Rant: Unreasonable Expectations
I should fill this out into a proper essay sometime, but given that it's completely self-centered, that is probably a bad idea.
Anyways, I ended up thinking more about the self-quote I made last night, where I said, "I'm always irked that things aren't already perfect and need to be fixed."
There are a couple nuances in this that even I missed when I made it.
1) I believe in building stuff. I talked, a while back, about how I prefered to be an architect rather than a preserver or troubleshooter. (Not in those terms.) I recognize the need for the other two types of people (are these really types of people? HM!), but that doesn't really change my preference, both of others and of myself.
2) My competency is in troubleshooting. That's what I'm good at. More on this later.
3) I'm terrible at maintaining status quo ("Prevent the end of something good," is how Kawasaki put it). I mean, I barely keep what few friendships I have afloat. They're generally based on some vague, positive memory about me, and honestly, that's not a friendship. I don't have friends. How could I possibly make sure good things don't go away when I can't?
4) I'm terrible at building stuff. I know this for a fact. I've tried. Over and over and over and over again. I've built, or helped built, almost half a dozen organizations. All of them failed. In fact, the only scenario where my participation hasn't made a flaming wreckage of a group is the company I'm working at. And you know what? I'm a troubleshooter here.
5) I'm good at troubleshooting. I proofread well. I can take apart philosophies and logical structures well. I fix computer bugs. I diagnose psychologies and relationships. Anything that I have any kind of good, working knowledge about, I can fix. Even if I can't fix it well, I can point other people in the right direction.
6) But I don't want to be a troubleshooter. I hate that. I don't like being the go-to guy when shit goes bad. I don't like being the best friend of quality assurance. But I can't stop myself, because that's the only place in the world where I'm worth a damn. Because I don't know how to do anything else. I'm good at taking things apart, not putting them together.
Do I make the world a better place for people? Sure. I guess so. I do it by grabbing people who are running off the edge of the cliff and dragging them up and kicking them in the face. I do it by building walls along the edge and body-checking anything that comes close.
But really... where can I send the people I do manage to save?
Someone else gets them. I just stand here, on the brink of sanity, and just wait for someone who I can't keep back, who will push me over with them. At least I'll have a friend, some companionable mind, for that brief, short time before we both die. That will just have to be good enough.
It has been 11 years since I first, accidentally and ignorantly, pulled someone back just by participating vicariously in their misery. By understanding, unconsciously, what they had gone through and somehow working with it. I wonder how Ashley is doing, these days, and if she's still in that basement in Chicago. I know that Amy, in New York, is dead by now, though I don't know how she died. And I don't know what happened to the Amy here, in Seattle, who I lost touch with long before I even thought of moving here. I can't imagine what that brilliant little girl in Alabama has grown up into, nor the shy and faintly rebellious Catholic who somehow managed a crush on me. I don't think about them often. It is the blessing and curse of the Internet, that I gained so much and lost so much all at once. And then there is Tracy, who I promised to invite on a world tour if I ever got around to doing it. I meant it, too. I thought I would someday go looking for a site for my university. I don't know where so many people have gone. I have shed so many people like a tree in autumn that it's difficult to keep track of who I am. I cannot define myself by my relationships, as other people can. I can only define myself by my dreams, and my inability to reach them.
On the other hand, when I get like this, I get to remember the prologue in Sandman: Fables and Reflections. "Fear of Falling". And Gaiman is right: it is not that bad to fall. But you know... a guy gets sick of it. I'd really like to have one success on my resume.
Just one.
Which means I should probably stop making notes on how to build Sidereus Nuncius and start coding. Which I would have done this weekend if THE FUCKING IPHONE started working properly. But no. I was too busy being a troubleshooter all weekend, and only ended up spending an hour doing work I cared about. Typical.
Seriously? iPhone. I don't want it. If someone tells me to develop another app, I may very well punch them in the face.
Anyways, I ended up thinking more about the self-quote I made last night, where I said, "I'm always irked that things aren't already perfect and need to be fixed."
There are a couple nuances in this that even I missed when I made it.
1) I believe in building stuff. I talked, a while back, about how I prefered to be an architect rather than a preserver or troubleshooter. (Not in those terms.) I recognize the need for the other two types of people (are these really types of people? HM!), but that doesn't really change my preference, both of others and of myself.
2) My competency is in troubleshooting. That's what I'm good at. More on this later.
3) I'm terrible at maintaining status quo ("Prevent the end of something good," is how Kawasaki put it). I mean, I barely keep what few friendships I have afloat. They're generally based on some vague, positive memory about me, and honestly, that's not a friendship. I don't have friends. How could I possibly make sure good things don't go away when I can't?
4) I'm terrible at building stuff. I know this for a fact. I've tried. Over and over and over and over again. I've built, or helped built, almost half a dozen organizations. All of them failed. In fact, the only scenario where my participation hasn't made a flaming wreckage of a group is the company I'm working at. And you know what? I'm a troubleshooter here.
5) I'm good at troubleshooting. I proofread well. I can take apart philosophies and logical structures well. I fix computer bugs. I diagnose psychologies and relationships. Anything that I have any kind of good, working knowledge about, I can fix. Even if I can't fix it well, I can point other people in the right direction.
6) But I don't want to be a troubleshooter. I hate that. I don't like being the go-to guy when shit goes bad. I don't like being the best friend of quality assurance. But I can't stop myself, because that's the only place in the world where I'm worth a damn. Because I don't know how to do anything else. I'm good at taking things apart, not putting them together.
Do I make the world a better place for people? Sure. I guess so. I do it by grabbing people who are running off the edge of the cliff and dragging them up and kicking them in the face. I do it by building walls along the edge and body-checking anything that comes close.
But really... where can I send the people I do manage to save?
Someone else gets them. I just stand here, on the brink of sanity, and just wait for someone who I can't keep back, who will push me over with them. At least I'll have a friend, some companionable mind, for that brief, short time before we both die. That will just have to be good enough.
It has been 11 years since I first, accidentally and ignorantly, pulled someone back just by participating vicariously in their misery. By understanding, unconsciously, what they had gone through and somehow working with it. I wonder how Ashley is doing, these days, and if she's still in that basement in Chicago. I know that Amy, in New York, is dead by now, though I don't know how she died. And I don't know what happened to the Amy here, in Seattle, who I lost touch with long before I even thought of moving here. I can't imagine what that brilliant little girl in Alabama has grown up into, nor the shy and faintly rebellious Catholic who somehow managed a crush on me. I don't think about them often. It is the blessing and curse of the Internet, that I gained so much and lost so much all at once. And then there is Tracy, who I promised to invite on a world tour if I ever got around to doing it. I meant it, too. I thought I would someday go looking for a site for my university. I don't know where so many people have gone. I have shed so many people like a tree in autumn that it's difficult to keep track of who I am. I cannot define myself by my relationships, as other people can. I can only define myself by my dreams, and my inability to reach them.
On the other hand, when I get like this, I get to remember the prologue in Sandman: Fables and Reflections. "Fear of Falling". And Gaiman is right: it is not that bad to fall. But you know... a guy gets sick of it. I'd really like to have one success on my resume.
Just one.
Which means I should probably stop making notes on how to build Sidereus Nuncius and start coding. Which I would have done this weekend if THE FUCKING IPHONE started working properly. But no. I was too busy being a troubleshooter all weekend, and only ended up spending an hour doing work I cared about. Typical.
Seriously? iPhone. I don't want it. If someone tells me to develop another app, I may very well punch them in the face.