The Aerie
And no, I'm not talking about ball-gags and whips.
What I'm talking about is fighting fire with fire, using discipline to
overcome... discipline!
It probably all started for me when I entered college. I graduated
fourth in my high school class of 250 without even trying. Actually, I
probably spent most of high school in the computer room (Thanks, Dr.
J!), and had I applied even half of that effort towards my schoolwork,
I would have graduated 2nd.
I wouldn't claim I could have graduated first: that honor fell to
Karen. She graduated with a 4.192 GPA -- more A+'s than A's -- and
went on to (as I understand it) a career as a missionary. Sorry, I
know when I'm bested. But I could have beat out Dan Mason! (Sorry Dan
;-) )
So when I arrived in college, I was a lamb come to the slaughter. And
unfortunately for me, the University of Minnesota was an abbatoir. I
got to college and I didn't know how to study, because I'd never had
to. I worked hard twice in high school: once on a social studies
report and an extra credit report simultaneously, and the other time
on Mr. Abhraham's high school chemistry contracts.
My social studies reports were 1) the Rise to Power of Adolph Hitler
(which was supposed to be the Rise and Fall of Hitler but at 35 pages
I decided to stop with his election), and 2) an extra-credit report on
the Battle of Midway.
My teacher got my reports mixed up. This one confuses me. He mistook a
five-page report on the Battle of Midway for the semester report, and
a thirty-five-page missive on Hitler's Rise to Power as an
extra-credit assignment. Anyway, I got a B: a 'C' for the five-page
semester report, raised by an 'A' for the 35-page extra credit.
Some of my high school's teachers were brilliant. Not this one. I
would have gotten straight A's that quarter except for his mistake.
My mother ended up chewing the fellow out for his mistake (which we
only learned of after it was too late to correct the grades). The next
semester I got an 'A' in his class without even trying...
Anyway, those were the only two times I worked hard in four years.
Chemistry contracts were a brilliant notion -- work as hard as you
like, and if you rise to the challenge you get to work on more
interesting stuff. My partner was Trudi, who if I'd have had any guts
at all I would have tried to date, but I was afraid of her because she
was tall, gorgeous, funny, and athletic. Anyway she and I were great
lab partners (and that's all, sigh...) and burned through our
contracts rapidly, leaving us with little to do towards the end of the
year.
So I get to college, and I don't know how to schedule, how to study,
how to focus or concentrate, nothing.
It was a long road. College was a hard time for me -- all twelve years
of it, off and on. But at the end I knew how to study, and I knew how
I learned. Figuring out how you learn is an important thing to
ascertain. It was for me.
Then in the midst of it I got a job. My first REAL job, $26K/year
working as a programmer. And I had to start learning all over again.
Oh, I'd had jobs before -- starting as a fast-food cashier and up
through bag boy, security guard, and graveyard-shift computer
operator. But this was a "real" job, eight-to-five, cubicles and
desks, etc. And I had to learn how to survive in the workplace.
It took a while. But I did it. And then came parenting, and then other
jobs, helpdesk, consulting on the side, and finally running my own
business.
Now I am capable of being a Work Machine. I can, when necessary rev up
into a productivity monster, belting out phenomenal products in fairly
short periods of time, working intensively and incessantly.
And now I'm faced with a new dilemma. Having learned how to learn,
having learned how to work, I now have to learn how NOT to work, and
how to STOP and rest.
I somehow have to learn to balance the work (which would be
never-ending if I let it) with my life in general: being a Dad,
writing, exercising, resting and playing. And that's why I need a
little discipline. I need to make my self stop working when I'm tired
and sick (like today), to write when I want to write, and to rest and
do nothing without a constant niggling secretary in my head telling me
just what needs doing and how urgent it all is. After the last couple
of months spent trying to survive, I need to allow myself to wind down
and rest while not neglecting the work that needs doing.
So we'll see. I'd like to write these journal entries on a more
regular basis (I mean, I know it's comparing apples to oranges, but
I'd like to write daily the way that Lileks does, rather than
weekly/monthly after the fasion of Asia Carrera. But while Lileks is a
househusband, he's also a professional writer with a working spouse,
and I'm merely an amateur writer as well as being sole-provider for my
family).
But I'm sensing that I'm recovering from September and August. I may
soon have enough energy to try to set up another healthy schedule of
exercise, work, rest, and play. Including posting these things more
frequently.
But right now... I'm going to rest. I'm getting a cold, and my ears
are ringing so badly that walking up the stairs sounds like playing a
kettledrum. I'll just go lie down, and try not to listen to the voice
telling me about all that I ought to be doing.
A little discipline. A little learning how to unlearn. Maybe in twenty
years I'll be good at having fun.
[1]Last
Posted by Albatross at October 12, 2002 11:58 AM