Advice I never got... and that I won't tell my kids

"You can't expect anyone else to respect you until you can respect yourself."

My grandfather never told me that.

My father never told me that.

My mother never told me that.

In fact, they never told me shit. But that's okay, because most of the things parents tell their kids are lies. They tell you you can be anything you want to be. That the sky's the limit. What they don't tell you is that, to borrow a phrase, you have to paint the inside of your box the right shade of blue. They tell you that if you try hard enough, you can go to an Ivy League school. They don't tell you the truth, that you'd better work extra hard or you're stuck right where you grew up. They say that if you tell the truth, you won't get in trouble, but you always do anyway. They say that timeout is a position of shame when it really means you thought for yourself.

My dad told me that if I worked hard, he might be able to help pay my way through community college. And that I'd damn well better graduate, or he won't waste his money. My mom explained just how much shit life can throw at you when you haven't earned it. They never told me I could be anything I wanted, because they knew it wasn't true. They saiid I could be anything I made myself. There's a critical difference.

Half of what I learned, they didn't come right out and say. That wouldn't have made sense. They showed me. They made me learn that I'd better either take action to make something better, or shut up about it not being to my liking. They proved that sometimes you just had to tough it out, but you'd better not give up, because the world will just kick you in the teeth when you're down.

They also showed me that hard work can change almost anything. Grandpa was a self-made man. You might say that dad was a self-destroyed man, but that's not really a fair assessment. Point is, this man hit the road with $100, a car, and a girlfriend, and made a success of himself, despite the best efforts of physics. Between them, my parents showed me that the only one who could destroy you was you. Even if you told yourself that it was someone else.

Growing up with my parents, I learned that when you can't change the situation, you've got to get out of it. If you can't leave, you're fucked. Make the best of it.

Shit happens.

More shit happens.

So stop whining about it.

Crying at Costco doesn't help anything.

"You ain't dead, get it off yourself."

If it looked like a bad idea at the time, in hindsight it was a horrible idea that you're lucky to have survived.

Even if it looked like a good idea at the time, see above.

Don't drink. Don't smoke. Don't join the Army.

People die. Death is forever. Adults can't explain this, so don't ask them to.

They didn't tell me any of this, they showed me. I don't know if they meant to, but I'm glad they did. I learned it better that way. Of course, the other half of what I learned were things I taught myself. Like when to leave a room. How to heel. How thinking for myself was the only way to keep things straight, when everyone else wants to manipulate you.

That calling someone a manipulator and then acting like the good guy, the savior from this evil manipulator, makes you just as guilty.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me... until someone picks up sticks or stones because of those words.

People lie.

Hit back.

Screaming does nothing when nobody will come running. They will ask why you didn't scream for help, like having screamed instead of defending yourself would have been better. Then you'd have been creamed by the other guy, and then offered no protection OR retribution.

Even if someone comes running, they can't be there forever. In the 15 minutes in between the call and the flashing red and blue lights, a lot can happen.

Getting the police involved rarely reduces your problems.

Sometimes street justice is the only justice.

Sometimes there is no justice.

Justice is most often about revenge.

That when it got right down to it, you were no better than anyone else. Get used to it.

You don't deserve shit. Nobody does. Earn it or shut up. But be confident in what you've earned. Don't let anyone take it. Don't let anyone tell you it's any less. If they do, don't believe them.

Lives are like national parks: people walk in and out, leaving their trash and leaving tracks, but you can't keep them out. You wouldn't want to. Whenever you're a guest in someone's life, no matter who they are, try and leave them a little better than you found them. Same with national parks.

Squirrels are good judges of intentions.

Goals are like the ice cream truck: when you finally reach it and get your ice cream, you realize it cost more than you expected and isn't as good as you remembered. But like when the ice cream truck drives by every Saturday, don't stop chasing your goals.

Live for the moment. The next one isn't guaranteed.

Grandpa practically let his kids raise themselves, just stepping in to guide them when they were truly lost. My parents didn't mean to make me raise myself, but I'm glad they did. They showed me more than they ever probably knew about themselves.

Back to the quote I opened with, "You can't expect anyone else to respect you until you can respect yourself." That's the most important thing I ever learned. School doesn't teach you the true meaning of respect. You parents sure as hell don't. They mean "blind obedience" when they say respect, when really that's not what it's about at all. Martial arts doesn't teach you what respect means. They can all teach you the symptoms, but fake sincerity is hardly sincere. You have to learn it for yourself.

I intend to raise my kids by example. Even a bad example can turn out a good kid, you know.

lolsbians

Like lolcats, only sexier.

I have done that. Just recently, even. It is very true. Good news is, most of my arm hair grew back. Which is a perfect segue into our next picture:

I would have been caught. Please be gentle, mistress!
Or not, if I've been bad and need to be punished.

On that note:

I've been busy

Perhaps it's a little tough to read, so here's a zoomed-in version:



FEATURED! I am extremely proud of myself right now, to have written a featured instructable. Maybe my first two 'ibles ever weren't featured, unlike my buddy Skunkbait, but then again the rest of mine have been quick and tossed together. So again, hooray for having my first "serious" 'ible featured!

In other news, meet my second-favorite fish blog.

Baseball, anyone?

Whoever the two people are who have actually played Moldy Pumpkin Machete Baseball, would you please stand up? Was it as fun as it sounds, or more so? If I built a small air cannon and shot a pumpkin out of it at a machete I was holding, would that be as stupid as it sounds?

What else?

Oh, yeah, I feel like an asshole, but I really don't hate you. As far as I'm concerned, things don't have to be weird, or awkward, or anything else but friends.

Redneck philosifizin'

Have you ever sat and just watched a fire? I mean really watched it. It's tough to start at first, and sometimes it seems like the harder you try, the farther away that magic spark is. Of course, accidental fires are notoriously easy to light. But once the fire is lit, it's alive. It's got a mind of its own, and its both stubborn and fickle.

The flames leap up from the fuel, dancing across it like the northern lights brought to the ground. No two tongues of flame are ever exactly alike, but there are patterns that they always follow. Its interesting to note, however, that once the initial flush of flame dies down, the entire pile of fuel begins to glow. Looking in amongst the sticks, it is obvious that the air itself, everywhere in that space, is combusting. The fire is comprehensive, all-encomappassing in amongst its fuel. Most people fixate on the leaping flames, but it is obvious where the real beauty lies. The true elegance of a fire rests in its heart.

After forest fires and lightning strikes, snags and stumps have been found smouldering, even after heavy rain and weeks of time since the main fire passed through. The fire crawls into the heartwood, into the roots, into the secret nooks and crannies that every tree has. In some respects, fire knows trees better than any other being on this earth knows them. Putting out a smouldering stump can take hundreds of gallons of water, or a dozen people hacking it into little bits and spreading it out to cool, or both.

But fire isn't actually free. It is bound to systems and rules, just like we are. There are certain paraneters within which an enber can live, grow, become a flame. there are other parameters where fire dies quickly of exposure. Without its food and its air, the fire starves. If put in too small a space, it snuffs itself out. Embers and flames love company, but if you put too many of them in the same space, none of them have the resources to live.

Wildland firefighter and priest Peter Leschak wrote that when he dies, he hopes he may return and roam this earth as a wildfire, turning up wherever lightning or a careless match might strike, engaged in an earnest battle with firefighters, but extending them a certain professional courtesy, so to speak. He understands that although a fire will always burn itself out of its own accord if not snuffed sooner, fire will always be back. It's an integral part of earth's natural balance, here before we were, and here long after we're gone.

Wristwatch motorcycles

I just ran across this post showing all sorts of motorcycles, made entirely of old wristwatch parts. They are amazing in their detail, even when the artist took liberties with the laws of physics. The sheer aura of coolness is overwhelming.

If I can't get one of these pre-made, I need to go make friends with a watch repairer and try and build one myself.