“I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence or insanity to anyone, but they’ve always worked for me.” –
HST
In middle school and junior high, “group work” meant teams of three: One A student, one C student, and
one complete dick head.
Being the A student, this always meant that I was paired with one semi literate, almost competent person,
and one person I had to restrain myself from attacking with my mechanical pencil.
It would take me longer to edit the work of the C student than just to write it myself, and the best I could
ever expect from the dick head is that they would just shut the fuck up and not interfere with my
awesome academic prowess.
To get my A, I’d always be forced to do 90% of the work. I learned group work was just another way of
saying: everyone but the A students can take a free day! Just hand them your worksheet, go out to the
playground, and they'll do it for you.
In college
Group work went a little bit better. At least, I wasn’t set up to fail from the get-go.
Groups were assigned at random.
There was always a glimmer of hope that there’d be a “leader” in my group, and then, all I’d need to do
was follow along happily.
Nothing thrills me more than a competent someone assuming responsibility for my life while I doodle in my notebook and text boys.
Even if the group “leader” was less competent than me, or barely competent at all, I was fine with that. Their loud, self-important yammering was music to my ears. I was off the hook.
The protocol for college group work went like this:
Sit down in the group.
Everyone stares at each other, sizing one another up. Will anyone “hear the call?” Will anyone be “the hero” on this journey?
If after 5 minutes of silence, no one had bothered to speak, then I’d lower my head to my hands, sigh deeply, and say from between my fingers,
“Alright, we’re going to be doing our presentation on how much I hate people from Paraguay. Except we’re going to make it less blatantly racist… so our power point is going to be on “racial tension between different socio-economic tribes in the Western hemisphere. Rachel, go get me a coffee.”
Rachel would leave immediately to go get me a coffee.
No one ever questioned my role as the leader, men included.
It had become second nature for me to assign tasks for people to half-heartedly muddle their way through.
The role of leadership in “adulthood” has changed.
Now, I’m the dick head, but I’m still forced to pretend to be the leader.
Just like the good old days, I have no idea what I’m doing, but apparently almost everyone else has even less of a game plan than I do.
I, at least, have a “vague outline” of goals that need accomplished in order to have the money for the nice beer instead of the Natty – so I’m leading the charge.
My vague outline (take notes if you want – I’m sharing my genius for free here):
1) Move to Vegas
a) Write
b) Don’t starve
c) Don’t lose my mind
i) Listen to live music
ii) Dance all night
iii) teach yoga
iv) Go to the pool
v) Go hiking
d) Fall in love with a stripper ;-)
e) Become certified in Envision yoga
g) Write lots of really good stuff at break neck speeds
2) Move to LA
a) Teach envision yoga to help inspire people to achieve their full potential
b) Don’t starve to death in the middle of a drum circle on Venice Beach
c) Write more really good stuff
e) Get paid for the really good stuff I’ve written!
f) Buy a Prius (end game)
Yay, me! Fail proof plan!
My old “group work” members would surely agree.
And
So far, life is going precisely according to this vague outline (I’m currently on step 1e), and if I keep up like this, I won’t be starving anytime soon – hell, I might even “succeed!”
“I’d like to thank the Academy…”
But, as an obvious leader of men
My fear is that people will be encouraged to follow my lead…
If they do then
May God help their lovely, little, sheeple souls.
This isn’t as easy as I attempt to make it look. I’d consider packing it all in and going home if I had a real home to go back to…
But
I might as well have lived in a teepee for how settled I’ve been these past years.
Nomadic by nature - my gypsy soul is governed by wanderlust, and “home is wherever I’m with you,” and you’re currently busy writing music, and being electric, and getting enough money for your jet plane…
“Isn’t that expensive?”
“Nah, you can get one from Russia for only a couple million.”
So Imma follow this vague outline all the way to the Prius finale!
“I am a phenomenal creator, I easily manifest all of my dreams!” –Envision yoga mantra
Rage face officially on.
Off to do more yoga!
“Goodbye, stranger, it’s been nice. Hope you find your paradise.” ;-)
