Worth It

I recently heard a story about Pablo Picasso. He was asked by a fan at a café to sketch a drawing on a napkin. He did and then asked her to pay him $10,000. Shocked and unwilling to pay, she retorted that the drawing had only taken him a few seconds. He replied, “No, my dear, it took me 30 years.”

Self-worth of this magnitude is impressive, possibly even valid. But it isn’t self-worth that is important to me in this story. It is that worth takes time, hard work, even failure. Worth isn’t arbitrary, it is earned. Worth doesn’t declare itself. It is given and taken based on a complex formula of needs, wants, and perceptions.

Of course, there are things in life that are monumentally undervalued and foolishly overvalued. Look at the wage divide between teachers and NFL players. Look at the price of an engagement ring and the price of a divorce…ironically similar, huh? And if you can pay for both in less than two years, perhaps they should both cost more. Even taking into account my own “values”, I’m almost ashamed to admit I spend more on alcohol than I do on groceries. Almost.

Clearly, there can be a binary between what something is worth and its value or cost. For example, friendship. In my opinion, friendship is one of the most valuable things a person can posses. But adults treat it cheaply, at least in my early-30’s world. This is one (possibly the only) place highschoolers have it right. Death is preferable to hurting a friend in highschool. Adults do it all the time.

Can you really not buy love? Yes, you can. The good stuff costs kindness, patience, flexibility, and love back. You can and you must invest. This shit is NOT free. I’ve also met my fair share of golddiggers in Texas who would argue to the grave that you can buy it. I’ve contemplated becoming one of these people but decided the karmic payback is just too terrifying.

Self-worth is another tricky one. After you determine what you’re worth, are you confident and proud when you reveal the price? Alternatively, are you red-line pricing things that should never be discounted? Picasso sure knew his worth. He knew because some valued him as much as he did. He also felt he had earned it.

Worth may not be arbitrary but it is definitely relative. It can stand alone, but alone it just might be. Worth that isn’t worthy usually gets forgotten anyway. I’m going to try to remember that the next time I have to determine worth or the next time I negotiate my own value. I’m going to try to make sure that worth = value which means it isn’t that complex of a formula after all.

My Dad Gets Around

Today is my Dad's birthday. He's 55 which makes him nearly ancient. I'm shocked how close in age we seem to get every year I get older. Hmmm.... Anyway, my Dad once gave me a very useful piece of advice:

The best way to get from where you are to where you want to be is to not stop moving.

As the owner of a trucking company and one in a long line of successful farmers, he knows a thing or two about getting from here to there. He argued against the popular advice that a "straight line" is the best path. Being an arrogant teenager, I'm sure I argued him right back and like most cerebral arguments with my parents, I learned in hindsight he was correct all along.

The path, quite frankly, is never a straight line. There are bumps, turns, potholes. The whole damn path could be washed away or simply end abruptly without any signage. You yourself could experience a blowout or just run out of gas. If it goes in a straight line too long, assume you are going in the wrong direction and start worrying.

I have used his advice countless times in life, from schoolwork to break ups, from my career to the purchase of my first home.  In fact, I pretty much live by it. I haven't really ever stopped moving and have a string of hometowns and families to show for it.

I'm not quite sure yet if either of us has ever gotten from here to any sort of final there. I'm not sure either of us are even sure where "there" is. But, Dad and I have definitely gotten around and that is pretty awesome.

Thanks for teaching me to keep on truckin', Dad. Many more happy birthdays!

Hi. I'm Crazy.

Giving my phone number to strangers is risky business. First, I rarely like anyone so being on the hook to respond to phone calls and texts is a massive chore for me. Second, most people are crazy.

Exhibit 1: Gave phone number to ok-looking male at neighborhood convenience store. He immediately texts that it was good to meet me. Now I have his phone number. Makes sense. He had also given me his card. Very professional and polite. I'll refer to said male from this point on as "Crazy."

Crazy: Why do you have a Colorado phone number? Ha!

My internal monolog: I realize some folks in Texas have a difficult time grasping that there are places outside of Texas from which someone might be. I also realize that many people in Texas find it very difficult to leave Texas. I do, however, feel a bit befuddled by the acute shock that I'm from another land so far away and exotic as Colorado. Furthermore, the fact that I have a Colorado number can really only mean one thing: I once lived there. Further furthermore, why is it funny?

My actual response: I went to undergrad at Boulder.

Crazy: I thought I'd send you a completely random photo of me and my friends at a burger restaurant that also sells cupcakes. Ha!  (I'm not exaggerating. He actually did this. I'd left the convenience store about 10 minutes ago.)

My internal monolog: Um, thanks...(I'm still wondering what is so goddamn funny.)

My actual response:

Crazy: Would you like to go to happy hour on Friday? (This is the morning after meeting at the store.)

My internal monolog: Yeah, probably, as long as nothing more fun comes up. I appreciate you asking a few days in advance. I'll respond when I get off work.

Crazy (a few hours later): Why are you avoiding me? Yes, I'm calling you out.

My internal monolog: You're effing crazy and I never want to meet up. I'll respond to your texts when I'm good and ready and not a second before, maybe not at all. And that's perfectly alright. So there. I hate that shit.

My response: I just got home and actually I think you might be a bit full on for my taste. Please lose my number.

Within 24 hours of meeting him I got 12 texts (compared to my 2 responses). The final few were comically insane. I was scolded for being adverse and unresponsive to so many texts when anyone else would simply find them friendly. I was also chastised for not using his business card to stalk him online. If I had I would have known that I was lucky to have received so many texts from him because he is such an upstanding citizen and generally awesome guy. Very kindly, his final text apologized that he had led me to so presumptuously think he was into me. He was just trying be friendly to a neighbor and hopes someday I'll be a normal person. Whew...what a relief?! Now Olive and I don't have to wear wigs and sunglasses to the convenience store.

If he's normal, I'm so glad to not be.