"the best, even when I'm cynical"

(quote: Wale, video: Katie Couric interviews Lil Wayne)

According to Malcolm Gladwell, the heaviest factor determining tremendous success (this is Nabokov-greatness, Ali-greatness, Beatles-greatness) is sweat. 10,000 hours this loose threshold by which one can become actualized in their field. And not 10,000 hours spread across one's life, or engaged in something unstimulating, but dedicated, self-motivated industry in whatever it is one is pursuing. This can be influenced by parents, culture, etc, but the pen-to-pad work needs to be done in earnest. So, 10,000 hours breaks down to three hours a day over a decade. Six hours a day for five years. It is not really even that much time. I have already worked more time than this frying chicken, cutting grass, driving around in vans, writing reports and studies, attending meetings. And I have nearly that much time in academia. But I have to admit . . .I haven't spent that much time committing text. But in six months?

(btw: I've been waitlisted for the Ohio State University Creative Writing Program. If a couple people refuse offers, I may get one. So I guess that counts as what, a tie?)

I'm currently working on a story idea that I would like to eventually (finally?) put into graphic form. The gist is that there is a band of interdimensional time-traveling drug dealers that get caught up in retrieving the organs of historical figures as a favor for an immortality cult. Doesn't really sound like the kind of thing I would normally do, but I'm really excited about some of the subtext at work in it. And I'm starting to define an interesting time-travel narrative mechanism that I've never seen before. Anyway, if anyone knows anyone who can illustrate fairly well and would like to work on a project of unknown duration, and little anticipated rewards beyond working on something interesting . . . lemme know. I want to write some comics (which, oddly enough, is like coming full circle for me. I wrote comic books in third grade).

I had to give up on utopia. There was a time when I thought there was some ideal circumstance for humanity. Some arrangement of resources and talents in which everyone could be happy and at peace. I never really described it to myself, or tried to think my way through all of the logistics and politics. There is just this idyllic scene that I think gets conditioned into us. It's almost like a religious belief, but I don't think it comes from the church. It comes from television and stories, the desire for one's children to be happy and the idealization that is generated by parenting in that direction. The very attempt at a cohesive political process suggests that it could arrive at some perfect orchestra of legislation and strictures, that we could somehow design an ever-growing system that seamlessly reproduces the means of its continual reproduction.
But there is no utopia. And this is not the bleak statement it sounds like. It does not mean that a person can't be happy, that we can't hope for things better than whatever situation we are in. It means that there is no perfection to drive towards. There is no Atlantis or Pala or Land of Milk and Honey. And I don't know that we really want it. Because the one thing that defines us more than anything is how we, individually, handle conflict. And as much as I am given to complain about my job, about neoconservatives, about the various ancillary rackets of academia, about the law, about the religious influence on our common culture . . .I desire a fight. I thrive on the fact that there is something that nearly everyone believes in and that I don't. I am a proud contrarian, and if that utopia is built I'm planting charges at the joints in the plexiglass dome over our global greenhouse. We are not made for peace, and while I would like an undisturbed meal as much as the next prole, any time I'm handed what I need I understand that in the long run I am indebted. All of this is relevant to the current discussions about our economic situation. The only real answer is to divest yourself. You didn't design this bullshit, you are not responsible. And the only way you will ever know peace is to take responsibility for your decisions. And the only way you can take responsibility, is if you are in control.