Now I’m worried about Scott Adams

Is it even remotely possible that Scott Adams is reading this blog? In October I offered some thoughts on worry:

We know –looking back– that most of the things we worried about did NOT happen. The really bad shit that happens in life is almost always totally unexpected. Out of the blue (or black, if you prefer). Didn’t see it coming at all.

Today, Dilbert’s dad took the idea up a notch or two:

First, I’m not worried about any problem that we can see coming. If you look at the history of the world, almost any time we thought we knew something bad was going to happen AND we had years of warning, things turned out okay.

I’m just saying…

From Hugh McLeod’s Work Manifesto

Work is your real life. It is the way you translate your feelings, your thoughts, your hopes and your desires into something valuable, tangible and useful every day. You can choose to make work into a dreaded, necessary evil that you can’t wait to finish so that you can get busy with your “real life.” Why not just do work you love?

Your secret desire holds the clue to your best work. You say that you would love to do meaningful work, but don’t know how to find it. What is your secret desire? What idea are you a little embarrassed to share with someone because it is so delicate or bold or crazy or exciting? You often claim to not know what you want to do, but in fact censor yourself from what you know you want for fear of appearing ridiculous.

You can’t fool your kids. Many of you claim passionless, dull and frustrating careers with the excuse that you must provide for your family. Providing for your family is noble; using it as an excuse to hide from your own greatness is a bad example for your kids. If you want them to grow up motivated, creative, free and enterprising, be that yourself. They are watching and emulating your every move.

The five things that matter

I’ve been feeling a little ancient lately, but Halley Suitt reminds me that’s not one of the five things that matter. Five for five.

Some days, I feel so so so so old. I feel a bit like Methuselah, who, if you recall, lived 900 years. Being old, you forget sometimes what it’s like to be young. You just don’t get it.

I feel old when I talk to people who are something like 18 or 23 or 36 and they are all caught up in stupid stuff that doesn’t matter and once you’re a little aged like me, you want to tell them … “but, that thing, … that thing you’re worrying about, … see, you don’t get it yet, … but that doesn’t matter. Just doesn’t matter at all.”

Of course it would be rude and annoying to say that kind of comment, so you keep it to yourself.

So the good part of being old is knowing what really doesn’t matter. And that what does matter, you can count on the fingers of one hand. You know they would have given us hands with 17 fingers if all that stupid stuff counted.

There really are only about five things that matter:

Thumb: You love someone.

Pointer: Someone loves you.

Middle Finger: Your work: you have the bravery to do what you love and really become yourself and screw what anyone else thinks about it.

Ring Finger: Connection to people, family, friends

Pinky: Eat, drink, be merry.

Dave Winer: Are we more than our stories?

Could it be that our purpose is to tell a story, and that the better lived a life is, the better the story that survives after you’re gone?

An intriguing question posed by Dave Winer (a couple of years ago). If I read the post correctly, he’s wondering if there is really more to us than the stories we tell. For those of us that attempt to share our hopes and fears, successes and failures (in journals like this one)…is there really more to us than our blogs? Reminds me of a great T-Shirt David (Brazeal) found on someone’s blog: Enough about me. Let’s talk about my blog.

George Carlin on future of the planet

“We’re going away. Pack your shit, folks. We’re going away. And we won’t leave much of a trace, either. Thank God for that. Maybe a little styrofoam. Maybe. A little styrofoam. The planet’ll be here and we’ll be long gone. Just another failed mutation. Just another closed-end biological mistake. An evolutionary cul-de-sac. The planet’ll shake us off like a bad case of fleas. A surface nuisance.”

— George Carlin rant on why the planet is fine

I believe in yesterday.

A year ago I asked: If you experienced the worst day of your life…something truly horrible…and there was a drug that made you forget the previous 24 hours, would you take it?

I was reminded of this today when I had to send my Thinkpad back in time to a “restore point” where life was good. To a time (last night) before it got so screwed up it wouldn’t even boot up. Man, what a great feature and pretty damned close to a time machine.

Some of us would wear that Button out, hoping for a better day today. Might work if we only got to use it, say, three times in a lifetime. Yeah, today sucked… but do I really want to use up one of my “go back to yesterday” options?

It only works because –with my laptop– I can change the future. I know what I did to screw the pooch so I won’t do that again. Could we be trusted with that knowledge in life?

World Peace Conference

A Hollywood director with a reputation for making violent, bizarre films is headlining what’s billed as a world peace conference in southeast Iowa this weekend. Known for movies like “Mulholland Drive,” “Blue Velvet” and the T-V series “Twin Peaks,” David Lynch is also on the board of directors at Maharishi University in Fairfield. He says perpetual world peace will result by assembling eight-thousand people to continuously practice transcendental meditation. Lynch says “It brings peace, real peace, and peace is not just the absence of war. This real peace, being enlivened, drives negativity away like light drives darkness away.”

“Americans face forward”

“The greatest country in history. We can do so much. We will do so much. This country was, after all, founded to move into the future, not to hold onto the habits and ideas of the past. For most countries, if you ask them what they are, what’s unique and defining about them, they’ll point to their past. Not us. Americans have always pointed to the future. If you want to understand us, look at what we’re going to do. Americans face forward.”

A speech that David Weinberger wrote but never gave.