Day 188: Convictions

Some days crappy days happen because you have to stand for something that isn't popular or maybe not everyone is on board with. Still, if you don't stand for certain things, you're just wallpaper. You're just blending in. If you're not doing the right thing at the right time, you're not really there. You're just blending in with the rest of the sheep following the flock. And what's the point of that? Mistakes happen. Everyone makes them. But not everyone owns up to the mistake. Some people, in fact, work harder makes excuses for the mistake or working to persuade anyone who will listen that they never made a mistake in a first place. That's fine I suppose for some mistakes that aren't really harmful at the end of the day or change the course of our lives. But some mistakes do cause a wrinkle to occur. If you don't take the effort to iron it out, it's still a wrinkle. You can try to cover it up, distract attention from it, or pretend it doesn't exist, but the wrinkle hasn't disappeared. You're just pretending it did. Some mistakes and errors in judgement have to be addressed, and they have to be addressed in the correct manner. If the person who made the mistake isn't capable or willing to do that, then I truly believe it's the duty of those who are guiding and teaching that person to do it, even if that's not comfortable or easy. Even if that causes a few wrinkles itself. I'm not a fan of sweeping dirt under the rug. Sure, things look neater and cleaner, but they're not. They've just been neatly rearranged. All the same elements are still there, and it's only a matter of time before the dirt resurfaces. Today, was a day when the dirt surfaced, and I wasn't about to sweep it in a tidy hiding place and pretend it didn't exist. I wasn't about to pretend everything was cool. That the shortcut, and people who take shortcut don't get the full view, and they don't get the full experience. Shortcuts are lazy, and they're carved out by the people who aren't strong enough to take the scenic route. 

Day 187: Traveling

Pack five people in a hotel room and what do you get? A messy, smelly good time. Such is my life and I wouldn't change it.

Day 186: Perky People, I Owe You An Apology

Since I can remember, I’ve had a problem with overly cheerful people, the kind of bubbly, effervescent individuals who are seemingly capable of only forming one facial expression: a big, fat, wide smile. These people who bounce into a room and leave it the very same way, who speak with the same twinkly enthusiasm about cleaning the toilet as they do about that gosh darn dog next door that keep them up all night barking, and who find each and every meal as tasty and scrumptious as the last have always grinded painfully on my nerves.

For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why this was so. “It shouldn’t be this way,” I’ve reasoned. “What’s so wrong with finding delight in so many things?” “What’s the harm in finding brightness in every corner of the world?” “What’s so objectionable to being seemingly peppy and perky and on top of the world all day every day?”

Slowly, I started to form hypotheses about why these people, of which I’ve run across many over the years, seemed to be in such conflict with my own personality. My first conclusion was these people aren’t really as joyous as they let on. They’re overcompensating. They’re deceiving. They’re masking something. They’re faking it to make it. They’re doing the happy dance to trick themselves into believing that they really are that happy when the fact is they're deeply dissatisfied with the lemons that life has handed them but they don't want to admit. Maybe their parents didn't allow them to feel sorry for themselves. Maybe they're just not capable of seeing below the surface. Maybe they don't see any merit or feel there's anything to learn from feeling miserable. 

Another of my all-too wise conclusions has been that these people really don’t stand for anything important. They’re too busy concentrating on the trivial aspects of life to notice things are kind of crappy all over. Oh, they’re seemingly always the first to volunteer and lend a hand and do it with an eager smile, but when it comes to taking a side on real life-altering and possibly conflicting issues, they don't seem eager to. In fact, they never seem to state anything controversial. Why? Because that would mean upsetting someone, and upsetting people isn’t happy.

I've also surmised that these glowing, endlessly enthusiastic souls have seemed to me to  actually be lonely deep down under all that perceived rapture. They seem to be on a solo journey in their happiness. Most of these people, I’ve found, aren’t married or involved in deep, meaningful relationships. Why? Because no one can stand being around that type of a unbridled joy full-time. Or perhaps it’s because that behind closed doors, these perpetual smilers are really a pain in the ass and attempting to live with that type of phoniness isn’t worth it in the end.

These days, I’m pretty much convinced that it hasn’t really been these people that I’ve been in conflict with all along but rather it was me I was conflicted with. In other words, there has been sizable case of jealously at work on my part where these individuals are concerned. I've been bitter that some people are so damn happy. I'm resentful. I envious. I want to know they're damn secrets. 

Maybe they really are that happy and there are perfectly good reasons they’ve seized on to that happiness. Maybe they realize that life is a gift and a treasure, and they don’t squander that gift. Maybe they have a deep and utter conviction in something that’s more powerful then themselves and that realization is a source of endless sunshine and I’m too narrow-minded and blind to see it myself. Maybe these people I’ve judged as being phony are indeed real and it’s me who is the fake. Maybe they’re the smart ones for letting themselves feel things I never made myself available to. Maybe they’re introspective and contemplative and learned in the sense that they know something is afoot that I don’t have the vision to pick up on. Or maybe, they just refuse to be affected by those things that shouldn’t affect us. Their armor is stronger than mine. I’ve found that people who say they don’t a damn what anyone else things, after all, really do.

In any case, I’ve changed my tune somewhat I believe. The reality is that the bubbly ones still aggravate me to a certain extent but I’m willing to investigate if that feeling is really aggravation or really self-loathing. I still have my lingering doubts about these happy souls who have annoyed me over the years, but at least I’m starting to rethink my position and am willing to investigate if there’s a possibility that they indeed are the ones that have it together and I’m the sorry sack that could use some retooling.

Day 185: Boom!

Short post today. I've things to blow up. Well, I don't really, but my kids do, and I don't trust them to do it alone. I've seen their work and I've seen the look they get in their eyes.

I really like this holiday. I don't know too many people who don't. Well, other than those who value their sleep at night and grow tired quickly of the incessant banging and booming and cracking that goes on long after midnight. That doesn't bother me much, though. It's a couple nights of the year. I find it curious though humans' fascination with things that go bang. The amount of money they'll shell out to make that possible is hilarious, in a sad way.

I have some really good memories of the Fourth. Everything from the big family picnics back in the day at my uncle Gene's to a girl beating the crap out of me in Wiggenhorn Park. That's not such a good memory, I guess, but I had it coming. I threw a firecracker far too close to the kid she was babysitting. She didn't appreciate it, and she commenced to wail on me with both hands, slapping me to and fro. I ran pretty fast, but it seemed as if she hounded my every step all the way home until I could escape for good. A better memory was the year I spent the day at Lake McConaughy, swimming, cooking, laughing, and drinking. That night we caught the fireworks, and it was pretty much a perfect day. There have been a lot of years like that. The years as kid watching the fireworks in Omaha, complete with skydivers starting the night off right.

These  years, it seems my wife has to work about every other year, and it's more difficult to create that same feeling as when I was a kid. It was a simpler time then. Easier to get people together, it seems. But we do our best. We still gather around at night and point our heads upward waiting for the sky to light up. We still oh and ah. We still laugh and partake in good food. These are still good days.

Day 184: A Half Year Absopositively Well Spent

If my math is correct (and that’s an iffy proposition), I’ve officially passed the half-year mark for the year with this blog and my effort to be positive about at least one thing for at least for period of time each day, no how fleeting that period of time may be. Yep, each and every day in 2012 I set out to explore something positive by writing a post about it, and thus far, I’ve done that. Hell yeah!

Truth be told, while I’d like to say each and every post has been truly filled with positivity, that’s probably not been the case entirely. Every so often, a post has crept in that was probably borderline angry or snarky or entered the realm of being perturbed or annoyed. But the vast majority of the entries, however, I’d say I’ve stuck to my word and written about something that made me feel positive, that I’m positive about, or that I have positive memories or feelings about. And with all sincerity, the experience has been a great one, and I’m honestly looking forward to carrying the effort on through the next half of 2012.

I’d like to believe all the entries were equally good and had something relevant to say, but I know that’s not the case. There have been some days, particularly on the weekends, when just writing, let along writing something specifically that was positive seemed like a burden hanging over my head. Once I got around to doing it though, I can say I’ve honestly put thought into every post I’ve created, even if some of those thoughts have been lazy and some of the posts have sucked. But that’s the nature of writing, or anything else that requires an effort for that matter, not everything you turn out is gold. Some of it is just crap, even when the very best of intentions are behind it. Still, making an effort far outweighs doing nothing at all in my opinion. So, there’s that.

What have I learned halfway through “My Year of Positivity”? For one, I’ve learned that being positive, even if only for a select period of time during a day, definitely has its short-term and long-term benefits. I think, for example, I’m starting to lean toward trying to take the positive route in any given situation vs. the easier “I’m so pissed off right now and I’m going to tell everyone exactly why” road. That isn’t to say that I’m not still capable of being an impetuous ass or a shortsighted hothead or someone who is still prone to stray to the Dark Side. I have been and I do. Still, I think at least I’m learning there isn’t nearly as much merit to be found on that dark side of the road. The view is much nicer over here where patience and reason and understanding are virtues and the glass tends to be half full vs. empty. I’ve also learned that even on those occasions when I don’t react to situations in a positive manner, I at least contemplate after the fact how I could have acted more positively and how that would have looked, and I try to learn from that.

Perhaps the most beneficial aspect of writing posts every day has been the realization that I’ve had a pretty good life really that’s been mostly enjoyable and satisfying. I have a truckload of good memories that I seem to have held onto with a good deal of passion. I don’t think you do that unless you covet your past and you’re thankful for it. I’ve been pretty fortunate really. I’ve been blessed with many good friends and a great family. I think I always knew that, but sometimes it takes slowing down and concentrating on that fact to see really how good you have it. And I have it good in that regard.

Maybe not as important but still satisfying is that by forcing myself to write every day—for myself and not professionally—I’ve relearned how much I love writing and how much it means to me and how much it can do for me. I don’t know how well I execute it, but just having the will to write is a tremendous gift, and I’m beyond thankful for it. A person can work through a lot of angst and pain through words. A person can also document a lot of joy and reverence and devotion and commitment and respect by stringing words together. Some people build furniture. Some people paint. Some people sew. Some people cook. I write to feel good. Man, I’m so thankful to have found that outlet.

If I learn as much in the next six months or so as I did in the first half of 2012 from thinking positive, this is going to be a year very well spent. 

Day 183: Thoughts On Select Sports

My kid plays on a select basketball team. She has for a few years. For the uninitiated, “select” means she had to try out, live through a cut or two, and then be named to the team. But not the school team, mind you. A summer team. A team of other kids her age who also had to try out and then commit to dedicating the late spring months and then pretty much all summer to practicing and playing basketball anywhere from two to six days a week, every week.

Over the years, I’ve noticed some things and made some observations about select sports. Some things I like; some I don’t. Like a lot of things I set my mind to thinking about, I’m probably accurate in some areas and completely off base in others.

Beyond the considerable hours this commitment requires, there are other prices to pay, including what can amount to a significant chunk lot of change both in terms of helping offset team costs (tournament fees, practice facilities, uniforms, etc.) and gas money driving from tournament to tournament and back and forth to practices. Costs also include paying for hotel rooms and food and everything that goes with traveling across or out of the state for a weekend tournament. Perhaps more important, however, is the cost that the rest of the family has to pay, because when mom and dad travel to watch their kid play, that means the other kids in the family who are too young to stay home have to go, too. Further, it means access to mom and dad for those kids is diminished. For mom and dad, it means another obstacle keeping them away from whatever hobby it was they gave up a long time ago anyway to de-stress and stay sane. On those weekends when one parent has to work or it’s not feasible for everyone in the family to pack up and travel along, it means the family is split apart. In other words, we’re talking a lot of sacrifice that’s specifically made for one or two kids to play a game.

Why do it? There are a number of reasons. The hope of eventually obtaining a college scholarship is one. The reality is that this won’t happen for the vast majority of kids, but it’s still a hope. Another reason, and one that I find sad, is that if the kid wants to even play on his or her school team, it’s almost a given these days that playing on a select sport team is a must. It’s a must to spend the summer playing dozens of games and spending dozens and dozens of hours practicing that game and honing skills. There’s no choice because it’s the summer months when you make the team or not; it’s not the tryouts. It’s the summer months when you play against the kind of competition that will make you good enough to make the team. It’s the summer months when you literally go to work pretty much every day carving yourself into a good enough player to hopefully be noticed and actually make the school team later on. Don’t play select sports in the summer and you’re not just putting yourself behind the eight ball, you’re not even putting the pool cue in your hands to get a sniff of the game--unless you’re the rare exception who is so athletically gifted you don’t need the hours and hours of competition and practice. Those kids are getting rarer and rarer.

I’ve resigned myself to these realities, but I don’t really like them. I’m pretty old school, I guess, and there’s just a feeling that I can’t get over that by focusing so intently on one thing at such an early age, kids aren't as well-rounded and diverse in their thinking and likes and dislikes as could be. I have no evidence to back this up, but I know I’m not the only person who feels the same. And this comes from someone who has played sports himself since literally I can remember. My earliest (and many of my best) memories are centered around sports. I always have been and always will be a sports fan—a big one. But while I’m a fan of sports, I’m not always a fan of the culture of sports, including the cultural aspects of select sports. Today, from my perhaps limited and skewed perspective, where athletics are concerned, we’re turning kids into specialists. Trained assassins. They train and train at one sport, developing one set of skills, one mindset, one perspective, and one sense of being.

Worse for me is the false sense of importance that gets heaped on some kids. There’s a sense of elitism that bothers me. “Hey, son, the whole family is going to put their life on hold again this weekend, and it’s all so we can watch you play a game.” Walk around a few tournaments and you’ll see plenty of signs of kids with over-inflated egos and a demented sense of self. The strutting and posturing is embarrassing at times. Most of the kids I see are good and fine, but those that I see leading their parents around by the nose makes me cringe. Watching parents going so overboard to placate and dote on their kids makes me hurt a little inside. It makes me laugh when I  hear adults say, “Kids today feel like they’re entitled to everything.” Really? Where do you think they got that sense? We fork out thousands of dollars and clothe them with the most expensive gear and roll them onto the court to do battle like little warriors. We make them the center of the universe and then penalize them for acting like they are. Worse are the parents living out some kind of fantasy through their kids, pushing them down avenues the kid might not have chosen herself if given the chance.  

Even worse is watching the self-importance and grandstanding that some coaches conduct themselves in. Talk about the center of the universe. It’s brutal, to be honest, watching grown man stomp their feet and sneer obscenities and care seemingly more about seeking justice in the name of “horrible referees” than actually seeking justice in the name of something noble and truly meaningful. Without a doubt, there are those coaches who are wonderful influences and do commit their time to teaching kids life lessons. I appreciate and admire those men and women. The ones on an endless power trip who define their life’s worth on whether they win or loss, however, make me sick, and they’re not too hard to spot. I’ve seen enough of them to know the difference.

All that said, not everything about select sports rubs me the wrong way. Far from it. There are those families that love watching their kids play but don’t make the experience the end all be all of their lives. They have perspective. They introduce balance. There are those families they do love the travel, and some families actually love traveling together and experiencing new surrounding in a way that's educational and fun.

Elsewhere, personally knowing that my kid is working toward something she wants and is developing a stronger worth ethic while doing it vs. being on the street or anywhere else where she could be doing far worse things is extremely comforting to me. She’s being pushed. She’s facing challenges on almost a daily basis. She’s learning a great deal about herself. She finding out what’s she’s capable of. She’s having her desire questioned and answering the bell when she gets knocked down. If you don’t think that’s not going to pay off down the road, you’re crazy.

She’s also having a hell of a lot of fun hanging around other girls who love something as much as she does. She’s making new friends and being forced to develop new relationships, and that’s a very good thing. She forging bonds and learning to work collectively. She’s having to communicate in new ways. She’s hearing things about herself that are flattering and not so flattering. She’s developing thicker skin. She’s discovering her weaknesses and strengths both in terms of the game and in terms of her courage and will power and inner strength. Her mental acumen is being tested every bit as much as her skills. And I’m learning all types of new things about her as well, which I’m delighted about. I’m proud when I watch. I feel pain when she struggles. I feel joy. I feel a sense of accomplishment. I feel a million emotions that have nothing to do with me. I also like the examples she’s setting now for her younger sibling and the opportunity she has to continue doing so in coming years.

Believe me, I’m never hesitant to tell my kid when I think her ego is running out of check. And I’m never hesitant to tell her she needs to say some “thank yous” to those who are sacrificing their time and energy and resources to help make possible what she’s enjoying. I hope she’ll always remain aware of being well-balanced in her interests, but I'm also grateful for the associated lessons she’s learning by focusing so strongly on one area.

Day 182: The Incredibles

Nothing like watching a good movie with your kid for her first time. But oh the questions. They never stop. Love how her mind works. Love how it's different from mine.