Yes, yes, it depends on how one defines nice and what the context is etc etc, agreed.

However, let’s plumb the depths here – does the feeling exist, in that plumbed depth somewhere, that nice guys normally end up lookin a wee bit silly specifically due to this ‘niceness’? That this is a quality for the loser, the non-achiever, the wannabe, the synonyms go on……..

Does No. 1 come with a job description that says ‘ruthlessly efficient’ with the ‘ruthlessly’ in Arial Black Bold? Does  this ruthlessness also have to be umblically connected  to the volume at which you are, ostensibly, efficient?

Old jungle saying – ‘its not what you know, its who you know that gets you places’. While not denying the existence of  a truth within, its also not what you know but how you show what you know that gets you places. Yessiree, marketing is everything……

Reminds me of my favourite case study, the World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) or  whatever avatar – sorry, James, in the begining was the word – this mockery has taken now.

I recall a line from a Woody Allen movie from aeons ago called ‘Bananas’ where Woody defends himself in court with an opening line that went ‘Your honour, this trial is a travesty. Its a travesty of a mockery of a sham of a mockery of a travesty of two mockeries of sham’. Loved it.

Anyways, back to multimillion mockeries. The WWE (it was formerly called WW Federation and it wisely changed its name to Entertainment coz they define what they do as Sports Entertainment, not wrestling per se) fits the Woody Allen definition, we all know that it fits the definition and some of us still watch it in the knowledge that it fits the definition. The entertainers grunt, kick, scream and bad mouth each other all the way to the bank !!!

Guess we could draw a parallel with the First of the 3 Idiots in that we know he’s not an idiot, we watch his antics and he laughs all the way to the box office.

One could, quite logically, argue that the above are artists and they are plying their trade.

What about the corporate climber type? ‘Has to be seen at the right place at the right time for maximum effect’ surely cannot be part of a job description !!

The point I make is that marketing  – which could mean different things in different environs –  is not only key, it is the key ring that holds the key to longevity in certain circles. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ has moved from the realm of failing romances into everyday life, as we know it.

There is no such thing as ‘quiet efficiency’ anymore. That is passe. Like Lee Jeans that never die but just fade away (had a T-shirt that said that once). You are as important / efficient as your decibel level…….

No, I didn’t get fired, in case you were wondering.

It just another rant at the machine……….

C.

It does feel rather good, must admit, to be creating after so long.

Am on my travels. ‘Wherever I lay my hat, that’s my home’, as Paul Young crooned a couple of decades ago. Trained a truckload of folk. All was well.

Sitting in the foyer of the firm waiting for my ride to the hotel. Need to do a rushed packing job and hotfoot it to the airport.

There is a rather huge Christmas tree here. Well decorated, kinda. Two pleasant receptionist cum secretary types sit chatting about life and its inconsistencies. The aged security guard, who one would think was well past his securing prime, sits waiting for the odd visitor to come in and sign his visitors book, giving him a chance to spring up and get his five minute place in the tubelight while advising of fire alarms, evacuation methods etc.

Across from me are two men in deep discussion. One is a colleague and the other seems to be a salesman of some sort as he is talking offers, discounts and charges. Insurance maybe? Interesting to see the interaction, the salesman guy looking quite eager in making his pitch and the recipient of his eagerness looking rather interested. Snake charmer n cobra, in an nice, harmless way, of course.

All is well with my world.

Nice, swanky office this. Am a mite jealous of this environ as the one I work in is nothing this funky. Met a couple of nice chaps who seemed pleased to be in my sessions and I didn’t even bribe them, imagine that !

So, another year draws to a rather rapid close. Again.

If nothing else, 2009 is the year I began blogging so that is quite monumental a happenin for me. Onward and upward !

Have a good one, you….

C.

Sitting in front of my laptop, sick as a puppy, I ponder on a mail that I got recently from one whom I consider a great and delightfully forceful a personality. A figure, well known internationally in Christian circles, his message, sent out to a few thousand people, contained the following excerpt :

Eleven months of the year are now behind us.

Are you where you hoped you would be when, in January, you decided this would be your best year ever?

Have you produced new thoughts with dynamite power?

Does your life give more evidence of faith this year than it has in any previous year?

Are you spending more time in prayer this year than in any previous year?

Have you read your Bible more this year than in previous years?

Have you more fully and effectively involved your family in spiritual growth than in previous years?

Have you accomplished most of the goals you set in January?

You are going to trade tomorrow for something. What will it be?

I left out some of his questions along with the rest of his message exhorting me to get my act together but to say that these questions had me buckle as though a cricket ball had found its way into areas private would be an understatement.

Having met him on a few occasions, I picture him asking me those questions with the kind of intensity he applies to everything he touches. An amazing guy, all of 85 years old now, he has the memory of an elephant, a lovely kind of blustering arrogance that doesn’t offend, an incredible sense of humour bundled with the enthusiasm of a 5 year old.

I digress.

Not that I don’t have aims and goals n stuff and it’s not that I haven’t tried in the past yet held up to the harsh sunlight of truth, I can see a lot of places where the goal setting fabric has thinned. I can see goals that dropped off by the wayside either due to discouragement coming out of initial failure or just plain procrastination leading to apathy.

Execution. The difference between the wannabes and the producers, that stickability factor which keeps one going in the direction of choice. Visions capture my mind – especially if well and crisply worded – and have me stand up and declare pledges of allegiance to causes, most of which are good. The slip between fantastic visions and my lip tends to be – that word again – execution.

Will 2010 be a better year than this one was? Will I be able to look this set of questions, square in the eye without flinching in embarrassment? Will my world be a better place because of the efforts I can take via the goals I can set myself?

‘Aim for nothing and you’ll hit it all the time’. ‘Sad but true’, Metallica would’ve growled.

Its rubber-meets-the-road time……

C.

The letting go of habits, memories, people brings the Bard’s ‘parting is such a sweet sorrow’ to mind. Will assume that his context was the separation of people yet I think it holds good for other things too, tangible or otherwise.

Letting go is the hardest thing, whatever be it - poison or nectar.

Most of the time, the reasons are good. They might range from things that you should not have done in the first place to things that you need to cut loose from coz its for the best.

Reminds me of a scene from Heat (1995). Robert de Niro – chief bad guy – tells chief sidekick Val Kilmer, “Do not have any attachments, do not have anything in your life you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you spot the heat around the corner.” His context was falling in love and being hunted by cops not generally going together as a lifestyle.

That line, strangely, has stuck with me over ten years now.

Not that I am a ruthless, will-climb-over-anyone sorts (in fact, I lean very heavily in the other direction) but there is wisdom in that line, so what if it comes from Hollywood ! Its about letting go; doing the right thing; seeing the forest in spite of ‘em trees: holding lightly to things…….

Sometimes, trying to explain certain statements are like trying to explain a joke. It takes away all the sting. They are meant to be tasted, chewed – if worth chewing – and digested to the satisfaction of the beholder/ be-reader / be-hearer. Yet I persist, probably for my sake more than anyone else’s.

Chances are that hindsight, being 20-20, would have us ponder one of two basic thoughts regarding a particular letting go :

• Am so thankful I let go when I did. Life has blossomed since for all involved.

• It was painful, it was necessary but I wonder, how would have it all turned out eventually if I hadn’t let go?

We clutch onto fruit forbidden coz they are like soft pillows at night; comforting, in spite of gentle reminders by that still small voice telling us to let go.

I tend to think with an either/or philosophy; black or white kinda, although I will be the first to admit that my life does not necessarily reflect that in all the decisions I have made. At most times,  I do realize that I cannot have the cake and eat it too yet boy, do I try !! Hypocrisy? Maybe. Frail human being? That’s probably a more comfortable truth.

Change is constant. The art of letting go will always be that, an art. Simply because it’s the first of the conjoined twins that comes out of the womb.

The other one is named ‘moving on’

C.

Parents, at times, unable to give a reasoned apologetic as to why they demand what they demand, resort to the tried and true “because I said so” and add no small measure of fat to the already kindled fire of frustration.

I’ve developed, I find, my own set of ‘why’s’ over the years. ‘Why’s’ that come out of things experienced, things seen, things perceived in my world.  They don’t need an apologetic coz I think I realize that the answers will intimidate.

I list them below for posterity or server longevity, whichever comes last.

Why do we accept the status quo?

Why do we not see things for what they could be instead of what they are?

Why do we hold back from improving our lives even when we know that it just takes a little determination?

Why do we not see the forest for the trees?

Why do we sometimes push people out of our lives?

Why do we not accept help when we must?

Why do we not seek advice when we know its the best thing to do?

Why do we not get out of the rut when we see the smooth path ahead?

Why is it that we get jealous of people’s achievements when its clear that we’ve had the same opportunities they had?

Why do we get discouraged when we know its the first step to a downward spiral?

Why do we let events take control of us instead of taking control of them, wherever possible?

Why do we not take a deep breath / count slowly to ten / take a moment to think when we are faced with aggravation?

Why do we want to become No. 1 without really trying?

Why do we hate No. 2?

Why do we love the sunrise only when we feel good?

Why do we think that life is a zero sum game and that we’ve got to demean the next person in order to get ahead?

Why we do we disguise hatred by calling it righteous indignation?

Why do we say ‘why me?’ only when things look bleak and not when things are going incredibly well?

Why do we look for appreciation from without, almost obsessively?

Why do we want to strike poses?

Why do we discriminate?

Why do we take pleasure in the misfortune of another, at times?

Why O why O why indeed?

My answer would be similar to the one given by the great G. K. Chesterton when responding to an article in a paper about what was wrong with the world, via a letter to the Editor. In it he wrote:

Dear Sir,

In response to your question about what is wrong with the world, I am.

Yours truly,

G. K. Chesterton

Sitcom producers do it too. Jerry Seinfeld of Seinfeld fame has apparently taken George’s character (played by Jason Alexander) from a real life person he knows.

I long for the day(s) when I can regale folk through my observations, either woven into fiction, in the form of personal essays or any other suitable genre.

At this very point in time, though, my immediate environment has a different plan in place for me.

To the right of me is a bed on which sleeps The Artist Formerly Known As an Eleven Year Old. Yup, its happy birthday time for my first born.

She’s been doing the countdown for the last one month. A whiteboard in the corridor is the platform for her daily declarations, new numbers (in descending order) coming up by the end of each evening. I am the envy of WorldCom as I fudge her figures regularly; my fatherly way of generating confusion.

She sent a mail yesterday in quote big, red, italicized, bold, capital letters unquote to her buddies outside this country reminding them of the day only second to Christmas in its sheer importance and majesty.

Last night, there were fireworks in the area; the local authority was celebrating a festival. We saw it as we were driving around. She thanked them profusely for this, their touching gesture as part of her birthday celebrations. The kid is nuts……….

Am interrupted by a rustling noise. A figure is sitting up in bed now. silhouetted against a curtain through which sunlight is streaming in gently, grinning the grin of a TWELVE year old. Noiselessly, she glides out of bed and rushes over to the whiteboard. I hear whiteboard markers squealing.

Last night, she went to sleep imagining how she would wake up and look at a new day and then, only after a few minutes , realize that it was her birthday. Little joys or cheap thrills? Guess am too cynical for my own good. Can’t remember the last time I looked forward to my birthday. Maybe there is something wrong with me.

She has just crept up and jumped me from behind with a hug of sorts and a little yelp of joy. I suppose its time for me to turn around and give her a hug and say ‘Happy Birthday, baby’. Yes, I still call her baby. Sue me.

Having done that, I think of the day ahead. Yes, its her day. Have to pick her friends up for a little domestic do that she is organizing and sponsor the proceedings too. Later in the day, she might spring up more things for her slave-of-the-day to do, who knows?

I grumble in public but am all soppy on the inside. She does have me around her little finger and milks it for all it is worth. Will end up obeying my master-of-the-day unquestioningly.

I have to. After all, like she says. ‘it IS my birthday’.

Happy birthday, dear. It continues to be fun knowing you.

C.