You asked me what scares me, because you seemed to think that nothing did.
Good gravy, I’m sorry that I’ve given that impression. I’m scared of just about everything – there are fewer bigger scaredy cats than me.
I’m scared of falling – to the point where I’ve sat on a bench and sobbed instead of just falling over onto the 3′ of foam cushions & the waiting arms of a friend.
Scared of failing – pretty much take any definition of fail and I’m afraid of it – disappointing people, not doing the job as well as I should, afraid of not being successful even when I know I learn the greatest lessons in failure.
Scared of people, which is the one that makes me laugh the hardest – I’m terrified of letting people know what I really feel and what I really think. I spent the first 20 years of my life constantly the new kid and ostracized and periodically beaten for being “the new kid”.
The reason I work so hard to overcome my fears is that I have to live and living inside the walls of my fears would rapidly change my life from a life to bubble wrap – supposedly fun & cool & safe, but very quickly extremely unengaging.
I’m scared of not leaving any lasting impression on the world. Ultimately, though, I’m not the one who’ll decide if people remember me or what I did, because by the time that’s relevant, I’ll be gone. So – I try to deal with my fear. Sometimes I overcompensate in enormous ways and I wind up convincing people I care about that nothing frightens me.
Nothing could be farther from the truth. After all – people I care about? They are the ones I fear the most, cause they can cut my heart out with a single word.
I know I’m not the kind of person you feel comfortable with. I wish I understood why, but I don’t.
Truly sad part is, the longer I must be someone other than me to get your affection, the less I want it.
Posted in Headspace
You’re smart. You’re funny. You make me feel good just by smiling at me. If I only get to see you for 5 minutes every so often because our lives are so damned busy, I’m still a better and happier person for it because you are so awesome.
You know that, right? That I adore you and you are so incredibly worthwhile, even if I never get a benefit from knowing you again? That you simply being and living in the world I’m in is enough? That I get to call you a friend and love you for being you is the icing on the cake.
Yes, there are times that you drive me crazy. Usually, it has something to do with you not believing in your own awesomeness. It pains me to watch you when you can’t see what a fabulous person you are as clearly as I can.
I know – my problem to deal with. As long as I get to keep you in my life, I suppose there are worse things that periodically having to remind you that you are amazing.
You are, you know. You’re awesome.
Posted in Headspace
So we’ve talked a bunch, in various formats, about spreading the word.
I keep coming back to a fundamental belief. It’s more or less “wtf are you thinking?” I am still confused as to why you’re under the impression that preaching to people works – that talking down to those who disagree with you works.
I mean, yes, there are people for whom that would work – the way the religious right in the US has demonstrated that. In that case, however, the “preacher” is offering an easy way to be part of the superior mob – there’s little or no effort involved in calling someone else a moron.
It’s much harder to engage someone in discussion and make them want to do work towards your effort. The people who are more inclined to actually do that aren’t likely to respond well to being told they’re stupid or miserly or NIMBY or what have you as a way to get their attention.
Ultimately, getting people to change their mind about something is easiest done by finding their “currency” – what is the thing they want. Just because you don’t think it’s valuable doesn’t mean that they don’t. Find someone’s currency and you can pretty much get them to do anything. Parents have been using this trick for generations now. Trust me, it works.
I think what you’re trying to do is awesome. I slap my forehead in frustration when I look at the way you’re doing it.
Because it’s not a blog, apparently, unless you have an initial post that explains why the blog is there.
There are lots of people in my life that I wish I could say things to. I’m not good at that. So to give myself an outlet, I’m having the outside voice here.
We’ll see how this goes.