Retconning.

"Retcon" is a term that some may know, and others may not.  It is a portmanteau of the phrase "retroactive continuity", and gained prominence in the world of comic books.  Essentially, it involved altering the back-story story of a given character.  For example, George Lucas retconned the original Star Wars to make Greedo shoot at Han first in the Mos Eisley Cantina on Tatooine, thereby making Han’s originally cavalier act one of self defense, and altering his nature. (TRIPLE NERD SCORE!!)

This happens often in comics, soap operas (He was a robot the whole time!! Dun dun duuuuunnn), and movies, and is usually done to allow for different or enhanced storytelling.  It is usually a good thing, but not always (see the above case).  I think people retcon their own lives more often than they realize.

Because my best friends and I have known each other since high school, conversations return to that topic with some frequency.  Our assessment of our standing in high school society is that we were not really popular, but not really unpopular.  Our wives find this hard to believe (which I in turn find adorable), but I think our assessment is correct, mainly because it was not made in a vacuum.  We can give each other some outside perspective.  I’ve known a few people who have done the opposite and come to (from my perspective) surprising conclusions.

A very dear friend of mine once made an off-hand comment that high school was terrible for him.  I was stunned by this, because my outside assessment was that he was well-liked by most, popular with many, and simply had a deep interior life, thus choosing to not participate in a lot of social-type activities.  His view was totally the opposite.  It was one of inner tumult, outer scorn, and deep wells of sorrow.  To hear him relate in very few terms his memories of high school made me very sad for him because I could only imagine that much of this perception was driven by his inward view of himself.  Moreover, his view of his younger years motivated many of his present day actions.  My external view was that he retconned his life to make it fit who he was at the time. (side-note; he’s a very happy and well adjusted former teenager now, just like the rest of us).

My dear friend is not the only person I’ve known to do this.  In fact, I’d wager that many of us frequently retcon our lives, sometimes unknowingly.  It reminds me of a quote from George Orwell: “Who controls the past, controls the future.  Who controls the present, controls the past.”  Orwell was discussing revisionist histories being used to motivate control of a population in 1984.  If we apply this bit of Ingsoc to ourselves, it means that since we control our present and have plans for our future, we have the ability (and frequent desire) to make our past fit nicely into that present and those plans.  So why do we do it?

Perhaps it is to alleviate cognitive dissonance.  Maybe to help justify our actions.  Maybe it is to make ourselves feel better about our current station in life.  For whatever reason, we’ve all been there.  I would imagine that finding the motivating force behind your own personal retconning would be a momentous and enlightening achievement.  So…you know…get to it.
We all have pasts that are at once hazy and veiled by memory, yet as clear as a mountain stream.  They inform who we are, shape our present, and guide our future.  Some are more difficult to navigate than others, but they all have value and meaning.  Look through yours, and get to know yourself better.  If you play it right, you might discover that you are, in fact, a long lost princess from another world, sent as an envoy to the backwards human race.  (dun dun duuuuuunnn!!!)

iSuccumbed

I had to get one for work, but I promise to use it responsibly.

Sent from my iPhone.

Twi not?

I usually do a good job of forming opinions that are based on some sort of direct knowledge of a given subject.  I try to not go with the popular opinion just because it's popular, but because it's something I truly believe (or not, as the case may be).  KB has one more than one occasion pointed out the notable exception to this point of personal pride: my opinion of the Twilight books.

I've read about  them, but never actually read the source material.  I've read lots of other opinions, and over time just assimilated those.  (FYI, my opinion currently is that they are terrible).  But, as usual, KB is right.  I have not done my usual due diligence in having an opinion about Twilight.

Therefore, in the interest of good taste, philosophy, and opinionology, I will be reading the first book in the Twilight series next week (the friends I'm staying with have the books) in order to draw my own conclusions about the writing, character development, etc.  I will go into the book with an open mind and no higher expectations than I would for any other book.  After what I'm assuming will be some sort of Vonnegut/Chabon/Rowling detox, I'll write a full report and post it here (OK, that was my last snarky comment).

On brunching.

As I may have mentioned before, KB and I love to entertain.  Yesterday marked our fourth annual New Year's Day Brunch.  We've pretty much got this one down to a science.  We've had other successful parties, mind you (a Guy Fawkes Night party was especially memorable), but this one seems to have become our signature party.  I like to think of it as daring anyone to top this party for the rest of the year.  But, as we all know, I have a mean, ugly, competitive streak.

This year was the first party in Austin, and we really missed our Houston friends that have been at all the other brunches.  [Sidebar/direct message to Houston friends: get yourselves to Austin for brunch next year.  That's an order.]  We had a lot of seminary folks, a few other Austin friends, and had a great time.  We decided to go with a north/south theme for the food (okay, it was accidental, but it was still cool).  Corn Pudding was back on the menu, and as delicious as ever, along with Pigs in Blankets.  The Williams-named Plunder Buns were back and devoured (nay, plundered) as expected.  New additions this year were Hoppin' John (black-eyed peas with bacon and greens over rice) and a cranberry/maple bread pudding.  So northern for the sweet pastries, and decidedly southern for the savory dishes.  Drinks, as usual, were mimosas and milk punch.  (Clearly, we prefer to save our hangovers for January 2nd).

I think the reason any party works is because you have not only good food (which we darn sure do), but great guests and company (which we are honored to have).  I am always impressed by our friends and their efforts (conscious or not) to make our parties memorable.  We could not do it without you.  In a related and repeated request (and you know who you are), if our dear, dear friends from around the country and southeast Texas could somehow make it here for NYB, it would be the party of the century.  We have a guest room now, so you have a place to stay (fair warning, we may put you to work, but it would be totally fun).

In other news, there's a new salon across from a Central New York bagel shop at which we often eat lunch.  It's name?  The Lonsale Salon.

The Art of BS.

A friend recently joked about their career with me, and at one point said something like "I'm just worried people will find out I'm faking this whole thing."  I found this odd, because they've been nothing but successful.  I also found it strikingly familiar.

Despite me outward persona, I battled insecurity for a long time.  Usually, it was about this very thing.  I always felt like I never knew what I was talking about, that I was just good at BSing my way through things, and that I was the biggest Holden Caulfield-style phony there was.  My career in youth ministry didn't help because despite how well I may have actually done, working for jerkfaces kept my ego completely underfoot.  I always felt like I was a fraud.  It really came to a head when I was finishing my undergrad at St. Thomas.

I took a lot of philosophy classes because they really interested me, but that required me to write a lot.  Unlike math, where you can stumble into a correct answer accidentally, you really have to demonstrate that you know your stuff in philosophy.  Every paper, every test, I felt like a total fraud, and that I didn't know what I was doing.  Even though I made all As, I convinced myself that I had fooled my professors. 

Finally, during my last semester, I was taking an independent study on CS Lewis.  I had read eight of his books, and was required to produce a 20 page paper on whatever topic I wanted.  I was crippled.  I couldn't even begin because I knew I was a fake.  As I started looking back through old papers and essay tests to "scavenge" a good idea, I realized that I had made As on everything.  I had empirical evidence that I could write philosophically, and I could do it well.  The only thing stopping me was the fact that I had not realized that what I thought was BS, was actually me being great at what I did.  Here I was thinking that I was just pretending to write these academic papers, when all along I was actually doing it.  So, I wrote an awesome  paper on CS Lewis, and got another A.  I graduated Cum Laude.

Since then, I've worked on reminding myself of the many things I have accomplished to keep the insecurity at bay.  It's a work in progress without a doubt, but I can see my way through the fog with more regularity.  Unfortunately, the flip side of this is that I can occasionally develop an impenetrable shield of cockiness and unwarranted over-confidence, but that's a story for another time.

In other news, a very Merry Christmas to all (three or four) of you.  Please know that you are well loved, deep in the heart of Texas (clap x4).

Leavin' on a Jet Plane.

The next few weeks (maybe even months) will be filled with more travel than usual.  I'm headed out to our headquarters in California for one last meeting in my old role, and will likely be back out there for training in my new one come January.  Couple that with travel for Christmas, and you've got me up in the air.  If I had Photoshop, here is where I'd insert a picture of me seemingly flying through the air.  Instead, I'll just allow everyone to imagine that for a few seconds.

Okay, you can open your eyes now.  I'm still safely on terra firma.  For a few more hours, anyway.

We (read: KB) have done a lot of our Christmas shopping, and are nearing the last few, hard-to-buy-for folks.  I have never understood what exact quality makes someone hard to shop for, but it has always seemed like one of those "know it when you see it" kind of things.  I was told that I'm hard to shop for, and I've allowed that worm to work its way into my brain.  I think it may have something to do with me being rather practical, and gifts being inherently extravagant, no matter the actual size or cost.  It's the distillation of a few things, all wrapped up with a bow.  It's how much someone loves you, what they think of you, what they think you like, and what they think you need.  So pretty much a gift can be seen as the sum total of a person's thoughts on you, and wow...that's a lot.  When someone gives me something, I'm always appreciative, but I'm so humbled that I am not effusive.  That may sound like a lot of BS (I like to call it philosophy), but I think it's how I really feel.  When confronted with such an emotional thing, my practical side tends to take over, and I get all stoic and quiet.  Maybe I need to work on being more ebullient when receiving a gift.  I mean, smiling until it hurts isn't so bad and a few fist pumps in the air might do me good.

So watch out, Christmas, I'm going to get all kind of happy this year.  Brace yourselves!

Jay Oh Bee.

I was informed by my Cambridge readers that it had been three weeks since my last post, and that this was not acceptable.  To them, and to the other, let's say, three of you, I apologize.  The slide into Advent has become a whirlwind, and I vow to be more diligent in keeping my reader(s) up to date on the inner workings of my inscrutable mind.
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When KB and I first began the discernment process, we were entirely unsure what the job situation would be like.  If we went to Virginia, maybe I'd get a government job.  I'm sure the BLS is always looking for nerds analysts.  If we went to Sewanee, I could...buy a seersucker suit and become a gentleman of leisure?  And if the choice was Austin, well...that was more difficult.  I have a good job at Chevron, and the commute is a little on the long side, and where would we live, and blah, blah, whine, blah...

Long story short, that decision got made for us, and we live in Austin.  Boomtown: population, us.  I continue my work here in Houston and get to live in guests rooms thanks to the most unbelievably wonderful friends a guy could ask for.

I recently got a new assignment, so I get the joy of learning something new.  I'm very excited, because I really do like to learn, and the acquisition of skills is something I have not gotten to focus on much in the last few months.  I'll be working in the product development group, working with customers to meet their product needs.  I'm a decent talker, so the sales aspect should be easy to pick up; the chemistry perhaps less so.
Since I know that LMGK and PCEK read this, I feel like this is a good chance to impart godfatherly advice to all my darlings, and it is this: learning is always fun.  Never stop.  Find something that you like, and learn as much about it as you can.  (I'll save the rest for another blog post, mainly so I am assured of something to write next time).

I am really looking forward to new opportunities, some travel, learning new things, and growing more in my professional career.  It means a little more time at the office for the near term, but I can handle that.  Most importantly, it enables me the resources and leisure to spend time with the ones I love; that to me is the most important aspect of any job.

This post is a little scatter-shot, but I'm rusty...cut me some slack.