Yearly Archives

My absolute deadline for completing my blog each week is five pm when Lauren, who posts it on the website, leaves for the day. And yet, here I am at two pm just beginning to write.  So why did I start so late? I am always trying to understand my own process (as well as the process of everyone else). I like to know why people behave the way they do, perhaps because it makes them more predictable (and for that reason more safe). So here are some insights into my process:

Why did I start so late?

1. Starting at the last minute makes it more exciting. My adrenaline is rushing, my fingers tingle, I wonder if I will make the deadline, or will I miss it for the first time in more than four years?  Yes, excitement is definitely one of the reasons I start at the last moment.
2. I focus better when I have limited time. If you gave me a two-hour project and I began to work on it three days in advance I would find it difficult to focus because, perhaps like many of you, there’s always tomorrow.  Until, of course, there isn’t.  Not everyone is like this.  My friend Susan once stayed up until three in the morning to finish a term paper.  I asked her if that was because it was due the next day.  “No,” she said.  “It’s actually due in three weeks, but I didn’t want to have it hanging over my head.”
3. I write faster when I have a limited time to complete my work. This means that the writing is more unfiltered and that often enables me to get closer to saying something true I might otherwise have avoided .  So if I write this blog in thirty minutes instead of my usual two hours not only will I have ninety minutes available to do something else, but I might be more authentic and share something meaningful that I might not have written about if I’d taken more time.
4. This reason is a little embarrassing. When I rush my work I have a more credible excuse for not doing my very best. That takes some of the pressure off of me (and maybe I write even better that way). I can easily sell myself the “story” that I didn’t really have enough time, so less than my best is more acceptable.  Of course, there are many other excuses for failing to do my best, but since I don’t own a dog the “dog ate my paper” isn’t available.
5. I can write more concisely. You will understand that I don’t have time for six hundred words, so you and I can settle for five hundred.  And maybe you’ll be happier since I’ll be brief and more to the point.

I think my blog next week may be titled, “Rationalizing for fun and profit.”  Or maybe, “How to create an excuse which will at least satisfy you.”

Gotta go now!

Alan

Two weeks ago my blog began with a joke, and ended with a challenge.

The joke:

How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb?

Only one.  But the light bulb has to want to change.

The challenge:

I gave myself two weeks, until November 21, 2017, to neaten up my workspace.

My report today, November 21, 2017, will begin with a joke.

How many psychiatrists does it take to neaten up my workspace?

None.  I hired someone else to do the job.

As for the challenge, I’m happy and relieved to report success.  See the photo of my desk that I took yesterday.

I knew I was too attached to all of the loose papers and folders cluttering my desk, even those I haven’t looked at for years, and since I’m not very good at organizing physical things I hired my friend Jeanne to do the job.  Over the years Jeanne has successfully organized my books and papers at home, and last week she did a great job organizing my desk.

My personal reaction to my neat desk is:

1. I think I’m walking into the wrong office.
2. I’m afraid I will not be able to find something I need. But for the past week I have found everything I need.
3. I’m concerned that Jeanne has set a standard I will not be able to maintain, and that my desk will soon be a mess again. But that hasn’t happened yet.
4. After more than fifty years in business, I’m still learning to delegate assignments — those I either don’t like to do or those I’m not good at. Next time I won’t wait twenty years to ask Jeanne to take over for me.
5. I feel a sense of freedom, and it’s now easier for me to focus on the task at hand.

So the challenge I gave myself worked – especially because I made it public.  One colleague whom I’ve worked with for more than thirty years mentioned that she will be stopping by my office today to inspect my desk for herself.  I hope she will be pleased.

Just for fun, if you have any kind of clutter that you’d like to neaten up, send me a photo and I’ll post it.  I will not reveal names – just photos.  It would be interesting to see what kinds of physical chaos other people face in their lives.

I wish everyone a very happy Thanksgiving, and in the words of my mother, “Finish everything on your plate.”

Of course, after years of practice, cleaning everything off my plate, if not my desk, is something I’m pretty good at.

Alan

My red Tesla is the best car I’ve ever owned.  It accelerates quickly, plays the music I love, and drives itself on the freeway so I can arrive at my destination fresh, rather than worn-out.

My Tesla and I have a deal.  It carries me along the road, GPS as a guide, bathing me in comfort and music.  And every evening I plug in its electric cord to supply the charge it needs to operate the following day.  That’s the deal.  The Tesla does its part and I do mine.

One recent evening, despite my best intentions, I failed to do my part. The following morning my Tesla was not fully charged when I began a drive from Studio City to Reno.  I knew there was a Tesla charging station along the way and assumed I’d be fine, but as I drove along a highway north of Los Angeles a steep incline drained the power more quickly than I had anticipated. Before I reached the summit just three miles of electricity were left.

I stopped at a gas station with an electric charger.  But it was not a Tesla charger, and the attendant couldn’t help me.  She said I was only two miles from the top and once there I could coast twenty miles to the Tesla charger on the other side.  She noted that I still had three miles of electricity, and wished me luck.

I don’t normally sweat, but for those last two miles I did.  I felt like I was on the road to H*** but instead of the needed energy the road was paved with nothing but my good intentions.  I drove slowly, and apologized to the heavens for my neglect.  My apologies didn’t help.  Then I pleaded for just enough juice to reach the summit. That didn’t help either.  With just five hundred feet to go my beloved Tesla quit.  Out of energy, it stopped, without even warning me to pull off the road.

I let my Tesla roll backward, hoping it wouldn’t be hit by oncoming traffic, and parked it on the shoulder.

I closed my eyes and slumped against the steering wheel, then got out of the car and cursed.  After that, I cried.  Then I thought of all of my wonderful excuses for not fully charging my car the evening before.  Nonetheless, my Tesla rested where it had stopped, unmoved, unmoving, on the side of the road while I waited for a service truck to arrive.

Late that evening I arrived in Reno, tired, angry, and ashamed.  I had narrowly avoided two accidents along the way because I failed to pay proper attention to my driving.

This is not just the story of a doomed driving trip.  It’s a parable for every human life.  Good intentions are great.  They help us feel good, make us smile, and show a generous spirit springing from a reservoir of kindness.

But good intentions, unaccompanied by actions, pave the road to emotional wounds to our family, our friends, and ourselves. Good intentions, without good actions, create toxic bonds of blame and a world littered with strained or ruined relationships.

Please, please be as kind in both your words and deeds as you are in your mind and heart. Or you might find yourself alone and stranded by the side of the road, many miles from where you intended to be.

Alan