It's All About Me

For all the years I have been blogging at Cobb, I have been putting effort into understanding things which were somewhat new to me, fleshing them out and describing the personal experience of moving forward according to what I have learned, making provocative and Socratic dialog along the way. Sure I've done a few memes, but it has not been about me personally. But this year I'm changing that, and blogging less. For the past few weeks it has been more about me.

For the first time in my life, I am dieting. I've never dieted, really. I've changed my eating habits but I have never counted calories. More generally, when I feel out of shape, I exercise myself back into shape and have done so three or so notable times in life. This time I'm not doing much exercise at all, but using a meticulously monitored calorie deficit program to lose weight. I want to get down to my retirement weight, and be ready for who I expect to be as I push 50. I'm living life with a little more gusto because nothing is promised. As for the diet, I can feel myself changing. As of this morning I am weighing in at 209.0 which is 7.6 pounds down from when I started about 4 or 5 weeks ago.

It has been a long time since I thought that being a better me would make me a better person. I've long been satisfied that the me I was was all I ever needed to be and my problem was that all of the assholes in the world didn't truly appreciate me. That remains true, but I don't really care. Somewhere inside me, I have begun to accept some aspects of whatever fate befalls me. I still follow my curiosity, but I'm not absolute about trying to exploit it. I'm not sure what that makes me - because I always want to be a go-to guy. Ask Bowen, he'll figure it out, he'll get it done. But my altered ambition doesn't make me appear to be that, I think. At once, my willingness to change makes me more capable yet less reliable. There's the irony. You can count on me as ever before, but I'm not taking those skills as seriously because now I am intrigued by what I haven't really bothered to notice or care about, and I'm more likely to get onboard that.

What I want, I think, is that my character is a bigger part of me than my skills. And my character is shaped primarily by my commitment to my family, and having been successful in that, makes me more accountable to everyone else. Because I recognize the seriousness with which people must commit to themselves and to their families. It is not skill-based. That's a labor market negotiation which gives you more or less money. You can't negotiate with family or friends or people on a skills basis. Well, I can't, because nobody understands my skills. Hell, I even forget them.

For all this I need energy. The diet will help. Exercise is a must and I have already made promises to hike and camp and otherwise be a better pal to Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones and my old boss DG are similar guys I think. Both grew up on farms in the midwest, both are very smart and very modest, and very hardworking. DG is out in Colorado, a place I often think about these days for various reasons.

I'm going to church this evening. There will be a Jazz Vespers at a Catholic Church somewhere in Westchester. I take this baby step towards Catholicism with the conceit that the rites of the One True Church will discipline my spirit in a way acceptable to God and Country. I believe that conforming myself to the appropriate shape of an individual in Catholic laity will give me... Ahh. another conceit. I will then just take the best advice Doc ever gave me. Don't tell people what you're going to do, just do it and then tell them what you've done.

That doesn't work very well at work. And this week has been quite an adventure. Having twisted up my left wrist from an idiot fall down a stairwell on Monday, I missed two days of work and have been gimped up ever since. Naturally all of the systems under my aegis decided to go haywire with the result being some peckishness which didn't swing my way... to put it modestly, as I ususally do because it's not all about me... And as I came through the week fixing everything to my satisfaction I found time to celebrate that evening with a ribeye at Houston's.

Ladies and Gentlemen I can still afford steak. I even washed my car this weekend. Over on the border of Old Torrance, there's a little school, Holy Nativity. They had a cookout and a car wash. So I brought the Transporter over and overpaid by 12 bucks, just because I could.

I'm reading an audiobook called 'Richistan' written just before the collapse (Which I'm calling The L) in which a reporter from Forbes magazine details the history and lives and habits and stories of today's wealthiest Americans. It's a vast and enjoyable piece, and I feel my own attraction to the order and discipline it is putting on my own understanding of what that place is like. Interestingly, the more I hear, the more I am recognizing the kind of satisfaction I get in my place in the upper-middle class which is, by and large very similar to how many of those blokes live - same accouterments, bigger pricetag, more of them. The tone is generational and I think that the odd men whom we often take Ellison, Gates, Buffet and Walton to be are genuinely odd rather than typical of those whose household investable worth is 1-10 (Lower Richistan) 10-100 (Middle Richistan) and over 100 million dollars in Upper Richistan.  These several millions of Americans 7 or so as of the printing are highly individual - or at least reading their stories greatly individuates them and lets me know even moreso that civilization is where you put it. There is only what people make, and the assumptions about what else is out there are generally false.

One of the folks says that money is only a multiplier and a lubricant. If you're an asshole, big money makes you moreso. If you're cool, big money makes you more cool. It is as I suspected, the blowout party would only last six months, and then you become more of yourself than you could ever imagine. I am still convinced that the world would be a better place with me aggregated with my own community of Richistanis; I have always hoped to be wealthy enough to make the best people I know rich. And so I am closer to knowing that money won't change me and much more comfortable with my tendency to behave as if I actually had more financial security than I do. It's only money. You either have it or you don't - if you have it, you spend it and then you don't have it. Except when you're wealthy - you spend it and you still have it.

The first million is the hardest, and I think it's never too late. For that I need energy.

Timing. The only timing that matters, I think, is the timing that relates to the patience of people out to do you harm. As I think about Buie's backhanded compliment from last week, there is some synergy in another of Cobb's Rules with his Orwellian aphorism 'Ignorance is Hostility'. My rule was 'An enemy is anyone who doesn't care if you fail'. The difference is, crucial, I think, depending upon whether or not you believe that ignorant masses need to be swept out of your way. But forget the masses, lets talk about the people in your rolodex. If they don't want to see you fail, then they are friends. And there are certain things we owe our friends. If they are putting broken glass ahead of your path, they are your enemy, even if the soles of your feet are much thicker than they could possibly imagine. I have the shortcoming of not being in the habit of punishing my enemies. It's a Zen thing, things generally not being all about me and enemies floating down the river and other such peaceful exhortations anesthetizing my vengeful heart. Nevertheless such middle class emotions are what I must deal with - the impatience of people who have something to prove, who can't look at things as they are because of their needs to demonstrate the 'truth' of things as they see them. We are not accustomed to being able to walk away. That's why my best friend and I call it 'Fuck You Money'. When you have it, you can tell people who need to hear it exactly that. Without it, we simply bear our burdens, bent over as we are somewhat less of ourselves.

And just hearing that come out of my mouth, I began to sympathize with Chris Brown. After all, who is going to smack up somebody worth millions who needs a good smacking?

Time waits for no man, but death and disease have infinite patience to strike on their own accord. You will not be warned, except that you must accept the inevitability. So today I am lighter and happier and more energetic, fighting the one fight I haven't bothered to for a while. The fight for my own life and the energy with which to carry it out better, being more flexible and ready for whatever change may come. It's all about my ability to deliver on promises, and they are ultimate promises to my children. So I am not worried about timing. The gifts may come early or late depending on my fortune. But as a friend and a father, a business partner and a colleague, everyone should know that they will get exactly what they deserve from me, my best, my eyeball to eyeball truth. Don't worry about the timing. Just know which way I'm facing.