10 Minute Rule

I almost didn’t write tonight. 10:44 on a Monday, burnt out and craving salt I thought nothing about the task. Then the responsibility of the thing crawled up inside my brain and demanded its 10 minutes. It wasn’t that I have nothing left to say, or am tired of writing for the day. None of that is the case. In truth, my mind was squared on the TV, considering yet again the many ways to untether.

My mind is made up on this one.

I’m getting rid of DirectTV. I pay upwards of $150 a month for a handful of shows that are largely accessible through other means. I think the real issue is that I’m a bit fearful to be away from cable. I’ve been wired since I was 9 and that means three decades of having cable TV. The tech now is sufficiently advanced to allow me to finally cut that cord. Don’t think the symbolism is lost on me. Another change that lives in the actual and metaphorical space. Meanwhile the time and money spent can be put to better use.

I’ve learned that TV is a crutch for me–an excuse I use when I’m not feeling like interacting with people or being very productive. It is not needed given the other options for show watching. I’m not about to go cold turkey and not watch at all. No, I will wean myself to a point and then stay at that lower threshold of watching, presumably forever. I don’t have a problem with TV in moderation.

When the watching sucks your life so dry that it becomes your focus most of the non-working hours, you’ve gone ‘full retard’ and need to stop watching so many shows.

 

I often wonder how the joy of writing fades. I think some of that comes from why we liked to write in the first place. Its a lot like math in that respect. I loved math when I was a kid, because I could fly through the times tables and everyone thought it was absolutely cool. As I got older the math was tougher and the rewards were few and far between. Success didn’t reward nearly as much as failure penalized. For so many of us writing has come to embody that same philosophy. Few people are going to pat you on the back if you’re a great writer. Moreover, the idea of ‘good’ or ‘bad’ writing is almost entirely subjective.

 

As a result, many writers wind up disconnected from their feelings about writing and viewing the writing as more as a chore and a bore than something that helps us makes sense of the jumbled mess of emotions, thoughts, goals, and drive that constitute our soul.

 

The thing is, writing must come from the soul. Writing must allow you to connect with your creative self. I recognize that essay writing, such as the stuff done in college, doesn’t appear to allow you to access that creativity, but below the surface is a scalding lava flow of creative opportunity. Essays don’t have to be rote and dry. They should be a combination of form and passion.

 

The best writing comes when we are able to connect with the topic in some way and allow ourselves to stop thinking about how other people will feel about what we write or even how afraid we are to get those emotions out into the world, and to just sit down and write.

 

This year I want to get back to really enjoying the process of sitting down in front of a screen or with a pen and paper and just letting the words come out. All of the beautification and error checking comes as part of the revision process, which is the step that most collegiate writers skip entirely. That is what leads to a lot of collegiate writers and even professional writers thinking they are bad at writing or dismissing the written word entirely.

 

I like to think about writing the way I do about sports and even romance. If I quit the first time I swung a bat at a ball and missed, I would’ve never known the joy of connecting. If I gave up on finding a partner the first time a girl said, ‘no way, dude. You suck’ I wouldn’t have three incredible boys. It is easy to quit and easier to do so when everyone around you wants to quit too. We find camaraderie in failure, but guess what? We can find a greater camaraderie in success.

Writing I suppose. Though, I am fatefully behind the curve on something that should’ve been done long ago. It happens, but it shouldn’t and it has happened more over the last two years than over the last 12. Sometimes I wonder if it is the trials and tribulations of life, the conditions I create for myself, some deeper failing of my mind and spirit, or a combination of these myriad factors.

It has to be something that every writer goes through–that period when they wonder if they’re body is equipped to put out all the wonderful stuff the mind wants to do. Likewise is the mind prepared to stretch and expand to the point where it can release work on the scale necessary to be a (financially and publication wise) successful writer. I know that I’m slightly past the point where I realize I’m not that 19 year old kid who pulled all nighters four nights in a row to get a piece done ahead of schedule. No, its about scheduling properly, but more importantly it is about headspace and taking care of my mind, body, and spirit and making sure that there isn’t too much weighing down one part of that or the other and that all can exist in balance and help me to excel.

Its about sitting BIC and just putting the words on paper without fear of how they sound or negative feedback of a first draft or the fear that I can’t do it right or even do it at all anymore. It is about confidence and about heart.

I had a brief discussion with my 10-12 team about heart today. We dropped another game–again due to an offense that is failing repeatedly. The defense did their part. They gave up some points but nothing that couldn’t be overcome by this stripped down offensive gameplan. However, the players weren’t behind it. I saw their heads drooping and their spirits tumbling when the plays we did run were for short yardage. They didn’t get that we can win–win well–with a grinder game and without the splashy big plays that make them feel glorious. I don’t even want to try those, because they usually end in an interception and TD for the other team. No, we ended up beating ourselves and falling into silly turnovers and dropped handoffs and snaps whizzing over the QB’s head and one QB asking to not have to play QB anymore. That’s where I’m at with heart. They just don’t have that mental toughness yet.

I wonder if there’s a drill for that.

… and this is one of them. I’m back to that unfortunate phase of starts and fits with the writing. It can feel like a war when this is happening. I struggle for the words and the motivation and the focus to keep going on to the next sentence. Still, it is as much a part of the writing experience as anything I’ve felt or done in my existence as a writer. I’d say you’re not a writer until you hit one of the tough spells. Fighting through it is what gives you the credentials–the street cred–and the courage to go on with your career. I’m learning a great deal about my process and ways to constantly improve it. What gets me going, what isn’t working environmentally, what rewards seem relevant, what makes me smile, even the mathematical formulae for writing success (to be shared at a later date after extensive piloting).

Then there are the boys.

Of course, writing with them in the house is just foolishness. They’re not interested in me doing anything that doesn’t involve them or involve my attention being seated squarely in boyland. Who can blame them? Attention from my parents was always something I lauded, even when I knew my mom or less occasionally, my dad (not the biological guy–the real dude) had no interest in interacting with me at the time. In truth, the less they wanted a piece of me the more I demanded a piece of them.

I was just one hyperactive little person. Now I have three miniaturized version of that guy all amped up for face time. Rare is the morning lately that I wake up and some little person hasn’t snaked himself on top of me.

So, when the lights go down in the bedroom and I make my way to the office, it is good to spend ten minutes reflecting and warming up the tool. After, its time to get my mind fully in the game and write that stuff I love and that I occasionally get paid for.

I’ve spent the past 55 minutes alternating between fruitless conversation and repeatedly being put on hold by Centurylink (formerly known as Qwest). I’m in a supposed 10 minute wait queue now, so I figured I’d use my time to jot down a few… thoughts. See, I took a neighbors advice and gave the company a second chance at providing me with service. I learned from this experience that not everyone deserves a second chance—especially not those who try to obfuscate the truth of their terrible service by changing their name.

 

Qwest sucked.

They constantly ranked in consumer reports worst five customer service companies. The internet was often as bad as the service, with repeated outages and intermittent signal strength. I was a qwest customer but only because they were the only game in town. Once Cox rolled in, I rolled out of Qwest. Cox lived up to the homonym quite well, but despite the oft abusive treatment, it was better than Qwest.

 

Years later I moved on and out to a town that offered me other options. I went local, signing with Orbitel communications and leaving TV to DirectTV. Things were good for a while until Orbitel started dinking around with upgrades and ended up (accidentaly?) downgrading their services to customers operating below 50 mbps. That service degredation along with the exorbitant ($60) price for 20 mbps tempted me to listen to my neighbor and give qwest-redux a try.

 

Now I’m on the phone trying to figure out why I owe these folks $197.00 after a month of service—which has been suspended as of now because they claim I haven’t paid them. I did. They cashed the check. And lost it in the system. So, now they want more money and refuse to turn on my service. That’s why I wasn’t able to publish last night. That’s why I’m blogging my rant right now …

 

Avoid Centurylink. Save yourself the drama.

10 minutes from now I’ll be saying, “That felt good.”

Its good to get things off my chest. I used to think that I was a bit invulnerable to the wear and tear that carrying secrets brings. When I was little I watched people I loved carry secrets around and watched those secrets fill up the empty spaces in their heads, becoming the luggage that they carried everyday. I watched it and said, ‘not me, yo’ (maybe I didn’t say yo). Yet here I am, burdened by the secrets I carry.

It isn’t my place to reveal everything happening in my life just yet, but it is safe to say that my life will be changing in a major way very shortly. No, I don’t have cancer (that I know of), but I am moving more fully into the concept of the second half and awakening to the possibility of a life where everything, starting from the home base, is designed to strengthen me and everyone around me. It is a shift of principal from survival/existence to really building a foundation and a future that is about growth, stability, and on another.

Yeah, that felt good to say. It’ll feel better to make it happen.

Some Thoughts:

1. Bit of news today focused on R. Wilson talking about how God gave him the NFC championship win. Players say that stuff all the time, but devoting a twenty minute news segment to debating whether or not he should’ve said it is a sure sign that we don’t need 24hr sports news.

I must admit that I don’t know much about the world at large, and certainly less about my country specifically. This became rather clear as I watched 2016 presidential hopeful Mike Huckabee square off against Jon Stewart in what appeared to be a largely one-sided battle of wits. Huckabee, in his new book, divides Ameica into two basic regions—the coastal know it all people who supposedly feel they are greater than, and the inner-continental Americans who live very different lives than their coastal brethren. Huckabee stopped short of equating our country to China, but it was obvious that he saw a cultural and perhaps class divide, yet conveniently sought to ignore the cultural relativism inherent therein. Still, it sparked in me a question of understanding. How much do I know about the world I live in?

Not much. I don’t know that I’m even consciously aware of Arizona’s sub-cultural diaspora. For example, it is only now that I’ve begun to realize that two of the three largest magazine markets have nothing directly to do with sex. Playboy and their ilk will always dominate shelf space, but looking beyond that, a lot of real estate is being allotted to crossfit magazines and gun journals. I could’ve guessed about the guns. Any state responsible for a reinvigorated minute man movement and a slew of Walmart shootings (one of which I was quite nearly the victim of) is bound to be about the guns. The crossfit is more of a surprise. At the same time it is an ‘of course/doh!’ moment as well. I’d openly guess that we lead the world in number of yoga pants per capita. Fitness is a thing here. A trendy thing.

It would take longer than ten minutes to dissect it all but I can speculate that the enormous Mormon church plays a role in this. Everyone I know within the religion talks up fitness like a tenet. Every female Mormon I know is on page with fashion and trends. That combination is ripe for crossfit. In fact, in the town I live in (supposedly 40K large) there are no less than three functional crossfit studios, not to mention the numerous unassociated classes and clinics. We even have our own Tough Mudder.

The point is, I don’t know my own surroundings, which is to say there is always more to learn about where you live and why the people of that place are the way they are.

Some Thoughts:

1. Classes started today. Felt good to be back in the classroom, though I clearly need more time to rev up my teaching engine.
2. Some people are always victims. Some people are victims and refuse to admit it.

The hallmark of any truly great coach or player is what they do after they’ve had a few moments to collect themselves and see what the ‘game’ is presenting them. This holds true in life as well as it does in sports. For my professional life I’m about to enter my second half, both as a professor over the course of this school year and as a writer with two decades of work under his belt.

So, what changes? As I said before, it is about what the ‘game’ gives you. If I look at my ‘professor life’ I’ve been dealt a deck of students who are largely apathetic about the learning experience and limited in terms of time available to do assignments. They and I are similar in that second area. I too struggle with finding the time to work. This isn’t precisely about not having the time, but about allocating the time to the work properly. I spend way too much time watching TV. So, first thing is to ditch the channels and limit what I watch. This is going to let me allocate more time to writing and focus on the shows I actually care about and can get much cheaper through other means (Hulu, Amazon, Netflix…)

Second is to develop a health schedule for body, mind, and soul. Followers of the Talis know that this is my achilles heel. Well, he died so I don’t have to. I’m going to recognize my lack of invincibility and schedule lightly–giving myself wiggle room to goof off, but sticking to some hard hour ranges that create a routine. I am also giving myself time to grade and scheduling as much as I can in advance. These are the areas that hurt me last semester, so I’m going to make them my strengths and make this whole experience one that makes me a better teacher and writer in the process.

 

Some Thoughts:

1. My last cat didn’t use a litter box, so i am struggling with figuring out an effective way to clean and keep clean the area around this one. She is kicking litter everywhere and it has been tough finding something that contains it well.
2. Today I’m sitting down with the boys and discussing our favorite shows so we can finally ditch Directtv. I’ll talk about what that plan looks like once I have it all figured out.

It occurs to me that my kids are too hyped up on technology. Its my fault, of course. I have a video game obsession that, as of late, extends to binge watching TV shows (Arrow) and slotting (yeah, I’m in Shadowrun mode) the occasional movie. Wolf of Wall Street was my flick of the night, and I can see why people feel Leo DiCaprio is a big deal.

But this isn’t about me.

I’m thinking that it is important to achieve a balance. Maybe some days without tech or limiting their daily exposure (cut down on binge watching–for all of us). I wasn’t worried about it until this past weekend when so many kids came knocking on our door to play with the boys and these gamehead kids of mine always opted to stay in the house and watch shows or play games until I physically ‘throw them out the club’.

I don’t think I’m alone in this problem with tech. I just feel like I’m doing a poor job managing it.

Some Thoughts:

1. I really have to give it to the Seahawks. When Wilson threw up that prayer of a pass for 2pts I was thinking 2 points the other way. Instead of that happening, the Seahawks converted, scored again in OT and are headed to the Superbowl. I can only hope that sorta luck rubs off on my 6-7 yr Hawks and not on the 10-12 yr Hawks my team plays two weeks in a row.
2. Watching the Wolf of Wall Street is a reminder of the debauchery that was rampant in NYC while I was growing up. Its also a reminder of how far technology has come.

I’ll start with the good news.

The 6-7 team came up with their second win, a close victory over the Cowboys. Roll Seahawks… I’m pleased to say the coach’s kids were pivotal. One had a pick 6 and mine caught a tough short pass and took it to the house for 6. They look like the second most proficient of the three teams I coach.

The 8-9 team looks the best. They looked outstanding today in a 28*-24 loss that will always be an asterisk loss. See, the Bengals weren’t playing by the rules and the refs just let it go. I tried complaining at first, but the league is clear about not being allowed to argue with the refs. The Bengals scored three touchdowns on illegal double pass plays. Without those TDs, we crushed them. Our defense played solid throughout and our offense only suffered a few hiccups while moving the ball very well. The problem is still getting enough kids to touch the ball. I could’ve done what the Bengals did and gave the ball to the same couple of great athletes, but thats not the way we are supposed to play.

I don’t think my 10-12 team is quite sure how to play. In truth, I think my 10-12 defensive coach is getting upset about the lack of offense and, at this point, has to be pointing the finger at me. I deserve a lot of the blame for not getting the kids prepared and maybe still calling plays that are ineffective. The thing is, I’ve seen these plays work all the way up through adult league including 13-16 and when we execute them, the boys are slowly moving down the field. Slow is the problem. Slow and impatient. They’re moving too slowly out of the backfield and they’re too impatient with the short plays looking for the big bomb. We know that the bomb doesn’t work–not for us. We lost our second straight game 25-6. At least we scored an offensive TD this time.

What burns me is the 8-9 game. I recognize it is a loss on paper, but I can’t even call it that. This is still an undefeated team in my mind. We only really got beat by the refs. Next week is a new week and we are due for serious payback on whatever poor team is on the schedule.