Story Time

Hi kids. I'm an author from the neighborhood. Can anyone tell me what an author does?

An author writes stories, right?

And, if an author writes stories, that means a good author writes good stories, right?

Now, can anyone tell me what makes a story good?

Colorful, entertaining, fun, crazy, silly, funny? Yes, all those things. But, is that all that makes a story good?

What else could make a good story?

You can learn something from it, right?

After all, learning is why you're here at school, and learning is something we all do throughout our whole lives. We know that learning is very, very important. So, learning is definitely something that we should make very colorful, silly, and funny, and that's one reason I decided to become an author...because I like to have a lot of fun, and I like to learn, and I like writing stories.

I try my hardest to write good stories, and that means I try to write stories that make learning fun.

Now, real life is not always fun, is it?

Sometimes, real life doesn't seem like much fun at all, right?

And, one reason life sometimes isn't fun is because things happen accidentally.

Have any of you spilled milk before? Raise your hand if you've spilled milk. I did when I was your age.

Were you sad when you spilled the milk? I remember being sad when I did that.

Maybe not everyone in this room has spilled milk, but we've spilled maybe juice, or water, or lemonade, or maybe it was something else you spilled. Or maybe it was another accident altogether.

Well, for now, if you haven't spilled milk, I want you to pretend that you accidentally spilled milk instead of the other mistake you made.

It can be anything at all, even if it is embarrassing. You don't need to tell me what is is. It can be your secret.

You see, as an author, I can use "spilled milk" to resemble any small mistake you have made, because I know that you can use your imagination to understand that what you did that was a lot like spilling milk. This is called a "metaphor." A metaphor is a symbol, so for you, "spilled milk" might be the same as a toy you broke, or a time when you hurt someone's feelings accidentally. All of these are mistakes a lot like spilling milk. Metaphors, or symbols, help authors tell good stories.

Why were you sad when you spilled the milk?

You were sad because you didn't want to be a "milk spiller."

You already know that good authors must write good stories.

You also know that good children drink their milk...they don't spill it, right?

Nobody wants to be a "milk spiller!" (At least anyone who didn't try to spill milk!)

Well, I have a very special secret for you...

Your mom and your dad...

Your grandpa and grandpa...

Your brothers and your sisters...

and every single one of us has spilled milk.

And everyone felt bad about it, just like you did. They didn't want to be a "milk spiller" either. And, those of you that are using your imagination, you know what you were afraid of being called.

Maybe a "toy breaker."

Maybe a "feelings hurter."

I have been those things. Yes, I have hurt my friend's feelings by mistake...

Well, everyone in the world has made mistakes like that too.

But, let's continue to use our metaphor, and pretend that your particular thing is the same as spilling milk. Because, after you do something by mistake, whatever it is, something usually must be done to fix it.

The milk cannot be un-spilled.

Even if we cry and scream and pound our arms, there is nothing that will change the fact that milk has been spilled.

We cannot undo what has already happened.

But, we do have a choice...

After we spill milk, we can either help to make things better, or we can make things worse.

How do you make things better once you spill the milk?

Does crying make things better?

Does screaming make things better?

Does pounding your arms make things better?

No, it doesn't, does it?

What can help make it better?

Well, first, choosing not to cry. Does that make things better?

Choosing not scream?

Choosing not to pound?

Just being calm and thinking about what has happened is already helping, right?

But, there is still milk all over the place, isn't there?

You have already begun to help by not screaming, pounding, or crying. But, if you really want to help more, you can even clean up the milk you have spilled.

That is the best way to make it better.

But, it's not only the best way for you...

It's the best way for the person sitting next to you, too.

It's the best way for me, and for everybody in the world, to clean up the milk they have spilled instead of crying, screaming, or pounding. This was true thousands of years ago, and it will be true thousands of years from now. Does everybody agree that this is true?

It is. And we know that because we all have reason. Reason is another requirement for an author.

While we need to use our imagination sometimes to pretend "spilled milk" is actually another thing that we did by mistake, reason tells us, without needing any imagination, that it is best to help clean up our messes and fix what we have broken when we are able.

Authors must use reason, because everyone who likes stories has reason.

So, reason is definitely a requirement for a good author.

How do I know that cleaning up spilled milk is always the best thing to do in every case?

I don't.

No one can really know that.

But I do know that...

1. When I see someone spill milk, it isn't fair that another person has to clean it up. And...
2. Because I know that, I know that I should clean up the milk I spilled.

Do you clean up milk you spill yourself because I tell you? No.

Because your teacher tells you? No.

Because your parent's tell you? No.

Because anyone says so? No.

You do it because you have reason, just like everybody else in this room. And if you didn't before, now you do. You do it because you know you ought to do it.

When I was little I spilled milk, and then I cried instead of cleaning it up. Then I learned why we clean up our own spilled milk, and have tried to do this ever since...for spilled milk or any other mistake I have made. (And as I grew up, and make more mistakes, and did my best to fix them, I saw how important this habit was.)

Now, imagine your brother, sister or friend spills milk. Then, they don't clean it up.

Now, they may be too young to have reason, and in that case they may need your help. You may need to teach them reason yourself, because the earlier someone learns it, the better.

But, if they are older, and they have reason, sometimes they may not clean up the milk they have spilled.

Why is that?

Why wouldn't someone clean up their own spilled milk, or fix something they broke, when they have reason?

There can be only one reason.

Because they need your help.

Maybe the glass was so big, and there was soooo much milk, that just one person could never clean it up. Or, maybe this person got hurt when they spilled the milk, and are unable to clean it up. In that case, they may need a lot of help. And, there may be other reasons too...

Every author, including me, has made many mistakes...has spilled milk. And, that makes me a lot like each one of you. Sometimes an author like me writes stories as a way to clean up the milk he has spilled. Other times, an author writes stories to help somebody else clean up milk they have spilled. And other times, an author writes stories just for fun.

I write stories because I learned that crying, screaming, or pounding will not help clean up spilled milk. But, there is another secret that authors know...

And that is...

Cleaning up spilled milk is actually more fun than anything else.

And now, it's time for our story...

Technically Speaking

Technical writers are technically not just writers. They are interpreters, translators, communicators, and psychologists. Decent ones are also psychic and prescient. As such, I lament that I cannot hope to be even a decent one...

Although I am not a very good technical writer, I believe I can reasonably identify the results produced by one. Looking back upon the career of what would be the most successful example, I predict something like the following would be said...

"Mr. X delivered all his content in a concise, entertaining and seemingly effortless fashion. His readers found his material so appealing that learning was mysteriously converted from a chore to an irresistible obsession through his pen. Technical hurdles were not confronted, but dissolved as participants absorbed mountains of interrelated technical constructs in hypnotic fashion, not realizing the uncanny transfer of knowledge. He empowered the world with faculties never before imagined. The collective human capacity increased exponentially as a result of his eloquence. Hunger, war, corruption, violence, and all ailments that once contributed to human suffering were dispatched with fluency in his wake. The world we live in now, with its enlightened and mysterious glow of transcendent bliss, can be almost entirely attributed to the work of Mr. X. Once exposed to his contributions, no soul can return to their former depraved existence, and virtually all now share in the endless bounty of life, love, and happiness.

Yet, we never knew who Mr. X actually was. In fact, we cannot explain or even identify what he actually wrote, as his work was generally not signed. We can only identify his writing by the one characteristic..the mark of authenticity: that everything he wrote is so familiar and seemly that upon exposure we instantly believe that we already knew it. This poses a conundrum for most: how do we discern between the abilities he delivered to us, and those we discovered on our own?

There are a few with capacity to separate those concepts learned from Mr. X and those obvious to them before. This quiet minority still defends Mr. X against his assailants; the masses who attacked him for his efforts. How could anyone antagonize Mr. X, you ask? It is quite easier than you might think. While opening doors, Mr. X also revealed new ones that exposed dangerous complexities. By revealing the nature of our existence, Mr. X brought many proud souls to their knees in frustration, horrified to observe aspects of nature they had so long concealed. Many would not accept the responsibility of the truth, shielding their eyes from the empowering language before them, terrified. Many, ill-prepared for authority over their own lives, could only recoil to the shadows, perpetual victims. Still others refused to acknowledge his submissions altogether, and roamed in a meandering stupor of ignorance and confusion, unconsciously begging for meager scraps that they could neither assemble nor digest. Many were easily assimilated by the terrified. What Mr. X offered, while true, was not popular to a powerful minority who tended to occupy far less than they believed, and had far more to gain than they were capable of imagining. To absolve their fear, Mr. X was compromised materially and physically; two aspects of his existence that were of little value of him compared to the value he placed on his offerings for posterity. It is quite curious that, as a technical writer, he seemed not to have objectives beyond technical writing itself. Few today engage in this trade for amusement.

But was it only for amusement? His motives were mysterious and uncomfortable. He seemed not to write for income or esteem. The removal of fear was not his goal, as his writing did far more to provoke than relieve it. For what sake he acted is mysterious. A man without chains is threatening by nature. We confront one with nothing to lose as we confront a suicide bomber itching for destruction. How do we negotiate with one as comfortable with death as life? What truth can there be in his words? What can we have in common with such a figure? We take comfort and delight in he who can be bribed, rewarded, or punished. Mr. X, while qualified as a technical writer, was lacking in these most important worldly skills...

So today, after the conclusion of Mr. X's short and miserable life, we tip our hat to the technical writer who gave us everything we have. We also blame him for all of our problems and we scorn him for not giving us more than he did. Indeed, only a cruel heart can have such power and yet leave worldly suffering intact. Most importantly, we accuse him of exposing truth about the nature of some things we might have rather left hidden. For that, he may never be forgiven. I conclude by insisting that Mr. X's words be attacked until the end of time, or until they are refuted, whichever comes first."

Jenny

Both of Jenny's young children died in a tragic auto accident. After attending the funeral she spent two days in bed. Jenny finally crawled to her computer to check her email. Her Facebook account was still open. She reviewed the first five status updates:

"Just finished making 3 huge batches of baby food: carrots, papaya and apple sauce. Mmmm."

"13 weeks- ONE (emphasis on the one) healthy baby thus far. Halleluiah!"

"Oops...I think mom forgot to clean between his toes!" [w/picture]

"John had his 9 month check up today. He has 8 teeth, weighs 18 lbs and is doing great!"

"Our little man has officially outgrown his car seat! Well, looks like we won't need to buy another one after all!!"

Justice

I'm currently enduring a Harvard philosophy course with Michael Sandel called "Justice." (Thank you Michaela). I encourage all of you to join me. While I have actually read most of the literature before, I have never had it wrapped up in a context like this. I am perpetually astonished to discover my persistent stupidity. How can I be confident enough to believe anything at all after watching some of my most dear assumptions beaten, sliced, twisted, and deep fried into an ill-defined fog of half-certainty. I learn that ideas I previously rejected had been half-understood. Now, trying to incorporate a few of them back into my clean universal construct requires heavy restructuring. What will this thing end up looking like? Will I end up with the philosophical understanding of a despotic tyrant? I hope not. I can't know. It's uncertainty on a stick.

So, I have taken a reductive approach, eliminating only the most obvious fallacies. Here are three beliefs I once had that I am now convinced are false...

• Stevie Ray Vaughn is a god.
  
• Intellectuals who died before the 1960's have nothing to contribute to the shiny new world of iphones and nitrogen widgets.
• I do not exist.
  

Eliminating these things from the pool of possibilities took some deep thinking. I'm still not so sure about that third one, but have decided it is safe to assume for all intents and purposes. If it is true, I've got other things to worry about.

Zen and the Art of Viking's Football Fandom

One thing is certain, and that is that nothing is certain. But, if anything was, it would probably be the inevitability of aging. Time will continue, physicists say, so long as mass exists in the universe. Mass is expected to remain for quite some time. This means very good things for those of us who appreciate consistency. It also means we will grow old and eventually die.

This seems unfortunate.

But it really isn't. Hear me out. We tend to lump life experiences into two categories:

• Good
• Bad
  

Now, this doesn't mean that every one of our experiences was either good or bad by some past definition. It certainly doesn't even mean that a good experience felt, looked, or smelled good. In fact, a "good" experience might have been a horrific and terrifying experience, like watching the Vike's final playoff game in 98. "Good" or "bad," we remember all of our experiences. (At least, we remember those which we remember, and that, to us, is all of them). And, regardless of their "goodness" or "badness" status at the time they occurred, immediately after their conclusion they all have one thing in common.

They all become "good."

Why? Because at the present time, (yes, right now) every memory is either an example of something to be repeated/enhanced or an example of something to be avoided/reduced. In other words, no experience we live through can ever be "bad" so long as we live through it. Once it has happened, we are able to learn from it and adjust our future thinking or behavior accordingly. We are capable of using the accumulation of all our experiences to compress more value and good judgment into every present decision. This means there is potentially quite a lot to look forward to, and little reason to fear the most disastrous misfortunes, as they tend to come in most handy.

It's important to also remember that a past experience has multiple interpretations and usages in later decisions. For example, since I could not have changed the trajectory of Gary Anderson's missed field goal, I must not pretend that my actions had any impact on my subsequent disappointment. However, I must evaluate the value of all those hours watching football all season...all that time hoping for a Viking's super bowl appearance...all those dramatic Sunday afternoons. I come to realize that I would have done better off doing something, anything, that could possibly have improved my chances of success in some matter...some matter in which I do have some control. Yet, even spending all that time staring at a wall would have been better. It would have saved me from the agony of that moment...that sinking terror now ingrained in the fatalistic psyche of every respectable Minnesotan's cerebral cortex. I would be, in a way, more whole.

But, yes, even this tragedy is now "good."

The 98 season is good because it taught me so much. It demonstrated much more than just "don't expect the Vike's to make it...ever." (Every Minnesota football fan knows that.) Rather, it taught me the value of staking my hopes and dreams on something, anything, I can control. It taught me that the definition of "good" is not what is agreeable. It is rather the degree to which I act, then fail miserably...crashing and burning in a blaze of mediocrity, ugliness, or whatever...so long as I can learn from my mistakes.

Therefore, I no longer watch the Vike's in vain. I do so with purpose. I watch them simply to exercise my ability to detach myself from the drama completely. I accept that since I did nothing to cause their eventual success or failure, I must not expend any of my precious passion or interest on the results of their training and preparation. I must focus on that which I can control, which happens to be my complete disinterest as I observe, dispassionately, a silly ball bouncing back and forth upon a grassy field.

Come January, at the very worst, I will not care at all, and have succeeded. At the very best, I will be dead, and all my problems will be solved.

In any case, when they choke, I will seriously not be pissed.

Seriously.

Meetings: How to avoid them

No one likes sitting through boring meetings. If your workday is interrupted with too many pow wows, here are the top ten ways to get out of them:

10. Minimize showering.
9. Coughing fits.
8. Restless shoulder syndrome.
7. Three words: Cell phone carnival.
6. Contradict indiscriminately. E.g. "Third time's a charm." Your response: "Do we have any data? That sounds speculative and undefined to me."
5. Snot rockets.
4. At the end of the meeting, when asked if there are any more questions, emit an audible hum, like you are thinking. Pretend like you're trying to remember what it was you were going to say for a minute. When the delay gets awkward, wait another 30 seconds, then say you forgot.
3. Say everything twice, verbatim. Say everything twice, verbatim.
2. Have good ideas. Good ideas are insults to management.
1. Pretend to care about what's going on. A dab of feigned curiosity will set you free. (Be careful not to have real curiosity. See #2 - not as good.)

Consequences

Some do evil quietly, expecting to put-off the consequences to far later, and hopefully after death. I choose to do evil openly and with enthusiasm, demanding all consequences in this lifetime.

Another way to look at it, which is just as valid...

Some avoid responsibility quietly, procrastinating into perpetuity, hoping there will be no consequences in this lifetime. I avoid responsibility with shameless delight, expecting all consequences in this lifetime.