I’m not decided on the title
This is the first post from the section I’m calling Short Foremania. They’re shorter versions of the Collected Foremania and I will hopefully write them more often because there’s less pressure.
I also made this logo.
Anyway, here’s finally the actual newsletter I wrote:
Whenever I go to the store, a timer starts. I don’t know how much time is on it until it hits zero.
There are factors, but the weight of each variable changes depending on the day, time of year, or even how much coffee I drank that morning.
The formula is invisible, but the march of minutes is inevitable. Something in me starts the stopwatch as soon as I step inside.
Tick Tock Tick
These are primary variables
which store?
time of day
my mood when I went in
how busy the store is
who’s with me
am I hungry?
ambient temperature
When the timer reaches zero, I gotta get out of there. I beeline for the checkout, if I can. If I can’t, then I’m going to be grumpy. Sorry.
The Weighty Variables
The more I love a store, the longer I can stay there. IKEA trips can last an entire afternoon. I can spend a long time in Target, too. I will endure a Giant Eagle and I’ll be there for exactly as long as it takes me to get what I need and get out, like a burglar. I plan trips to Wal Mart like a heist.
If I’m hungry, tired, over- or under-caffeinated, I probably should have just stayed home.
My mathematical mind
can see the breaks
So I’m gonna stop
riding the brakes
What Does This Mean?
I have no idea! Maybe this is one of those things that happens to everybody and I live with this mythology about myself. It’s this mythology that led me to think myself a unique and pitiful creature overtaken by the anxiety and depression that plagued me for most of my younger years. That particular myth was dispelled by a therapist who not only told me I was not unique but that he could help me get better from it.
I think we all carry this kind of folklore about ourselves.
But we don’t carry it just about ourselves but about everything.
Babies love to drive the grownups crazy with the drop game. From the lofty air of their high chairs, they drop (or throw) a cup or pacifier or whatever, over and over. This is not only an entertaining game, it’s a young brain learning about the world. Baby talk is not just cute nonsense, it’s a young brain mimicking the sounds it hears, laying cognitive foundations that will evolve into language pathways.
We accumulate a lot of things as we grow. The fertile ground of youthful neuroplasticity is where stereotypes and prejudices grow. The things grown ups tell us, or things we overhear them say, plant themselves in our minds and, over time, turn into opinions and positions. We have a responsibility to dig up the bad ones and throw them out, or plant new ones. This metaphor is slipping away from me, so I’ll stop before I’m writing about picking fruit or whatever.
What folklore is stashed away in your library? Isn’t it time to take it off the shelf and examine it? Yes, I think it is.