Lately I've been in a bit of an odd slump. It's odd, because, though I've been productive on a lot of things, I'm not sure if any of them are meaningful. It's odd because I'm more observant of the feeling tones of the slump than I've ever been. I know the productivity has a lot to do with Superbetter, and observing my mental states has a lot to do with Buddhist meditation (which I'm doing more often because of Superbetter). Still, I feel the slump.
One of the things that's causing this slump is my writing and how I feel about it. At times, I feel elated, the thought that I really can do it, and be a writer. But at other times, I look at what I wrote and think it's absolute crap. If I like the story I wrote, and I get a bad review, it especially hurts. But, like everything else in the universe, this slump is impermanent, and I'm sure it'll pass.
There is a "syndrome" for this feeling of being an unworthy writer (or any other occupation): the impostor syndrome. Even well published writers get it. I've seen it on their Facebook status. Even as I write these words I wonder: "Is this blog good enough?" "Is it coherent?" "Or is it nothing more than a bunch of random thoughts strung together?" "Is too long?" "Too short?" "And who the hell reads blogs anyway?" It's not like blogging is a form of high literature.
Sometimes I feel like an impostor not just in writing, but in life. Odd, but true. I see people my age or younger married and with kids, with a house, and a well-paying career, and I wonder why I don't have those things. Not that I necessarily want those things--at least not all of them--but often I unconsciously buy into the notion that that's what "I'm supposed to have." I sometimes feel like I'm moving and thinking at a slower speed as everyone else, with them all passing me by. It's a common trope within science fiction: that an alien species moves and thinks at a different rate as humans, causing communication problems between the two species. Maybe someday I'll wake with an odd itch. I'll go to the bathroom and look in the mirror, feel around under my skin, and tug on a zipper. My human skin will fall away and my true form will be exposed. I will truly realize that I am indeed an impostor, an alien impostor. In that case, I'll be glad. Otherwise, I guess I'll get over this slump.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
The Evil Black Muslim President
Let me tell you a story: Once upon a time there was a nation ruled by an autocratic black Muslim President. Being a socio-fascist, he took away all his citizens' freedoms and liberties. He raised their taxes. And took away their guns, so their couldn't even defend themselves. He forced them to pay for things they didn't want to pay. He was an open racist, looking down upon any not of his kind. He allowed and even supported the immoral and debauched to live freely in public. He compromised the military and openly conspired with dictators. Because his Muslim faith was frowned upon and even demonized in the nation he infiltrated, he took on a public religion much more amiable to the citizenry. In fact, he shouldn't even be President because he wasn't born in the nation he now rules. He hates women...
I could go on-and-on ad infinitum. But you get the idea. And I won't go on-and-on refuting the above things in which I think are bogus. Just to backtrack a little, in case you're very slow, or reading this fifty years in the future, when this man belongs in a history book (whatever a book will look like then) instead of the nightly news, the "evil black Muslim President" I'm referring to is Barack Obama. For this blog entry, I'm interested how someone can believe the above so readily when I can not. We have access to the same sources, the same world. True, the above hypothetical person would probably watch Fox News while I would watch MSNBC. And don't misunderstand me: I am NOT lumping all people who'd like a different president into believers of the above story. I'm sure a lot of people will think the above as comic hyperbole. But I am also confident that a non-zero percentage of people believe the above; that percentage might be larger than I'd like to guess. So what causes one person to believe one way, and another to believe another?
I think the root cause is bias. We all have it. My bias is not better than yours, nor is there a such thing as "unbiased" because we come to any situation preloaded with ideas and conceptions on how the world operates. We can mitigate bias by doing blind studies or dealing with "just the facts." But even dealing with "just the facts," there's interpretation bias. But I think one powerful tool to mitigating bias is to acknowledge we have it in the first place. The next time we react or jump to a conclusion, we can ask ourselves: "Did I do that because I already have a biased opinion?" Then we can step back and look at "just the facts," and come to a different conclusion.
Using the above first paragraph as an example, let's say our hypothetical person believes much, if not all about what kind of person Barack Obama is like. He looks at his biases and realizes he doesn't like people with big ears, as he had a few big-eared bullies when he was a child. He then realizes it's stupid to hate someone for having big ears, so he changes his opinion about Barack Obama. I personally think most of those who subscribe to the above narrative about the President aren't big-ear haters. I think many have some other bias against the President. Then again, that just might be my bias.
I could go on-and-on ad infinitum. But you get the idea. And I won't go on-and-on refuting the above things in which I think are bogus. Just to backtrack a little, in case you're very slow, or reading this fifty years in the future, when this man belongs in a history book (whatever a book will look like then) instead of the nightly news, the "evil black Muslim President" I'm referring to is Barack Obama. For this blog entry, I'm interested how someone can believe the above so readily when I can not. We have access to the same sources, the same world. True, the above hypothetical person would probably watch Fox News while I would watch MSNBC. And don't misunderstand me: I am NOT lumping all people who'd like a different president into believers of the above story. I'm sure a lot of people will think the above as comic hyperbole. But I am also confident that a non-zero percentage of people believe the above; that percentage might be larger than I'd like to guess. So what causes one person to believe one way, and another to believe another?
I think the root cause is bias. We all have it. My bias is not better than yours, nor is there a such thing as "unbiased" because we come to any situation preloaded with ideas and conceptions on how the world operates. We can mitigate bias by doing blind studies or dealing with "just the facts." But even dealing with "just the facts," there's interpretation bias. But I think one powerful tool to mitigating bias is to acknowledge we have it in the first place. The next time we react or jump to a conclusion, we can ask ourselves: "Did I do that because I already have a biased opinion?" Then we can step back and look at "just the facts," and come to a different conclusion.
Using the above first paragraph as an example, let's say our hypothetical person believes much, if not all about what kind of person Barack Obama is like. He looks at his biases and realizes he doesn't like people with big ears, as he had a few big-eared bullies when he was a child. He then realizes it's stupid to hate someone for having big ears, so he changes his opinion about Barack Obama. I personally think most of those who subscribe to the above narrative about the President aren't big-ear haters. I think many have some other bias against the President. Then again, that just might be my bias.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Becoming Better Than Better: Part Deux
So it appears that Wednesday night/Thursday morning is looking like my Superbetter update. If you don't know what Superbetter is, go here. Also check out the website, Superbetter.com. I'm still going strong, adding more things to do, making my "quests" against Procrastination just a little more challenging each day, but still being compassionate with myself when I fall short. One of the things I'd like to do is write more than once a week on this blog. I'm sure Superbetter can help.
OK, enough of the diary entry stuff. My intention with this blog is to provide thoughts which cause one to think, not "how's my day going" content. To that end, I've had a realization since "playing" Superbetter: I'm a gamer. To me, a "gamer" has connoted a video game player, or a role playing gamer, or maybe even a board game player, none of which I play on a regular basis. But I do and have played games. I've played Tetris to the point it gets boring, even with the pieces speedily dropping. I play Solitaire to pass the time. I've gotten into SecondLife a few times. One summer I wasted playing EverQuest. That summer, I felt horrible and very unproductive. An entire summer gone, as I killed rats and orcs. I even had the thought: "What if life were more like a game?" But I had the thought in the context of writing fiction, not in the context of providing an internet platform. Occasionally, I've thought about getting a video game console or joining a role playing group, but I knew those are temptations I shouldn't follow. The whole point of telling this is to show that I am, indeed, a gamer. What Superbetter is doing, I think, is providing a useful outlet to a potentially harmful habit. Instead of wandering around and killing orcs all day in a virtual environment, I'm using that time to achieve my life's goals.
It's curious, really, how much we do play games. As children, we play often and heartily. Biologists tell us games are useful in preparing the young skills needed as adults, regardless of species. But even as adults, games matter and can help us. Life itself is the biggest game of them all. Superbetter is helping me see that.
OK, enough of the diary entry stuff. My intention with this blog is to provide thoughts which cause one to think, not "how's my day going" content. To that end, I've had a realization since "playing" Superbetter: I'm a gamer. To me, a "gamer" has connoted a video game player, or a role playing gamer, or maybe even a board game player, none of which I play on a regular basis. But I do and have played games. I've played Tetris to the point it gets boring, even with the pieces speedily dropping. I play Solitaire to pass the time. I've gotten into SecondLife a few times. One summer I wasted playing EverQuest. That summer, I felt horrible and very unproductive. An entire summer gone, as I killed rats and orcs. I even had the thought: "What if life were more like a game?" But I had the thought in the context of writing fiction, not in the context of providing an internet platform. Occasionally, I've thought about getting a video game console or joining a role playing group, but I knew those are temptations I shouldn't follow. The whole point of telling this is to show that I am, indeed, a gamer. What Superbetter is doing, I think, is providing a useful outlet to a potentially harmful habit. Instead of wandering around and killing orcs all day in a virtual environment, I'm using that time to achieve my life's goals.
It's curious, really, how much we do play games. As children, we play often and heartily. Biologists tell us games are useful in preparing the young skills needed as adults, regardless of species. But even as adults, games matter and can help us. Life itself is the biggest game of them all. Superbetter is helping me see that.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Becoming Better Than Better
So...it's been awhile since I graced the presence of this blog. At one point I'd decided to be more productive, instead of less, with regard to this blog. Obviously that didn't happen. But I'm starting anew. In general, the reason I've been so lax is due in large part to my inner demon, Procrastination. He's prevented me for so long from achieving my goals, not only with blogging but any aspect of my life that I want to better myself in. But I think the tide may be finally turning. Why? Because I've found a tool that so far has worked wonders. I've tried it for about three weeks and so far I'm still going strong, still defeating Procrastination in the day-to-day goals that I've set out for myself. Now, as I write this, I feel like one of those people in infomercial testimonials who tell everyone that product X has changed their life forever. Every time I see one of those, I get very cynical and think, "They must've been paid." Or their acting agent told them it'd be good TV exposure. So I tune them out. I don't do endorsements because I figure people will tune me out. But, for this product, I don't care. This is a personal blog about personal experiences that I allow the public to see. Besides, this product might help you. You might read this, and say, "Yes, I'll try that."
Read what? "You haven't told me anything!" Don't you just hate when salespeople string you along, building up the mystery, till you're on the edge of your seat, your anticipation building. Or maybe you're yelling at the screen, as if the author can hear you, while your wife's in the other room with your crying baby, and she thinks you've just had a mental breakdown? Yeah, I hate salespeople like that. They annoy me. I just want to... OK, I'll stop. Honest. Here I go... Ready...set...Superbetter.com.
There, I said it. Superbetter.com is a "gamification" website where you can "gamify" your life. That is, treat your goals and aspirations like leveling up in a game. You can have "quests" you accomplish that go toward your goal; "power-ups" to help you along the way; "allies," friends who are there to support your goals; and "bad guys" to defeat, that get in your way. As you might have guessed, I have created a Procrastination bad guy that I go up against every day. There are typical pre-set goals you can use such as quitting smoking or losing weight. Or you can create your own, as I have done. Currently, I have a meditation goal and a writing goal. I have power-ups and allies. And of course, my demon bad guy, Procrastination. If you accomplish a stated goal, you acheive an "epic win." OK, now that you've stopped screaming at your screen and have assured your wife you don't need to go to the hospital, you still don't know what the hell I'm talking about. So maybe you should check it out: Superbetter.com.
You're back so soon? Yes, I know. You still don't get it. It's crazy. And I agree with you. I've tried a ton of things to defeat Procrastination. But most don't last too long. This has staying power. So far. I'm cautiously optimistic. But skeptical. I'll keep you posted.
So far it is working. It has re-started this blog. Why? Because writing in this blog was part of my "Daily Quest 4/4/2012." As I write this, it is now 4/5/2012. Technically, Procrastination has won: I have put off today (now yesterday) what I could do tomorrow (now today). Then again, now that tomorrow is today, I am not putting it off till the new tomorrow. So Procrastination has not won. My head hurts. If you do choose to try out gamification and Superbetter.com, be kind to yourself. Don't set your goals too high. My goals and quests are manageable but ever more challenging. Procrastination still kicks my ass, but I give myself a decent, but not too great a handicap. He still wins, with my advantage. As of this writing, I beat him 16-5.
Read what? "You haven't told me anything!" Don't you just hate when salespeople string you along, building up the mystery, till you're on the edge of your seat, your anticipation building. Or maybe you're yelling at the screen, as if the author can hear you, while your wife's in the other room with your crying baby, and she thinks you've just had a mental breakdown? Yeah, I hate salespeople like that. They annoy me. I just want to... OK, I'll stop. Honest. Here I go... Ready...set...Superbetter.com.
There, I said it. Superbetter.com is a "gamification" website where you can "gamify" your life. That is, treat your goals and aspirations like leveling up in a game. You can have "quests" you accomplish that go toward your goal; "power-ups" to help you along the way; "allies," friends who are there to support your goals; and "bad guys" to defeat, that get in your way. As you might have guessed, I have created a Procrastination bad guy that I go up against every day. There are typical pre-set goals you can use such as quitting smoking or losing weight. Or you can create your own, as I have done. Currently, I have a meditation goal and a writing goal. I have power-ups and allies. And of course, my demon bad guy, Procrastination. If you accomplish a stated goal, you acheive an "epic win." OK, now that you've stopped screaming at your screen and have assured your wife you don't need to go to the hospital, you still don't know what the hell I'm talking about. So maybe you should check it out: Superbetter.com.
You're back so soon? Yes, I know. You still don't get it. It's crazy. And I agree with you. I've tried a ton of things to defeat Procrastination. But most don't last too long. This has staying power. So far. I'm cautiously optimistic. But skeptical. I'll keep you posted.
So far it is working. It has re-started this blog. Why? Because writing in this blog was part of my "Daily Quest 4/4/2012." As I write this, it is now 4/5/2012. Technically, Procrastination has won: I have put off today (now yesterday) what I could do tomorrow (now today). Then again, now that tomorrow is today, I am not putting it off till the new tomorrow. So Procrastination has not won. My head hurts. If you do choose to try out gamification and Superbetter.com, be kind to yourself. Don't set your goals too high. My goals and quests are manageable but ever more challenging. Procrastination still kicks my ass, but I give myself a decent, but not too great a handicap. He still wins, with my advantage. As of this writing, I beat him 16-5.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Cats! (Not the Musical)
OK, the past few entries have been rants about the current state of politics. I could certainly go there, ad infinitum. But I won't, because, frankly, rage is tiring. So...what then?
When I was a kid, I was a dog person. Not that I had much choice in the matter. My parents had a dog. I liked that dog. Ergo, I was a dog person. I will always have fond memories of Baron. Then, about twelve-thirteen years ago (long after Baron had passed) my parents got a cat. Again, I didn't have a choice in the matter. But I was off to college and wasn't really expected to be a part of the decision. So we the family had a small black-and-white tuxedo cat we named Selene, after the mythical huntress goddess. (She was supposed to be a mouser, after all.) I don't know if the mouse situation improved, but we did quickly grow to love her. Then, about nine months ago, my brother got another cat, which he named Axiom. This one, also black-and-white, is a Turkish Van (yes, there is a breed called that) who quickly outgrew the smaller Selene. The two are endless entertainment. Yes, both cats live under the same roof, along with my brother, my mom, and myself. Hemmed in by dogs, I've quickly realized how quiet they are. When's the last time you heard someone complaining about the neighbor's cat meowing too loudly? They're also low maintenance: feed them, let them out, let them in, let them out, let them in... I don't take care of the poop duties (I'm the uncle, after all), but I suspect it's a lot easier than worrying about dog poop. Anyway, now I have concluded that cats are the pet of choice, and I'd bet I'd get one some day. Or two. Or more. Also, I suspect they're a lot lower maintenance than children. I'll leave this musing anti-rant with a poem I wrote about these two kitties:
Cats
by Sean Eret
He, young and restive
flits here and there
never satisfied, he meows tirelessly
concentration never comes to him
not yet grounded, he distrusts and fears the world.
She, mature and at ease
saunters with mindfulness
always content, she lives effortlessly
attention always comes to her
with a firm connection to Earth, the world is hers.
When he dashes about and bounces
his energy's unfettered
happy only for the next big thing
when he plays, he always stumbles about comically
still young, he has much to learn.
When she runs and jumps about
she has an exact exertion
joyously in the moment
whatever her task, she always accomplishes it nobly.
though old, she is young in body and soul.
These two cats, friends and companions
are mirror images of each other
separated only by time.
When I was a kid, I was a dog person. Not that I had much choice in the matter. My parents had a dog. I liked that dog. Ergo, I was a dog person. I will always have fond memories of Baron. Then, about twelve-thirteen years ago (long after Baron had passed) my parents got a cat. Again, I didn't have a choice in the matter. But I was off to college and wasn't really expected to be a part of the decision. So we the family had a small black-and-white tuxedo cat we named Selene, after the mythical huntress goddess. (She was supposed to be a mouser, after all.) I don't know if the mouse situation improved, but we did quickly grow to love her. Then, about nine months ago, my brother got another cat, which he named Axiom. This one, also black-and-white, is a Turkish Van (yes, there is a breed called that) who quickly outgrew the smaller Selene. The two are endless entertainment. Yes, both cats live under the same roof, along with my brother, my mom, and myself. Hemmed in by dogs, I've quickly realized how quiet they are. When's the last time you heard someone complaining about the neighbor's cat meowing too loudly? They're also low maintenance: feed them, let them out, let them in, let them out, let them in... I don't take care of the poop duties (I'm the uncle, after all), but I suspect it's a lot easier than worrying about dog poop. Anyway, now I have concluded that cats are the pet of choice, and I'd bet I'd get one some day. Or two. Or more. Also, I suspect they're a lot lower maintenance than children. I'll leave this musing anti-rant with a poem I wrote about these two kitties:
Cats
by Sean Eret
He, young and restive
flits here and there
never satisfied, he meows tirelessly
concentration never comes to him
not yet grounded, he distrusts and fears the world.
She, mature and at ease
saunters with mindfulness
always content, she lives effortlessly
attention always comes to her
with a firm connection to Earth, the world is hers.
When he dashes about and bounces
his energy's unfettered
happy only for the next big thing
when he plays, he always stumbles about comically
still young, he has much to learn.
When she runs and jumps about
she has an exact exertion
joyously in the moment
whatever her task, she always accomplishes it nobly.
though old, she is young in body and soul.
These two cats, friends and companions
are mirror images of each other
separated only by time.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Oh My God...Wait...We Aren't Dead...Yet...
One theory about how the Oracle of Delphi got her supposed precognizant powers says that she sat atop a volcanic seam that spewed hallucinogenic gases. But I didn't need to huff any gas to see this one coming. In a followup to my blog post Oh My God! We're All Gonna Die!, as predicted, Congress passed a debt ceiling increase in the nick of time to prevent a catastrophe. Or so we were led to believe. We'll never know.
And I don't have the expertise to say one way or the other, except to say that this whole event fit the Crisis story plot almost exactly. The climax was the passage of the debt ceiling in the eleventh hour. The stakes were high. The clock was ticking. It's almost like some action-hero is fiddling with the wires to a bomb, trying to figure out how to defuse it, then finally does so with one second left. Take, for example, our writer-hero Richard Castle who, in one episode, had to defuse a dirty bomb in the heart of New York City. He does it, of course, with mere seconds to spare. I sometimes expect him to reflect that his life works out into clearly delineated action-packed episodes, the fictitious author noticing that his life would make a pretty good TV series. Life does indeed seem like that. Except--at least in the case of the whole debt ceiling debacle--it's manufactured. It suspect that if the debt ceiling had never been raised, sure it would have negative consequences, but it'd be more drawn out. It wouldn't have been a catastrophic point. And that just wouldn't have made a good news story because the fear would no longer be as eminent. And I'd bet the media would've found something else to talk about, some other partially-manufactured Crisis to scare us and get us to stay tuned. Instead, the debt ceiling was increased and the news media is now in the wrap-up, denouement-phase of the narrative. But like any good series writer, the end of one story has hints of the next. The market is still jittery and the FAA is under a partial shut-down. Can anyone say "sequel?"
And I don't have the expertise to say one way or the other, except to say that this whole event fit the Crisis story plot almost exactly. The climax was the passage of the debt ceiling in the eleventh hour. The stakes were high. The clock was ticking. It's almost like some action-hero is fiddling with the wires to a bomb, trying to figure out how to defuse it, then finally does so with one second left. Take, for example, our writer-hero Richard Castle who, in one episode, had to defuse a dirty bomb in the heart of New York City. He does it, of course, with mere seconds to spare. I sometimes expect him to reflect that his life works out into clearly delineated action-packed episodes, the fictitious author noticing that his life would make a pretty good TV series. Life does indeed seem like that. Except--at least in the case of the whole debt ceiling debacle--it's manufactured. It suspect that if the debt ceiling had never been raised, sure it would have negative consequences, but it'd be more drawn out. It wouldn't have been a catastrophic point. And that just wouldn't have made a good news story because the fear would no longer be as eminent. And I'd bet the media would've found something else to talk about, some other partially-manufactured Crisis to scare us and get us to stay tuned. Instead, the debt ceiling was increased and the news media is now in the wrap-up, denouement-phase of the narrative. But like any good series writer, the end of one story has hints of the next. The market is still jittery and the FAA is under a partial shut-down. Can anyone say "sequel?"
Monday, August 1, 2011
Zen and the Art of Recumbent Trike Riding
As some of you know, in early June I broke my ankle when my recumbent tricycle hit a tree. Often, when I tell people how I broke my ankle, I get a courtesy acknowledgement that I can tell they have no clue what a recumbent tricycle is. I bet some of those people think I was riding a children's toy, like maybe those trikes with the big plastic wheel up front. I suppose since the rider is reclining in her seat, it is technically a recumbent trike. But no, that's not what I mean at all by a recumbent trike. And if you have no idea what a recumbent tricycle is, well, you're in luck because you have an Internet connection. To make absolutely certain you get a picture of what I'm talking about, google "tadpole recumbent tricycle." Don't ask, "Why the hell is it named after a fish?" I'll explain*. Go ahead. Do it. I'll wait.
You back? I suppose I could've just placed a picture here, but I'm lazy and I know you can look it up almost instantly. Anyway, found a picture of a tadpole recumbent tricycle? See how the rider's feet are up front, leading the way? Now image the rider had one of his feet strapped in because he thought that was the only way to keep that foot on the pedal. In other words, that foot's going to stay with the pedal even in an accident. So, accident happens: rider loses control of trike and slams into a tree. Since the feet are up front, and since that one foot is strapped in (the right one, in this case)...snap! Broken ankle still strapped in to pedel. And Paris** (the ankle fracture) is born.
Enough backstory. Today I got the cast off. Now I'm in a walking boot and am allowed to bear weight on my heel. One step (pun intended) closer to recovery. But recovery from what? After my ankle is healed, there will eventually be something else to recover from. And then something else... I don'r mean to be a downer. Quite the opposite, in fact. What if, instead of focusing on some ideal future that will never come (because the future is never how we expect it to be), we focused on the present, the only time we do have control of? Perhaps if we do focus more on the present, the future that comes about will be more like the one we envision. And if it doesn't, we will have developed the tool of clear present-sight to not care as much. And accept the future that does come about.
*With two wheels in front and one in back, a tadpole trike sorta looks like a tadpole.
**I named my ankle fracture after the mythic Paris, who was infamous for inflicting a foot injury. If you want more details, well, you have the Internet...
You back? I suppose I could've just placed a picture here, but I'm lazy and I know you can look it up almost instantly. Anyway, found a picture of a tadpole recumbent tricycle? See how the rider's feet are up front, leading the way? Now image the rider had one of his feet strapped in because he thought that was the only way to keep that foot on the pedal. In other words, that foot's going to stay with the pedal even in an accident. So, accident happens: rider loses control of trike and slams into a tree. Since the feet are up front, and since that one foot is strapped in (the right one, in this case)...snap! Broken ankle still strapped in to pedel. And Paris** (the ankle fracture) is born.
Enough backstory. Today I got the cast off. Now I'm in a walking boot and am allowed to bear weight on my heel. One step (pun intended) closer to recovery. But recovery from what? After my ankle is healed, there will eventually be something else to recover from. And then something else... I don'r mean to be a downer. Quite the opposite, in fact. What if, instead of focusing on some ideal future that will never come (because the future is never how we expect it to be), we focused on the present, the only time we do have control of? Perhaps if we do focus more on the present, the future that comes about will be more like the one we envision. And if it doesn't, we will have developed the tool of clear present-sight to not care as much. And accept the future that does come about.
*With two wheels in front and one in back, a tadpole trike sorta looks like a tadpole.
**I named my ankle fracture after the mythic Paris, who was infamous for inflicting a foot injury. If you want more details, well, you have the Internet...
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