Sunday, July 30, 2006

God and Oswald Vs. The Bitch

Today's post will be illustrated by those hokey Inspirational Posters that are usually found on Middle Management walls, because I don't think there's enough irony in this particular outing.

It’s the last week of Act One, and the big assignment is our pitches (I tell you my great idea for a script, you agree it’s great and want to theoretically buy it.) It’s a little wonky that everything is apparently riding on this thing, which we were just assigned last week, but that’s what class evaluations are for, I guess.

And for all the talk about how my class is a team, we need to support each other, help each other, lift each other up, la la la, now our final assignment is us competing against each other. And it’s not as though that’s not reality, and I don’t fault them for it, but I do think that kind of Cold Reality should’ve been given a place at the kitchen table next to the Fuzzy Wuzzy Lift Each Other Up from the beginning. Now it feels like a bait and switch. Welcome to the Industry, kids.

The long and short of it is that we’re split up into groups of five, we pitch to two groups of executive students, who in turn pick their favorite pitch to pitch to the faculty. So we have two chances to get picked, and we’re competing against 10 of us, I guess, though it’s unclear what happens if both exec groups pick the same pitch.

None of it matters anyway, because I already know mine isn’t gonna make it. My group is an awesome bunch, and at least two other pitches kick my ass out of the game, and I haven’t even heard the OTHER group of five’s stuff. I asked one of the teachers what the point was of continuing through with the pitch if I already know that my idea isn’t gonna be picked. “For the experience” she said with a straight face. Yay miserable experience. I can’t wait.

I go work out my frustration after class. Jump on the ellipticals at the gym, and puzzle over the pitching thing to God. God’s not currently taking my calls, I think He’s puzzling over the Middle Eastern conflict, so I argue with myself for awhile, speaking for both sides: God and me.

What’s the point? The point is you’re supposed to do the damn assignment and shut the hell up. But what’s the point if I already know I’m not gonna be one of the ones picked? Because it’s not a contest, it’s to sharpen your pitching skills so stop the whining and do the damn assignment. But it IS a contest, what else could the end goal of the assignment be except to be one of the ones picked? You are such a brat. What part of “Shut the hell up” don’t you understand? I understand it perfectly, but what you don’t understand is that my classmates are onto me, and it’s come out that I have more experience than them, so if I don’t get picked, then I seemingly am not as great of a writer as everyone suspects I am. So what. You need a kick in the teeth anyway. You came into this program thinking you knew so much, you deserve to be humbled. MONSTROUSLY humbled. So assume the position, whiny little arrogant brat.

I realize that God probably wouldn’t talk to me like this. What I’m hearing is The Bitch In My Head, who likes to take over when God’s busy with other stuff. Many a non-religious folk like to think God would talk EXACTLY like The Bitch In My Head, because God is the one who’s No Fun At All, and makes you feel awful about yourself. I know God’s not like that, but in absence of His presence to kick The Bitch out, The Bitch is more than happy to move in and piss all over the couch.

In desperately trying to think of anything else to dwell on, I’m reminded of Oswald The Sadistic Devotional For The Day, which says “We have the idea that God is leading us towards a particular end of a desired goal, but He is not. The question of whether or not we arrive at a particular goal is of little importance, and reaching it becomes merely an episode along the way. What we see as only the process of reaching a particular end, God sees as the goal itself.” In other words, it’s the journey, not the destination.

It’s a little disconcerting, because a lot of modern day Christianity espouses the idea that God has a purpose for you, and that purpose is a career, a life, a goal, something that’s tangible. Wherever God has placed you, it’s because He’s got a plan. That’s very comforting to know, that a relationship with Him can be that personal.

Yet Oswald is saying God’s more concerned with the journey. Well, what about His plan? Doesn’t God care a smidgen about the goal? Suppose my goal was to be the Godliest stripper around? Suppose my goal was to be a pious hooker? Would God still care as much about the journey, as opposed to the goal? (What, no Inspirational Poster for a Pious Hooker? DAMN YOU!)

And just as I’m about ready to launch into space, I’m working the elliptical so hard, a sentence jumps into my head.

Let the idea speak for itself.

Ah, there we go. I knew if I threw the phrase “Pious Hooker” out into the ether, God would show up and say Ummmm, no.

Let the idea speak for itself.

This didn’t come from me. I was busy arguing with The Bitch and Oswald. This thought didn’t have a trail, a traceable chain “I thought this, that make me think of that, which made me think of this other thing.” This sentence jumped so clearly and completely into my head from outside myself, that it has to be Him. It’s happened before.

Let the idea speak for itself.

Okay. Seems simple, honest and direct enough. So fine, it’s from God. Let’s concentrate on the journey to let the pitch speak, as opposed to worrying about the goal of whether it’ll get chosen or not, that way Oswald can be happy. Been dead for decades, Oswald has, but what the hey, let's make him smile.

The Bitch isn’t happy, though. But that’s fine. Someone deserves to be miserable around here, and it might as well be her. Since she’ll probably move back in once the idea doesn’t get picked.

4 comments:

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Lonnie said...

I had this conversation with my brother while we were roofing his house two summers ago. It was about two months into our stretch of unemployment (since we had resigned our positions to move to LA) and about four months after we had put our house on the market. Our neighbors house had sold the year before in about a month so we were way past when we thought we would be in LA...and still nothing on the house.

So...I figured I would get my brother to help me figure everything out. He is brilliant AND wise. (He got a B+ in his last semester of engineering school. It broke the 4.0 average he had carried for four years. Oh, and he commuted an hour and a half each way every day for school his last two years...oh, and he had a pregnant wife and two kids at home...oh, and he worked full time while he did his first two years at a local community college. So, yeah, he's got some game in the intellect department.) So I figured Roger could help me out.

Me: So what do you think we should do about our house?
Rog: (pause) Enjoy the journey.

Me: Do you think we are asking the right price?
Rog: (longer pause) Enjoy the journey.

Me: Maybe we should drop the price.
Rog: Enjoy the journey.

Me: Maybe God wants to bless us more than we know. Maybe we should raise the price.
Rog: Enjoy the journey.

Me: Oh no! I just cut off my right arm and the bloody stump is turning gangrene.
Rog: Enjoy the journey.


Okay, so I didn't say the last thing. But I'm sure that is how he would have responded. The only thing more annoying than his responses was that he was right. Jerk.

Anyway, I didn't know if you had run across this site, but if you haven't, you should drop in. It is www.despair.com. It is the evil anti-Successories. It's one of my favorite places to go when I need to soak up a little sarcasm on the long days.



Enjoy the jour...I mean, see ya!
Lonnie

Anonymous said...

...and you said you don't hear God speaking to you!!
--kathy