4.10.2008

Admitting your own Personal Suck

Current mood: enlightened

I just realized something the other day. It always bugged me and I couldn't quite explain what it was. Some seemingly random (lucky?) people have become really good at identifying their weaknesses and developing the compensatory psychic muscle needed to shore up their vulnerabilities. Forget stuff? Write stuff down. Get easily distracted? Set a timer. Burdened with pointless interruptions? Leave the office. Find the erroneous code in your system and eliminate the bugs. Find the quickest, minimalist, most elegant solution that could possibly work. Can it really be that simple? Sure, to an outsider looking in, it's all "no duh" stuff, right? I mean, why would anyone need to be reminded that things can be written down on cards and kept organized? Well, to be honest… A lot of us need a unexpected amount of reminding. Seriously. How do some people stay skinny so easy? How can some people draw anything they see? Why are some people math whizzes? How can some people be so funny with little or no effort? If you ask these questions to any of those people with those skills you yearn for, you'll probably end up the same answer every time: "I dunno. It's just how I am." And so the rest of us generously proportioned, uncreative, math-retarded, not-funny people stare and stew like the loser in the old Charles Atlas ad. "Why can't I have that?" Because, you can't just turn it on and instantaneously become what you wish you were. It takes reflection, consideration, reiteration, and a personal dedication to facing the stuff at which you suck. And everyone sucks at something. You totally suck at something. Don't let it discourage you. Interestingly enough, I found an interesting article online that talked about how the application of two totally opposite ideas can have the same effect on a problem. Think about this:

"Outline: Plan everything you're going to write, scene by scene, all the way through to the end. Do your research while you're outlining, so by the time you start writing the actual story, you're already living in that world. With a detailed enough outline, the actual writing becomes a matter of choosing the right words to describe what you've already decided to tell. You can concentrate on style and let the plot take care of itself, because you've already done that part."
"Don't outline: Don't plan ahead at all. Feel the lure of the blank page. Trust your instincts and dive into the story, and don't look back until you're done."
(http://sfwa.org/writing/strategies.html)

It's not about one being smart and the other dumb. It's about understanding what's really significant and helping a given person solve a given problem. Your brain and its behavior isn't some kit you can put together from a page of plans. You're always thinking, obsessing, and changing as you go through your day. There's more than one path, and, dimes to donuts, you'll sooner or later end up losing it if you try to find just one. I guess I'm saying I like the idea that once you've started owning up your "individual suck," you can sample from an endless list of options of tricks that may or may not help you make your life better. As long as you don't lose any fingers and can still get most of your work done on time, where's the damage in experimenting? Try something. Then try the opposite. Then try the orthogonal. Every bit that falls short teaches you a little something that might come in handy some day. As they say, mistakes can be a buddhist gift.

The only damage you'll find more difficult to repair comes from the doors you've decided to close forever. Try patching your own "individual suck" with crazy, ridiculous, incredibly obvious solutions. You'll learn where your problems are and eventually you'll probably have a pretty good idea where the solutions are hiding too.

Onwards…

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