I was reading Seth Godin’s blog last week and he had posted this video:

Here’s what he said about it:

My favorite part happens just before the first minute mark. That’s when guy #3 joins the group. Before him, it was just a crazy dancing guy and then maybe one other crazy guy. But it’s guy #3 who made it a movement.

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been taking one hour a night and devoting that hour to working on a project. I have about a dozen projects, and, all totaled, I believe they can be completed within a year.

Many of these projects are creative ones. Doing something creative, and putting it out there for the world to see can be scary. After watching the video, I found myself thinking about what it was like being on stage at USAO.

Our drama department put on some pretty damn good shows. They didn’t start out being damn good shows. Usually, they started out as awkwardly-delivered lines and half-understood scenes. But we would stop, re-read the lines, pick apart the scene, the words, we would try saying the lines a different way maybe, we would try out different blocking to see what worked best. We devoted ourselves to understanding the story, and the characters. And, by the time opening night rolled around, we knew what the hell we were doing. We knew how to make the audience laugh, and we knew how to make them cry.

And the reason the performances were good was because a group of people agreed to look foolish together, and to say that it’s okay to look foolish. This permission to look, and act, and be foolish is why members of an acting troupe can be so close to each other. Only by being willing to suffer through looking foolish can we develop our skills.

If you want to learn how to roller-blade, you have to be willing to look foolish. You’re going to scream, flail your arms about wildly, and fall flat on your ass. Somebody will laugh. You might be tempted to give up, but you shouldn’t.

Give yourself permission to look foolish, and over time, you’ll scream less, you’ll perform fewer gravity-induced gyrations, and your bruised ass will heal.

Now, that first guy in the video? He’s brave and/or crazy. The second guy? He’s also brave and/or crazy. But that third guy, the one Godin says turned crazy dancing into a movement? He’s the tipping point, the one that gave everybody permission to look foolish, to do the thing they wanted to do when they saw Guy #1 and #2, but couldn’t because they were too afraid. He’s the one that gave them permission to express themselves, and have fun.

But it all started because Guy #1 didn’t quit, and we need to remember that. So, if you have your own creative project, you and I, we’ll be Guy #1. Our friends? They’ll be Guy #2.

And let’s keep going until Guy #3 shows up, okay?

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I took the idea of the grape soda Ellie Badge (if you’ve seen Up, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t seen Up, go see it…take tissue) and changed it to better suit me and Cindy. I think Moxie is more fitting for us. Not only is it one of our favorite drinks of all-time, but it’s a quality we strive to bolster within ourselves.

And we’re going to need a lot of it to get us through the next couple of years :)

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Last month, Todd and I ran across this article (via Consumerist) about how Charlie Munger, the Vice-Chairman of Warren Buffett’s investment company Berkshire Hathaway, used to set aside one hour each day to work on personal side-projects for himself. I like this idea for a couple of reasons:

1. One hour is about all the time I can spend on a project right now.
2. It’s such a small amount of time that the pressure of producing something “epic” is kept at bay.

Over time, these little actions will yield big results. It’s not a new idea, I know. But it’s easy for me to get caught up in a mental gumption trap, believing that I shouldn’t or can’t start something right now because I don’t have the time to give it the attention I feel it deserves or needs. Of course, that is complete and utter bullshit.

Over the past week, I’ve been trying to keep this in mind, working on various side projects I’ve intended to get around to someday. Not surprisingly, at the end of each hour, it’s satisfying to have been able to work on something that’s been sitting around in my head for weeks, months, and years.

After doing this for just one week, a couple of things become obvious:

• I still watch too much television.
• I don’t get enough sleep.

And these two things greatly influence how well I do other things throughout the day. I need to fix that.

As the article asks

“…if you aren’t satisfied with your current situation, why not work for yourself an hour each day? Instead of just idle dreaming, set aside specific time for action. Perhaps the key is small chunks of time, but at regular intervals.”

How very Kaizen. How very Bird by Bird.

At the end of the month, I’ll have a better idea of which projects I’m actually enjoying spending time on, and which ones I’m better off ditching.

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I’ve been meaning to post some pictures to the Growing Up Star Wars Flickr Group for a while now, so this as good a time as any to start going through the boxes and boxes of completely disorganized photos and see what else I can find to embarrass myself with each week.

Washington Irving Elementary – Durant, Oklahoma – October 1978

I think I had maybe a dozen Star Wars. I would wear them until the plastic iron-on picture would start cracking.

Halloween in Durant, Oklahoma 1978

Note that I was clever enough to use sunglasses with the Darth Vader mask, but not clever enough to wear a black long-sleeved shirt. Man, these costumes were just awful back then, but we loved them! I’m pretty sure the one-fist-on-the-hip thing was probably my grandma’s idea. Sassy.

My Birthday – Germany – 1980

I remember that this was the puzzle I wanted because basically I liked anything that had Han Solo. Chewbacca, or the Millennium Falcon on it. I don’t think I ever put it together.

Halloween in Germany 1980

I love that I’ve been demoted to a storm trooper, but I’m still taller than Darth Vader.

Christmas – Altus, Oklahoma – 1976

Of course, with a haircut like mine at that age, not everything was Star Wars. I wish I could find a better picture with the insignia showing. If I do, I’ll post it. It would be the logical thing to do.

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First Note in the New Notebook: What you write must exist in two places or it doesn’t really exist (which must also be the reason we have doppelgangers).

A few weeks ago, I was talking to Amy about my recent layoff scare, and how it scared me enough to consider doing something drastic, like trying to make a living doing something I actually like doing for change. But now that I had survived the layoffs, I was scared I might let myself slip back into accepting predictable drudgery. I didn’t want that to happen. After all, my job isn’t going to last forever, and I would eventually have to face the same hopes and fears. All of this has happened before and all of it will happen again. I need to listen to this urge this time. I could start with a small writing project, maybe a fortune cookie fortune, or a short story. A few seconds after I tossed out an idea for a story, I said, “I should probably start writing these down. There’s no telling how many ideas get lost forever because I never write them down. I think I’ll remember them but I never do.”

“Do it. Write it down.”

“Nah, you write it down.” And she did. It was pure laziness on my part. I had a notebook with me. I had a pen. But I was in the middle of drinking coffee, and my notebook was all the way in my back pocket. (Note to self: Would use notebooks more if I could keep them in a girl’s back pocket.)

A couple of hours later, she left and we both forgot that I needed that note.

The next day at work, I thought about that forgotten note, and did something simple and out-of-character: I wrote that fuckin’ idea down. I didn’t care how stupid it was. And then, I told Todd that I’m going to do a little experiment: I’m going to write down every idea I have for a week to see what I’m losing. For some people, this is a habit, but not for me. I caught myself a few times thinking that I’ll just remember it.

After a week, I had 8 ideas. Okay, I thought, this is worth doing. I’m probably losing a few hundred ideas a year by not doing it.

Then, a couple of days ago. Cindy was putting clothes away, and started laughing. She called me into the bedroom, and held out a white-and-orange wad of wet paper. Of course, the one time I actually use my notebook for something more than grocery lists and errands, I’d leave the damn thing to be washed. Luckily, I had told Todd the ideas, so I do have a back-up…of sorts…this time.

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I had a little bit of a layoff scare a few weeks ago, but I survived…for now. About a month ago, my part-time job disappeared, so the idea of losing my “real” job (the one with the bigger paycheck and the great health insurance) had me a little freaked out. Not only would we not be able to pay bills, but finding another job quickly would be more than a little difficult given the current job market. It hasn’t been the greatest lately. You might have heard something about it.

During the week of the layoffs, I had an insanely crazy thought: Maybe I should start seriously considering trying to earn a living writing.

It’s insanely crazy because who the hell thinks like that? It’s not like I’ve ever made money writing anything before. I have never had anything published! I have nothing to show anybody. And, even if I did somehow manage to sell something, it would probably be a while before I saw any money from the sale. There’s just so many things wrong about thinking of “writing” as your Oh Shit!-I-Need-Money-NOW! plan.

So, here’s why having that thought bothers me. I’ve wanted to be a writer since high school, but have always lacked the will and discipline to act on that desire. Like any other creative-types, I have battled demons of self-doubt and lost again and again. The simple answer to why I keep repressing my creative side is fear: I won’t be good. People will think I’m stupid. I don’t have anything worth saying, etc. You know all the fears. It’s been much easier to just get a mindless job, nothing I would dare make a soul-crushing career out of, but something that allows me to keep my mind wandering, entertaining myself.

If mindless work has been my way of avoiding the fear of creating something and letting the world see it, then why, when faced with what seemed like the inevitable loss of that mindless work, would I not immediately think I should find another mindless job? Why would my strongest reaction be to start writing…something, anything?

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So, a couple of weeks ago, I had Lasik eye surgery. Everything when smoothly, and I have 20/20 vision with each eye. With both eyes, my vision is a little bit better than 20/20. Today, I went back for my second follow-up appointment and was told that there is a small wrinkle in the flap in my right eye, and that it needs to be smoothed out, which will happen this Thursday.

I had been telling Cindy all week that my right eye seems a tad bit blurry. Nothing big, and who knew what it could really be because I’ve been using 3 kinds of eye drops throughout the day. Well, now I know. There’s no guarantee that this will fix the problem, but I suspect it’s better to have it done than not.

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One of the things I’m working on this year is to be more mindful of all the goods things I have in my life, and give more to charities I like to help them help others. And when I say “give more”, I really mean “any” because I don’t think I gave anything to any organization last year (aside from a few bucks to the Salvation Army during Christmas-time, but I don’t count that).

For a year and half, we were giving money each month to NPR, and a podcast network that I listen to almost everyday, but I stopped because the finances got tight. Now that Christmas is over, and we’re trying to get a budget in place, I think it’s important that we manage to scrape together something to make the world a better place.

If you’re so inclined, feel free to join me in one of my New Year’s resolutions. It doesn’t take much, just $10 bucks or so. Unless you’ll be needing a receipt for tax purposes, you can get a money order and donate anonymously, if you’re worried about getting a ton of follow-up mail and money requests. (That’s what I’m doing.)

This month, I’m buying a flock of chicks from Heifer International, an organization that gives animals to poor families or villages who then raise them for milk, eggs, or wool, which can then be used by the families for food and clothing, and sold to earn money for more animals.

So, if you’re vegan, this may not be the charity for you. But, if it’s not, donate to one you do like.

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2008 is coming to a close, and I’m making big plans for 2009.

Looking back, there were plenty of goals I failed to achieve this year. I didn’t lose as much weight as I wanted to, for example. But that’s okay. I like having grand plans. I think I need my plans to be grand. I might not accomplish everything I set out to do, to the degree that I wanted to, but as long I can keep coming back to the starting line, I figure I still have a chance to win the race, or at the very least to complete it.

Going back to the weight thing, for a minute. I had planned to lose about 90 lbs. in 2008. I didn’t. I lost only 20 lbs. because I failed to eat healthy as often as I should have. I failed to cut back on sugar and sodas as much as I should have. I failed to exercise as much as I should have. I failed at so many things that prevented me from losing that 90 lbs.

In spite of all that, I still succeeded in losing 20 lbs. and have kept it off. If I failed at the same rate in 2009, by the end of next year, I’ll weigh 20 lbs. less than I do now. That’s really not so much failure, as it is slow success, right? Of course, I would like to lose 70 lbs. in 2009, but I couldn’t really complain if I fail so badly that I still wound up being 20 lbs lighter, you know.

The biggest thing I’m working on for 2009 is how I think about achieving my goals. I need to focus on what I get right, acknowledge the mistakes, and let them go. The worry, the stress, the fear of all the imagined possibilities of everything that could go wrong is too much. It’s paralyzing. (When you have big plans, it helps if you break them down into simple, small steps so they don’t become immediately overwhelming.)

So, I’ve got my plans for 2009, and if I fail, I’m going to take Samuel Beckett’s advice, and fail better.

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James R. Graham III was born in Oklahoma on April 15, 1980 and passed away on August 01, 2005 at the age of 25. We will remember him forever.

We will remember him forever.

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