The Privilege of Understanding Self-Loathing
I’m starting to think self-loathing, like braces, doesn’t look as cute the older you get. That’s because as you get older—ideally, anyway—you find your station, your purpose. You’ve pruned back the dead branches and settled nicely into the garden you’ve made for yourself. It could be a job, a family, friends, hobbies, passions. You’ve been at this for half your life, you’ve orchestrated all of this, and you don’t hate it. Some of it you actually enjoy. So, why all the self-loathing?
I Believe... [Parsing Out Sensitivity]
I believe... that we should all be more sensitive but not be more sensitive. The former is about simple politeness, the latter is about myopic self-centeredness.
Feeling Low? Visit a Bookstore or Attend a Funeral
The bookstore is a perfect rescue vessel because it gets me out of the house, puts me face-to-face with the common unwashed I have managed to loathe almost as much as I’d been loathing myself, and doesn’t lead me to further self-destruction through vices of solitude like having a drink or seventeen at a corner tavern. Once there, my regret and hope squirt out of my pores like a well-hardened blackhead from my nose. And for me, when my regret and hope get together, that’s when solutions, inspiration, and energy are made.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of February 3, 2019
Knowledge is not power. Knowledge is an opportunity. Knowledge is cunning.
Take Risks. What Else Are You Here For?
I know a thousand people terrified to jump out of a plane, tell a story onstage, quit a job they aren’t suited for, move away from an established stomping ground. I know a thousand people and they all know a thousand people who, in turn know another thousand who fear risking humiliation or failure than to step up and step out and do something risky or stupid or both in pursuit of a goal that may not seem reasonable.