Facilitating the Making Happening

This title is a quote that someone said during the tail end of a 4-hour meeting. Verbatim.

For the past 2 months, I’ve been making a conscious effort to pronounce the first “r” in February. Go ahead, I’ll let you try it now…

Isn’t that a weird feeling? It’s a combination of “Is that for real? Have I been mispronouncing that word this entire time?” and “Fucker came outta no where.” But I have good news. Apparently you can skip the first “r” altogether.

I had a 5 minute conversation about Justin Bieber’s best song with an 8 year old last weekend. (by the way, it’s this). She said “Never say Never.” Ha…What an idiot…

That short chit-chat basically turned into me lecturing her about her terrible taste in music. Listen…don’t judge me, ok. If she likes something that’s not good, then it’s my responsibility as her elder to tell her she’s in the wrong. This is a gateway decision, and it could create a ripple effect which ultimately leads her to think it’s ok to try drugs or buy a cat. Plus, she was being a little jerk. But I guess if it’s just me talking, it’s less of a chat, and pretty much all chit…

Well, now that we’re all caught up on what I’ve been doing with my life, let’s proceed.

A few months ago, I bought City Slickers from Best Buy for $5. It had brought back an old memory, so I decided to buy it and pray it wasn’t one of those movies that was awesome when you were younger, but when you watch it again, it’s actually pretty terrible. (Yes, you read that right: Antonio Banderas plays an Arab warrior alongside a group of Norsemen.) But it proved to live up to my childhood standard. In the movie, Billy Crystal sells ads for a radio station and is pretty much mid-life crisis-ing. He has to speak at his son’s school for career day, and his son, played by Jake Gyllenhaal, is embarrassed. He goes home to tell his wife this.

“What is my job? I sell advertising time on the radio, so basically, I sell air. At least my father was an upholster. He made a sofa or a couch, you could sit on and it’s something tangible. What can I point to? Where’s my work? It’s air! I sell air!”

There is a fear that the work I do my entire life will not really amount to anything tangible. Today, I literally sat at a computer, and “Alt + Tab-ed” between a spreadsheet and a word doc for 8 hours. What did I do today? To be honest, I couldn’t tell you. Where is the fruit of my labor? What is my tangible deliverable?

Yesterday, before I left the house, my grandma said, “Have a good day. Make lots of money.” When I came home after a long day, she asked me if I was mad. I told her it was just a long day. She said, “Sometimes mental exhaustion is worse than physical exhaustion.” But if I tell her that I basically get paid to send emails, sit in meetings, and send more emails, I think she might laugh. This woman grew up on a farm, was imprisoned in a Japanese internment camp, and raised three children and four grandchildren. There were times in her life when electricity was not available. If electricity was not available for me, I literally just wouldn’t have a job.

Giant rants are basically bitchfests unless there is some kind of result. I’m going to do my best this year to make something tangible. And not in an attempt to be remembered, but in an attempt to show some worth.

I’ll consider grandma’s chit a gateway decision.

Thanks for reading.

– Chitty Slackers

hirachi

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