Three things I’ve known about myself forever but only recognized lately: my mind thinks in pictures/metaphors, I have recurring nightmares of being in places of depression with no ability to choose, any hash browns made by a friend will always be gross. They just can’t get it right.
I’ve recently finished a renovation project that turned into an air bnb project. I am elated. I tried to use it as a rental but it didn’t work out, but the air bnb thing is cruising along just fine. I’m still amazed at being done with it. The stress of the rennovation is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It was a tandem stress of having to do something I have never seen myself as competent at and of course the grasping ubiquitous fear and necessity of money.
Now that its done, its given me some time to consider my built in methods of handling big projects.
Maybe its the ADD, but I am best at the beginning and end of things. I can usually get a vision of what it could be quickly. And I am just brave enough or dumb enough to launch myself into the unknown. But the middle is a motherfucker.
This is where the man that I call my step dad Jon comes in. He is one of the strangest men I have ever met. Born in Brooklyn in the 40’s, he lived through several ages of New York life. The mob era, the crazy ass 70-80s era, the approach to the millennium But at all times, he was more or less just doing his thing. Working his business, reading his bible, drinking coffee out of his thermos, taking care of his property and cruising along.
Jon is a constant inspiration of how to get things done.
I am a wave. I am an emotional person. I throw myself at things. Its my best side. I overwhelm them with my intensity til I accomplish what I want. But if a wave hits a deadbolt and doesn’t knock the door off the hinges, eventually the wave subsides, drains, and takes a long time to rebuild its power and height.
Jon is a locksmith. He comes in when you need help, and you never guess what he is. He is willing to stand outside the door and cycle through solutions. He tries one pick, he tries another. He fails, he talks shit to the lock, telling it its gonna work for Jonny. He takes none of the problems personally. This is will never not be profound to me.
Without the autistic brilliance, I keep Sherlock Holmes type hours/work ethic. Lounging, depressive, followed by bursts of ideas with a mind on fire, staying up late and waking up early hot in pursuit.
Jon is the tortoise, he wakes up at 8, makes coffee in his kitchen, works til 12. Eats a super lame cheese sandwich, goes back to work. Then he does that every single day til he accomplishes what he sets out to.
There is a place for waves, and there is a place for locksmiths. The ocean would suck if it was made of metal pretending to the wave. And the wave would be the worst choice for home repair unless you want the whole house carried away.
But developing the capacity for both inside of you is the secret of work ethic. Carry the wave, and carry the lock picks. You never know what you’ll need.