Fifty Two Tasks

FIFTY TWO TASKS

You want to be a better man? Start by getting honest with yourself.   JD

My name is Joe Doe. It's not really my name, but my real name doesn't matter. I'm an ordinary man: not too tall, too short, too smart, or too stupid. I've been flush with cash and I've been stone cold broke. I've slept in 5 star hotels and I've slept in my car. If you passed me on the street you probably wouldn't notice me at all. I have lived, as most American men do, in a cluster of anonymity.

Like most men, I get up, strap it on and slog through the work day; then I go home, eat something, drink my gin, climb into bed and do it all over again the next day.

A few years ago I looked in a mirror and I saw a beat-down man who know longer laughed, no longer cried; a man who'd lost his passion for life. All the cool, quirky parts of me were gone, worn away by stress and strife.

                           

I needed to re-invent myself. Or, to be more honest, I needed to find myself. 

                         

So I looked in the mirror again. This time I tried to be absolutely honest about what I saw.    

                           

That became Task #1. Over the next few years I created other tasks. I divided them up into 3 types: one, tasks that would help me clean up the emotional clutter I had piled up over the years; two, tasks to help me re-discover the fun of being a part of the male gender; and last, tasks to help me become a man for others. 

                                         

This blog lists 52 of those tasks. One to be accomplished every week for a year.  

Give them a shot. Good luck.  

                

Notes: 

Start with the task that corresponds with today's 

date. You'll find it by pressing 2014 on the upper right hand side and work your way back.  

If you like, send me your stories. I want to hear them

ALL. 

Questions? Comments? Sure you do.

                 

Send them to:

JoeDoeBula@gmail.com

HAVE FUN. GOOD LUCK ON YOUR 

JOURNEY.  Joe. 

Housekeeping

TASK #1

January 1st--January 8th

Housekeeping

A good man is always a beginner. Martial (c. 40--c.104)

Please read:

1. This is a blog for men. All men. Fat men, short men, normal men, old men, young men, black, white and any other color man. It's for Christians, Jews, Muslims and Atheists, just as long as you check the box marked M. It's for bed wetters, ugly men and handsome men and the millions that fall somewhere in the middle.  It's for cops and robbers, sinners and saints, beggars and millionaires. Hairy men and bald men. It's for men.

2. There is but one rule. You have to tell yourself the truth.

3. I suggest you start a diary or journal to record the tasks that you complete. You don't have to share it with anyone else. As a matter of fact, I recommend that you never show anyone what you write, or paint, or draw in conjection with this process. If you decide to hide your diary or journal, don't forget where you put it because you should read it as often as possible. And don't be afraid to return to a task and re-do it as often as your life changes, or you change. And someday you may want to share it with your son, or your wife, but only if you really want to.

4. Should you like to share your experience, send me an e-mail. Joedoebula@gmail.com. I, in turn, will share the best e-mails with other men.

5. Don't ask me questions. Ask yourself questions.

6. Don't skip a task.

TASK:

Buy a notebook, a journal, or steno pad. Open your mind. 

Good Luck. Joe.

TASK #2

January 8th--14th

It's Your Body, Dude

What an ugly beast is the ape, and how like us. Cicero (106--43B.C)

To see yourself as you are, you must see yourself as you really are.

There's nothing worse than looking at yourself naked in a mirror. Nothing. I'd like to think that's true for all men, but I have seen guys who clearly aren't ashamed of their birthday suits, the guys who walk around naked in the gym locker room. Because if you dare to strut around naked in a men's locker room, you are a confident man. Personally, in those situations, I wear a towel. Or towels.

Remember, we only get one body. And we're stuck with it. There are adjustments that can be made, of course. Modern plastic surgery can turn a flabby-assed beer swinging couch pilot into Brad Pitt with two hours of out-patient surgery. Well, maybe not Brad Pitt, but you get the picture. Most men, however, don't go the surgery route; it requires, after all, a trip to the doctor's office--and what man likes to go to a doctor's office?

Task:

The task this week is to look at yourself--really look at yourself--and catalogue what's good, and what's not so good. Find a mirror. A floor-to-ceiling mirror if possible. Strip off your clothes. Inspect yourself. Carefully. List the good, the bad and the ugly. Spare no criticism.

As an example, I will share a portion of my list:

GOOD
Tall. Over six feet. Posture of a marine. Chin sticks out in a strong, but not arrogant manner. Decent nose, lips. Solid shoulders.

BAD
Paunchy stomach. Hair on shoulders. Smallish dick. Protruding knees.

UGLY
Pock-marked ass. Love handles.

Make your own list. Laugh or cry accordingly.

You can reach me at joedoebula@gmail.com

TASK #3

January 14th--January 21st

Lighten Your Load

A clear conscience is often the sign of a bad memory. Unknown

Men stash away stuff like chipmunks, because We HATE TO THROW ANYTHING AWAY. 
And when your buddy says, "I don't save shit", he does--it's just in his head. Which is worse. 

I am such a man. I'm not a hoarder. A hoarder is someone who saves weird crap, and saves it compulsively. Like the guy with a houseful of newspapers, or jars of grease, or the guy who puts strands of thread in envelopes, and files them by color. That's not me. I save things that came into my life and I couldn't bear to pitch. Stuff like report cards, concert tickets, coins, trading cards, a label from a "Lady Of The Lake" butter container that can be folded in a certain way to make it look like the Lady had big boobs, my mom's high school year book, and a linen napkin that I stole from a Paris cafe. 

And then there's the negative things. The bad report card, the summons I got after I was arrested for shoplifting, a break-up letter from my college girlfriend, an angry note from my mother (because I got arrested for shoplifting).

Why am I dragging this stuff along? I hardly look at it all. In some cases I can't remember WHY I saved a certain item.

So I cleaned house. And you know what? I didn't miss what I pitched.

TASK:

Lighten your load. Go into your basement, your attic, your garage, pull out those boxes and old suitcases and laundry bags and pour out your past in front of you. Select five items that MEAN SOMETHING to you, good or bad. And throw the rest of it away. Keep the photos. For now. 

PS. This is a photo of some of the stuff I carried with me. It says a lot about me...

Comments? You can e-mail me at joedoebula@gmail.com

TASK #4

January 21st--January 28th

Keep It Simple

There is never enough time, unless you're servng it. Malcolm Forbes

To know who you are you have to know what you do. Or more specifically, you have to know how you spend your time. In one week there are 10,080 minutes. Let me repeat--10,080 minutes.

As you know, once time passes, it's gone. It ain't coming back. So how are you spending your 10,080 minutes? Sleeping? Working? Exercising, eating, fooling around, having sex, driving?

I spent nearly a 1000 minutes driving, 1680 minutes watching tv. And no minutes having sex.

It made me think about my priorities.

TASK:

Your task is to introduce yourself to your life. Every minute of it. List every activity that you do in a week, and how much time you spend on each activity, first by hours, then by minutes. 

Then, in your notebook, put three columns: WELL SPENT, NOT WASTED, AND WASTED. Then list your activities, and the time spend on them, in the appropriate column.
(NOTE: 56 hours of sleep, or 3360 minutes, goes under NOT WASTED. Any more than that goes under WASTED.)

Pay attention: This is the brick and mortar of your life.

TASK #5

January 28th--February 4th

Ten Truths

Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies. Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Try saying "ten truths" ten times. Difficult. Writing ten truths about yourself? More difficult. We do something stupid then justify it with lies. Why? Because we can't face the truth about ourselves.

We see what we want to see. We tell ourselves what we want to hear. 

It is be impossible to become what you want to become if you can't face who you are. 

So that's what has to be done. It isn't easy. In my case, I started with the low-hanging fruit: I bullshit, which is a bullshit way to say I lie. Not all the time, but when it's expedient; and I pontificate. I act like I know more than I do, and I am loud about it.

Those were the easy truths, meaning that they were easy for me to face because they are really superficial--let's face it: almost every man lies when it's expedient and bullshits with impunity. 

So I had to dig a bit. 

It took me a while, and though I was alone with pen and paper, I still wriggled and squirmed and felt guilty and ashamed. And when I was done, I felt good.

I will share one with you. Number 6 on my list: I am a grown man with a wife and children, and each day of my life I rise out of bed with one mission--that I will do whatever I have to do that day to make sure that they have a roof over their heads, food on the table, clothes on their backs and maybe most importantly, that they have my unwavering support and love.

But here's the truth: sometimes I can give a rat's ass about my wife and kids. Sometimes I just want to run away and be alone and not worry about anyone other than myself, and to hell with the mortgage, the IRS and the college savings plan...

That's how I feel sometimes.   



TASK:

Part One: List ten truths about yourself. Don't spare yourself.
Part Two: Read them to your best friend. (Note: this is optional. But do write them down.) 


TASK:

Part One: List ten truths about yourself. Be brutally honest.
Part Two: Read them to your best friend.  (This is optional.)




Questions? Comments? Arguments? E-mail me at joedoebula@gmail.com

TASK #6 

February 4th--February 11th

Flowery Language

Gifts are like hooks.    Martial

There is someone in your world that deserves to be thanked. Let me repeat: There is someone in your life that deserves a "thank you". You know it. I know it. 

And it's not the obvious people. It's not your girlfriend just because she fucks you, and it's not your wife because she puts up with you, and it's not your kids or your parents because they are stuck with you...and BTW, the aforementioned people have days set aside expressly so that they are recognized and appreciated, like Valentine's Day and anniversaries and Mother's Day and Father's day...

No, this is for someone else.

Who?

Well, if some guy saved your life you should have sent him a gift without prodding.  The "Who" I'm talking is the ordinary guy who did a semi-extraordinary favor for you.. L

Like the dude in the next cubicle who covered for you when came into work so hung over that your hair hurt. Or the guy who spotted you rent money after you blew it in Vegas. Or the guy at the record store who cut you some slack and gave you a deal on the John Lee Hooker album you just had to have, or the friend who drove a hundred miles round trip to pick you up when you fell asleep on the train and missed your stop and you woke up to find yourself stranded and the trains had stopped running...

Or the guy who came to your rescue during a bar fight that you initiated.

Or the guy who drove you in the middle of the night to get  your car out of the impound lot.

Or the guy who bailed you out of jail when you got shit-faced and ran through the mall...

TASK:

You decide who this person is, then you send him a gift. ANONYMOUSLY. That means no name, and it also means that you can never, ever tell him who sent it. I recommend flowers because guys who get flowers anonymously will think they're from some woman with a secret crush and that's cool...or send a Swiss Army Knife. 

If you have any comments, e-mail me at joedoebula@gmail.com

TASK #7

February 11th--February 18th

Tempered Steel

No man can think clearly when his fists are clenched.   George Jean Nathan

Anger. Pure, unadulterated male anger. It's one of the traits of men that I can't defend, nor totally comprehend. It's not that I'm immune. On the contrary--I have a terrible temper. I have flipped off people on the freeway, baited people at dinner parties, chased my dog with the intention of shoving my foot up its ass, pounded conference room tables, fought in jealous rages.  

Road rage was my speciality. One day a guy cut me off at an intersection. I went eye-bugging crazy. I followed him for a few streets, then jumped out of my car and knocked on his window. He got out and punched me in the face. I end up flat on the street. He drove away.

I had to stop it. I had to find some control. i didn't wan't to make a mistake that would haunt me the rest of my life. Here's what I did:

TASK:

First, get a newspaper every day this week. Scour it for stories about violence. Violence caused by virulent anger. If you live in a small town then get on-line and check out the L.A. Times or the N.Y. Post. There's plenty of violent crime in those cities. Read the articles. Cut them out. Glue them in your notebook. 

Try to put yourself into the place of the victim. 

Second, write down every angry impulse you have this week. Every one, even if it's small--like the anger that seeps up the back of your spine when you through the drive-thru and you order a Big Mac Meal and you drive away and look in the bag and you realize the bone-head at the window gave you a fish sandwich. And forgot the fries. 

If you have any comments, feel free to e-mail me at joedoebula@gmail.com 

TASK #8

February 18th--February 25th

On a Wing and a Prayer

Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer.  Mark Twain

Despite the pomp and theatrics, despite the fervor and misguided fanaticism, despite the radical fringes of organized religions, I tend to believe that religions are good, or at least in their intentions, and that people who practice a religion are well meant. (Excluding those who proselytize, like Marco Rubio and Rick Santorum, who are so Catholic they make the Pope look like a Lutheran. 

And I believe that the core tenets of all the world's major religions: Islam, Catholicism, Hinduism, Buddhism and so on, all teach and encourage simple, common sense values, like honesty, fair play, and it seems like most of them, especially the Christian religions, set out pretty simple rules to follow, like "thou shalt not kill", and "thou shalt not covet they neighbor's wife", which is a good one to remember if your neighbor' wife likes to parade around in a thong. 

But I digress. The point is: there is something inherently good in believing in a higher power. In a world a constantly shifting sand, it's good to have moral ground to stand on. 

At the same time I have to confess that I'm not much for church. I'd rather sit out in the sun and watch the world pass me by. And sometimes, when my mind slips from the shackles of my everyday worries, I think about my friends and my family, or those random people from my distant past, and I'll find myself hoping, in my heart of hearts, that good fortune finds them. 

I call that praying. It's not reciting words from a missal, or reading words that you've memorized from a book, nor is it begging: i.e. for the Buckeyes to beat Michigan, or that the next symbol on the slot machine is a bell; and it's not asking for mercy after you've f--ed up, which is a plead, not a prayer.  

Praying is asking for good fortune for someone else. Someone who may need some good fortune in their life. 

TASK:

This week you are going to open your notebook and write a prayer. You don't have to invoke any particular deity, it doesn't have to rhyme or be recited with your hands folded; it simply has to ask for something good to happen to someone you know who deserves to have something good happen to them.

I asked for good fortune to befall a certain man, his name is Dave, who is the most selfless individual I have ever met. 

Now it's your turn.

If you have a comment, feel free to write me at joedoebula@gmail.com

TASK #9 

February 25th--March 4th

The Fortunate Son

Everything hurts.  Michelangelo Antonioni

Your life is crummy? Runnin' short of luck? Your job blows? Credit card maxed-out? Your woman leave you for a mall masseuse? You sick and tired of being sick and tired? 

You team lost? You feel fat? Your car acting up? The tax man breathing down your neck? 

Life can really blow. It can just suck the joy out of living. But guess what, dude. As bad as it is, and much as it sucks, you have it better than someone else. 

And you're going to see it in person. 

TASK:

This week you are going to look in on some men who have it worse than you. You HAVE to volunteer, or at least visit, one of the following locations:

1) The waiting area of the emergency room. Go to the nearest big city. Find the emergency room waiting area. Sit down for four hours. You'll see the flotsam and jetsam of humanity roll in and out like the tide. 

2) Homeless shelter. Shelter is a basic human need. Many men don't have it, so they go to homeless shelters. Go to one and help out or just sit and watch. 

3) County homes. Fun places where aging men without means, or family, or both are institutionalized. 

4) School for the mentally challenged. Is it blissful not to know that you're one of the disenfranchised? I don't think so.

5) Orphanage or foster home. 

6) Or drunk tank, or skid row, or mental health institute. You make the call.

Then come home and write about it.

If you have any comments or questions, e-mail me at joedobula@gmail.com 

TASK #10

March 4th--March 11th

U Pick 'Em

Everything has been figured out, except how to live.   Jean-Paul Sartre

I love March because I love March Madness. I love the brackets because it forces me to make decisions. I mean, you can equivocate, procrastinate and undulate all year, but come tournament time, you have to make decisions. 

I decided to come up with a bracket of my own. It was supposed to help me decide what to do with my free time. The winning activity surprised me. 

You try it. When you get done write about the activity you chose, and why it's more important to you than the others.

TASK:

     Good Luck! Questions?: E-mail me at Joedoebula@gmail.com

TASK #11

March 11th--March 18th

Clean Living

Cleaning anything involves making something else dirty, but anything can get dirty without something else getting clean.   Lawrence J. Peter

I don't necessarily agree that cleanliness is next to Godliness--I think a good orgasm is next Godliness, but cleanliness is close, and it is a sign of maturity, responsibility and self-discipline. We don't control much in this world, but we can control the space we occupy, and we should do so with great care.

TASK:

You are going to clean your home this week. YOU means ALL of you, whether you live in a studio apartment or a 30 room mansion. If you're fortunate enough to employ a housekeeper, give her the week off. 

And I don't mean "once over lightly". I mean you're going to clean like a cleaning lady. Your going to attack every room in your abode with vigor--as though every speck of dirt, every invisible microbe is your personal enemy.

Get yourself some soap, water, rags, all-purpose liquid cleaning solution (I like it lemon-flavored), some glass cleaner, toilet bowl cleanser, etc. 

Start with the floor. Broom it, swiffer it, mop it. Do the baseboards, the walls, the cabinets, the sinks, the mirrors, the windows. Get a broom up in the corners where the spiders live. Wipe off the lightbulbs. 

Clean out the fridge. Shake out the drapes, dust the picture frames, and get busy on that toilet. 

And wash your sheets. 

Be humble about it. Be thorough. And when you're done, revel in it. Write about your triumph. 

Any questions or comments? E-mail me at joedoebula@gmail.com

TASK #12

March 18th--March 25th

Mentor, Mensch

McCabe's Law: Nobody HAS anything to do with ANYTHING. Charles McCabe

A MENSCH, dictionary-wise, is person having admirable characteristics, such as fortitude and firmness of purpose. A person of fundamental decency. A MENTOR is described as a sponsor or supporter. I don't like either of these definitions. Here's what a mentor and a mensch are in the real world.

A mensch is a stand-up guy. A guy you'd trust with your wife, or your sister. A mensch will bail you out of jail, back you up in a bar fight, commiserate with you when your girlfriend runs off with your tax guy, and a mensch will co-sign a loan, or a lease. Most importantly, a mensch will NEVER ask for anything in return. 

A mentor is a guy who takes the time to show you how to do something that you want to do, but don't know how to do it. It's usually an older guy, but not always.

I had a mensch in my life. His name is Dave. He stood by me and my family. He did something for us that was selfless, and he did it because it had to be done. When I thank him, which is often and profusely, he shrugs...

I had a mentor in my life as well. A guy who helped my get ahead in my career when I was young and dumb. I went to work in an office that was a real shark tank. I nearly got myself fired on day #1.  The reason I survived was due to the patience and selflessness of my boss, who would sit with me late into the evening and gently guide me.  It must have been a trial for him--I was so full of crap--but he listened and smiled. 

TASK:

Be a Mensch! Is there someone who needs your help? Someone who needs a loan? Someone you can help get a job? Someone who needs a ride to work? Someone who is reaching out for something and you know you can help but you've just ignored it? Help someone out! Be a mensch!

Be a Mentor: Look around--is there someone at work who is bright but clueless? Someone at church who looks a bit lost? Take someone under your wing--be a mentor!

If you have any questions or comments, e-mail me at joedoebula@gmail.com

TASK #13

March 25th--April 1st

Tear It Up

A clear conscience is often the sign of a bad memory.  Unknown


We all have pictures. Pictures of ourselves: i.e. school photos, shockingly ugly driver's license photos, i.d. badges, etc., and pictures with family, girlfriends, and random friends. 

We tend to hold onto photos. Tenaciously. Even the photos that dredge up unwanted memories of people and moments of our lives that we want to forget.

What is it about photos?

I couldn't bring myself to throw out a photo because my mother told me, more than once, that if the house burnt down we could replace anything EXCEPT our photographs. 

Fine, but why save photos of people you hate? Or pictures that involuntarily dredge up bad memories? 

I looked through a box of old photos. For 20 years I have kept a picture of a woman who dumped me with casual contempt because she'd tired of me. Only she didn't tell me that she was tired of me until she'd already hooked up with the other guy. 

I stared at the photo for a while. Then I crumpled it up and threw it into the trash. Right behind it went a picture of myself sporting a horrible mullet, then a picture of a guy who dated my mom after my dad died. The guy who dated my mom was an awful shit. And I pitched a picture of me being helped to my car by two co-workers. I was drunk and they were being nice but I horribly embarrassed myself that night.


TASK: 

Dig into your pictures. All of them. On your computer, in the cloud and the ones thrown into a shoebox. 

Select 5 (five) that you need to throw away. Write down a short description of each in your notebook and describe why they need to go. Get rid of them. Completely. 

If you want to tell me about the pictures you chose, write me at joedoebula@gmail.com 

TASK #14

April 1st--April 8th

Put The Wood To It

Non-violence is fine as long as it works.   Malcolm X

There ain't anything a man does better than breaking stuff. I have personally broken every kind of man-made object there is to break. I have broken toys--mine and other kid's--eyeglasses, dozens of water glasses, eye glasses and picture window glass; i've cracked coffee cups, LPs, cds, dvds, watches, computers, sugar/cereal/pasta bowls, and most of my mom's china when I cheaped out and decided NOT to have it professionally packed and shipped, opting instead to wrap it myself in newspaper and send it to California from Ohio in a cardboard box. 

Now, much of the above was done unintentionally, but on occasion I like to break things on purpose, especially if I'm pissed about something. It makes me feel good.

It's spontaneous most of the time. I mean I get angry and I start hitting the dashboard, the walls, the pillow, the floor, etc. Never a person. But something. Or I kick. I kicked a tv when the Buckeyes lost a football game. I kicked a refrigerator when I found out that a girl was cheating on me. 

Sometimes I've hurt my knuckles or my toes. And once I put a hole in some drywall. Not mine, thankfully.

But I've recently come upon a better way to vent my anger. No, not seeing a therapist. I bash things. 

TASK:

Scrape together 20 bucks. Go to your nearest thrift store, Goodwill or Salvation Army Center. Buy an assortment of stuff to whack, i.e. candy dishes, ashtrays, salt and pepper shakers, old toys, a cake plate or soup bowl, or just by a stack of old record albums, and old side chair or kid's dresser or a coffee table. 

Bring the items to a secluded place--maybe a yard or basement or clearing in the woods. Stand over the pile with your bat or other instrument of destruction, put on safety glasses if available, think about someone/something that's bothering you--I always conjour up the image of this guy who I worked with, who I hated with a passion--then let fly. Become a smashing machine.

Take a picture of the mess. Clean up when you're finished.

Two rules: you can't hit a person, or an animal; and you can't smash something that's owned by someone else. 

Write down who it is, or what it is, that you hate. 

If you like, e-mail me the picture: joedoebula@gmail.com

TASK #15

April 8th--April 15th

You Can Count On It

Why is there so much month left at the end of the money?   Unknown


Sheltering at home has me fretting over my health, and the health of my family, and the health of my bank account. The other night, when everyone was in bed, I sat down in from of my computer, pulled up my bank account, and tried to figure out the answer to the eternal financial question: WHERE THE HELL DID MY MONEY GO? 

Well, it didn't up and run away--I spent it! And I never seem to save any money--I have ALWAYS spent what I make!

Isn't that true for most of us?  Whether you're an Uber jockey or a Bombay-sipping office spiff, you probably spend what you make and you don't know your net worth. That's not good. The only people who DON'T need to worry about their net worth are batting .310 in the majors and making 20 million a year. The rest of us--we need to know. 

I have a friend who makes 40K a year as a bartender and a DJ. He's not a DJ like Skrillex--my friend sits in a corner of a bar and plays records, but he does get paid for it. So I went to him and asked him how much he was worth. He looked at me like I was speaking Lithuanian and shrugged. He said he didn't have anything in the bank and he lived by paycheck to paycheck.,

So I said, "let's see what you're worth". We met the next day at his place.

He lives in a modest apartment. Not much in the way of anything...but I found 30 items that are, well: assets. 1) a plasma tv; 2) couch; 3) dvd player; 4) a lava lamp; 5) wood coffee table; 6) Playboy magazine coffee table book; 7) IKEA mirror; 8) 2 drawer filing cabinet that he used as an end table; 9) metal picture frame without a picture in it; 10) ab roller that has never been used; 11) bed with mattress; 12) another lava lamp. He thinks that they create a seductive atmosphere; 13) laptop computer; 14) iPOD; 15) never-used bowling ball; 16) suitcase; 17) Cleveland Indian Duvet; 18) Cleveland Indian lamp; 19) baseball mitt signed by Jim Thome+, 20) Cleveland Indian poster; 21) an array of comic books; 22) binoculars; 23) coin collection he got from his dad; 24) Darth Vader piggy bank; 25) a banjo that he doesn't know how to play; 26) X box with 10 games; 27) hoodies, tee-shirts, jeans, underwear and other worthless clothes; 28) alarm clock; 29) baseball bat; 30) Kate Upton poster. He actually had some money in his checking account: $422.12. All of this, plus a 2000 Toyota truck, were his assets.

We listed everything and then went on Craig's list and Ebay to see what similar items were valued at. Then we totaled it. The was worth almost three thousand dollars. The Toyota: one thousand. All in, he's worth about $4500. 

Not bad. 


TASK:

Find your assets. List them. Put a price against them. Know what you are worth. 

You can reach me at joedoebula@gmail.com

TASK #16

April 18th--April 25th

THOU SHALT NOT...

"It is the final proof of God's omnipotence that he need not exist in order to save us."   Peter De Vries


One of the crappiest aspects of "sheltering in place" is the amount of time you have to spend at home with your family. Ok, I said it. It sounds terrible but it is the truth. 

In order that my wife and I and home-bound son don't tear each other apart like hungry wild wolves who just spotted a buffalo carcass, we have taken to spending part of each day in different rooms. 

My wife usually retreats to our bedroom and the comfort of Netflix; my son sits in the basement and facetimes with his girlfriend, and I
sit in the livingroom.

The arrangement works in the sense that we can't fight if we can't see each other, but it has me spending way too much time in my own head, which is not a very sensible or safe place for me to be sometimes.

Why? Because I start to sulk. Not about the coronavirus, not about my job, or lack thereof, but I sulk about the things that I DON'T have. And, given the shitty state of affairs--these are things that I will NEVER have. Like the Ford Flex that's sitting in my neighbor's driveway, or the John Deere Z355R 48 in. 22 HP gas dual Hydrostatic Zero-turn Riding Lawnmower that my cousin is so proud of that he started a whole Facebook page for it. Stuff like that.  

Now, my wife started to notice that the separation policy was putting me in WORSE mood, and being that she's not a person to keep things to herself, she said, "what the hell is wrong with you?" I mumbled and deflected, but after a while I told her what was bugging me and she shook her head and said, you don't want that stuff, you COVET it!

What the hell did that mean?

Later on I sat down and thought about what she said. No one uses the work "covet" much these days, and I thought about where I had heard it before.

It was the Ten Commandments. There are two commandments that mention the word covet: Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, and thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods. I don't care much for my neighbor's wife, who is sharp-tongued and once asked my wife (about me): "what do you see in him anyway?

So I don't covet her, but I do covet his goods, as in the Ford Flex. And my cousin's John Deere, and other things that other people have that I don't have--so I wrote it all down--I made a list of all the things that I wanted that everyone else had, and it was a good sized list of things. Will it make me covet less?

I don't know, but at least it was out in the open.

TASK:

Go outside your house or apartment. Look around. Write down the stuff that you want, but other people have. Be precise. Do they same at work, at 
the gym, at the auto shop, at the movies... The list is going to be long an involved. Look at each item. Ask yourself why you want it, and if you 

deserve it, and if you can live without it. The results will surprise you. 

If you have a story to tell, or a comment to make, e-mail me at joedoebula@gmail.com