10 Minute Rule

 

There is no guide book to being a good parent, wife, husband, friend, etc. However, the media is loaded with all sorts of bad advice that reinforces the stereotypical way we think things should be, even when that sort of thinking is detrimental to us entirely. I touched on this idea of archetypes in a Jungian sidebar a few days ago. Sense that moment the idea of the deeper meaning therein has been brewing. I see it everywhere, but especially in terms of patriarchal reinforcement messaging. For example, Matt Lauer recently asked a female CEO if she could be a CEO and a mother–never stopping to consider if a man could be a CEO and a father even though the roles (outside of archtypical representation) are equally demanding.

In my household my summer role is basically that of stay-at-home-dad. I work remotely and spend hours and hours keeping my three boys entertained. I’ve been doing this for close to a decade now, and I can see how much of what is considered the mother’s role really applies to the person who is at home with the kids on a regular basis. The archtypical dad is a provider and steps in to deliver discipline. I do those things as well, but it doesn’t define my relationship with the kids in any way.

I find that I spend days at a time struggling to understand what I am supposed to be/do in the given roles that I have. What does it mean to be a good friend? Am I supposed to call every week? How about a husband? A Dad? A co-worker? Each of us look for the social scripts that are meant to inform our interactions in a given situation. But what if keeping to the script keeps us from expressing individuality and creativity within the role? What if all we are doing is being soldier ants, marching to the beat of longstanding expectation without a thought to how those expectations begin to define us and limit us as people?

Once in a while, I want to be surprised by my interactions. I want to hold my breath and wonder aloud, ‘What’s going to happen next?’

One day I woke up and I was 40. Well, not quite 40–39, actually but the point is the same. More than half my life is behind me (I should hit about 75 should I stay in AZ or even return to NYC–68 if I somehow wind up in Tennessee). I was watching Invincible, a Mark Wahlberg vehicle about Vince Papali and thought to myself, Man that dude is 43. There is a difference of only a few years and a great deal of gym time and wealth. Nevertheless, it got me thinking..

It is cliche to say that we only get one chance at life, but it is also accurate. Some of us spend each of those days working as hard as we can in order to generate a nest egg for retirement. Others live every day like its their last–until one day it is. Others still waste away slowly, munching on the social decay of our society, bored and anxious for the next episode of the bachelor to wind around so we can noisily poke fun or dream vicariously about how they live their lives. All of these are utterly valid ways to live and all of these I have done. Yet none of them are how I want to be. None make me happy.

For some time now, the idea of happiness has dominated my psyche. I thought at first that people made me happy. They can aid, enable, or disable my happiness, but the feeling comes from within and from a certainty that I am living the life that is ideal and best suited to me. Living a life that works–one where I am constantly growing and enabled to maximize my potential is, in fact, what happiness is.

I look around and see a few people who are doing that and there is that ever so slight twinge of jealously that they’ve reached that place that still beckons me. I am working towards it, day by day, opening the doors that need opening and shutting the ones that take me further away from success. It is a journey, but it isn’t one of those situations where the journey towards happiness is the whole story. The journey is the trip to the starting line. Becoming the best possible you, now that is a journey.

I’m speaking in abstractions tonight. This is because all the mechanisms that control whether or not we are happy and successful in life reside purely in our head–a space reached only through abstractions. It is about trust and belief and the courage to make the right choices–even when they are hard. I’ll tell you what a great mentor once told me, “Figure out what you need, and then you’ll figure out how to use it to get what you want.”

 

Michael Bay has too much money. I know this because he stopped giving a damn about what fans think and started using films as a way to reflect his increasingly warped and isolated world view. To quote a Maane Khatchatourian article on yahoo movies, “They love to hate and I don’t care; let them hate,” he told MTV’s Josh Horowitz. “They’re still going to see the movie! I think it’s good to get a little tension. Very good.”

Who can blame him for the attitude. Unlike the work of fellow director, M. Night Shyamalan, no matter what Bay puts out there we are still going to see his crap. TMNT? I’m seeing it. I’d really rather not, but I have kids and even they (if reluctantly) want to see his lens-flare enhanced take on the turtles. What worries me the most is that my kids will look at his films and think, why does he always make women look that way? Why does he always portray races that way? Here’s the problem: Transformers 4 is a epically dysfunctional crapstorm that exists in a reality so far from the racial realism of the real world that Carl Jung might possibly rise from the grave to point at the screen and moan, “See, I was fucking right about archetypes!” Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Bay is a genius who plays to the largest possible crowd, and sensing the shifting financial fortunes of a Chinese audience, pandered to said audience in such a way that it pleased the groups he felt needed pleasing.

Or, maybe he’s just an old-school idiot.

I’m going with old-school idiot. It would be too limiting to call him racist. That would mean ignoring his strange obsession with trios of women. Heck, even the classic Arcee bot was transformed into a trio of hot crotch rockets that happened to hologram sexy female triplets. This trio motif continues on in Transformers 4 where we are greeted by three secretaries in matching heels (displayed in a typically lingering shot). Women are scantily clad (and stupid) all over this film. To make matters worse, the only stand up woman in the entire film is portrayed by an Asian woman who winds up being a kung-fu master. That isn’t the ‘matters worse’ part. The ‘matters worse’ part is when she is saved by some random Asian dude who was waiting in the elevator watching her being beat to death. At some point the dude decides she can no longer handle herself and, because he is also a jung-fu master, beats a top-notch CIA assassin into unconsciousness in under 15 seconds.

Yeah, that happened.

Sadly, nothing much more positive than that happened. I spent most of the film playing find-the-plot between senseless battles and mourning the disappointing appearance of iconic transformers in the most underwhelming way possible. At one point I stopped and wondered how there were suddenly no hispanics in Texas (where the film starts), no black people anywhere, and why for an extreme stretch of time the film turns into a PSA for how much China loves Hong Kong. I get the last part. The last transformers film grossed $165 million in China. I mean, filmmakers gotta eat. Filmmakers also gotta remember, when catering to the Chinese, it is important to give mention to how much China protects Hong Kong. It is also important to have key product placements (a number of which were chinese–in addition to the reality show that help cast many of the chinese extras).

Transformers 4 has an awful lot of cool special effects. As a visual effects junkie, I love that. On the other hand, I love plot a lot more and Transformers 4 is lacking that completely. But who cares? Bay certainly doesn’t. He’s getting paid regardless.

 

I’ve long preferred wisdom over senseless retribution-driven violence. It is this reasoning that drew me into Tyrant, the new Mid-east drama from FX. The show starts as a drama about the younger of two sons of a middle eastern leader who has been living in America. He returns to his country of origin to attend a wedding. He brings his family, and the drama begins to take hold. The first episode is worth watching. It is new–a departure from what the big 3 channels offer, and right in the vein of the FX/AMC penchant for trying interesting new forms of drama in the cable forum.

Perhaps we should thank the Brits and their reluctant colonies. Between BBC, Australian Broadcasting, and BBC America, quite a few modern marvels are coming from that side of the pond (and America’s topside, of course). Orphan Black, Continuum, Rake, The Musketeers, Dr. Who (of course)… The list of shows goes on and on. Some of these shows (and their remakes) made the cumbersome transition to network TV, while others live in the carefree world of cable TV. I’m hoping Tyrant becomes the next great cable drama and takes the place of the handful of premium channel shows I’ve opted to sacrifice.

If not, there’s always Netflix.

Some Thoughts:

1. 24 hr news is a real problem–especially in terms of people jumping to conclusions. A report came out today (from unconfirmed sources) that Jason Kidd has been given permission to speak to the Bucks about their coaching vacancy. Suddenly an ‘expert’ from ESPN is stating Kidd’s time in Brooklyn is over. Quite presumptuous. Even if he ends up being right, that is a straight guess, homie.

I love to quote Einstein. I especially enjoyed his bit about understanding. He once quipped, “Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.” I can fill a galaxy with the crap I don’t understand–no matter how deeply into nature I stare. So, I figure I’d share a few head scratchers in the hopes that someone else can figure it out.

1. How is CNN still in Business? They don’t cater to any specific audience save for folks who haven’t figured out that CNN has no idea what they are doing or saying…
2. Why is it that Americans treat dogs better than they treat people, but act like cats are some minor form of Demon or at least a creature that is best left to lonely old women with little better to do?
3. Why is it that when kids get extremely tired they mimic the stages of demonic possession?
4. Has anyone let Donald Trump know he is a moron? If not, is it because they’re afraid to hear his famous catch phrase?

These are just a few of the questions circling the drain of my psyche. There are others–some more personal than the rest and none political–but I want to refrain from bad language.

 

… I also want to go to bed.

 

 

Some Thoughts:

1. Watching Sportsnation’s 100 most disrespectful basketball plays of 2014 leaves a perma-smile on my face. The #4 pick here is worth the click. Yeah, its wrong but funny as hell. Just giggle with me now. That kid D’d up better than half my players. No lie.

TV shows and even literature is crammed with the old saying, “you may be younger, but I am wiser.” I laughed off the statement until very recently, when my kids started whipping me at video games. Suddenly their youthful reflexes and energy mattered in a most terrible way, and I, once lord of the digital realm, could be felled by a lowly X button. Our latest arena is the hallowed temples of Fifa 13. I managed to get the better of the 5 year old, but that is where the beating ends. Presently the 7 yr old sits atop the Synthetic Leather Throne. He defeated all comers with his mighty Juventus (who you all may know as owning the player who Suarez went all Mike Tyson on yesterday). I was ranked 3rd for a spell but rediscovered the power of research and with that regained the throne.

Then the kid whipped me again. Now i’m back to two and fearing a challenge from the 9 yr old in the 3 spot.

Games used to be fun. Nowadays it is mortal combat. Kid v. Kid. Father v. son. As much as I love them I want to destroy them on the pitch. Fathers are supposed to be able to teach their kids new things. Where does it say the teaching stops at 7 and there on after the beatings begin? So, I’m back to research. Practicing, scraping through videos, learning the ins and outs of the game and of the teams. They may be younger, but I am wiser. Indeed I plan to teach them a thing or two about being quick on the sticks. It might take me a little longer to get to the level they achieve almost instantly, but I bet my long term growth is going to be something to see.

They got game, but I gotta win.

Luis Suarez is a villain. Not a Sith, mind you, but a villain.

In his recent game against Italy, Suarez (Uruguay) embraced his inner Tyson and bit an opposing player. This underscores a week where the US might have blow their best chance at advancing to the knock out stage, ISIS has taken control of quite a bit of Iraq, and CNN still hasn’t found that damn plane. Okay, the last two have nothing to do with sports, and the last isn’t even newsworthy at this point (thought CNN insists on calling it breaking news and running it as a banner on every stinking page…). All three stories underscore our need for stories in our lives. We want villains to hate, we want wars to denounce, and we want mysteries to solve. Magically, sports can provide us all three.

With the world cup we have a villain in the name of Suarez, and a longstanding war between USA and Ghana that has led to a US defeat in two straight cups, though this year we broke the streak. We also have a mystery cooked up in the form of the original Jules Rimet trophy that was lost in 1983 in–you guessed it–Brazil.

We also have alliances and excitement so palpable that the daily slate of games overshadows everything else going on in the sports world. Did you know the NBA draft is this Thursday? Did you know the Knicks traded Tyson Chandler in a 6 player deal that shed the Ray Felton contract and landed the Knicks a pair of draft picks and a pair of sick point guards? Welcome to NYC, Triangle Offense. This also signals a possibly strong year from the shoot first–defend never PF, Stoudemire.

Carmelo is gone, baby, gone and this deal really helps the Knicks begin the long awaited rebuilding process. The move also helps secure Dirk’s return to the Mavs, who are looking to pull in Carmelo as well. This could be good for everyone.

 

Some Thoughts:

1. Every once in a while this pass year I would drop off my two older boys and then head off to work, forgetting the mute-silent 4 yr old sitting in the backseat. I’d get a block or two away from the edge of town and he’d say, ‘daddy?’ Then I would realize I forgot something. Because of these maybe half a dozen moments, I empathize with the man who left his son in the car for a complete work day. On the other hand, he might have just murdered the kid in the worst way.

Peace is a lie, there is only passion.

Through passion, I gain strength.

Through strength, I gain power.

Through power, I gain victory.

Through victory, my chains are broken.

 

On the surface it is difficult to find much wrong with that statement. Strip away the idea of the evil sith and you find there is much truth in what they put forward. Peace is a lie–at least in my lifetime. The American people have always known war, be it as as a vague conception of good vs. evil or a more specific evil, in the form of a person or group. Passion we embrace as a the driving energy of athletics, athleticism, and all of the fine arts. We laud passion when it is convenient and despair at its announcement when in professional or wealthy settings. Passion indeed brings strength. I’ve been pushing that bit of the credo to my players for years, without fully recognizing the source.

The rest is reality plain and simple. Power and victory are often intertwined. Where the Sith faith goes wrong is in the insistence of evil. Power can be used for the betterment of all, whereas the Sith use power for the betterment of two.

This is going to be sappy.

I’m not one of those dads who says, ‘I didn’t know what I was here to do until I met my kids.’ I’m more of the value added kind of guy. I feel like my life was really good before kids and now things are even better. This isn’t an everyday sort of feeling. Once kids pass a certain age their cute to terrible ratio falls seriously out of whack. Today I watched my kids experience pure joy. They laughed and played and showed an exuberance that reminded me of how utterly great it was to be a kid and how nearly as great it can be to watch them.

Happiness is a gift.  I promised myself that over the next few weeks I would take stock of all the gifts life brings me and, considering that, go forward with deciding how the rest of my life should be. The one thing I know is that is extremely important to experience happiness and share in the happiness of others. Pain happens to all of us, but so does joy. As much pain as I have experienced and will experience in my life, I know that joy is always waiting for me on the other side.

Joy was watching the boys have fun today and seeing how much they appreciate the little things in life that I all too often overlook.

I like winning. I admit it.

Listening to some of the people in coaching I compete against, you’d think that winning has absolutely no value to them. This, of course, often comes at the end of a loss. I’m not prepared to make any claims that the losses don’t matter. It affects me–not so much that I expect to never lose or don’t want my kids to experience loss, but I feel that kids ought to take pride in victory, especially at a time when athletic competitiveness is often treated like a communicable disease. Here in the crucible of sport children are still made to understand challenge and to accept failure as it comes. Yet here there are always some who interfere with that, and make it difficult for those like me to challenge kids, because they have no desire to see such challenges leveled, either against their own kids or kids in general.

We faced this situation today. We came up against a referee who openly claimed our players were too young to have any real ability and shouldn’t be held to standards. Then he proceeded to let them play basketball like it was football–like they were 4 yr olds running with the ball from point A to B without thought of dribbling. Nonetheless we battled back and forth until the buzzer sounded. When it was over, this particular team, unfamiliar with loss had lost by 2. The loss is debatable. The ref took away 2 points earlier, making a call from the wrong end of the court that everyone around the play itself claimed was wrong. .. and terribly late.

Still, a loss is a loss, and though it isn’t deserved, it is a useful tool to motivate them in the future. Victory feels much better once you know what losing feels like.