I can't remember when I drew this. I don't think I was 30 years old yet and still in my "Conan The Barbarian" phase.
Conan is one of those action guys. He charges in with muscles bulging, screaming something heroic, waving his sword over his head, off to save the world. He never makes mistakes.
It was fun to find this drawing in a little box a couple of weeks ago, but something about it suggests the impatience of youth and inexperience.
Crap, I'm not perfect!
I've learned a lot since then, or have I?
Okay - Confession time.
I wrote a blog article this week, and it sucked. It was too long and too dense and too disorganized. It was truly yucky.
I don't know why. It just happens. At the beginning of the week, I thought I had a great idea. I did the research. I put in the work.
I started to feel good. I was getting ready to break out the champagne, kill the fatted calf, I was going to hit the publish button.
Then, I read it over last night, and it had somehow turned ugly.
Sometimes, what you do, regardless of the effort you put in, turns out to be swamp muck, pond scum, that horrible smelly stuff stuck to the bottom of your shoe.
It got to the point where I was going to package it all up in a nice little wrapper and hit publish, and I had to scrap it.
It all made sense when I was mulling it over in my mind. It was hilarious. It was a gem. But written down, it was a horrible hot steaming mess. How could I have ever thought it was so good?
Rather than subject you to that long-winded drivel, I put my scimitar back in its scabbard and decided to write this instead. I chose not to draw more blood; even if the blood was my own.
There's no need to worry; self-flagellation is not in my future.
I'm not going to give myself fifty lashes with a wet noodle, park an anvil on my chest, or walk around wearing a hair shirt. I'm not going to join Opus Dai and start wearing a cilice.
I'm going to suck it up and move on.
I'm going to take it as a chance to recognize that, unlike most people, I'm not perfect. Sometimes things don't go to plan, and I'm always learning a lesson.
When I was in the Marines, yes another Marine story - live with it, after every big exercise there was something called an After Action Report, I found a continuous theme in those reports was how successful we were at everything. Nothing was ever a failure.
We didn't fail to "take the hill," but we learned sixty-seven ways we couldn't take the hill. The result was never the cause. The chopper didn't just fail to show; we discovered the command center request was wrong and worked to correct it, or sometimes the helicopters required better maintenance. Maybe, Maverick forgot to feed Goose his Wheaties in the morning. There was always something positive to learn, and, as always, an unauthorized fly-by.
Every cluster-f>@& is a learning opportunity.
Prescription for Friday:
A heaping big helping of relaxation. There will probably be a little bit of whiskey involved, some wound licking, and a pat on the back.
Yay! I failed!
Shhhh. Don't tell anyone! It'll be our secret.
Then, back to the grindstone.
I want you to have to best possible weekend you can.
I'm glad I can be a part of it.
Until next week, I wish you peace.