DATELINE: Concourse G, Dulles Airport, 29 March 2006, too late
I am convinced that if I go to hell (always a possibility for this sloppy Catholic), it will look and feel a lot like Concourse G at Dulles: always crammed with crabby people with the look of the dead about them, rotten food, no place to sit, lotsa pointless waiting and incessant barking of unintelligible announcments over the radio.
I am feeling fried, and don't want to blog in such a crabby mood. Anyway, I feel I've earned the break. I had U Tenn rocking today, with Kissinger and Howard Baker in the front row!
Criminy! I need to learn to enjoy a bit.
And I need to stop commenting on others' work. I know people send me stuff like crazy and want comments all the time, but I'm finding that whole approach too destructive, too DC, too vacuous punditry.
Because, in the end, I don't care what anyone else writes. I don't write for that, or push a vision for that. That indifference makes me a shitty academic and an even worse public intellectual. But I don't care.
I write to write, not to be heard or approved, and when I get in the business of bitching on others (Peters, Kaplan, Friedman), it just feels pointless. I need to push what I know and believe in and blow the rest--except when I agree with them in their--and my--positive best. Wasting my energy on things like that TNR piece is just dumb.
I'm just going to try and avoid that destructive crap, so stop sending me stuff except in a positive way. I want to follow the good, not fixate on the bad. I want to focus on solutions, not criticism. I want to think more horizontally and skip the drill down.
And I want in my new house now!
Later that night...
I am somewhat chilled by a Dulles-to-Indy flight on one of those wonderful (I believe Brazilian) Embraer 170s, which really are God's gift to the flying commuter.
And I think about what compelled the previous post, realizing that it easily comes off sounding like some whacked-out Joel Osteen sermon on personal growth through grand strategy.
But then I think: I like Osteen why? Because when I'm challenged to do better, I feel better, and when I'm given to condemning others--no matter how justified--it wears me out in the worst way.
I know I'm relentlessly optimistic, and that my optimism strikes many as naive--or worse-dangerous. But I don't know how to do it any other way. I can't discuss issues without actively working out the solution set in my head--otherwise, why discuss?
And yes, I know that's a very guy perspective and a very American one. But you know what? I think being a guy in America is about as good as it gets on this planet, so if that perspective and life experience doesn't generate that sort of positive ambition, then where in God's name is it supposed to appear?
You only get what you give.
I owe it to the solution set, to the vision, to the grand strategy, to my two nephews in Iraq, to my son Kevin who dreams of being a FBI agent, to all the people inside the Gap who will suffer pointless deaths this year because the Core just couldn't get its shit together and preferred to entertain dreams of conflict among themselves rather than deal with all that nasty subnational and transnational down there.
I just need to focus on the answer, the way ahead, and stop steering by my rear view mirror.
I need to be more like Art Cebrowski was--and so effortlessly. I need to get above the pointless fray more. I need to keep myself inspired (and healthier) if I expect to inspire anybody else.
I need to treat my wife and family better, because when I let the fear--that little mind-killer--pervade my thinking, it becomes less about what I'm doing to make things better (or to make them feel better) and it's more my obsessing over the faults of others.
And I say these things and I know them to be true and I think I'm moving closer to what I know I want to write in a Vol. III.
I mean, I know there will always be the hell-in-a-hand-basket crowd (geez, I heard from several over last Sunday's column--some people just prefer fear like some insecurity blanket), but there are so many throughout my various universes (gov, private sector, IT, foreign aid, military, intell, legislature, etc.) who are busting their asses day after day to make the world a better place.
I love going to Oak Ridge National Lab in that way: so many smart people trying to make the world better. You feel so much responsibility after a day of meetings like yesterday: you just want your life to count more.
And I just don't see that through tearing down the ideas of others, even when I think they're very bad and harmful. Some people can do that and retain themselves in the process, but it just costs me too much, and frankly, I think it's a complete waste of my God-given talents.
I had that auditorium rocking today because I was offering hope--that sense of thinking our way out instead of just shooting our way out (as Ignatius put it so well).
I do believe in the rational man. I've met this guy and gal the world over, and I find this individual has no ethnic identity worth mentioning. He or she just sees the logic of nonzero, to use Wright's phrase, and the essential humanity in us all.
So I do this Hawaii thing with my son and I get us into this new house, and I tackle the blog better. I tackle everything better. I re-commit. I recommend. I re-think.
My mother-in-law Vonne, the PhD prof in communications, gave me this New Yorker cartoon recently. It features two Labs sitting on the ground, with one saying to the other: "I had my own blog for a while, but I decided to go back to just pointless, incessant barking."
Nona has a strange wisdom, so I don't doubt some message was intended.
I want to get rid of the pointless, incessant barking in my life. I need to disappoint more readers in this way. I need to trash more emails. I need to ignore more authors. I need to regain my focus on what really matters.
I need to connect to all that electricity in that auditorium today, because that's what counts with successful vision.
What connects is what counts.
Still later...
Or to put it more bluntly...
I want to make people smart enough to recognize crap on their own when they encounter it. What I don't want to be about is telling them what's crap.
I explain the shinola. You figure out the shit on your own.