Life Scripts:
Ever catch yourself saying, "I can't do that", or, "I'm just not a numbers person", or "she's just got the genes for being stripper-hot, where as I've just got plus-sized jeans", or, "I always do shit like this; fucking things up is like my signature".
Even if you think you don't really have much invested in platitudes like these, consider that your words come out of your brain--and your brain uses information to direct behavior! . Yeah I know, we talk this way in the pretense of a humbleness we may or may not really feel, or to have that self-deprecating sense of humor that everybody loves so much. Nonetheless...brains are faithful to the information available to them. In a sense, we become actors in the 'grand theater of no rehearsals', living these scripts, or rather, having these scripts live us.
(As an experiment, I suggest setting an alarm clock to go off five times randomly during the day. Write down exactly what you were thinking/saying when the alarm goes off. What your brain is saying about you and your place in the world will likely surprise you).
Dismantling these unhandy self-defining info-packets requires patience and a good eye/ear. As they dissolve, acquired is an opportunity to write a better script. Here's one I'm writing into my life:
"Make a little money, have a little fun, do a little good". This is, imo, a winner's script. Installing it is like installing modernity in Africa. There are revolts and the gnashing of teeth as my old habits ('traditions' handed down by tribal 'ancestors) fight for the power they've established and feel entitled to.
And now, a picture of a pigeon!
Empty Pockets Filled with Plans:
I might have given the impression, in my last couple of posts, that I'm not grateful to have a job at No Frills. Well, thanks to all the acceptance-as-things-are that I've garnished from years of meditation and reflection, I can say with some confidence that I'm not totally red with rage or in blue despair about it. My childhood fantasies never included me wearing a name-tag and earning minimum at age 33 (I think I saw myself wearing a cape and flying), but I understand that the food-chain needs fodder and since my own job needs are particular, this is the best I can do for the time being.
Why can't I get paid to blog and take pictures, any way?
Actually, I'm working on exactly that. Not with this blog mind you. I might have an inflated sense of my own wit and intelligence but I know better than to expect others to fork over cash for my half-baked opinions (<-- note: life script for erasure). I'm currently cooking up another blog for Nikon D90 users that might be of value to fellow photon-snatchers (photographers). The site is still in its infancy, but it'll soon be a power horse of useful info romping around the wild net; it'll be a platform upon which I can sell a product or service--I have a few in mind. Or it'll just be another voice in the wilderness of the net represented a lot of wasted hours. Time will tell.
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