An Ocean of Goldfish
What do I do when I feel like a goldfish with a fake shark fin on? How do I handle feeling totally unprepared for the task at hand (no pun intended)?
I look around. I see others all around me with their fake shark fins on. Even Doro from Finding Nemo understood this: "This is the Ocean, silly, we're not the only two in here."
Except that the ocean we're in is completely full of scared, alone and tired goldfish that are afraid of being exposed. See that shark fin belted on to that guy?
What struck me most about feeling like a fraud in the story I told in my previous post was that I felt this way in a work context. There are many areas in life where I claim absolutely no level of intelligence -- areas like fashion, auto mechanics, and pop culture (I confused Elton John and Billy Joel last week!). But, at work I tend to feel fairly competent and confident. I've been in the fundraising business for 12 years, I'm a fairly intelligent guy and I work my ass off. So, that combination means I tend to succeed at work. I didn't feel that way in this case, though, and it completely threw me off.
Why do I mention this? Because those sharks that you see every day at work, school or on the athletic field are operating in their area of strength. And, in witnessing that, we've all become convinced that we're the only fake sharks swimming in the ocean.
Truth is, however, that each and every one of us is toting that fake shark fin along within some aspect of our lives. Kobe Bryant is a shark on the basketball court, but apparently is an f-ing goldfish when it comes to marriage. Many scientists are goldfish when it comes to social settings. And, the guy giving that amazing sales presentation? Yeah, he's a goldfish of a dad when he's at home.
When I was young the local paper came out and did a feature article on me -- including great photos like these:
Besides the fact that I was pretty damn cute back then (!), the thing that I remember most about that article was that my mom was quoted as saying something to the effect of -- "Everyone has a disability. It's just that Greg's is visible."
This is exactly what I'm getting at. "Yes, sir, you may have arms that allow you to reach that can of spaghetti sauce on the grocery store shelf and I can appreciate that because I need your help to put one of those in my basket. But, friend, I bet you're feeling pretty un-shark-worthy is some other aspect of life right now."
See? Just because I feel alone, small and incompetent doesn't mean that I should run and hide. Where can I go to hide anyway? In another school of goldfish? This entire earth is full of us.
Instead, I've learned to admit my "fake shark fin" moments and to just be a goldfish that needs help. Here are a few examples of what that means for me, specifically around my disability:
- That spaghetti sauce example? I probably did something like that last week. I'm not afraid to ask strangers to help reach items on higher shelves at the grocery store.
- Admitting that I'm tired and could use some help. I can cut a steak at a restaurant, it just takes some time. Last week, though, I asked a co-worker to help me with the task in order to make it easier.
- Making my friends and family aware of my needs and limitations. No need to disguise the fact that I can't use the restroom on an airplane when you're lecturing me about the need to drink more water. "See this fake shark fin?," I ask?
These are just a few examples, of course. What areas will you admit your goldfish-ness in? Relationships, addiction, spirituality?
What's refreshing is that in risking seeing ourselves for the f-ing goldfish that we really are, we often find others who reach up and pull down their shark fin. And, the relief clearly shows on their faces as they recognize they've encountered someone who's honest and real.
Try it - you'll be amazed of how many goldfish are out there!
Toe-Typing Tipping Point
This may be the last blog post I ever type. I've had enough.
Enough of typing, that is. At age 33, I recognize that my feet and legs could use a rest from typing and that there is software out there that can type everything I speak at lightening-fast speeds. Certainly more lightening-fast than my 31 words per minute typing ability.
So, this weekend I decided to invest in Dragon Dictate (for Mac, of course), voice recognition software that will allow me to speak into a microphone and my computer will do the rest. At a cost of only a couple hundred bucks, it makes me wonder why I waited so long to buy it. It might have been a bit helpful in composing grad school papers over the past seven years!
This is not my first endeavor into Dragon Dictate land. It's just that my first foray into voice recognition software was well over ten years ago, when the technology lagged the brilliance of the concept. At that point I became frustrated by the hours of training required as the software learned my specific dialect. And its inability to keep up and to produce the correct words were enough to make me go back to typing with my feet.
I can only imagine how many words I've typed with my toes over the years. High school, undergrad, graduate school. There is a lot of written work represented in those years. And, the fact is that I primarily type with my right foot, limiting my left foot to holding the Shift button or infrequently hitting the Space bar. Throughout the years I've had tarsal tunnel syndrome (think carpal tunnel in the ankle) and many cramps in my right foot. It makes me wonder what a little patience and humility mighty have led to a decade ago.
The fact of the matter is that the technology wasn't the only thing lacking as I experimented with this software years ago. Humility was lagging as well. There is something humiliating about admitting that assistive devices will make things better. "I can do it on my own," is a phrase that many of you have probably heard me say throughout the years. That is true, most of the time. But, maturity eventually led me to the place where I realize that help is not a bad thing -- whether from a human or a piece of computer software.
Plus, this becomes an important building block for me in my ability to write more. Not only is speaking a much easier task for me than typing, but the potential time savings could be extraordinary. The prospect of writing hundreds of pages for a future book feels much more within grasp with this new software.
I'm not too sure why this weekend was my tipping point in deciding to give voice recognition software another try. But, it was -- and I'm excited to see what relief this software can offer to my tired toes. Malcolm Gladwell defines a tipping point as "the moment of critical mass, the threshold, the boiling point," and my toes reached that point this weekend. You might just call it a toe-typing tipping point.
Looking forward to talking to you next week!


