Asking for help has always been so hard for me. I always hated it when I couldn’t do something for myself. I felt like a failure. I was so used to being asked for help, I sort of felt like I’d lose my identity as “the knower” if I put myself on the other side of the table.
I flunked in college because I was utterly terrified to ask for help. Admitting I was lost and needed help was, for me, like stepping out of a plane without a parachute. Even if I wanted to do it, my body wouldn’t budge. Believe it or not, through twelve years of grade school I did not once say, “I don’t know how to do this. Please show me.”
I would do anything else instead. Skip class to study it on my own, work backwards from the solution in the back of the text, or most often, simply avoid it for the rest of my life.
Naturally, this strategy caused some problems. Read More
by
David on August 20, 2009
Meet Jake. Jake is a black-and-beige beetle I found in my bathroom garbage pail about a week ago. He seems in no hurry to leave. I don’t know what he’s been up to all week, but for now he’s residing in the maze of tissues and toilet paper rolls in my little white bucket.
For some reason, I would have killed him for this a few years ago. I always figured bugs in the house had to be executed for their trespassing. This is just what people do, but I don’t know if there’s really a good reason for it. So I’ll let him hang out in there.
I suppose the usual pretense for these killings is that bugs represent filth and disease, and it’s just not safe to let them live with us. Well, in spite of my greatest fears, Jake has never once given me a disease, or crawled in my mouth while I was sleeping. To my knowledge he has not laid eggs in my brain. He has not interfered in my life in any way.
In fact, compared to any dogs, cats or people I’ve roomed with, he’s been an outstanding guest. He doesn’t make any noise, doesn’t borrow my things, doesn’t shed on the upholstery or play bad electronic music. He doesn’t eat very much, apparently satisfied with whatever scraps remain on my spent strands of dental floss. Read More
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David on August 3, 2009
“We do not remember days, we remember moments.”
~Cesare Pavese
By six o’clock on a Sunday night, the streets of Invermere were deserted. It was early fall, the middle of dead season for a skier’s town, and I was trotting down to the highway to hitchhike back up the mountain, to the resort where I lived and worked. It had rained earlier, and the damp streets were glowing with one final hour of of sun before it ducked behind the mountains.
I’d spent the day in town, alone, on what was as much a photo-taking excursion as a grocery run. Walking along a silent residential street, I passed an overgrown picket fence, peered nosily into the adjacent yard, and saw something that made me stop. Read More
by
David on July 16, 2009
I feel very blessed. I seem to be drawing a small but growing group of some of the most thoughtful, intelligent readers around.
I appreciate you all very much, you’ve done more for me than you know.
I had a lengthy article all ready to go for today, but I’ll post it another day. I won’t fill your head with my opinions this morning, there will be plenty of those later.
Instead, I’ll just take this chance to wish you a good day. And I mean you, as a person. Have a great Friday, really.
Whatever you have on your plate on this particular day, I hope it’s not too troublesome for you. But if it is, know that it matters to me too, because I like you.
If there’s anything I can do for you from my computer chair that won’t get me fired, send me an email.
Thank you all for coming, I’m honored.
Photo by jRa7
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The first thing I heard was the crash. I spun around on my stool, and she was already crumpled on the floor, head bent against the radiator.
Her eyes were open and blank, and she appeared to speak, but it was just part of the seizure. She wasn’t there at all. Her movements were so stiff and unnatural that I thought I was watching somebody die.
When she fell, there was nobody in the classroom closer to her than me. Four or five feet away. But I couldn’t move. I didn’t know what to do. I just stared, heart racing, and hoped somebody would just do something. Read More
Today’s post is a guest post by Josh Hanagarne from World’s Strongest Librarian. Enjoy! ~ David
My high school government teacher Mr. Weeks remains the best instructor I’ve ever had, and that includes my undergraduate and graduate studies. I still quote him about once a week – more often during crises.
One day he asked us all a question that I’ve never forgotten.
“What is Freedom?”
He didn’t seem surprised when someone raised their hand and avowed, “Freedom is being able to do what you want.” It was what we were all thinking. Before we could begin nodding, Mr. Weeks laughed and shouted “Wrong!” He was tickled that he’d led us into another trap. He straightened his tie, cleared his throat and said:
“That’s exactly what’s wrong with the world. People think they want freedom, but what they want is anarchy. Doing whatever you want isn’t freedom: it’s anarchy. When anarchy is the norm, that’s when society starts sliding into the ocean, and at that point… good riddance. Anarchy is for losers and punk bands.”
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My mom left out a few lessons that a lot of other kids got. Certain common habits, I just never developed because nobody taught me.
In the last few years I’ve become more and more interested in people, and I pay more attention to passers-by when I’m out and about. One thing that always enthralls me is seeing children learn from their parents. A wide-eyed and curious child, watching his mother’s actions and words, is a powerful sight to behold. It affects me today in ways it never had before. Now that I’m older and firmly in the habit of examining my habits, I can see how crucial those moments are in shaping a kid’s life.
What the parent does in those moments, in front of her vulnerable, impressionable child, is a far-reaching act of creation. How she interacts with her own world is probably the greatest factor in determining how that child will deal with his own life when he’s free to make his own decisions. Read More
I’ve interrupted my regular posting schedule to bring you this important message.
On Sunday, well-known and well-liked blogger Leo Babauta of ZenHabits received an email from the lawyers of author Susan Jeffers, claiming that he had infringed on her trademark in one of his posts by using the phrase “feel the fear and do it anyway” — the title of Jeffers’ book.
That Leo had never heard of the book is, from a legal standpoint, supposedly not relevant. The fact that he was only repeating an intuitive phrase he’d heard from a friend on Twitter (to whom he did give credit in the post) does not excuse him from his offense. It is his responsibility to be aware that the words he used to convey his point had been rendered off-limits by somebody else’s choosing them for a book title, years earlier. Considering how many books and products are out there, I wonder how many of my posts contain book titles or slogans, and whether I’ve already got threatening letters on the way. Read More
by
David on April 28, 2009
Six years ago, when I lived in a snowy mountain village and paid my bills by cleaning high-end sinks and toilets, someone said something that prompted me to confront an uncomfortable truth about myself.
A well-meaning coworker mentioned that she had been talking to another housekeeper about me. Oh?
“She said, ‘David is a such great guy to work with, it’s just that he’s just so quiet.‘”
I don’t remember how I responded, but I assume I tried to disagree somehow, and went back to my work hoping nobody would ever say that to me again. Read More
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David on April 26, 2009
This is part 2 of a 2-part post. The first half is here.
If there’s no good and evil, why do people steal and hurt others?
Because they’re dumb. They just don’t know any smarter and more rewarding ways to live.
Ok, ‘dumb’ is a little misleading. There are intelligent people who commit crimes and atrocities too. A person can have a genius IQ, yet still misbehave himself into addiction, ruined relationships, or prison. ‘Foolish’ might be a better adjective.
What they lack is wisdom. Insight. They just don’t know how to cultivate peace in their lives. So they grasp at things that provide fleeting scraps of fulfillment: money, power, gratification. They don’t know where else to look. But of course it’s never enough, and so desperation mounts. They begin to feel an even stronger draw towards gratification and security, mistaking them for some kind of salvation, and soon they are stepping over others (or worse) to acquire these things. They just don’t get it.
A common argument is that without morals, we wouldn’t know how to behave. We’d become greedy, cruel and petty, slaves of every selfish impulse we have. Well, I don’t think so. I don’t know about you, but I’m smart enough to see the benefits in being good to others, and the drawbacks of being mean. There are natural incentives built into both love-based and fear-based courses of action. It is clear to me that this is exactly what religions were trying to teach: that there are smart ways to live, and dumb ways to live.
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David on April 19, 2009
I'm David and Raptitude is a street-level look at the human experience -- what makes human beings do what they do, and what that means in real life.
I write about how to make sense of the earth's most ridiculous animal, how to get better at being one of them, and how only those two things can save the world. 
Hi Julie, good to hear from you. I'm still determined to take a road trip across the south, then out to LA, but I don't know where it is in my always-growing sequence of upcoming trips. :)