Your Own Worst Enemy

What’s worse than not completing a task to the best of your ability?

Believing that no matter what you do your efforts will never be YOUR BEST. And, in turn, not THE best. Of anything.

It’s amazing when one looks across our own socio-political-pop cultural landscape how many people are absolutely convinced they are THE BEST when we all know in our heart or hearts they are exactly the opposite. On the other hand, did you ever have that supremely talented friend or colleague (Note: It could even be the face looking back at you in the mirror each morning) you knew would be famous who, through the years, vanished into obscurity? The person that you can’t even find on LinkedIn who could easily have invented it – or most certainly something the equivalent or much better in their own individual field?

… and he was never seen or heard from again

If you’re under 25 and can’t relate to this — take a gander around the room, your hometown, your school or the social media platform of your choice and choose such a person with that predestined future. Then refer back to this post in 10 or 20 years — yes, notes will be around…somewhere – and check on that name. Or some others you didn’t single out but had considered. I guarantee you at least one or more will fit the bill. Probably more.

This has nothing to do with the individual capabilities of any one person, even yourself, and more to do with a series of other factors, most of which would be too long and complicated to go into here. Still, there is one that we do have time for because, well, it’s been on my mind a lot lately and is probably among the most universal. And that is…

Self-doubt

And the twin/doppelgänger that comes with it –

Self-sabotage.

What makes me qualified to write about this? Simple. I’ve been one of their chief practitioners for years. On and off. Lately more off than on but still… you never do know when these evil siblings will rear their ugly heads. They’re a helluva persistent pairing.

#deepthoughts

I talk to students every semester about writer’s block – or as I like to call it – the simple fear of being BAD, or whatever your version of it is. The selfs, however, are a whole other animal.

It’s the voice that assures you that you’re no good, especially when you’re about to be if you’d just let yourself alone. It’s the sound of your worst enemy dissing you in your brain, the doubting “friend” who is so miserable in their own life they can’t bear for you to succeed, or most especially be better than them. The relative who wants to keep you in their place or under their control. Or it could be the dulcet tones of your neighbor who has told everyone you’ve gotten too big for your britches.

Sometimes we’re all Lady Ediths

More to the point, and for some insane reason – it could simply be you. The dark reflection of yourself that claims it doesn’t want you to fail but fears more greatly that you might leave the comfortable or miserable place you’ve gotten used to all this time (months, years or perhaps even more) and finally succeed at something – or perhaps something else.

For me, this doesn’t usually happen at the beginning of a project. I actually love challenges that people tell me I can’t or shouldn’t do. It’s more at the end – when it’s almost over – and I fear it’s time to be judged. To hand it in – give it over to the world – or even a close-knit group of people you do or don’t respect. But how bad could that even be? Who could judge me harsher than myself???

Sound familiar?

Can Donald Trump actually believe he’s right about all the hate he’s spouting? Uh, well…yeah. I don’t know him but in the case of oversized egomaniacs they’ve just managed to invert the paradigm and chosen to behave badly in an extreme effort to deflect their insecurities. I’m not necessarily talking about #Drumpf – though I could be – who knows – I don’t know him. Instead, let’s use Hitler. Did you read that autopsy results recently unearthed that he actually had a micropenis? Case closed!!

jBd5eVa

Okay, I jest. But only just a little. I don’t claim to know Hitler or Trump’s pathology. Or even Mussolini’s. Or Napoleon’s. Not that they’re similar. Though not that they aren’t, either.

You and I and maybe some others instead do not turn the hate outward and thereby inflate our tiny egos by seducing others to follow (like I said, Trump/Mussolini/ Hitler are just examples). We instead direct our hate or insecurities or whatever else you want to call it – inward – at opportune or inopportune times, depending on how you want to (or don’t want to) see it.

What this does is stop us all in our tracks before any risk is involved. But when we act like this we’re not the anti-Drumpf. We’re actually using our bluster in a similar way, just pointed in another direction – towards ourselves.

Case in point….

I can tell you this because I caught myself doing it the other day. It came at the end of a very long process, at the conclusion of an extremely tiring week, in the form of a mild but total freak out.

I’ll spare you the details. We all have our individual challenges and anxieties. One guy or gal’s freak out is another’s everyday life – and vice-versa. Well, whatever works for you. Or doesn’t.

For me, it doesn’t work. As a writer I’ve learned ways to block out the world. But this sort of thing extends beyond the written page and even the creative arts. It can apply to any task at hand in any profession. There are a million reasons not to do your job or your hobby. To not complete what’s required of you or what you secretly long to work on and finish but fear will be an embarrassing disaster you have thus decided not to complete or even start at all costs.

fail444456

What does work for me is pretending that what I’m doing is just for me. Because, well, isn’t it? In the scheme of things – say 100 years from now, who will give a crap about this piddly thing you’re/I’m/we’re devastating over? You are doing it just for you. That others might appreciate or criticize it is immaterial. Truly. Do any of us really believe when we’re 80 or 90 this project is at all going to matter? Ahh, but if it succeeds it could change people’s lives. Or — if we at least make it work to the best of our ability in that given moment it could actually change our life – if only in that given moment. And trust me, that moment of pride or relief, whichever you prefer, can be a really rewarding and life-affirming something.

So I try to stay in touch with that. I also take advice from Julia Cameron’s seminal book The Artist’s Way and write morning pages. This is three pages of stream of consciousness anything when you wake up or start work that day. Literally. And unedited. Whatever’s on your mind. And you don’t even have to punctuate. No one will ever see it but you and even you don’t have to read it over if you don’t choose to! What does it accomplish? It clears your psyche, gets out the cobwebs, lets you spew out the doubt and get it out from your brain where, if it festers, it will be do the most damage. It’s sort of what #Drumpf is doing to us en masse. Can you imagine if he actually had to contain all of those hideous thoughts? There’d be no tacky golden towers big enough.

I feel you going down a dangerous path, Chairy. Resist the urge.

Finally, I’ve found great freedom is surrendering the idea of being great. At this point in life, I just want to be. And after decades as a journalist and writer working with many highly creative and original thinkers, I’ve discovered the vast majority of the best of them are simply doing the work – doing their jobs when genius struck. It is true that the greatest revenge in life is loving what you do and making a living at it. When you can get excited and the ideas are flowing you’re too busy to think about result. Nor do you care. And it’s shocking how easy over the years it becomes to psych yourself into this state of mind. If you spend enough time leaving yourself alone if can actually just sneak in and happen. Naturally.

Certainly, we all do fall backwards. It can be frustrating being a part of the real world, especially these days, when every media socially rules. But those maximum density moments are exactly the time to retreat into yourself and create a safe place where you can play – just with yourself (Note: Make of that anything you will – literally). The world likes to call it play but if you indeed play your cards right it can become your work. What we have to keep reminding ourselves when we get too crazy is that they can easily be exactly the same things if we allow them to be.

03.13.16

by notesfromachair

Should we move to Zootopia?

I used to be a black and white thinker who found it hard to compromise. Now I just find it hard to compromise. The world and its issues no longer exist on a clear us vs. them color spectrum for me. Rather they waft across my mind in all sorts of shades, rainbow waves of color. (Note: Okay, sometimes flags). I suppose that’s progress. More probably, age.

Still, some things are still clear to me as I reflect this week on the passing of Nancy Reagan, the opening of Zootopia, and the outbreaks of vitriol and violence surrounding Donald Trump events.

Ronald and Nancy Reagan’s willful ignorance/refusal to lead on the ADIS epidemic in the eighties, while they were co-leaders of the free world, cost the lives of tens of thousands of Americans (approximately 100 of whom were close friends and acquaintances of mine) and I loathe and detest them. No amount of revisionist history on the part of their acolytes or society at large will change that. Or the facts. (Note: For more on this read Randy Shilts’ And The Band Played On – or at very least its Wikipedia summary). (Note #2: I do wish Randy, a great guy I met several times, was here to explain it to you but he died some years later after his exhaustively researched book came out – from AIDS).
Animated films that are well done create undeniable connections to our real, imagined or idealized childhoods that most everyone can agree on. Even those of us who don’t rush out to see them can’t deny these facts – a 99% rating on Rotten Tomatoes and an opening 3-day weekend of $75 million domestically for a movie that metaphorically, via our beloved animal kingdom, advocates equal opportunity for all and thus shows us there is still an ever-so-slight glimmer of hope that our future existence is not doomed. (Note: Yes, that’s just a glimmer, but still…).
Donald Trump has gone from at best an oddly amusing and crude drunk uncle to at worst a neo-Hitler presence of sociopathic id on the world stage who will use any means necessary, and without apology, to get what he wants. (Note: I’m not sure if that’s the presidency or attention, probably both). But more to the point — even though he denies his words are responsible for the near race riot that broke out in Chicago on Saturday at one of his rallies, the fact that he lied about the Chicago police advising him to cancel it should tell us all he is clearly headed far, far off the cliff into uncharted waters on the right side (Note: Not to be confused with correct side – and certainly not left side) of history.

What’s a blogger to do?

AGHHHH

I am willing to compromise on some things but the truth is not one of them. And the truth is a 94 year-old woman who was someone’s mother, wife, friend, and icon, (whether I find the latter misguided or not) died this week and a segment of the world are sad and upset. This, in turn, perhaps ushers in a moment or two when those of us who still feel not much except difference and disdain, can give them some room to grieve.

But not if they don’t tell truth.

When I read social media posts proclaiming the Reagans heroes who were only a bit late in speaking on a worldwide pandemic and that I should get over it already I remember the skin and bones face of a dying friend whose life might have been prolonged or saved had the disease primarily affected doe-eyed, blonde 5-year olds rather than gay men. I also recall Mrs. Reagan whispering what she thought was a clandestine off-mic prompt of we’re doing everything we can for her dithering husband to say when a reporter dared ask him about AIDS at a time when clearly, in the scheme of things, Pres. Reagan was doing absolutely nothing.

Signs of that time

And when hearing political pundits bloviate on this week about the former First Lady’s great loyalty to her friends what comes to mind for me is this well-researched article detailing Mrs. Reagan’s refusal to intercede on behalf on her AIDS-ravaged good friend Rock Hudson when in the mid-eighties his loved ones begged her, near the end of his life, to help get him into a Paris hospital doing cutting edge research on an ever unfolding plague. On a more personal basis, what also didn’t help me at all was when another Facebook friend posted the real villain in this piece was Rock Hudson for not coming out as gay publicly some years before. Really?

As for Hillary Clinton momentarily touting, then quickly apologizing, for her statement that Mrs. Reagan did subtly start a conversation on AIDS at the time, I can’t even…

HELP!

As I stated, I’m not very good at compromise. But at least I’m trying.

Speaking of trying, it’s difficult to continue wasting ink, not to mention brain cells, on The Republican Apprentice when at the very least one could be attending an afternoon or evening showing of Zootopia. Though I venture to say many of the people in Europe had similar thoughts about Adolph Hitler in the 1930s.

For the record, I despise serious Hitler metaphors to pop culture events. But #Drumpf is no longer mere pop culture. My beloved Sarah Silverman tried to make him so when she dressed up as the Great Dictator, swastika and all, on a recent episode of Conan where she had her version of the Nazi leader complaining about the public comparing him to Trump but for the most part it fell flat. Too soon? I’m not sure. Still, “A” for effort. At least she was trying something.

It’s one thing to disagree with our current president’s foreign policy, a dearth of enough jobs, a slow economic recovery or the ever-present threats of terrorism. It’s another to ask supporters to raise their hands in a faux Nazi salute and pledge loyalty to you as you belittle protestors (Note: a great American tradition) and bellow at security guards to ‘GET ‘EM OUT!’ Especially when the majority of those protestors are Black or Brown and the bulk of your supporters are Uber-Lily White.

This about sums it up

There is no road to compromise on this issue when the subject you speak of (that’s the guy who owns those hideous-looking hotels, and yeah, that’s my b & w opinion) is not only unwilling to but is a master of denial of intention on anything he publicly states at any given moment. Your only weapon is the truth on the subject – which in any rational argument IS BLACK AND WHITE. Meaning despite their extremes these two colors do certainly exist and on certain pieces of clothing – and in certain arguments – are a more than adequate first choice of color for any occasion if considered carefully and used wisely and judiciously.

Which brings us to Zootopia. I haven’t seen it yet but I love the description of the plot on RottenTomatoes:

The modern mammal metropolis of Zootopia is a city like no other. Comprised of habitat neighborhoods like ritzy Sahara Square and frigid Tundratown, it’s a melting pot where animals from every environment live together – a place where no matter what you are, from the biggest elephant to the smallest shrew, you can be anything. But when rookie Officer Judy Hopps (voice of Ginnifer Goodwin) arrives, she discovers that being the first bunny on a police force of big, tough animals isn’t so easy. Determined to prove herself, she jumps at the opportunity to crack a case, even if it means partnering with a fast-talking, scam-artist fox, Nick Wilde (voice of Jason Bateman), to solve the mystery.

Not just a bunch of animals

We could do a lot worse than use the theme of a 2016 Disney film as a primer for contemporary living and coexistence these days. Well, I suppose we could also do a lot better, though I’m not sure how at this moment in time. And if last week’s events are any indication, neither do you or anyone else – left, right, center or off the cliff on either side.

I hesitate to argue in favor of a corporate message – or even that life can best be lived as any Disney film – but compared to what I’m really thinking…well, it’s the best I can do for any sort of compromise. At the moment, anyway.