November 2, 2007
rules of the game
A friend has written me telling me he expects me to post every day in public, which is interesting. His take on it is that NaBloPoMo is a game, that I’ve signed up for the game, and that therefore I need to play it. A legitimate point.
But one of the perks of getting older is that I no longer feel like I need to finish everything I start. I can’t tell you how much of my life I’ve reclaimed by learning how to put a book down when I realize it’s going nowhere. More cruelly, I have far less problem bailing on a conversation, or even a friendship, once I determine that the connection has gone dead.
Another benefit of aging is realizing how often I play by someone else’s arbitrary rules instead of taking a second to think about what I actually want or need in a situation. I think this is pretty common: we’re bludgeoned with so many nonnegotiable agreements every day of our lives — when was the last time you read the fine print on the licensing agreement that pops up whenever you install new software? — we just assume that this is how things work. It is, but only because we agree to it.
So posting every day just because I signed up on a whim on a particular day last month doesn’t strike me as a moral imperative . . . particularly since I didn’t make the promise to anyone but myself. Sure, it’s a game. But it’s one I make the rules for. And my rule is that I’m going to write every day this month. Not for you. For me.
I’m pretty sure everyone will find a way to muddle along even on those days my brilliance goes unrefracted through the ether. And for my part, I’ll get to write about things that are important to me, like who I’m fucking and who’s fucking me, without worrying about who might get upset, or hurt, or offended.
I must be cruel only to be kind;
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
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