It's all about learning. Some prefer to do it within the safety of institutional walls, others grapple what they can from their day to day. I've done both, and both leave you with something to think about.
School is a great place to study sheep. Lambs are groomed by shepherds sharing their perspective from their curriculum. "Square block fits in square hole" is the chalkboard mantra, while profs placate with the "think for yourself" placebo. Sheep advance, goats think for themselves from the parking lot. It's frustrating; I've seen many a good goat fall. Still it's important. Here you learn networking skills, advanced math skills, cultural anthropology, and, oh yeah, bleating. You can't get very far without bleating.
The street is a tougher teacher. While all competition is sanitized from our formal learning centers where "Everyone's a winner," the real world teaches you that The Highlander was right:
"There can be only one."
Unfortunately, if you want to make enough money to buy more than a used copy of The Highlander, you need to go to school. How much school? Well that's kind of like a spin at the roulette wheel. There is a point of diminished returns. As a general rule, If you know what "diminished returns" are, you've reached that point. You also have a student loan spider monkey riding your back like you're a circus dog. Circus performer, a great non-college job by the way. Same with rockstar. Good luck getting those gigs.
Life experience is critical too. The world teaches you that it's not enough to want It, you need to go get It. And how to accomplish that step, is something most people don't learn in school. Most schools wash their hands once you walk out their doors. The world teaches that sometimes it's your head on the pike, but not all pikes are created equal: sometimes you can regenerate. Sometimes you just need mighty morphing powers. If you believe you have these, don't bother going to school. Please advance to your nearest refrigerator box for a life of ease and comfort.
This week I spent my vacation doing projects around my refrigerator box. I didn't have time to do them while working at earning a paycheck. I did the things I learned about in school: I played with my camera, I futzed with some graphics programs, I wrote, I played, I gave blood, I lived.
There were lots of things I wanted to get done, people I would have loved to talk to, and words I just couldn't manipulate onto the written page. Still, my time was filled and I felt good. It was like a giant stretch in the May sun. Basking, I remembered a lesson I'd forgotten. Ok, I wasn't basking, I was outside pruning some spiky plant that tore into my flesh. Well it was either the plant or the spiders living in it. I'm routing for the plant. That part of the story doesn't work into my analogy though. That was something else they didn't teach me in school: melding metaphor with reality. Probably because the two never meet, just like two parallel lines waiting for a Disneyland ride. No, that's never move...
Anyway, let's try this. There are certain laws you live by when you live alone. Things that, although are helpful otherwise, they're easy to forget when you're part of a team.
While I was giving blood, I noticed a TV. When I first showed up, Oprah was on, so I signed my mind up for something else, but as soon as they swapped over to the Food Channel I petitioned that show. I now have a chicken kabob recipe with shallots for homework. I'll finish that later this week. Before, I might have mentioned the recipe to MyUnwife, but it would have died an incomplete. Now it's something I want to do.
It's the difference between couple-think, and single-think. Couple-think collapses when somebody offers a good idea, but nobody jumps on it. Both sides wait to see if it's important to the other, and when nothing happens, the idea dies. It's two submissive cats fighting. They run at each other, then both roll to their backs claws in the air, waiting for the other to attack. It's hilarious to watch, but frustrating for participants. MyUnwife and I are still waiting for the other to dive on exposed claws.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all about the couple, but there is something fresh about doing things for me again. It's like spring break. It's not surrendering my whole schedule to fit somebody else's, it's buying things I want, because I want them. It was always about what she wanted--as it should have been--but now, I don't have to worry about that. Maybe it's just being selfish. I don't know, but I haven't been allowed to be selfish for a long time.
Then there's that shaving thing. I'm still not sure about that, it could be the biggest mistake I've ever made. I just don't know. But I did it. Mistake or not, it's mine.
I'm not sure how to explain it, but it's the collective of seemingly stupid stuff like that that's making things fun again.
See, this is what I learned this week: When you waste time worrying about what you could or couldn't do if things were different, you stop yourself from experiencing what you can do with your life right now. School never touched on that.
Next week I'm going to go bow-hunt the neighborhood kids. College did teach me how to do that. No, but gosh wouldn't it be fun? That little neighbor boy is fast. I still think I could take him; I've learned a few tricks he doesn't know about yet. If he walks his bike across my lawn again, I just might teach him. If nothing else, I'll show him what the "manual" button on my sprinkler does.
I know, this goat's getting gruff in his old age.
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