Resolutions: A 2012 Retrospective

So, last year I made a few New Year's resolutions. This is a recap of what I actually did. Warning: Yes, it is depressing.

1. Read more.

Er, well, maybe I read more. You see, in 2011 I spent most of the year working at a bookstore warehouse surrounded by books, many of which I wanted to read, but couldn't (you know, what with working getting in the way and all).

I was textually frustrated.*

In 2012, I got another job, and then ANOTHER job, neither of which involved books. I did read a few books. I did not read as many as I would have liked.

New goal: get paid to read books.

Truthfully, I still read all the time. Probably for hours a day. I just read online material: blogs, Slate, articles, more blogs.

2. Write more.

I did write more (mostly for this blog). I did not, however, get published all that much. I kind of stopped trying after submitting to two places and not getting published.

One blog post that I wrote, Are You Experienced?  I originally submitted to Relevant. They didn't take it.

However, I don't regret the effort that I put into that essay. I worked a little harder than I normally do on the craft of it, and I took the time to be really honest with myself about not only what I felt but why I felt that way.

I think it paid off.

It's gotten more of a response than any other thing I've written.

Although my top post of all time is still How to hit on a girl on facebook. Thanks, Google.

3. Think less.

There's no real way to measure this. Did I go with my gut more? Worry less? Overanalyze less? Now I'm thinking about thinking!

4. Participate.

I'd like to think I participated, at least a little bit. I also blew off social commitments and plans for no other reason than that I was tired. I was that lame person who fell asleep by 11pm on New Year's Eve. I was the person who RSVP'ed on facebook and then never showed up. Sorry everyone.

5. Shoot more.
This one was actually kind of a success--I shot a lot, especially toward the beginning of the year.

I shot a short film with my sister. I shot footage for a music festival near San Diego, I shot a friend's feature-length Shakespeare adaptation. I had fun.

There are studies that say sharing goals actually makes you less likely to achieve them because just by getting positive social feedback, you already FEEL like you've achieved your goals, when actually you've only stated them out loud (or online).

I think this year will be more about discerning the difference between what I think I should want to do and what I ACTUALLY want to do.

I'm pretty sure I want to do more of the above.






*My theory about working in/at/for a bookstore or owning a bookstore is this: You should love books, but not too much. If you love books too much, you will want to keep them all for yourself, so you can read them or decoratively display them in your tastefully furnished hipster apartment. You won't want to let them go. Working around books without being able to read them is hard. Luckily, I have the willpower of small, scrappy mule with an eyepatch.

Nihilism, Ambition, and Minor Revelations

I recently spent some time at my mom's house going through all my stuff in the garage. In the process, I had a few minor revelations--let's call them "Thoughts upon going through all my crap."

Minor Revelation #1 - Taking Latin was unnecessary. As was taking trig, calculus, Bible Literature, European Civilization 1...

I've already mentioned my penchant for academic masochism. And I took a lot of classes. A lot. Like way, way more credits than I needed to take.

I don't regret any of the unnecessary classes I took though (actually, scratch that, I regret taking chemistry). There's something so hopeful about registering for a new semester. I miss that part of college. I miss learning for the sake of learning.

Now explain to me why I kept all of my trig homework...

Minor Revelation #2 - I spent a lot time researching things.

I don't even want to talk about how much time I spent researching what college to go to, leafing through those glossy brochures with pictures of attractive undergraduates spread out like lawn ornaments. I think the hypotheticals themselves were compelling. It's fun to dream about the future. However, my life has been a lot of theory, not as much action. The research has to end eventually. Right? Eventually, you have to make a choice. Choose a college. A career. A city.

It's no coincidence that one of my resolutions for 2012 was to "Think less."

Minor Revelation #2.5 - The direct correlation between my attachement to an object and my affection for the person or experience with whom/which the object is associated

Minor Revelation #3 - I wrote/write a lot. A lot.

I mean, dear God, if there was a margin to be spared on an index card, pamphlet, or receipt, I wrote in that margin, dammit. I scribbled down shreds of profundity and banality--okay, mostly banality.

I guess this isn't much of a revelation. I write. It's what I do. Now, if only I had confined my writing to logical places, like journals and notebooks. Sometimes you just need something to write on.

Minor Revelation #4 - If there was something I was even remotely interested in, I went after it 100%.

I was extremely ambitious in my teens (not that my work ethic always cooperated). Where any rational, sane person might have been like, "Hey, maybe flying to Tahiti to build an ice cream factory isn't such a good idea," I was like, "Sign me up!" I had quite a few terrible ideas. Thankfully, not all the things I pursued panned out.

Sometimes it's not the thing itself (say, video production) that's the misdirection. Sometimes, you are simply incompatible with the people or the organization. I hate to say it, but you really do have to be in the right place at the right time. Perhaps the world is not yet ready for your genius. Or more likely, you still have some growing up to do. Right place. Right time. Right person (that would be you).

There I go, giving advice again. I need to write about another career myth--the myth of experience, or how do you figure out what you want to do when you grow up? I'll tell ya what you don't do--base your entire career on a single negative or positive experience.

Again, I don't regret being overly, scarily ambitious during my high school years. I did a lot of worthwhile things, however,

Minor Revelation #5 - Everything is meaningless.

"Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done

    and what I had toiled to achieve,

everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;

    nothing was gained under the sun."

[Ecc. 2:11]

Sifting through years worth of stuff--keeping the best of it and tossing the rest--I was reminded of Ecclesiastes' famous existentialism.

I spent a lot of time thinking and/or worrying about things that I could not care less about now (I'm looking at you, Homeschooling).

Likewise, things that seem to matter now probably won't matter at all at some future date. We can all relate to the thought that "everything is meaningless, a chasing after the wind." Pleasure. Wisdom. Accomplishments. Great hair. The perfect body.

People. I believe that people matter. And despite the meaninglessness of accomplishments, I still feel compelled to offer something to the world, however small, insignificant and temporal.

I still have to figure out how to live this life.

Shame, Entitlement, and the Reluctant A-hole

At my work we recently discussed the "Asshole Rule": If you meet more than three assholes in one day, you're the asshole [somehow this translated into, "If you own three or more cats, you are a cat lady/man, but I digress.]

Yes, we have all met a few assholes in our lives. We've probably even been the asshole on a few choice occasions. But what, exactly, makes an asshole an asshole?

Alex Balk quotes Aaron James as follows in his article The A-hole in the Mirror:

"A person counts as an asshole when, and only when, he systematically allows himself to enjoy special advantages in interpersonal relations out of an entrenched sense of entitlement that immunizes him against the complaints of other people."

[from Assholes: A Theory]

That's as good a definition as I've ever heard.

That guy laying on the horn because you're not turning left fast enough for his taste? Yeah, definitely an asshole. A typical LA asshole, to be exact. He feels entitled to get through that light as fast as humanly possible, and no dinky 1988 Honda is going to stand in his way.

It's not just Angelenos, though. Millennials, especially, are known for their sense of entitlement--we were raised on self-esteem and certificates praising our mere participation.

And my first thought is: I can't possibly be an asshole. I'm way too introspective. 'Cause, you know, self-absorbed people can't be assholes. Even so, I prefer "rough around the edges" or alternatively, "slightly oblivious to other people's feelings."

I could tell many stories of how I've slighted other people's feelings, whether intentionally or unintentionally. Some of them leave me cringing in shame. Others elicit confusion more than anything else--I said that? I did that? You felt that way, because of me? Yeah, that's me. The asshole.

I don't know about you, but it's disheartening to realize that the same things that made me an asshole 10 years ago are the same things that make me an asshole today. 

What's a regretful asshole to do? I would say guilt and efforts at self-reformation, but I've been down that path before and I can't say it worked.

But what about this question of entitlement?

The thing about entitlement is that it's often unconscious. We're not even aware of it, and the same goes for privilege. I am both entitled and privileged in many different ways. To frame it in another manner, I'm spoiled. Flat out.

If I'm really honest, I feel a sense of entitlement about things that don't make a whole lot of sense. Things like, getting a job/promotion/raise because I deserve it, never having car trouble, ever, everyone liking me all the time, always (or at least not hating my guts), dating and eventually marrying a really cute guy, never having to deal with someone else's jealousy, envy, or insecurity--I could go on. In a sense, it all boils down to deserving and/or earning the good things that I get--instead of acknowledging that everything good comes from God, including my gifts, personality, strengths, weaknesses.

But what happens when I don't get what I should--by rights--get? What happens when I accomplish something significant and don't get the praise or the promotion that is my due? Or when my car breaks down? Or I don't get the guy?

Anger. That's what happens. I can't seem to let go of my pride and my self-reliance. I want so much to deserve the good things. Or, I try harder. Maybe if I...then I'll get...

And If I'm honest, I feel angry and hurt that some of my strongest personality traits tend to make me the asshole, to leave me wondering what I've done wrong or whom I've inadvertently offended once again. As if all my good intentions (or a lack of intention) are completely meaningless, when it comes down to it.

I'm not talking about your typical, everyday, run-of-the-mill assholery. I can be plenty selfish and insensitive. I'm talking about the things that I do because, as best as I can tell, that's just the way I'm wired: independent, driven, focused, self-sufficient, ambitious.

And I can't help wondering, did God create me this way for a reason, or am I just muddling along here, doing the best that I can.

To read more about a-holes:
Review of Assholes: A Theory
Interview with Geoffrey Nunger, author of Ascent of the A-word
Review of The No Asshole Rule by Robert Sutton
GQ article about how nerds can be a-holes too (linking assholery to insecurity)

New Year's Resolutions: The Who, What, Where, and When

1. Read more.

One Hundred Years of Solitude
The Wings of the Dove
Tropic of Cancer
The Grass is Singing
Anna Karenina
Art and Madness
Bleak House
The Rings of Saturn
Possession
TBA

In coming up with a reading list, I realized that I want to read "the classics" less than I thought I did. Maybe this is because there are relatively few "classics" (intellectual snobbery alert)  that I have neither read nor attempted to read. I have an especial distaste for books that I have--more than once--tried and failed to finish. (I'm looking at you, Slaughterhouse-Five and Huckleberry Finn.)

I find myself drawn more to memoirs, essay collections and literary theory.

The thing about a childhood spent reading is that it's extremely difficult to live up to as an adult, at least for me. I despair of being able to replicate the wonder and delight of reading certain books at a certain age. More than I want to read more great books, I want to re-experience reading the great books of my past. Am I doomed to an adulthood of literary nostalgia?

Of course, there is always re-reading. But there's something risky about re-reading a book you once adored. It might not stand up the second time around, which is why I've probably never reread a certain book I read at age eleven. I want to preserve the sacred memory of that first reading.

2. Write more.

Specifically, I'd like to be published in 10 places other than this blog--this can include web or print. One down, nine to go. (update 1/25: At least one of these must be in print)

3. Think less.

This is a difficult one. How does this even work? I suppose the only way to plan on thinking less is to plan on doing instead of thinking. So far, I've tried to put this into practice with mixed results.

A few days ago, I read:

"Try an experiment today: What would happen if you did NOT conceptualize everything before taking action?" (Understanding the Enneagram, 93)

What does that even mean? Do people really do that? 

I'm kind of kidding. 

I have recognized a tendency to read about doing things (like writing a screenplay) rather than actually doing them. That madness has got to stop. 

4. Participate. 

Anyone up for some beer pong?

5. Shoot more. 

One short film per month.

New Year's Resolutions

1. Read more.

In 2011, I rediscovered the audiobook, which is all well and good. However, I'd like to actually read a few books this year, eye to page, balls to leaf, etc.

2. Write more.

Maybe I should specify: write more for public consumption. I write a fair bit--I can't imagine NOT writing. It's part of who I am. A delightful cocktail of perfectionism and procrastination keeps me from writing for persons other than myself--I'm always looking for the perfect title, idea, opportunity.

So yeah. I'd like to write a feature length screenplay, and you can hold me to that. And more blogs.

3. Think less.

In the same category as thinking: talking about it, reading about it, writing about it. Write more, think less--sounds paradoxical, but there is certainly an element of writing that does not come from thinking but from putting pen to page. In other words, just do it. Less theory, more praxis.

4. Participate.

Sometimes, this means playing beer pong.

5. Shoot more.

Ideally, at least one project per month. Starting tomorrow.