Reverse perspective

There is a tendency in me, and possibly widespread in the general population, to view life's hurdles as higher than they actually are; the job from afar looks tall as a tree, only to diminish in size as I draw closer. That isn't in keeping with physics as we know it (or is it "them") but such so often seems to be the way it is.

Take writing as an example. From my performance thus far at this blogging thing it seems obvious that sitting down at the keyboard and jotting down some random thoughts is terribly difficult. That might have been true in the days when one needed to sharpen a quill and mix up a fresh pot of ink but now, with ---[okay, this is unbelievable; as I typed that last sentence the batteries in my wireless keyboard decided to run out of juice and my typing made nothing but noise! ]--- a computer and a keyboard, writing is a cinch. I even remember where the letters lie so I can type without looking so that writing should be no more difficult than talking. And I talk all the time without thinking.

Part of my problem in getting started on any project relates to the old adage: the perfect is the enemy of the good. I look at a problem or a project and try to invent the most elegant solution, unwilling to accept compromise of any sort. That's bound to magnify the challenge, to distort the perspective to frightening proportions. I admire those who don't create hurdles for themselves by falling into the trap of over-analyzing every single thing, who jump feet-first into everything. I'm the one who has to get through the long list of all the stuff that might possibly go wrong before I can touch a toe to the water.

But there's hope. I've identified the problem and I'm aware of the solution. Don't let the reverse perspective slow or stop progress. Don't spend time and energy looking for the absolute best way to move forward, just move forward.

Easy to say. Hey, easy to write!

Back to the Blog

Somehow two full years have gone somewhere, never to be seen again. I began this blog with good intentions and high hopes, then let it fade and die, like that plant on the back porch. There's no promise that this attempt at resurrection will succeed since it's the same ten fingers on the keyboard and the same mind -- two years older -- running the show.

I still consider myself upper middle aged and I'm still moving forward, looking backwards in my rowboat three mornings a week. We were engulfed by the smoke from the fires in California on Monday and I happened to have a camera with me at the lake and got the shot above.

Since my last entry on this page several things have changed. MaryAnn retired in August of '08 and I'm fond of saying that I now have adult supervision. The house is big enough for both of us to rattle around without colliding too often. My mother passed away about a year ago, following a blessedly short illness; she had the opportunity to see all four of her great-grandchildren before she left. I hope I'll be that lucky. I took care of her, and my dad, for many years so there's a bit of a vacuum now that they're both gone. I think of all sorts of things I meant to ask them and never got around to. That's a good reason to put my knowledge of the family and its history down in ink -- remember ink? -- so that when my kids and grandkids get curious someday they'll have a place to start.

The trick, I think, to keeping a blog is to resist the urge to make every entry weighty, wise and lyrical. I'm not playing to an audience of millions and I don't need to impress anyone with my wit and intellect, which seem to be in ever shorter supply. If I manage to hit a stride that's comfortable and visit the keyboard a few times a week, perhaps I'll make a dent in the gigabyte of space that Google provides me.

This is a start. Stay tuned.