22.9.05

To Read or Not To Read...That is the Question

Instructions are great. I almost always read instructions. For building something, using a new remote control, how to work the alarm system at work, whatever that little book instructs, I listen. I'm a good boy.

Now, don't get me started on those who do not read instructions. My wife is one of those people! Such boldness! Such reckless abandon! Imagine, you buy something, pull it out of the box and just USE IT !!!!?!?!?! How can anyone do this? I mean, sure you save yourself anywhere from 10 minutes to a couple of hours (depending on your perceptive capabilities and the complexity of the item for which you are being instructed), but three years down the road you're on a trip of Europe and a new friend (who happens to have the same digital camera you have, but read the instructions, or previously ran into someone who did) shows you a feature on your camera you could have been using the whole time!! Think about the loss of potential! It's completely immaterial that you likely would've only used that particular feature once or twice during the lifetime of the camera. The point is that you didn't know.

I want to know. Everything. I'll read the instruction manual, download the addendum from the website, read it, check out 14 forums discussing its use, which leads me to 2 other obscure read.me files I'll check out immediately. Then, I might put in the batteries and see if it works. What can I say? I'm all about the potential. I want to be prepared for every instance and scenario so that when the bright noontime sun is partially blocked by cumulonimbus cloud cover I can snap the perfect action shot of myself chasing after the pitch black tortoise hiding in the shade of dramatically red and green fufava tree branches. Just in case that ever happens, I want to know that there is no stress setting up the camera. I'm good to go. Press a couple buttons, turn a dial or two, set the timer and bingo-bango-bongo: the perfect picture. I know the route to get to the destination, no questions necessary. I'm there. I know.

See, some might suggest that I'm insecure. The knowlege of every nook and cranny of every item I've ever used is a futile effort to bolster my flagging confidence. But come on, we know the truth: this knowledge makes me better than you and you're not disciplined enough to dig deep and work at retaining this vast resevoir of requisite instruction. SO THERE.

I know it. You know it.

I feel good.

I'm going to get back to reading the help page I was searching for... I'm just dying to know how to use the Toshiba EKT-6510 to conference a local call, an internet call and two internal phones within the system together for a conversation!! I knew there had to be a way to do it but someone threw out the instruction book...

20.9.05

Weekends

Week-end is a weird word. I suppose it originated at a time when everything was closed on Saturdays and Sundays and the "week" was for working. That meant the Saturdays and Sundays signified the end of the "week"...no more working...

My how things have changed! Now, George's "weekend" starts at 8:00am on Wednesdays when he finishes his graveyard shift at the cement plant while Suzy's (his wife) kicks off more traditionally, Friday nights, with a closing beer with the co-workers. So much for weekends with the family!

And what about people who never get two days off in a row? Say, Saturdays and Mondays, or Tuesdays and Fridays. Do they have no weekend at all, or two? Are their "weeks" eternal and continuous, droning on through time and space, or do these days off signify "weeks" of a day or two broken by numerous "week"-ends? So hard to tell these days...

All I can say is that I love weekends. Even with a job I enjoy, I like weekends even better. I like sleeping in and doing my laundry while watching TV, being relaxed and not having to get anywhere by anytime. I enjoy taking my time and giving it to friends and family, laughing, playing, growing. YAY! Let's hear it for the weekend!

16.9.05

Never enough

Why is comparison so seductive?

How is it that judging myself based on those I see around me makes so much sense, like the orbit of the earth around the sun or the ungodly nature of buying indulgences? A suggestion so strong that it cannot be denied, no matter how deep the cry against it originates...

I compare relentlessly. I like comparing so much that I compare myself to myself, both past and future. Mr. Brent Thompson the present doesn't stand a chance vs. Mr. Brent Thompson the future. Man, is he spectacular or what!!! Fortunately for Mr. Brent Thompson the present, he has Mr. Brent Thompson the past to beat up on. Sure, Mr. Brent Thompson the past can take a couple rounds from Mr. Brent Thompson the present, but if the fight goes the distance, fuhgeddaboutit. And so it goes.

And this is only myself! Imagine the 4 second knockouts I can deliver against those out there in the real world who are simply less talented than me, less intelligent, less pretty, less rich, less funny, less skilled, less educated, less well-spoken, less humble (?!)...

But wow, can I take a beating too. It's always a mystery how in one battle I can stand toe to toe with someone and feel like the fight never has to end, the punishment of their blows like that of a gnat, scant and hollow; yet in the next, my jaw turns to glass and I crumple beneath the breeze of their first swing. In the sport of comparison, looking up at the lights with your back on the mat is as death: counted out and no hope of redemption.

That brings me back to seduction...
There are things in life that you know that you know that you know you should never do, yet do them you do. Engaging myself in the sport of comparison is one of those things for me. I get out, and jump back in again. It's compulsive. It's obsessive. It's easy..... and it hurts. Everytime.

Maybe it's your soul. Perhaps I blew you away with my knowledge of the Scriptures or my crossover dribble and left you disfigured. Maybe it's my soul. Devestated because I just could not compete with his musicianship or her ability to accomplish so much in one day. Maybe it's both. Maybe it's all of us. Maybe.

Defeat or victory is immaterial with comparison. The ultimate result is always the same: the maiming of a soul.
In victory, I think of myself more highly than I ought, putting aside all sober judgement. In defeat, I rob myself of hope and neglect the presence of an unfinished work to be brought to completion on that day to come...

What a diverse tool for deception! The same instrument can find me basking in the joy of being better than while concurrently slinking away to avoid the slavery of my substandard abilities! Remarkable.

I wish I didn't do it.
I hope I can stop.
I know it's bad for me.
If only I could be more disciplined, like Billy is. I know Billy doesn't struggle with it like I do.
Yeah, that would fix everything.

15.9.05

Time is $$

It's true. It's really true. Cliche and true.

Don't get me wrong, I like $$. $$'s good. $$ helps me buy stuff. Like food. Which is also good. $$ makes Brent's little life a little better. I like to eat. And have a place to sleep. So I do like $$.

But, time...wow. This is cool stuff! This is the kinda shiznit that makes $$ look poor. Imagine that, making $$ itself look like nothing at all! I mean $$ is what gets me food! So I can eat! I need $$. But I looooooooooooove time....

"I got my mind on my $$ and my $$ on my mind"

I got my mind on my time and my time on my mind... not the same flow to it...sad.

But true.

14.9.05

First time for everything

I wonder how important the first time really is...
  • How often is the first time the best? (Experience does count for something!)

  • How often is the first time the hardest? (Doesn't overcoming the difficulty of initiating a "first time" overemphasize the elation/joy experienced in the actual event and underemphasize the truly horrible effort it took to get this thing started!?!?)

  • How often is the first time the worst? (Typically unexperienced, fumbling through a first time can be revolting...)

  • How can anyone put so much pressure on one moment and ever expect it to be positively memorable (as opposed to negatively memorable!?)?
I guess the real power of the "first time" is the sentimentality of the moment: the fact that you'll always remember where you were and who you were with that first time...
So, here I am, a blogvirgin no more. The first time wasn't so bad...