are financially dependent on the pensions or retirement plans that they worked decades to obtain. Nobody says, “I want to be dependent on the fixed income I worked most of my adult life to obtain.” Not only is that incredibly unappealing from an I’m-allegedly-a-sentient-being point of view, but it doesn’t exactly say “free will.” To me, it says, here is the amount I hope sustains me after years of potentially doing things I don’t want to do. That bothers me.

I have been citing Office Space too much lately, and I know it. Peter Gibbons is the perfect everyman, though. He works a job he finds unfulfilling but that is otherwise considered a “good” job. Condo, Japanese econobox Corolla, girlfriend. He’s not feeling the cruise control, and the hypnosis session that ends with Dr. Swanson’s death makes for good comedy as Peter stays zonked out and inadvertently is provided with an Out from his life. The film is also nearly twenty years old, and it’s still good. It’s probably Mike Judge’s best work.

Confession: this is all a long wind-up for me to leave education, an industry that I find deeply unsatisfying, especially in my current capacity and in my incredibly strange locale. That’s a story for another time. But I wanted to jot down some thoughts, if for nothing else than to send out low currents to see if anyone else needs sparks. I don’t have decades to spare. I’m only setting up for 59 1/2 if I have to. I think I can lower that milestone by a few years, or–at the very least–I can stroll toward that marker on my own terms.

I took a stroll through an email account looking for some financial numbers, and I found a lot of emails suggesting that more had changed in this last year than in previous end-of-years, but overall, I think I holstered my guns too soon for too many years. I think it’s time to break them out again, Holliday-style.

Here are some of the things I read the past month that steered me here:

http://rootofgood.com/

https://www.1500days.com/

https://livingafi.com/

http://jlcollinsnh.com/

 

Here’s to 2018 being the Year of the Shooter.

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Gut Check

87 days ago I applied for a job for which I wasn’t qualified. I didn’t get it.

Now, there are a few ways to handle this, and those that know me well might think that I almost certainly reacted a specific way. Much to my surprise, I did not.

A little bit of failure now and then is good for you. It forces you to really use a wide angle lens. I have spent so much energy being unhappy in my job, I didn’t effectively deploy any reserves elsewhere.

I did not do anything else for 87 days. I casually opened thirty tabs a few weekends in a row, and I kid myself something along these lines: “Hmm, I could do that…”

I probably could not have. And, if I could have, it certainly wasn’t with a half-assed effort. Gut check. It’s grime time.

There is a reminder uncovered in this–a lesson I learned in grade school, and forgot over the years: nobody owes you anything, and nothing is guaranteed.

So, as a tumultuous 2017 (job-wise) spirals to a close, this is the final punch.

Next up: The Winter Contingency.

Shit’s Rad

I don’t know why, but when I was young, I thought adulthood was going to be like T&C Surf Design. Yup, the NES game. I have no idea why. Probably the same reason that launching a BMX bike off the end of some pavement was my favorite original extreme sport. Everything was big and forever, and then came college prep classes and school dances and jobs and insurance and all manners of other shit that were decidedly not rad.

As I get ready to enter a Third Renaissance–each Era looks really different in each decade–I ask, “What is rad now?” I can populate the list fairly easily, but not in an ultimate fashion. Some element of radness is missing, though. That T&C vibe, whatever that looks like these days.

The math on negativity bias shows that we need a 5:1 positive-to-negative input. That’s pretty ridiculous, as you’d know if you’d been outside for the last ten years. People in general don’t seem to be happy. Consumerism is rampant; the psychological infrastructure of Buy This to be Complete requires that inequalities are solved by buying something. Dopamine hit. Temporary bliss. Rinse, repeat. Social media participation alone horribly skews that ratio; if we use certain apps too much, it is nearly mathematically impossible to find the proper balance. Our happiness architecture is constantly besieged.

Not rad.

What exactly is rad differs greatly by person, but fun is a necessary part, which is completely relative. Some people’s ideas of fun make me queasy, but I accept that they are embracing their Rad. We should be so lucky.

At 38, I’m a lucky man. I know some amazing people, and even though I interact with some of them using (*hissssssssss*) social media, that’s a geographical handicap, more than anything. (I’ve filtered out a lot of Not Rad.) Wife and life are good, so if my rad is a little lacking, it’s in minute fashion. Shout out to anyone whose rad is focused. I’m thinking I’m only a quick shred away from the next level.

fragments

There is something to being able to laugh at chaos. Currently there are four meetings going on, but only two were scheduled. The “needs” of the masses are mostly artificial, but never-ending. There has never been such a fake job that was so necessary. Outside my door, actual audio from a Dean of Education at The Local University: 

“Teaching is such a rewarding profession

…the pay isn’t great…

you get summers off…

job availability…

teaching is a rewarding profession

…you don’t want to work when you’re 80, do you?

…teaching is rewarding

…retirement…”

Five feet behind my chair, through a wall, there is a fifth meeting, and discussion of RTI. Response to Intervention is inherently good, but I have yet to see it actually carried out with consistency anywhere. The idea of a personalized curriculum (both behavioral and academic) is utopian by nature, and while it’s soothing on paper, in a high-poverty, ever-shifting environment, it is impossible to implement with fidelity. Incidentally, “with fidelity” is something oft-repeated in this industry. It’s Kool-Aid that everyone drinks, but everyone knows it’s bad for you. Jonestown. Amazing. “Thank you! May I have another, please?”

Overheard through the wall: “…has a very real problem with any kind of authority, and refuses to work or do anything asked…”

Ninety degrees from that meeting: “very rewarding profession…”

My phone rings: “Uh, yes, do you know about Situation X?”

“No ma’am–never heard of that; wasn’t aware of that…”

…rewarding profession…

All of this, swirling. I’m thinking of psychological studies that prove Learned Helplessness is real in adults. I’m thinking of how long October, September, and August were. 

–reward–

An email comes through. It’s one of our teachers newer to the profession 

(rewarding) 

and she isn’t sure what to do when her laptop

*re*

I’m pouring another cup of the Kool-Aid. Two meetings have ended, and the heat has cut off. 

“At the new school” is another adverbial modifier that I love to hear. Construction is “moving along” on the site, and “at the new school” things will be dandy.

“‘Incentives’ are important”

Rewards

Rewarding 

Rewarded

Why Escape Matters

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The original Blade Runner came out in 1982. I was three years old. The first time I watched it was on a VHS copy, probably around 1984 or 1985. We were in Germany, then. VCRs were $800 and it was a huge deal to score a copy of any movie, as they took a long time to reach consumers. It was a different era.

Three decades distort memory, but I recall sitting cross-legged on high-pile carpet, my face too close to the screen full of flying cars, the imposing Replicant of Rutger Hauer, neon lights through a gray city dystopia, and Harrison Ford’s Rick Deckard as probably the first anti-hero I remember that won by failing. It was unsettling. It was invigorating.

There are more than a handful of moments in Blade Runner 2049 that took me back to the original. Gosling is one of my favorites (I immediately forgave him for La La Land–Ryan, you “saved jazz,” but that ending was inexcusable), and he brings a silent suffering to some of his best roles. Blade Runner may be equal to The Place Beyond the Pines and Drive in that regard. The cinematography and the deliberate pacing asks viewers to think (really think) about what’s really going on in the quiet moments on the screen. I haven’t seen a movie like it in a long, long time.

Good science fiction makes you wonder, but it also demands an introspection.

What do you think?

What do you feel?

What makes it (or any of this) real?

And, most importantly:

Why?

https://i.ytimg.com/vi/h5b69ZXiGyY/hqdefault.jpg

I watch films to escape. I used to escape a lot more frequently. I’m down to about four trips to the movie theater a year, so the bar is set high. I waste a lot of my days in a job I hate. I complain a lot and I pretend that I am powerless to do anything about it. Yet all it takes is a 164-minute to remind me, that’s why it’s so important–the right escape. It reminds us that nothing is permanent, and that we are still supposed to be looking for the answers to our own questions. Just like science fiction.

Watch this film when you are ready for something different. Look for the small moments, like the brief meeting Edward James Olmos’ Gaff places an origami sheep on the table strategically: Denis Villeneuve is winking at us as he slips a comforting arm on our shoulders. 2049 shows us, more than once, how we were “drunk on the memory of perfection.” By the time “Tears in Rain” plays again, we remember Why.

Odin’s Day (say it fast)

278 days remaining. That’s weekends, holidays, the whole shebang. You can pretty much put up with anything for less than 300 days. That’s what I tell myself.

At the trash-fire I call “work,” my job description changed again today. This time the changes are in writing. I was quiet about it at first, then waves of anger surged through me, and then I thought of the best career/life advice I’ve read recently–it was from reddit, of all places. Someone made an ecard for it, of course:

How to stay motivated? Hate life to the point where you want to get revenge on existence itself.

So there it is. That’s real life. And that’s my main strategy for leaving education.

My Winter Contingency. It’ll do the job quite nicely.

Day five without AC. The weather’s been mild this week, thanks to Hurricane Harvey destroying coastal Texas. As long as I can sleep at night, I can deal. No sleep? Not good. Not the best version of me. Unfit for public display.

Owning a house was a real pain in the ass, because everything was on you, the owner, when it went wrong. And it always did. For the most part, I’m happy to rent again, but…listen…we need to talk about this whole Southern Pacing situation. For years, I have heard, “Well, now, folks just move along at their own pace down heah.” This is a standard explanation served up when speed or efficacy is questioned.

“Hey, Mister or Missus First Name (also a favorite), get the fucking job done.” Try that. But no, no…I get it. You’re just moving at your own pace heah.

__________

Lots of changes lately. At some point, I’ll probably get back into cognitive behavioral therapy, as it is the only thing in the last four years that helped me produce accelerated results. Nobody needs to sail into 40 still needing to figure out a bunch of things. Ridiculous.

__________

I never liked running in general, but the treadmills in the exercise room six doors down have inclines that go up to “15.” That’s pretty insane, and the calories burned add up quickly. Hey, it’s something. Combine tempo treadmill training with an elliptical workout (which I never thought I would use as an adult male) I add in a light circuit here and there and sweat really starts to pour, like in a gross way. I like to toss in an occasional Brad Pitt move from “Burn After Reading” to keep it interesting.

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I put up a hard half-hour or a little longer, which helps me forget the aforementioned trash fire, and then I walk right out of the exercise room and jump into the pool, which will probably close in just over a month. Tonight the pool had too much floating in it, and the pumps haven’t been running since last week. I suppose someone’s “fixin to get along after that too,” at their own pace, of course.

 

300-Day Challenge: Part 1

In Up In The Air, Ryan Bingham has an arbitrary goal. He wants to reach 10 million frequent flyer miles. As is sometimes the case, the book substantially differs from the film in key aspects. George Clooney does a great job playing the available but aloof Bingham, who fires people for a living. The real value of what Walter Kirn wants the audience to consider lies in the spaces in between the pages. 

I’m thinking about both Ryan Bingham’s book and movie form this morning. My arbitrary number is 300, as in 300 days remaining. 300 days from now I will be out of this school, and if the universe allows, I will be out of education altogether. The reasons really don’t matter. I’m not here to complain. Rather, this is more about time passing and the quick canal of thoughts how.

On the commute this morning, XMU’s Julia Cunningham played Interpol, then the National, and then Best Coast. I choose to take that as a sign that it is indeed good enough to be feeling okay. It’s a start.