Booming Bust
So, can event be an absolute bust and a smashing success all at the same time?
This may sound like the Kobayashi Maru training exercise from The Wrath of Khan, but I’m here to tell you that the answer to this musical question is yes, yes, and hell, yes.
I really want to socialize more in this new year, which, admittedly, is a promise that I make every January 1 when the horn blows at midnight.
This year, though, my various vows are being fortified by a pact I made with my sister where we promised to help each other keep our 2019 resolutions in a kind of Mutual Yenta Agreement.
I have to confess I’ve suffering from New Year’s Resolution Syndrome, a sense of creeping panic that comes over me when I see that I’m not accomplishing every single thing I said I would in the first three days of the year. It’s ridiculous, of course, but I reckon it’s a requirement of the resolution ritual.
Whenever I get the heebie jeebies my shoulders tend to tighten and bunch up somewhere north of my honker. So, in addition to watching my emotional reactions—anger, hostility, fear—I keep my eyes peeled lest my shoulders start reaching for the sky.
Now the first Friday of the year started off looking like a lot of other Fridays with yours truly ass-down on the couch with the remote in my hand.
I tried to get out of the house—honestly. A new Meet-Up group had scheduled an event in Sunset Park and I cheerfully clicked "Yes" that I would attend.
Shoulder to Shoulder
The location was listed as TBD—To Be Determined—but I had no doubt that the organizers would soon fill in that spot with an exact location in short order.
Only they didn’t. Friday afternoon rolled around and the blank spot was still blank—even blanker if that’s possible. I could hear my inner surrender monkey unfurling the white flag and reaching for the remote.
Finally, the organizer emailed me with the location, which was nearly 40 minutes away—if I caught the train on time. To hell with this, I thought, heading for the couch, I ain’t doing it. But the guilt was getting to me. I said I wanted to change and yet here I was settling for the same old same old. I finally called my sister for advice.
“Get in a cab and go,” she declared. “Call car service.”
That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear, but it was the answer I needed to hear.
I called for a car, zipped down to 36th Street to a neighborhood coffee shop and found…exactly two people attending this event. And one of them was organizer.
Apparently, everybody else was confused by that TBD business and decided to flag the entire thing.
Normally in a situation like this my shoulders would tighten, I’d roll my eyes and say woe is everything, but I’m trying to leave that attitude in the dust of 2018. I was already there, so I pulled up a seat and had a pleasant conversation for about 30 minutes.
It was such a strange experience. I was disappointed by the sparse turnout, of course, but I was so happy I had put the excuses aside and at least tried to change my routine.
It was like striking out and hitting a grand slam at the same time. Mr. Spock probably wouldn’t find this logical, but screw him. I'm just happy that my sister had yenta-ed me out the door to do something different.
This may sound like the Kobayashi Maru training exercise from The Wrath of Khan, but I’m here to tell you that the answer to this musical question is yes, yes, and hell, yes.
I really want to socialize more in this new year, which, admittedly, is a promise that I make every January 1 when the horn blows at midnight.
This year, though, my various vows are being fortified by a pact I made with my sister where we promised to help each other keep our 2019 resolutions in a kind of Mutual Yenta Agreement.
I have to confess I’ve suffering from New Year’s Resolution Syndrome, a sense of creeping panic that comes over me when I see that I’m not accomplishing every single thing I said I would in the first three days of the year. It’s ridiculous, of course, but I reckon it’s a requirement of the resolution ritual.
Whenever I get the heebie jeebies my shoulders tend to tighten and bunch up somewhere north of my honker. So, in addition to watching my emotional reactions—anger, hostility, fear—I keep my eyes peeled lest my shoulders start reaching for the sky.
Now the first Friday of the year started off looking like a lot of other Fridays with yours truly ass-down on the couch with the remote in my hand.
I tried to get out of the house—honestly. A new Meet-Up group had scheduled an event in Sunset Park and I cheerfully clicked "Yes" that I would attend.
Shoulder to Shoulder
The location was listed as TBD—To Be Determined—but I had no doubt that the organizers would soon fill in that spot with an exact location in short order.
Only they didn’t. Friday afternoon rolled around and the blank spot was still blank—even blanker if that’s possible. I could hear my inner surrender monkey unfurling the white flag and reaching for the remote.
Finally, the organizer emailed me with the location, which was nearly 40 minutes away—if I caught the train on time. To hell with this, I thought, heading for the couch, I ain’t doing it. But the guilt was getting to me. I said I wanted to change and yet here I was settling for the same old same old. I finally called my sister for advice.
“Get in a cab and go,” she declared. “Call car service.”
That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear, but it was the answer I needed to hear.
I called for a car, zipped down to 36th Street to a neighborhood coffee shop and found…exactly two people attending this event. And one of them was organizer.
Apparently, everybody else was confused by that TBD business and decided to flag the entire thing.
Normally in a situation like this my shoulders would tighten, I’d roll my eyes and say woe is everything, but I’m trying to leave that attitude in the dust of 2018. I was already there, so I pulled up a seat and had a pleasant conversation for about 30 minutes.
It was such a strange experience. I was disappointed by the sparse turnout, of course, but I was so happy I had put the excuses aside and at least tried to change my routine.
It was like striking out and hitting a grand slam at the same time. Mr. Spock probably wouldn’t find this logical, but screw him. I'm just happy that my sister had yenta-ed me out the door to do something different.
Comments
That's AWESOME, Rob! And regardless that even was a bust, I would consider you a SUCCESS because you made the effort to keep your resolution. So, BRAVO!
This year I decided to make, not a resolution or goal, but rather set an "intention" that I would try new and different things this year to expand my awareness.
Happy New Year, buddy! And congrats on your success!
Thanks for the support! And I absolutely LOVE the idea of intention rather than a resolution or a goal. Often people have trouble keeping their intentions or reaching their goals and they just give up.
Now an intention just points you to the direction you want to do. It's positive, non-pressure and likely to be a heck of a lot more fun! Brilliant!
Thanks so much for stopping by, buddy!