Strategy for the Honest

December 4, 2012 § Leave a comment

Rules. Whose? Why not mine? The rules I can’t follow are rules I have to change, fit to me. It won’t work the other way round. Confidence makes the rules mine to make, mine to play. Fun. Whatever I get having fun is worth having. Only my rules know me. Why inexpertly interpret someone else’s handbook? For how much longer do I misapply someone else’s tricks? Haven’t I always eschewed tricks? Don’t fake it to make it; just make it! Tricks are fake, failed adaptations. As a diet is to eating. Know yourself and your needs, and you can trust your imagination to get them: Strategy for the honest.

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In My Pajamas

May 15, 2012 § 4 Comments

Getting to know myself has required a lot of time alone, but I have no intention of becoming hermetically sealed in my apartment. I bore myself sometimes. After the movies, books, music, and writing, there’s still no one there to talk to about them. I talk to myself, but I always know what I’m going to say. So I go to Carytown. It’s crowded, as a city street should be, with lots of shops from which I might actually buy something, but I’m just looking for conversation. I never know if I’m going to get it, but I know early on which it’s going to be. The first person I have opportunity to talk to is the bellwether. The sooner I get out after my morning coffee, the better chance I have to ignore my shyness. The conversation doesn’t start if I don’t initiate it. Some days I just can’t do that. It seems that on those days no one talks to me, either. Is it just that kind of world? or do I look like I don’t want to interact? Give me a couple more choices. On those days I want to think that if I stay out there a little while longer something will happen, but all that happens is I get home much later than I intended, feeling I’ve wasted the day, made no progress at all in my socialization, and dug myself a little deeper into my loneliness. Sounds like something I could have done at home in my pajamas.

Where Understanding Begins

March 30, 2012 § Leave a comment

My interpreter’s hat has a tendency to fall over an eye or two. Bias is nothing to be ashamed of or conquer. But I want this done by the end of the year, and I don’t have the patience for all the prideful rationale the delusions float on. I have plenty of room for the truth, but the truth doesn’t always have dibs on the space. My truths are shy and non-assertive, as naked as the emperor but fully aware of it. Maybe they don’t mind that much, but I do. They are not embarrassed but embarrassing. Objectivity is still hard to find, but it has never been more visible. The capture is the thing: I know when I’ve caught my prey, but I don’t know how. Consistency is not also ensnared. I catch truths I don’t understand and let them go for now. The rest is meager nourishment, but enough till the next meal. The rules imposed on me over Herself are not metaphorical. They’re real and sometimes hard to take. Accepting them is the only thing I ask of myself. I succeed, I fail. Neither praising nor lamenting either outcome is objectivity, where understanding begins.

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