Archive for the ‘Prescient observations’ Category
Life, Prayers, Friends, Frustration, and Futility
I know I haven’t blogged in a bit, but the last few weeks around Chez Caffrey have been hectic, to say the least. I’ve been hip-deep in one edit, chin-deep in another (don’t ask), have nearly completed a third edit, restarted a fourth edit…and carved out a bit of fiction writing time for myself, too. (Not as much as I wanted. Not as much as I would’ve liked. But some.)
And, of course, I have had all the usual Real Life Issues (TM) to deal with, too.
Sometimes, I feel utterly frustrated. I want to be able to do more. I only have so much energy; it’s a finite amount, and some days it seems like it’s trickling away without my notice. There’s only twenty-four hours in a day, and it seems like I need at least twenty-six to get everything “normal” done (I know; define normal). That’s before writing, of course, so if you add in writing, along with music composition (which has taken a back seat the last few weeks as well), I’d probably need at least thirty-two hours in a day to do everything I feel I must do.
Which, of course, is flat-out impossible.
Because of the recent “sadiversary” observance (which I’ve discussed elsewhere here at my blog), too, I have been reminded of how much faith my late husband Michael had in me. He believed my writing, my music, and my music composition all mattered. He wanted me to succeed, to thrive, to be happy, and to be creative (not necessarily in that order).
I wonder, sometimes, how much I’ve managed to do in this regard. Life gets in the way. There isn’t enough of me, and there are way too many different things that must needs doing, stat…then add in the fact that a couple of my friends are in major distress right now, plus another one is watching his spouse die by inches and can’t do anything except be by her side as she no longer recognizes him…well.
Frankly, I have felt extremely frustrated over it all. I have wondered if life is just a futile thing, because there are so many things I can’t do and so many things I wish I could do (such as restore my friend’s wife to health). I believe we, as human beings, are striving toward something — empathy, creativity, passion, purpose, maybe all of it? — and yet we face so much frustration along the way.
Is it worth it?
I think so, or I wouldn’t be here now, blogging about it. I believe life is not only is worth it, but it matters so much, so intrinsically, that it’s nearly impossible to plumb the depths of just how much it matters.
That said, there are moments where I wish I could do a whole lot more than I am. There are moments where I wish, just for one moment, I could hear my husband Michael tell me that yes, what I’ve done makes sense, and yes, what I’m doing makes sense, too, and yes, what matters is that I’ve given it my best effort.
As I’ve always done. Yes.
He knew that, about me. And he knew that about life, too.
Some say that life is all about the journey. I think that’s only part of it. Yes, we journey along, and yes, we learn things on our own journeys, too. But it’s also about figuring out what’s important to you, and how to go about doing those things while pulled in seemingly a million different directions.
So. I’ve felt frustrated, and wondered if life matters, and thought about futility for the past week-plus. (Yes, some of this would’ve come up because of the “sadiversary” observance. But I think much of the rest has come about due to my friends’ various struggles, and my wishes that I could ease their burdens in some way as it doesn’t seem like I’ve been able to do a lick of good in any regard.)
What do you do when you feel frustrated? What do you do when you think everything is just futile, or pointless, or just not worth it?
I know what I do is go on. I put one foot in front of the other, do my best not to fall, and just keep going. Even if the direction doesn’t seem right, and even if sometimes I need a course correction or two, I just keep on keepin’ on.
But before I go, I would like to ask a favor. Please, if you have energy to spare this week, pray for my friends. Pray because they are good people who need good things to happen rather than the bad things that have accumulated over the past few months (months that have seemed like decades, at least to me). Pray because no one deserves to feel so terrible for so long. Pray because human beings should care about one another.
I’ve never asked this before, and I may never ask it again. But I need to ask it now, as way too many of the people I find meaningful and wonderful in my life are struggling. I can’t do much to help other than listen, which of course I’ve done…and pray, which I have been doing for a while. My prayers, however, do not seem to be anywhere near enough to positively affect the outcome.
That’s why I chose to blog today and to discuss all this difficult stuff. I want to help my friends, dammit; I want, somehow, to give comfort to them, and the feeling that their lives aren’t hopeless or meaningless or worthless.
Does anyone else feel this way? If so, tell me in the comments. Please.
Tell Negative Self-Talk to Take a Hike
Folks, I’ve recently realized something that I think has value. And that is exactly what I said in the title line: tell your negative self-talk–the stuff that hits you in the middle of the night, or maybe at other times, that says nothing you do will ever matter and that no one wants your creativity, thank you anyway–to take a hike.
See, because of my initial training as a musician, I know a lot about failure. Very rarely does a musician get through a performance playing everything the way they wanted. If you get all the notes right, you didn’t get the feeling right. If you got the feeling right, you missed notes. Maybe near the end of the concert, you thought you were finally going to have a perfect one…and then something went wrong at the last minute.
We’re human, so nothing is ever going to be perfect. This means if you want perfection, whether it’s as a writer or as a musician or as anything, you are doomed to disappointment.
Now, as for negative self-talk: it can be insidious. “Well, your sales record shows that no one wants what you write…” is one of the biggest problems I have right now, and I have to throw it out.
Besides, I know better than that. Sometimes you can do everything right, and for whatever reason, it’s not time for your books yet to make any sort of dent at all.
How do I know this? My friend Loren Jones had it happen to him. When his books were picked up by Twilight Times Books several years back, he did far better than he’d done with a previous micro-press. Same books. Same editor (yours truly). Better visibility and covers. Which all led to more sales–far, far more sales.
Yet Loren’s work hadn’t changed. He wrote good novels, then and now.
See, all we can do is our best. We can’t force the world to notice us, or our hard work. We can only continue to do the work, because it matters to us, and because it’s the only thing we want (and need) to do.
It can be difficult to tell those awful words inside you, that tell you that nothing you do matters or ever will, to take a hike. But you must do it.
Don’t let your fears keep you from realizing your dreams. And those fears include, most definitely, negative self-talk.
What Motivates You? (Hint: Your Characters Will Show It…)
Folks, I’ve thought long and hard about this topic (the topic being motivation, as the title says), as I think what motivates you as a writer is likely to be what motivates your characters, too.
Now, you might be shaking your head here. Your characters probably range from awful people to good ones; from those who keep fighting to stay afloat, and those who sink like a stone; from those who do, to those who wait. They would seemingly all have different motivations driving them, right?
And all of it — all — comes from you.
Your motivations are important. They infuse everything you write and everything you do. Whether you believe in miracles, believe in hard work, or a combination of the two, much less your not-so-good characters believing in expediency and “going along to get along,” why you do things can’t help but shine through.
This is why people talk about “what is your brand.” I wish we’d come up with a better way to put that, as I don’t like codifying people in the same way as we codify objects. However, as this is the term we’ve got, I’m going to run with it.
My “brand,” so to speak, is this: Out of desperation and tragedy comes hope, safety, and romance. A better life awaits my characters, if they can just get through the morass they’re in right now.
Now, that’s not exactly a great “tag-line,” another concept I’m not entirely keen on. How can you sum up yourself and your writing with one, simple sentence? If you could do that, why would you write at all? You’d have your one sentence, and you’d be done.
Yet I’ve been compelled to write all sorts of things. Books. Stories. Novellas. Blog posts. Opinion pieces. Sports articles. Poems.
What’s the one, common denominator in all of those disparate things? Me.
So, what you bring to the table — or the internet cafe, or the workroom, or whatever — is absolutely crucial. Everything you are, everything you have done, everything you have observed, gets into your writing, much less the entirety of yourself.
That’s just a fact. But what you do with that fact is up to you.
What do you think about motivation? What drives you and/or your characters? Tell me about it in the comments!
Paramount Plus Cancels “Prodigy,” and I have thoughts…
A few days ago, I got up to read that Paramount Plus (aka P-Plus) — the streaming service that had finally garnered all of the various Star Trek shows under one roof, so to speak — had unexpectedly cancelled the animated series Star Trek: Prodigy.
How unexpected was this? Well, they’d nearly finished post-production for the entirety of season two.
In other words, this came out of the clear, blue sky.
Making matters even worse, Prodigy was an entry-level series meant for both kids and adults. It was co-branded with Nickelodeon, even…then, with about three days’ notice, Prodigy was gone off the P-Plus streaming service.
Now, this ticked me off. It ticked me off to the point that I found a way to send a message with my wallet. I bought the digital-only copy of the entirety of season one, which was available through Amazon’s Prime Video service. I also started watching the show, something I’d intended to do for months but just hadn’t gotten around to due to so many different things going on that aced that out, priority-wise…and managed to stream six episodes before P-Plus took the series off the site completely.
I also have to add that this was a show — Prodigy, I mean — my late husband Michael would’ve loved. He loved animated shows anyway, but a new Star Trek animated show? He’d have been all over that one, just as I am.
So, what’s so great about Prodigy? It’s funny in a low-key way, it has a holographic Admiral Janeway (the wonderful Kate Mulgrew), and it’s a roundabout continuation of Star Trek: Voyager in some ways as the USS Protostar — a ship the youngsters that end up constituting the crew find on a mining planet where most of them were prisoners and commandeer — had been Captain Chakotay’s ship before it went missing. Chakotay, of course, was Kathryn Janeway’s first officer for many years on the Voyager before they finally made their way back to the Alpha quadrant and home.
So what happened there to the original crew of the USS Protostar? No one knows, as far as I can tell, though I haven’t finished season one yet. From what I’ve read online, at least some of the mystery was to be solved in season two…providing it gets picked up by someone else.
I hope it does, because I like it. I wish I’d found time to start watching sooner, mind you; still, I’ve done what I can, for the moment, and that’s going to have to stand.
If you, like me, are frustrated by P-Plus’s move, there is a petition here that you might want to sign. You also may want to buy a physical copy of the first ten episodes (half of season one), which is all that’s been released on DVD as of yet, though it’s selling out nearly everywhere. Or, like me, you may want to buy a digital copy of Prodigy from Amazon…though it may be unavailable. (How can a digital copy of anything be unavailable? Mine’s there, ’cause I’ve already bought it. I just checked.)
Anyway, I have been enjoying Prodigy and I intend to talk more about it once I’ve finished watching the first ten episodes. (There are twenty episodes in the digital-only version of Prodigy, mind.) But for now, my thoughts are these:
P-Plus, you blew it. Seriously. If you want all of Star Trek to be under one roof, figuratively, you just screwed that up. No tax break is worth this negative-three trifecta of “angers the fans, angers the Prodigy showrunners, angers the media.” These three things are now going to only keep getting bigger, like a snowball going down a steep hill.
If you want my advice, it’s this: Get Prodigy back on the P-Plus platform, stat. Apologize to the fans and the showrunners. Say you had no idea so many people wanted to watch this show. Say that you are floored by the fan outburst going on — the only outburst more prominent than this one re: any version of Star Trek is the proposal for Star Trek: Legacy, a hopeful spinoff of Star Trek: Picard — and vow to do better in the future.
Anything else is unworthy of the people who support your streaming service. Including me.
Do What Is Right
Folks, whenever I ask myself what I should do next, I hear this: “Do what is right.”
Now, what’s right for me may not be right for you, and vice versa. But what I do know is, if I want to live with myself in any sort of harmony at all, I have to examine whatever I do in the lines of the above.
See, it’s very easy to say, “do what is right.” But doing it? All the time? As best you can? It’s not so easy…but in my case, it’s the only way for me to live with myself.
My view of “do what is right” is quite simple. If it’s ethical; if it’s principled; if it’s honest; if it’s above-board, those are the defining characteristics of that pithy phrase.
The few times I’ve gone against my nature and have tried to compromise my principles (more or less, “go along to get along”), it hasn’t ended well. I have to live an authentic life as well as I’m able, as I’ve discussed many times at my blog already. Doing all of this seems to help me, especially with regards to my creativity. It also helps me to stay grounded.
So, when I see that Millennials and Gen Z are talking about the same things I am, but as if they’re new ideas, I get a bit frustrated.
Why? Well, it seems to me that every generation seems to want to reinvent the wheel. Because of this, knowledge that folks who’ve come before them — either people they meet, or books they read — seems to be lost in the translation.
Hell, what I’m talking about is not new. Marcus Aurelius was the first person known to ever write an autobiography of sorts, called Meditations. He discussed Stoic principles along with various things he saw in his life, and believed the best way to live was in authentic harmony with yourself, as that was the easiest way to coexist with nature and the natural world.
Of course, there are various beliefs about whether Marcus Aurelius wanted this book to be published. He was a Roman Emperor, and as such, everything he did and said and wrote was kept, scrutinized, and analyzed. He knew this, too. But he didn’t let that stop him, insofar as coming up with a way he believed helped him live a good life.
In other words, we’re lucky we have Aurelius’s Meditations, and for more than one reason.
Anyway, think about what the phrase “do what is right” means to you. Is it too simplistic of a philosophy to be useful? Is it perhaps too difficult of a philosophy to wish to aspire to?
Personally, I don’t think it’s difficult at all. Especially if you think about it as the predecessor of the Golden Rule, also known as “do unto others as you wish them to do unto you.”
Our world has many religious philosophies, and many different ways of seeing the world. One thing we all seem to agree upon, though, is that honest, ethical, above-board people are far easier to deal with than dishonest, unethical, unprincipled people.
My hope is that over time, we can find ways to find more common ground rather than less.
I also wish that, as people, we start looking for ways to communicate rather than ways to throw up roadblocks because someone’s a different race, ethnicity, sex, gender, etc.
If you need to see someone who could’ve been a right bastard (excuse my language), but instead chose to behave in as wise a manner as he could — that person being Marcus Aurelius, of course — to understand that life in all its variety should be appreciated rather than besmirched, take a second look at old Marcus’s writing.
After all, at one time, all roads led to Rome.
What Do You Deserve from Your Employer, Or, Meditations on Mike Budenholzer’s Firing from the Milwaukee Bucks
This past week, the Milwaukee Bucks parted ways with their head coach, Mike Budenholzer. The Bucks had the best record in the NBA this past season at 58-24, and had the #1 seed throughout the playoffs. However, this only lasted for one series, as the Bucks were eliminated by the #8 seed, the Miami Heat. It’s because of this disastrous (for pro sports) outcome that Budenholzer was fired.
“Ah, but Barb,” you say. “Your blog’s title is ‘What do you deserve from your employer.’ What does that have to do with the Bucks/Budenholzer situation?'”
My answer: Plenty.
You see, for the second year in a row, the Bucks went out early in the playoffs, though last year the Bucks at least got through the first round and past the #8 seed. (Early, in this context is, “Did not ascend to the NBA Finals.”) The Bucks feature possibly the best player in the NBA, Giannis Antetokounmpo. He’s in his prime right now at age 28, and the Bucks have been built around him for five-plus years now.
I say “five-plus” because Budenholzer was the coach for the past five years. Budenholzer’s record in the regular season was stellar at 271-120, which means the Bucks won almost seventy percent of their games.
Yep. No misprint. That’s how many wins Budenholzer had as the head coach of the Bucks: 271.
Not only that, Budenholzer coached the Bucks to the 2021 NBA Championship. The Bucks hadn’t won a championship in the NBA in fifty years, but they won with “Coach Bud.”
“Barb, you still haven’t gotten to the bit about what the coach deserves from his employer. I assume that’s where you’re going with this?”
Why, yes, dear reader. That is exactly — exactly — what I’m going for, and I’ll tell you why, too.
First, though, I want to explain something else to y’all, some of you who probably don’t know much about professional basketball. When you have the best team in the league, you are expected to win all the time, no matter what.
Including when one of your brothers dies in a car accident, which no one knew about until after the Bucks had lost in five games to the Heat.
See, Coach Bud didn’t want to make the playoffs about him, so he said nothing. But he was grieving. He found out just before game four that his brother had died. And it was in games four and five that some of the coach’s decisions seemed rather odd. But he is the youngest of seven kids. One of his elder brothers died, Budenholzer was being private as is his right about his brother’s passing, but I don’t think the coach understood just how strange grief can be when it comes to anything else. Most particularly the time sense, as when you grieve for someone you loved, nothing seems real for a while. And certainly time seems sometimes like it’s running away, and other times, it seems like it’s stopped.
I don’t know about you, but I think if someone who’s very good at their job, like Coach Bud, has a bad series or makes questionable decisions after his brother dies, I think you should give him a pass. He’s grieving, dammit! His brother’s life was more important than basketball, and yet because he is a professional, and because he’d been with his team all year, he stayed to do his best and coach his team.
I admire that impulse, but it may not have the right one.
That said, the Bucks did way wrong here. They should not have fired Coach Bud, not under these circumstances. Instead, they should’ve hired a top-flight assistant head coach perhaps to work on the defense (as the Bucks’ defense got torched by Heat superstar Jimmy “Buckets” Butler and were completely unable to stop him) and let the coach grieve his brother.
Why? Well, look again at the coach’s record. Think about the fact that two years ago, the Bucks won the NBA Championship for the first time in 50 years with this coach at the helm.
In most cases, employers realize if they have a great employee — and in any case, Coach Bud was just that — but the employee is a bit off due to grief or grieving, even if the employee maybe doesn’t even realize it (it’s possible the coach didn’t), you are supposed to let your employee take time off to deal with his grief.
In other words, you don’t fire the best coach in the NBA because he was off a bit for two games after his brother died. That’s dumb, to put it mildly, and more to the point, it’s an overreaction.
So, what does your employer owe you when you have something awful happen like a death in the family? They owe you time to grieve. They should give you time off from work, with pay, to go bury your sibling in a case like this.
You don’t deserve to be fired.
I don’t know Coach Budenholzer at all. But I do know this. What the Bucks did was classless, not to mention truly horrible behavior under the circumstances. They should not have done this. And as a Bucks fan, I am incensed.
Barb Caffrey's Blog 