What Time is On Time?

I was once asked that question in a job interview. For that interview, I had shown up about ten minutes early at this man's martial arts Dojo for the interview, and my potential boss had shown up to open the doors about five minutes late, according to my watch. So, since he knew I was coming for the interview, it sure seemed like a dick move for him to not be on time himself, especially because it was raining that day. But the way he explained his feelings on being “on time” completely erased that feeling. According to him, it's a sign of respect to be early. The subtext is that your employer's time is more valuable than yours. As hard as that may be on your ego to think about, it's hard to disagree with. He's the one cutting the check. The Sensei told me how how he did occasional stunt work on movies. He would always show up a minimum of four hours early and wait. His scene could be in the afternoon, and he'd show up bright and early in the morning. All that waiting paid off for him, because the director knew that he could count on him. Knowing that you are the first person on someone's mind, especially when that person is making things like job or casting decisions, you can't put a price on that.

I remember the first time I heard time being described as something other than time. It was on my ill-fated few days at Vector Marketing, AKA Cutco, when I heard the phrase “Vector Time,” which meant fifteen minutes early. I've since referred to it myself as “Sales Time,” since the principal applies to any job, but sales specifically. The other person is busy, and you want something from them. So you don't keep them waiting. On time is fifteen minutes too late.

When I did Mobile DJ gigs, I would always try to show up an hour early for the gig. Note that word “try.” I didn't say “did.” The thinking is that it took about an hour to set up. Sometimes I would show up early and there'd be another gig in the same banquet hall, or just some rule, and I'd have to wait in the parking lot. I've been late, and could set up my gear in as little as ten minutes, especially if I didn't have to put on my tux. But I should have never been late. I really should have aimed to set up at least 90 minutes ahead of time for one simple reason: Murphy's Law. Whenever something can go wrong, it will. Maybe you almost forget your good shoes, or you spend a few minutes more in the bathroom than you expected. Now you're five to ten minutes late. Maybe there's traffic. Maybe there's bad weather. I remember one gig I had, before I bought a GPS, I read the Yahoo Map wrong, and confused exit 40 with go 40 miles and then take the exit. But even without that, the day was inauspicious from the start. It was a torrential downpour, and I was going way out to some part of another state I'd never even heard of. So, the smart thing to do would have been to aim for showing up two hours early, and if the trip took only a half an hour, well that's what books and iPods were made for. But, I didn't have it together, and I was late. Real late. Refund late. The customer service people at the company took the brunt of it, and it even turned out that the people I screwed up the gig for was trying to pull a fast one, asking the company for a less expensive service, but asking me personally to perform my regular service. But just because their hands weren't clean, it had nothing to do with my poor performance, and letting down a room full of people who were counting on me to do my job.

On the other side of that coin is what I call “Irish Time.” I don't say this to be prejudiced against Irish people, but the most habitually late people I know are all Irish. I dated an Irish girl, and she was always a half an hour late. At least. My brother married an Irish girl, and they literally put the wrong time on their wedding invitations because they knew her side of the family, especially her father, would never show up on time. But if you're always late, you've got a built-in excuse. They should know better than to expect you to be on time. It works better in a friendship setting than a professional setting.

But, along those lines, you pretty much have to go through the same routine, wear the same clothes for work, and take the same route. So, once you get used to getting out of bed at a particular time, it's just auto pilot. When you're going to a club, a movie, meeting your friends, going to someone's house, you have a ton of decisions to make, everything from the weather, who will be there, the chance of meeting someone new, the desire to wear those cute new shoes, and you really gotta have to coordinate that outfit, and you haven't even started on your hair. Not that I'd know anything about that. I've had the same look since 1995. Kurt Cobain may be dead, but his spirit lives on in my ugly-ass flannel and same exact style of jeans that I've worn for over a decade.

But there are times when it pays to be early. Literally. You don't want to have a doctor waiting for you, you'll just be pushed to the bottom of the list. If you're in a band and you can set up quickly, your fans won't have to wait for you. If you have a job to do, you'll have a lot more time to recover from disasters, which will, on a long enough timeline, absolutely happen. Any part that moves is a part that can break. So, if you have time to find a solution, that'll do wonders for your nerves.

Be patient. I know it's easier said than done. But be the guy who waits, and you'll find good things happening for you. I find it always helps to have an iPod with me. Helps pass the time.  

Why I'm (Almost) an Atheist

Comedian Todd Glass pretty much summed up his attitude toward atheism this way:

“I'm a hardcore atheist,” he said, “but what if I'm 100% wrong, and I get up to heaven, and God looks over my life, and says 'well, it seems you're a comedian, you've brought a lot of joy to people's lives, you've given money and time to charity, and you've been a devoted family man. You've done a lot of good things with your life,” then, Todd Glass, taking an exaggerated, sarcastic tone, said, “But you didn't do it for me!”

Both Penn Jillette, in his book “God, No!” and Dr. Michale Shermer, editor of Skeptic Magazine, have pointed out, in one way or another, that where and when you live, and are raised, makes for different beliefs and religions, but, there is no such thing as “Western Science,” or “Eastern Science;” if you found a way to somehow wipe out all of human knowledge, human beings may come up with different religions, different ways to deal with death, and the possibility of an afterlife, but, over a long enough period of time, we would arrive at scientific truths.

It's also kind of silly to base all your knowledge on a book. What's more, the Bible has been translated and retranslated a dozen times in a dozen languages, updated with a “second edition” (The New Testament), interpreted by different scholars in different ways, influenced by leaders, from priests to kings, copied by dictation in medieval times by literate monks, and then later became available to the masses through the printing press. And remember, the Bible started as oral tradition and history, it was in a language that nobody speaks anymore, no one can find the original copy (Indiana Jones made a go of it), and no one would be able to translate it, or barely even read it, due to the extreme age of document. This is a giant game of “telephone” that started about four thousand years before telephones were invented. And, remember, that's if you actually believe every single word of it. Remember, this is the same book that says you can't have gay sex in the same paragraph it says you can't eat shrimp. Strange how Jesus made a new covenant with God that allowed us to eat bacon and not circumcise penises, but people tend to leave out the part about, oh I don't know, loving your neighbor, turning the other cheek, not engaging in unfair banking practices...I could go on. As I'm fond of saying, the Bible says a lot of silly things.

But, book or no book, White-bearded man with a list looking down on humanity rewarding or punishing you—I call it the “Santa Claus God, I still can't help but feel there is “something” out there. I look up at the sky, and see all those stars, all those moons and planets, and just gaze in wonder. What are the chances that, of all the eons, in all the universe, there would be a planet that was just the right distance from a yellow sun, just the right chances that, out of a nearly infinite number of possibilities, the universe ended up the way it did, the planet ended up the way it did, the human race ended up the way it did, hell, even my family ended up the way it did.

What are the chances that evolution would end up with sentient life, self aware bipeds with opposable thumbs, who would design tools, figure out language, how to read and write, and so on. Intelligence was never a prerequisite for life on this planet we call “Earth,” the dinosaurs did just fine for 160 million years; there are over a million kinds of insects, and they don't seem to have much priorities in life besides eating, mating, and not dying for as long as possible (although, to be fair, that's what most of us humans want too, we just want a lot more). The odds of me existing are nearly zero. The odds of me having the brain I have, with my ADHD, my creativity, my bad habits, everything that lead me to where I am, emotionally, logically, financially, geographically, could it have gone any other way? I'll never know.

I never describe myself as an agnostic. Agnostics are just people who can't make up their minds. On the spectrum, I'm closer to a hardcore atheist than a Fred Phelps, or suicide bomber hardcore believer. Most people pick and choose their religious beliefs like belief was a Chinese menu (let's see, I'm pro-bacon, I'm pro-birth control, but homosexuality is a sin).

So when I look at all that history, when I get reflective looking up at the stars in the sky, I can't help but think the God I believe in is probability. Can you pray to that kind of God? Well, think about this: before a big sporting event, you say “good luck,” and afterward, the winner will usually thank God. Childbirth today is an ordeal that is more scientific than religious, what with the disinfected sheets, the pain killers, the experienced doctors and nurses, all good things to do the most natural thing in the world, all to make a tiny miracle, so everyone can say “our baby is healthy, thank God.”

Also on the subject of prayer, another comedian, Marc Maron, has pointed out that even saying “What the Fuck!” can be a carthartic, even religious, experience. So, by that token, you can say that prayer is more to make yourself feel better, and, like most placebos, it can be a good thing, under the right circumstances. Even when you pray for someone else. I saw a poster once, referring to the war in the Middle East, that proclaimed “operation prayer shield.” A nice though, but I'd rather our troops have body armor than our thoughts and prayers.

I don't believe in a God who makes “everything happen for a reason.” I believe that it's up to me to make meaning from every bad thing that happens, to learn from every mistake as best I can. No one's whispered the right answers in my ears so far. But, who can you thank, if not God? If God is just a force of nature, I can accept that. I don't think I have much say in the matter, whether God is a zephyr, or a Caucasian male looking down on the world making big, worldly decisions, like which country to smite, which football player to catch a ball, or who to bless after they sneeze.

So yes, I'll say “Goddamn it!” if I can't find my keys, as much as I try to avoid it, being Jewish and all, I find myself saying “Jesus!” occasionally, or maybe a shortened “jeez!” although, I usually say “What the Fuck!”

What Are Manners?

What are manners?

What are good manners, and what are good manners for? This may sound like too obvious a question, but I think it's one of those things that we take so much for granted, it's worth exploring.

When I was younger, my mother would tell me to do things, like cut my food with the knife in my right hand, then put the knife down, and eat with my right hand, instead of eating with the fork in my left hand, which was something I could do when I was younger. One day, I looked down, and I noticed I was cutting my steak, then putting the knife down. I was told that was good manners. But, I think that either my mom, or my memory, was wrong. I don't care which fork or spoon goes on which side. At best, it falls under etiquette, not manners, but I think they both have a “stuff” connotation. So let's push aside the stuffiness and instead, let's break down manners into two categories: Things you do to other people, and things that are done to you.

Things that are done to are pretty easy to recognize as bad manners, but we don't often call them that. When someone pulls up next to you at a red light, his radio blasting profanity-filled music, the windows rolled down in his Suburbo-Monstromobile, your first thought probably isn't “boy that guy sure is being rude and inconsiderate.” You call that person an asshole. And while I could parse out all the different subtleties between being an asshole, a dick, a cunt, or any other nickname of choice, all these are are adult words for a more basic concept: manners. When you think only of yourself, and not how your actions affect other people, you are being rude. I've been called “rude” on many occasions, and it always struck me as a quaint word. Not to mention nearly specific enough. So, if it helps, if someone thinks your behavior is “rude,” just think to yourself, “I'm being an asshole! And I didn't even realize it!”

Showing manners towards other people, well that's a little more tricky, because generally speaking, you don't know what the other person's limits are, and that can vary according to context, place, even how many people are in the room. I once had a conversation with a girlfriend about whether I should fart in her presence. Her view was that it showed how I could really let my guard down and be myself around her. I'm pretty confident that her view is a view shared with very few girlfriends and wives in the world. I've had friends (male friends, of course) loudly announce their farts, and I believe a small part of it is to establish that they were the “alpha male” of the room. And, I can think of another situation, where my college roommate would fart at his desk as he did his work. I honestly can't blame him. It's his room, too, and while you can disguise, minimize, or just plain hold it in when you're in a public setting, he has to concentrate on his work, not his bowels. And really, I did the same thing.

But things like farting, burping, and other basic hygienic habits are, again, pretty easy to understand and handle, in a professional setting. Because those limits are set out pretty early. When you're ten, you flaunt your disregard for those rules, and, in most cases, we grow out of them, because nothing will cause you to clench your asshole quite like having a lot of responsibilities dropped on your shoulders.

I've already brought up “sales time,” which is the concept that you supplicate, at least temporarily, to show that you value the other person's time more than your own. (Ironically, a good salesman will supplicate before a pitch meeting, then immediately establish his dominance.) Why would anyone wear a tie, or, for that matter, a suit, particularly, when you consider how impractical it is to wear a suit, tie and jacket in all but the most specific climate controlled conditions. And certainly there is a case to be made on the environmental benefits of not having to crank up the A/C or heat for the comfort of people wearing uncomfortable clothes. But be honest, it may take a lot more work to put on a cleaned and pressed suit, tie and jacket, than say throw on a ratty tee shirt and sweats, but you know you look better in the suit. So, just like showing up on time, it's a matter of respect towards your boss, coworkers, or whoever you're with, to be a little less comfortable for the benefit of the people who have to look at you.

So whether it's a social convention, like ties, or maybe looking down at the newspaper or your phone during a meal with someone, or just not paying attention when someone is talking to you, try to think first, how would it feel if someone did that to you? And it's entirely possible that you'd be okay with it. But then, second, realize this person is not you. They don't necessarily share your values, or have clued you in on what they are. This is why you should overdress for a job interview, and dress like the boss when you get the job.

So, as the classical philosophical argument goes, your right to swing your fist ends at my nose. And those are manners. In some cases, those social expectations are clearly laid out, and sometimes, less so. But you navigate life as best you can, learn how to read people, and, in just about every case...you're better off holding in that fart till you get to the bathroom.

Know the Difference Between Leaning on Your Friends and Treating Them Like “The Help.”

Life is hard. That's kind of a given. And sometimes, you just can't make it on your own. It's important to recognize that, but there's a second corollary to that. Learn the difference between leaning on your friends for a hand, and when you need a professional to help you. This can be any kind of help: moving a couch, borrowing money, asking for advice, anything. But, sometimes there's just too much load, and you need a professional. When you need to buy a house or a car, you need a bank. Sometimes you need to see a real therapist, and if that still isn't enough, maybe you need medication.

People want to help. If they care about you, they'll be willing, even happy, to help you as much as they can. But, there comes a tipping point. That's where the “as much as they can” comes into play. The average person only has a limited amount of resources: things like time, money, and patience, are finite resources. How about physical strength, a moving van, or specialized skills that take years to learn, like being a doctor or lawyer? The simple fact is, people are only human. They have their own lives to worry about, their own responsibilities, like work, their family, their hobbies. Sometimes, they just can only help so much, and that has nothing to do with them personally, or even has anything to do with you. It has to do with the scope of your problems.

It may cost you some money. It may take a bigger psychological investment than you first want. Maybe you'll have to push yourself, physically or mentally, further than you expected. Maybe you'll even have to make a schedule, rather than just call a friend whenever you feel like it. But you'll get a better result from someone whose job it is to do whatever you need help with, than doing it on your own, or just with someone who has a free moment to help you.

But the result, be it bigger muscles, skill with an instrument, or a car that works again, is only half of it. The first half is knowing that tipping point. If you reach it, you'll start alienating your friends, and they'll want to help you less. If you're going through some rough times, and you're calling your friends left and right, rehashing the same problem, sometimes they'll just start rolling their eyes, or start asking “what do you want me to do about it?” Even worse than that, if you don't realize how far you're going, you might go way past the line and start taking your frustrations out on the very people who want to help the most.

Life, when you get right down to it, involves a series of compromises. And no one's keeping score. You might “owe someone a favor,” but unless you're a mob boss, you're not going to write that favor down in some book and cash it in later like it was a savings bond. Friendship, even romantic relationships, is an informal series of good things you do, and good feelings you share. It's closer to making a soup than it is riding a see-saw with one action being followed by an immediate and equal reaction. But, when the weight is too much on one side, that feeling starts to creep in. It may be dramatic, such as laying down an ultimatum or even fully breaking up with someone, or it could be a little more subtle.

But you never want to have that phone call that goes “every time you call you, it's always about how terrible your life is! Do you even know what's going on in my life? Have you even asked?” You can be on the verge of killing yourself, and it'll snap you into realizing what an asshole you're being.

Maybe you've been dealt a bad hand in life. It could be your life circumstances, it could be the way your brain is wired, it could be anything. But just remember, you can't always get by with a little help your friends. Sometimes, you need some “Help!”

The Person You Don't Want To Be

It's a question with infinite possibilities. There are no right answers. And I'm not just talking about what kind of job, I mean what you do with your life, the entirety of it. Rock star, plumber, carpenter, heiress, dominant, submissive, husband, father, what do they all have in common? You can't do them on your own. You can be a musician without a band, but you need an audience, preferably a paying one; any kind of skilled trade, you need training, apprenticeship, licenses, and finally, customers; want to be born rich? Too late; Want to be kinky? You can fantasize all you want, but if someone doesn't play along, you're not a Dom, you're an asshole, and hopefully not a rapist, or you're not a sub, you're a victim waiting to happen; spouse or parent? Well, you definitely need someone else's approval for that to happen.

But, what can you do, what can you be, when you only answer to yourself? The only thing you can do is start checking things off your list. Life will have twists and turns. You might want to be a writer, an athlete, an astronaut, a doctor, and any number of things can stop you in your tracks, from unexpected responsibilities, injuries, or just realizing out one day that you changed your mind. On the other hand, you can decide what you don't want to be. You don't choose to be a homosexual, but you do decide you're not going to live a dishonest, closeted, life. You can cross off careers that aren't for you, whether you've tried them or not. You can decide what kind of music you don't like. You can make a decision as to what kind of relationships you don't want, what opportunities are worth turning down, or, decide to stop being a person who is afraid to take risks. No one chooses to be an addict, but you can decide enough is enough, and it's time to change. It may be harder than you think it is, but you can be a recovering, or recovered addict. You make a decision to not be that person anymore. You become someone else. You may have the same memories of that person, but you won't think like him anymore. Eventually.

The person I don't want to be? I don't want to be the kind of person who hurts people. I don't want to be the kind of person that betrays people. I don't want to be closed-minded, live a life where I define myself by a piece of paper, I don't want to be in my thirties and still living at home. Oh wait, that last part? That requires someone else's permission, it requires money. But it also requires drive, commitment, budgeting, setting priorities, letting go of your deep-seated roots, it requires accepting living with less, it requires confidence that yes, you can take care of yourself, it requires not being afraid. All of those qualities I just mentioned...they don't depend on anyone else. They require me to have a mindset that I can accomplish a goal that is both enormous and every day. It means I must not be the person I was when I was twenty five. Or twenty seven. Or twenty nine. There will be setbacks. I refuse to let them set me back.

So I know the person I don't want to be. I don't want to be socially awkward. I don't want to be lazy. I don't want to be out of shape. I don't want to wander through life without a purpose. I don't want to go against what I know is right for me. I want to be a writer, and that means not doing a host of other things that I once thought I'd be good at. I don't want to spend my day dicing around on the internet looking at girls when I should be looking for jobs. I don't want to be I don't want to cling to stupid principals, like wanting to sleep late, or having a short commute, or not wearing a tie, or even refuse to take medication that I know I need. Grow the fuck up. I don't want to live in a state of suspended adolescence any more. And the only thing stopping me is me. I don't want to be that person anymore.