I’d like to think that my life is the result of a number of conscious purposeful choices I’ve made, but I think, like most people it’s really been a series of happy and unfortunate accidents that I was only able to see the patterns in after looking back and considering them further. I suspect the reason I didn’t see any patterns during the time and as things were happening was because I wasn’t paying particularly close attention. That seems to be a pattern in my life irregardless, not paying attention. Unfortunately my mind tends to wander, which probably explains why I’ve been writing, but haven’t posted anything until just now.
Having a wandering mind is a good thing I guess if you want to be a creative writer, which I do. I should clarify that I used to think being a writer used to mean someone who got paid. Now I realize it’s just someone who writes. My wife who is a professional writer, in other words a journalist, has taught me that the important thing isn’t to write perfectly it’s just to write. Editing should be a separate process, so that’s what I’m doing,
I do write and think about writing daily, though I don’t always get it written at the keyboard until it’s had time to percolate for a while. But that’s getting away from what I had originally wanted to write about in this particular post.
Back to purposeful and accidental choices. As Eddie Izzard once famously said, there is a very thin line between being a visionary and looking like a dickhead. In my case, unfortunately, I seem to have mostly managed to be on the right side of that spectrum:
Being a Visionary | Looking Like a Dickhead
This is me there > ^
It’s not the effect that I was looking for, but due to my own unreasoning hubris at times, it’s what I’ve managed to accomplish. I think most of the time, we’re lucky that nobody really sees the vast number of times we end up looking silly or foolish, but we are saved from that by our having the good sense to fail in private, rather than out in public. I seem to have public embarrassing failure down to an art form.
Which I think I might be able to handle, if I could just do stupid things and forget about them, but they seem to have found little memory crannies to hide in, only to jump out when I’m under stress or feeling depressed. “You think you feel bad now, wait til I remind you of that time that you said something really stupid this one time that no one remembers but you. On the other hand, someone must remember since I can count on one hand the number of friends I’ve had for more than a year or two. I think I must be a nice guy until you get to know me or something. But I’m really not trying to have a pity party. For one thing I’ve never every found that to be all that useful, since feeling sorry for yourself is just a way to avoid taking responsibility for the actions that put you in the situation in the first place.
I have a couple more posts I’ve started that I need to finish, so I’ll leave it at that.