“We have just lost cabin pressure.” – Fight Club
The second rule of Wilder Club is if this is your first visit, you have to comment.
I had a conversation with a friend today. Oh, sure, I hear you say, what would an iconoclastic iron-jawed individualist with a body odor redolent of medium rare ribeye (with just a hint of pepper) like John Wilder need with a friend? I guess we all have our little weaknesses. And dogs follow me. Because I smell like steak.
In this particular case as with most of my friends, I’ve known this friend for years. I’ve known most of my close friends longer than The Boy has been alive, and he’s in college now. It’s nice. If a day, a week, a month or a year goes by, so what? We can still restart the conversation where we left off. It’s as comfortable as watching a movie you’ve seen a dozen times.
I’ll make the observation that the only place where the character of people change is in a movie – almost all of my close friends have the same sense of humor and the same sense of values that they had when our friendships were forming. Absent a significant emotional event, people are a constant.
And I like that.
There is a corresponding trust that comes with being a close friend – honesty. That’s why when talking with my friend, I really enjoyed the chance to be honest. Honesty is difficult because it requires that trust, because really honest criticism is hard to take, even when it comes from a friend. Or a co-worker. Or a relative. Or someone you just met. Or your UPS® delivery guy. Oh, wait. Most people don’t like honest. But my friends do.
This particular friend is really in a good position in life, which seems to be a common pattern with my friends. He has a spouse that makes more money than he does, and, in general, the household probably brings in enough cash each month so that Nigerian princes send emails to them asking for money. They’re wealthy enough that they donate to the homeless. This appears to be a more socially acceptable donation strategy than my “donation to the topless,” scheme.
Yes, this is the only joke that I’ve ever seen that involves both the Greco-Roman philosophy of stoicism and stripping. I’m sure that Seneca would be proud.
But lest ye want to class my friend as the evil, selfish, wealthy type, he’s not. The family has a huge number of kids, and it’s a close family. My friend is constantly taking time off to go to athletic events, and when we catch up, I can sense that the relationship he has with his kids isn’t a surface relationship – it’s genuine and deep. I can tell, because I know people who understand genuine relationships, who listen to both sides of a family argument – my neighbors.
And yet . . . despite the wealth, despite the great family, my friend feels that there’s something missing. He is as high as he wants to go in the company he works at – any higher and the travel demands would pull him away from family. He’s long since mastered his job – there is little that can be thrown at him that he hasn’t seen in the last fifteen or so years. So, his condition is one of high pay, mastery of work, and, improbably, discontent.
John Wilder: “You realize you have an advantage that 99% of people would die for. You’re financially secure. You can quit your job anytime. Literally, you could walk in to your boss this afternoon and quit. Your lifestyle wouldn’t change a bit.”
Not Elon Musk: “Yes.”
Unlikely Voice of Wisdom John Wilder: “So, what is it you want to do?”
Really, I Promise It Isn’t Elon Musk: “I need to think about it.”
Channeling Tyler Durden From Fight Club® John Wilder: “No. If you think about it, you’ll end up doing nothing but thinking about it. You have to do something. Physically start it. This weekend. I’ll check back on Monday to see how you did.”
There is a scene in the movie Fight Club™ where Tyler Durden holds a gun to the head of a liquor store clerk. If you haven’t seen the movie, I strongly suggest it. I probably watch it once a month while I write – I think there are few movies that communicate the human condition in modern life so well.
Pugsley doesn’t miss many school days.
JACK, in voiceover: On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.
CLERK: Please… don’t…
TYLER DURDEN: Give me your wallet.
Tyler pulls out the driver’s license.
TYLER: Raymond K. Hessel. 1320 SE Benning, apartment A. A small, cramped basement apartment.
RAYMOND: How’d you know?
TYLER: They give basement apartments letters instead of numbers. Raymond, you’re going to die. Is this a picture of Mom and Dad?
RAYMOND: Yes.
TYLER: Your mom and dad will have to call kindly doctor so-and-so to dig up your dental records, because there won’t be much left of your face.
RAYMOND: Please, God, no!
JACK: Tyler…
TYLER: An expired community college student ID card. What did you used to study, Raymond K. Hessel?
RAYMOND: S-S-Stuff.
TYLER: “Stuff.” Were the mid-terms hard? I asked you what you studied.
JACK: Tell him!
RAYMOND: Biology, mostly.
TYLER: Why?
RAYMOND: I… I don’t know…
TYLER: What did you want to be, Raymond K. Hessel?
Tyler cocks the .357 magnum Colt© Python™ pointed at Raymond’s head.
TYLER: The question, Raymond, was “what did you want to be?”
JACK: Answer him!
RAYMOND: A veterinarian!
TYLER: Animals.
RAYMOND: Yeah … animals and s-s-s —
TYLER: Stuff. That means you have to get more schooling.
RAYMOND: Too much school.
TYLER: Would you rather be dead?
RAYMOND: No, please, no, God, no!
Tyler uncocks the gun, lowers it.
TYLER: I’m keeping your license. I know where you live. I’m going to check on you. If you aren’t back in school and on your way to being a veterinarian in six weeks, you will be dead. Get the hell out of here.
JACK: I feel sick.
TYLER: Imagine how he feels.
Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger — click. It’s empty.
JACK: I don’t care, that was horrible.
TYLER: Tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of Raymond K. Hessell’s life. His breakfast will taste better than any meal he has ever eaten.
How dare you . . . make Greta uncomfortable.
And it’s true. I tend to think that everyone’s life would be a little better if they had Tyler Durden to be a life coach, to ever so gently coax them to be the best they can be while holding a .357 magnum Colt® Python™ to their head. That seems to be a bit frowned upon, so that leaves my friends with me. See how lucky you are?
In my role as Dr. Durden, I’ve noticed that there’s a problem some people have. It’s being too clever. It’s thinking. How do I know? It’s my problem that I try to compensate for by writing and doing. If I think about doing something, it will never get done. I keep thinking about fixing the bannister that broke when we moved in to the house a decade ago. It’s never been high on my list, since people falling down stairs is funny, with extra points if they are really old. But thinking about doing something never accomplishes anything.
If I plan to do it, it will get done. Half of my time driving to and from work on a day I’m going to write a post, I’m writing it in my head, selecting jokes, thinking of themes. It’s also spent thinking of how I’m going to connect the idea I want to share with students who might be forced to read this post when Mrs. Grundy tells them to compare and contrast my work with that poseur, Mark Twain, in high school in the year 2248 (that’s when Kirk will be a sophomore).
Okay, generally on my drive to work I have about five or ten minutes between cars, so it would take several hours to get a group of cars behind me like that. But a man has to have goals!
It may look like I’m driving to work, but I’m really plotting out what I’m going to write about. To be honest, it sometimes takes both lanes to do that. I wish the State Patrol® would be a little more understanding to artists like me.
Thankfully, The Mrs. is.
The Mrs. and I had a conversation the other night. It may or may not have involved wine – I’m not telling unless I’ve been subpoenaed and am under oath to a House subcommittee. Actually, it wasn’t so much a conversation as The Mrs. describing to me how she felt about this little project I publish three times a week.
I don’t make any money on this blog, though I’ve made clear since day one that can change at any time. I have plans for several (eventual) ways to do that including adding subliminal messages causing you to want to pay for my health insurance. It looks like it’s already worked for Bernie Sanders.
In a socialist paradise all bloggers make $450,000 a year, right? But I worry that for this Christmas we won’t have an Elf on a Shelf, we’ll have a Bernie on a Gurney.
No, at this point, writing is a hobby. But it’s a hobby that takes over 20 hours a week, sometimes closer to 30 hours. I still have a job, and I won’t stop interacting my family, so most nights I won’t even start writing before 9pm. A lot of that time comes from time I’d normally be selfishly engaged in what you mortals call “sleep”, but a chunk of that time comes directly from time I’d be spending with The Mrs.
When I’m writing, I’m simply not available. I’m writing.
The Mrs.: “You know, I would certainly have an issue with the time that you spend writing, if it weren’t important.” There was more to this, where she detailed the number of hours I spend. But I keyed in on the word “Important.”
I was a little surprised by that. “Important?”
The Mrs.: “Yes. I can see that what you’re writing about is important. People need to hear it. So keep doing it.”
Okay, that proves she never reads this stuff.
But as I talked more with my friend, the concept of “meaning” came up.
My Friend Who is Really Most Certainly Not Elon Musk: “So, it’s about meaning?”
Suddenly as Wise as the Roman Philosopher Seneca John Wilder: “That’s silly. You don’t go off chasing ‘meaning’ in your life. Pick out something you like to do, and do it. But figure out how to make it important to other people. You like to woodwork, right? You say you never have time to do it. Do it this weekend. Film it. Put it up on YouTube®. I’ll be checking up with you on Monday.”
I asked myself, why is my friend working at all? I think because he feels he’s supposed to work. That having a job is a rule, it’s what he’s always done. The problem that many of us have is that we tend to create rules where there aren’t any rules. I’m not sure why. Perhaps we need to justify what we do. Perhaps it’s like my two important rules for life:
- Don’t tell everything you know.
Success? My friend is already successful in most ways a person can be successful. Their life is really good. I told them, directly, “You’ve been given so many gifts. If you don’t make something special of your life, you’re wasting it.”
Interestingly, this applies to you, too.
And me.
How will your breakfast taste tomorrow?
And, I assume, one of the subsequent rules is, When a commenter loses consciousness, the comment is ov …
Errr, sorry, dozed off there for a minute. But I awoke with a strange, compulsive desire to pay for your health insurance! Surprising, that. First time that’s happened to me, as far as I can remember.
I spliced a single frame into the post. You saw it, but you didn’t know you saw it.
Magic!
Thank you for writing this post. A lot of motivation for Doing More than just Thinking About Doing. Commit to an action or it will likely never get done..
If you don’t commit, it won’t ever get done. Unless you sleepwalk.
After hurricane Rita, I had a few weeks of toil in sometimes brutal heat, with mosquitoes and critters with teeth. Work hours were daylight to dark, and dark was really, really dark without electricity for much of the surrounding area. Bathing was in cold water, or tiny bits of hot water heated with a microwave. It was interesting, but led to some thoughts about life.
My home only had a few shingles blown off the roof. A big tree in the yard lost a huge branch, and there was much to be raked. When work finally allowed a little time in the evening, I helped relatives staying with me with the cleanup, and we’d finish the evening sitting in the cooler air outside, while enjoying adult beverages.
The entire event was rewarding. Yes. There were some unpleasant times, but the satisfaction of surviving a major storm with minor damage, having family close, knowing I could handle a disaster, and counting my blessings, nullified any negative thoughts. Hell, even MRE’s turned into tasty treats, after days of eating out of an ice chests.
So, your post brought back some memories, reinforced my reason for writing. It allows me to grab hold of an occasional thought, wrestle it into submission, and pin it to a medium for others to read. I consider that a good thing, and beats hell out of being completely obscure after a few generations.
Oh, man, I remember Ike. It was nice – shook the family out of complacency.
But I wish we could have had AC.
Although she doesn’t do any blogging herself, my Mrs. has a lot of input on what I write about. It is not good for man to be alone and all that.
Oops, that was me. Forgot to fill in the form.
Gotcha! And it fits.
I agree 100%. Plus she makes better meatballs than I do.
“The second rule of Wilder Club is if this is your first visit, you have to comment.”
Guess I missed this rule. I’ve been lurking here for years (read every post since 2016), so it’s probably time I let you know I’m here and appreciate your writing. Your wife is indeed correct – your writing is important. I found this blog while searching for sane content during the 2016 election cycle. I don’t recall which site this was linked from, but I am grateful that I found this. Your writing style and humor make the content much more approachable than so many others that I read and this makes it much easier to share with associates that aren’t necessarily in the same camp as me (yet).
Thanks so much – that makes the next post easier to write, really. And it tells me I’m hitting right where I want to.
Appreciated!! Drop me a line on email if you ever have need!
I’m impressed that you work on each post for days. For months, my routine is to either put aside interesting things during the day to possibly use, and sometime in the early evening start going, “what do I post tonight?” Instead of days, I may ponder what to post for as much as a full minute. Whole numbers of seconds. OK, slight exaggeration.
In any endeavor that one does for a long time, like their careers, there tend to be dry spells in which they just go through the motions and it’s not fun. In my case, I’ve written about some of the same topics (fiat money, the execrable Federal Reserve, stupid politicians, and a long list) that I get bored writing about them again, even if the nuance I’m writing about is different. I’m afraid if I’m bored to write it, people will be bored reading it. I have to figure that while I get about the same number of page views a day, there are different people in there and many may have missed the things I think are important.
Likewise, I detest the whole “outrage of the day” that the media has devolved into. A big outrages last a week, and next news cycle they never existed. Today, there’s an outrage over Trump tweeting a photoshop of him giving Conan (the dog) a Medal of Honor. It’ll be over with by evening. News stories like who’s ahead in the Dem primary circus aren’t even worth looking at.
Here’s where I do a slight extension of what you wrote, like a jazz musician starting with someone else’s riff and making it their own: much like “If I plan to do it, it will get done” as opposed to just thinking about doing it. I used to do a series called “Techy Tuesday” because it helped me focus. Now I’ve figured since I’m close enough to the Kennedy Space Center to watch every launch, I’d specialize in space news. I subscribe to some news services to keep on top of industry news, and still do techy pieces if something seems inordinately cool. I plan for backup things to do if the main plans don’t work out.
I, for one, read most of your posts, and appreciate the thought and experience behind them.
Me, too.
I love space exploration. Really, the main post takes 25% of the time. The rest is adding jokes, making them fit, and handcrafting the memes in my shop.
Thanks, McChuck.
Thanks for another great post!! Have think about what my answer would be. Should be something about fighting all this BS in the country by not blogging. 🙂
Action . . . always the winner.
First time here, linked from Adam over at Pushing Rubber. Enjoyed today’s post so I’m sure I’ll be back.
My challenge is that I took up the piano again after a very long absence (played as a teenager). Hoping to reduce my TV intake and so something creative.
Thanks so much! Yeah – it’s a challenge, but it can be really rewarding.
I almost skipped this one (never watched Fight Club).
But, Yeah! My retirement is going very well – I started it with the idea that I would spend the free time writing. So far – 2 short stories, a solid base of blog posts that get noticed, and both a fictional book and a nonfiction one (Leftism 4 Beginners), which I’m periodically serializing, as a way of spiking interest, as well as getting feedback.
Another retiree I know? Still looking for the same goals as when he was working full-time. Moving from one job to another, booking himself with too many hours/days of work, then crashing into illness or depression.
I may send him a link to this.
You’ve got it going Linda! I have more things that I want to do than I have time. Which is a good place to be.
Perfessor John Wilder,
You might consider going the donations route.
I think your contributions to TheGreaterGood will be cherished and adored for generations. To come.
I never understood the ‘to come’.
I thought it superfluous, unnecessary.
Along those lines, I never needed ‘at all’ to close a statement.
I think a lot of our idioms are a form of social lubrication, a softening of an otherwise prickly subject.
I don’t like it. At all.
Irregardless, I shall continue to carefully absorb every blest nugget from John and The Mrs. Wilder Global Headquarters.
And then, I hope, as we all do, the dynasty continues with Pugsley and The Boy!
PS:
I probably got here from that James M Dakin character, and his “if you’re not reading him, you should” demands.
I know. Bison can be so bossy.
But we overlook that minor personality flaw because he loves people so much. To come.
Indeed! I’ve been thinking of posting a link to The Mrs. novel, that way folks get something for their hard earned money. But we might wait to see if she weasels out of her publishing contract and goes independent . . . .
And thank you for the very kind words.