Fixintas

There is a disease that afflicts millions of men and woman each year. It is, in the long run, far worse than the swine flu; worse than cancer; worse than AIDS. The Fixintas is an procrastination-affliction that begins with the Put-it-off-till-tomorrow’s, progresses to a sour, helplessness existence called the Doldrums, and, if left untreated for the youthful part of one’s life, can lead to a dreadful result of the Shoulda-Woulda-Coulda’s.

It starts, in most instances, by a casual 4:30-laziness. An attitude that wafts the wants of ‘today’ toward tomorrow. Often, the above-mentioned wants are the seemingly trivial, day-to-day events such as a call-back to an old friend. At work, I commonly put off the need-to-be-approved-invoices and the need-to-be-called potential clients. Instead, I cruise Facebook till the end of the day. Annually, it is just as easy to put off a Canada canoe trip till next year. After all, it’s Canada and it's not going anywhere any time soon. Moreover, I am so BUSY. I am way, way too busy this year. “Maybe next year, if I can find the time.”

The problem is that these seemingly insignificant tasks that we “put off until tomorrow” stack up on each tomorrow until they are lost in a waste basket of last month’s lists. Some, and oftentimes many, of these to-do’s are foregone the second they are put off.

Deep down, whether or not we admit it at the moment, they are missed and it is the missing that leads to the second phase of the Fixintas: the Doldrums. In my mind, this is a green, slimy place. In my mind, it is the place from the kid’s movie – The Phantom Tollbooth.

In the movie, the main character, Milo, navigates his red convertible through a dark, slimy cave where he meets the Lethargians. As they pull him in to the slime-covered slow-paced existence in which they live, they tell him that "Why, you can do anything (in the doldrums), as long as it's nothing. Everything, as long as it isn't anything; so don't say there's nothin' to do in the doldrums. We dawdle a bit and then we loiter a while, and dawdle again. We gather our strength to start anew on all of the loafing and lounging we still have left to do. So don't say there's nothing to do in the doldrums, it's just not true."

Though the excerpt-poem per the Lethargian in the movie is well put, in a figurative and holistic sense, don’t take it too literally. The Doldrums can exist within a weed-ridden couch or inside the unchallenging white walls of a square office. The Doldrums are at the table at an early-to-late-morning-gas-station-coffee-stop; they exist on the other side of a Soap Opera with-in the restless suburban housewife; and they hang out on ghetto street corners. I can think of two people close to me who I believe presently exist in the that drull, circular place.

One works in the office next to me, the other, is one of my best friends. Each man has a job, goes, does his duty, and returns home. One, I believe, sulks all day and night every day and night in his misery. The other escapes by chemical means. The whole world is against each of them. Nothing, it seems is thier fault and I can relate to each of them, because I have been there.

It is kind-of like the central theme from another great movie –Groundhog Day, with Bill Murray. In case you live in a cave and you haven’t seen it, the gist of the movie is this: Bill Murray’s character, Phil Conner, continues to wake up on the same day, Groundhog Day, in the same small town of Punxsetawney, Pennsilvania. He begins, sour with life and the monotony of having to come to this same small town each year just to report on the ability of one little “vermot's” ability to see his shadow. One scene in the movie and the quote therein stands out in my mind. Phil, discouraged that he will ever get out of this dreadful day in this dreadfully boring town, is drinking heavily at a Bar that is in the town’s bowling alley. Sorry-for-himself, Phil says to the two towney-drunks that sit next to him – ‘do you ever feel like every single day is exactly the same as the previous and nothing you do or could ever do REALLY matters.’ One of the drunks responds; “That pretty much sums it up for me.”

Phil proceeds to give up on any hope for a future ‘meaningful’ life as he goes on a hilariously suicidal, armored-truck-robbing, town-hottie-seducing rampage. In the end, however….well, let’s get back to the point.

The third and final phase of the Fixintas is the Shoulda-Woulda-Coulda’s. My father and his brother (my uncle), reportedly used to call my Grandmother Shoulda-woulda-coulda. While they called her this in jest, I’m treating the term as the advanced and irreversible stages of a tragic ailment - the Fixintas. Once a person has contented through his healthy years, unproductive and easy-going amidst the Doldrums, he gets to a point of ‘awakened regret.’ The Shoulda-Woulda-Coulda-infected man looks back on his life as if he were J. Alfred Proofrock– the old, perpetually-indecisive man of the similarly named T.S. Elliot poem – as he wonders what life would-of been like if only could-of dared to try. Notice the many-a-old-men who are languidly crippled in there scowling, jealous-of-youth yearning for a relief-ful death from their constant, what-if-headache that continues to drain their capacity for any appreciation of the otherwise inherent beauty of day-to-day-life. As they usually wish their fate on all men, these grumpy old men are the Letharigians that coax and grumble new potential subjects into the Doldrums.

So, how can we avoid this seemingly inevitable, potentially horrible existence.

First, I look to the opposite of the above – kids. Why are they seemingly Fixinta-immune? Are they issued a behind-the-back vaccine just after birth. Notice that you never hear a kid say, “Let’s play ‘King of the Hill’ on Thursday.” No; they see, they want, they do. Children don’t plan; they never put off; they don’t have it in them to develop a case of the Fixintas. They are immune because they are daring. They are daring because they are unscathed. They are scathed because they are irresponsible.

That’s the answer, then. The anecdote is to forgo planning, right? Wrong. The answer is to forgo responsibility, right? Wrong. We, as adults, must be responsible. Responsability is, to me the precursor nesessary in order to define one as Adult. But adulthood is no excuse for the Fixintas.

Next, I'll borrow a soundbite from the number one golfer in the world. While he did end up choking yesterday at the TPC, Tiger Woods recently let loose a quote from an interview with Scott Van Pelt. It is possibly the most empowering statement from a man who otherwise should be perfectly content. You can find a more complete summary of the interview here, but the quote, in raw form, follows:

SVP: So there’s no point when you can sort of put the feet up on a Tuesday afternoon and say ‘Today I’m not going to the gym’.?

Tiger: “No. Because the next…that’s…I look at life as: the greatest thing about tomorrow is that I will be better than I am today. And that’s the way I’ve always lived my life. So I have no understanding why people do hit the snooze button because you have a chance to become a better person, become - for me - a better athlete…all the different things you can do to become better for tomorrow. Why wouldn’t you take advantage of that?”

With that attitude, it isn’t hard to see why the man is a living legend in his respective sport. But, let’s be real; it would be a whole lot easier to get up early every day to train to play golf. To train to do what it is that we REALLY want to do. Is that the answer? - Probably. Do I know all the answers? - Probably not. Am I presently (as I type) trying to figure out MY Fixinta-Remedy? – Yes.

To summarize, here is my current, always-evolving, step-by-step solution to Paralysis-due-to-Procrastination:

1. Determine what it is you want to do. What are you passionate about? Don’t look too hard. You know. Deep down, you know. Just acknowledge what you like, follow that curiosity, and accept that this is your passion.

2. Make lists. Daily; monthly; and yearly.

3. Borrowing a term from Stephen Covey, “Choose big rocks” to put on your lists i.e. Limit your commitments to those things that you can readily handle. Plan to achieve those commitments. Do.

4. Regulate on your waste-time. Don’t eliminate it, but regulate it. We all need our Beer-Couch-FamilyGuy-time, but be mindful not to melt into the lazy-boy. Relax for a while after work, then get up and get going.

5. Make a side list of things that you want to one-day do but don’t have the time to get to right now. I’ve named mine the “Fixintas.” Re-read those things each time you add to or check off your Fixinta items. Make time to Cut and Paste from this list to you current to-do list. Do.

6. Find the courage to dare to do. (Not just any kind of courage, on the kind of courage in the following poem: The Hill, By Nissim Ezekiel)

7. Develop the discipline to keep doing. Here is the step that I still struggle with. Maybe I'll revisit this post one day when I figure this one out.

I write this long post on the folly of the Fixintas because I have a bad case of them and I constantly struggle to overcome them. Until recently, my pride-fear paired with my fauma have me looking back on a life full of shoulda’s, woulda’s, and coulda’s. Lucky for me, I still have my youth. I can still change my non-ways and one-day contribute as I continue to appreciate. For me, this is just the first step. Stay tuned for the next; I’ll need you there as I need you here.

And You…out there; if your still with me; if you feel me; how do you avoid the in-the-rut-“Groundhog-Day” existence of your life? What is your passion? How do you make a difference?

Do More Now,

- Not Just Another Dog Named Tag

The Should-Be

Often I hear people say things like: “They shouldn't be treating people that way”; "Guys should know to put the toilet seat down after you’re finished peeing”; “Popey’s should’ve had plenty of chicken stocked up” (funny youtube video); “That’s just not the way things are supposed to be.”

Well how should they be? And, more importantly, according to whom? The should-be is a widely used, specifically subjective term. The way things ‘should be’ to me - a southern, middle-class, mildly conservative male who likes Pork Chops and Succotash with his stove-top, hot sauce and beer - would be drastically different than a Petit English woman named Ms. Gertrude Prudey, whom prefers non-fat Jam on her crumpet, which she enjoys daily with a small glass of pinky-finger-raised hot tea. How different is the should-be for a 17 year old Somali pirate on the verge of starvation and beyond the outer limits of hope. How should things be if you were the mother of an Arab terrorist that is under a waterboard, on a table, in the middle of a windowless torture-for-vital-info room? But we will get to that shortly; for now, on the lighter side, let’s consider the Toilet Seat example.

I have never been able to understand, for the life of me, why woman make such a big deal about us putting the toilet seat down once we are finished with our “number one” sequence. It is as if all women, once they reach the threshold of the bathroom instantly become completely blind as they apparently do not have the where-with-all to see that the seat is up before they sit down. Or, maybe, yall (women) approach the toilet as if you were a defensive back, backpedaling, eyes strait ahead until your butt just happens to reach the toilet. And once you sit down, unbeknownst of the present position of the toilet seat, you have a 50-50 chance of falling in. Do woman actually do this? Do you girls actually sit down into a bowl full of toilet water? It’s hard for me to believe. Maybe. But, I don't think so.

I think that the reason why you make such a big deal about it is because of a social disconnect that exists between men and woman. You (woman) take our (men) leaving the toilet seat up as an inconsiderate and dis-respectful thing to do. While some of the threshold-blinded-defensive-back women may actually end up with wet-ass-syndrome, most of the commotion as it relates to upright toilet seats can be attributed to a misunderstanding of cross cultural perspectives. (….whoa, too much caffeine, I know, I know, I'll slow down.) It is this social disconnect that I am concerned with as it relates to the should-be. In college, while at Georgia Southern, a speaker in an introductory business class said, “We see the world through cultural lenses” - Changai Mwetti. What I feel that he meant was that all people see all aspects of their life according to the culmination of experiences that have shaped their current view of the world. Furthermore; by nature, we are subjective beings and we judge others’ actions according to what we know as REAL, what ‘I would do’, and what ‘should be.’

Back to the Toilet Seat Example, the social or cultural disconnect between what should be from the perspective of the Man and the Woman is rooted in incentives that have been reinforced or challenged via experience throughout the course of the given person's life. Me as a man, thinking logically and in my own best interest, think to myself upon shaking it, zipping it, and buttoning it: “it sure is a good thing that I put the toilet seat up because otherwise I would have gotten a little bit of over spray on it (the seat) and no-one wants to sit in that. Not because I am too lazy to put it back down, so I’ll just leave it up so that it can dry before the next person comes in here.” As I walk out I pass a beautiful nice-butted brown-haired woman. She, being a sort of female anomaly that is neither blinded at the threshold nor feels the need to back peddle toward the toilet, sees the upward oriented seat and thinks to herself: “Even though that guy was ruggedly good looking, he has terrible manners. Why wouldn’t he just put the seat back down when he is finished? How freaking hard is that?”

Each player in this example has a completely different idea of what should-be; of what is GOOD. Notice that we have created our conception of the right way things should be done according to incentives that meet our best interest. Being that either up or down toilet seats for men and women respectively suit his or her best interest, consider the idea that such a conception is constantly reinforced (on average, about 4 - 5 times per day).

Another example, would you steel if it were the only way you could eat? Would you steel if it were the only way your family could eat? Somalia, as are many communities all over the world, live in a hopeless poverty that I cannot even fathom. In a society where genocide is commonplace, where can a young man be expected to find his place; where can he find a common ground with life; can he see a light at the end of his dreary, dark tunnel? The answer for many men and women all over the world is that they there is no way to make an honest life via hard work and education. So they steel. At first, at six, a loaf of bread. Later, at twelve years old, a pick-pocketed wallet. As a man, at seventeen, much larger opportunities arise. All his life, the only way he has known is to steal. This is his should-be. To him, a man who isn’t expected to live past nineteen, hijacking cargo ships is a once-in-a-life-time 'Who Wants to Be a Millionaire' opportunity to live; really live. It doesn’t matter to him that US Marines can blow his head clean off from 450 yards away. Economically speaking, he is risking a two year loss versus a fifty plus year gain. To him, pirating is the only way. To him, this is a GOOD should-be..

Now, a personal question: how is your should-be? How is your should-be when it comes to using torture techniques such as waterboarding in order to obtain vital information? Think about the person you love the most. Picture their smiling face. Think back on the last time you saw them. Now, imagine that he or she has been kidnapped and is being held in a very unpleasant place (...like the girl in the badass movie - "Taken" ). You know that if you don't find him or her soon, they will be killed or worse. Finally, imagine that a man sits in front of you who knows exactly where to find your missing loved one. What should-be done to find out what you need to know?

Do More Now

Chickenheadish

More and more, I feel like I meet the same girl over and over again. Brown-Blond-headed, short-tall, exotically plain, preppy, slutty, rich, middle-class, poor, smart-dumb; every other weekend, it seems, I meet these otherwise beautiful girls and women who share a common trait - their unmistakable chickenheadishness.

Chickenhead (noun) - A girl who talks without ever saying anything. She fashions every part of her life in accordance with her mass-media influenced self-created mold of what is expected of a girl (or woman) of her age, in her geographical location, and within her socio-economic means. She is the plastic persona of the should-be.

Dressed in her fake face, sitting at the bar sipping something that looks far too delicious for me to drink in public, she looks good. Damn good, in fact. I approach her with a fifty-percent-of-the-time clever line. She bites. I play along.

I call. We either meet up or I pick her up. Either at dinner or in the car or on the phone, the weather-talk eventually runs out. The game, the banter between us, gets old. Where do the good times go from that awkward silence but horizontal? Nowhere but there.

Her, in her thong high heels, nice butt, and perfectly still boobs. Me, the hypocrite that loves to hate her for her chickenheadedishness. Me, in my Chickenhead solution disguise; I've learned that I must act like an asshole in order to get anywhere with this girl. Looking down at her with a half cocked head and a slick, asshole line. She snaps. I snap. That is the game we play amidst this outer layer of getting to know one another. True conversation is like an onion as we must peal past the crust before anything worth consuming can be found. And I'm cool with this. It's natural. While the getting-to-know-you is going on, we each silently look for subtle clues as to each other's real you. This is natural and so it is healthy. In this sense, guys have a little bit of chickenheadishness in us too. It is a fearless facade that allows us to approach and be approached. It is a comfort blanket that keeps us until we can go on without it.

What I don't like is what is not natural and is not healthy. I don't like the fake face that she puts on because she thinks it is what is needed to impress. Whom? I'm not sure. Maybe me. Probably the other chickens. Either way, it's not a good fit for me. I also hate what it does to me; the reaction her chicken headdress invokes. I, in order to compete, must use this asshole tough guy guise and act like all I want is some easy action. And I do it because I am a guy with a natural urge to do it.

The bar seen is full of this dilemma, but there is a simple solution; and girls, it starts with you because it is beyond us to give up the pursuit of you (or it). To borrow a line from Andre 3000, "... take off your cool." Listen to the song. It is just that simple. I believe that ninety percent of you chickenheads are not that at all. Deep down, you are kind and funny and daring. At home, when you are by yourself, you like to read and think and humbly laugh at yourself for going to the fridge, getting there, and realizing that you forgot what you came for. Deep down, you like compliments and opened doors. Deep down, you are good people.

Chickenheadish (adjective) - a figurative layer of the female persona that manifests itself as vanity that is worn to conceal the insecurities associated with an inherent 'good person' that lies hidden within.

So, here's the deal for all of the could-be-Chickenheaded-Women. You've gotta stop all of your pouting, Beamer-crazed, vanity-shrilled-extra-high-pitched-fake-"hello's". Quit acting like you were the product of a three-way between Joy from My Name is Earl, that chick from Clueless, and New York from "I Love New York". Quit emulating Britney Montana. That shit's not cute. Brittany Montana is a dumb slut. Sure, I wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating crackers. But she is empty and uninterested. Underneath it all, she is plain-jane-ugly with no more to talk about than her own miserable life. She is a collectible barbie in a box that is wrapped in plastic and on a shelf.

REAL woman: figure out what you want; who you are; act like you have a little class. Be yourself. Respect yourself.

Do More Now

Butt-Ass-Naked

Have you ever felt like you were completely exposed?

In my experience, while it is somewhat disconcerting at first, it is quite liberating.

The last time I felt like that was about a month ago while giving a presentation to four big-whig execs inside a small conference room of the manufacturing facility of the largest industrial manufacturer in Jacksonville. "This is my account," I thought. "This is the first step to the rest of my career. Don't blow it!" (Don't we always do this in these situations. Blow them up in our minds like balloons that are bound to burst at any second.) Nervous, yet prepared and confident, I did great.

I remember the turning point. It came just after I stuttered and stammered my way through a defensive explanation of our position in the face of a ridiculing question from the Largest man in the room. He was short, he spoke with an accent, and he didn't exactly look like a "Man with the Plan." He was smooth though. His game was like Billy from White Men Can't Jump; disguised and sudden enough that you didn't know he 'got you' until it was too late. As I spoke, he stared me down as if to weigh my composure with each of his now very aware eyes. When I finished, full of myself on adrenaline, I directed a deliberate glance with a quarter-cocky smile toward him. He smiled back approvingly and I felt about thirty times better. Better, not because I felt "clothed", but better, because I now felt comfortable in my own skin.

I guess it has been a necessary skill for me to acquire in my 26 years as a red-headed, freckle-faced, allergic-to-air ginger with mild astigmatism. At a certain point, a Man must shrug his shoulders, laugh at himself a little bit, confidently slap the court hard with both hands, look those whom you fear dead in the eyes, and do whatever it is that you do.

"This is me, Butt-Ass-Naked."

Do More Now