About Damage Control
Post 183:
There are certain things in life that by nature breed frustration. One might say that the journey itself is setup to be an inscrutable quagmire, but that’s not really true. I don’t see floating in a swimming pool with a cool alcoholic beverage as frustrating, for instance.
So the whole show isn’t a debacle. No point in making up drama when there’s plenty to go around already.
But what about the really gnarly stuff? I’ll use writing and golf as examples, two activities I’ve spent a ton of time (and perhaps way too much time) doing. Why are they so rough on the blood pressure?
I’d say at the heart of it, both are just exercises in damage control. There is no perfectly written story, not really. There’s a few examples that come so close it’s hard to see the flaws, but they’re there. Basically you’re whacking it around until you’re back in the clubhouse. Maybe it was smoother than the last time, but either way, you’re going to take some lumps.
Writing, like golf, is a discipline, and no discipline is about just one thing. Except discipline. Yeah, I meant to say that. It’s mistake after mistake and learning how best to mitigate them.
Not that it can’t be fun. You’ll have your share of wins, good on you, but keeping your head in the same space, whatever the situation, is the real key.
There are things that don’t require such rigorous attention to the even keel. I can put on Netflix and enjoy the hell out of watching eight straight hours of some wildly entertaining show. I’m only a spectator, so it’s pretty hard to mess that up. Somehow though, I don’t think I’ll get to the end and look back fondly on all the spectating I did.
It’s the disciplines. The doings. The damage control. That’s where you find what you’re made of and what the world is really like. It’s reality, and short of being a cheat or a liar, the only way out is you. Tough stuff, perhaps. Bleak…yeah, but not really. You want bleak, you should’ve seen my short game yesterday. That was bleak.
Cheers. See you after.
