First World Problems

One of the most bothersome issues I find in my writing is a lack of internal motivation.

Now, I feel that I need to clarify this statement.  I have plenty of ideas, and I certainly have a powerful drive to succeed.  My parents raised me with the core idea that I could succeed at whatever I put my mind to, as long as I was willing to devote the time and energy into improving my ability and making the necessary investments.

And you know what, random strangers of the internet?  Things have worked out fairly well.  I got into college on my first shot, plus a very nice package of perks.  I’m soon headed off to graduate school (admitted on the first round of applications).  I score at the top percentiles for most exams.  I am financially stable and secure.  I have a wonderful social life, companionship, and pretty much every basic need is filled.  I can manage my money, have a medley of hobbies to pursue, am a decent cook, and am doing fairly well in just about every aspect of my life.

Please note, before taking too much offense at this preceding paragraph, that I am not bragging.  No, quite the opposite – this is my issue!  I have no trauma in my past, no tragic flaw, no corruption or demons within that I must battle, no haunted face staring back at me from my mirror.  I am, to summarize, doing very well.

This really shouldn’t irk me.  Success, which is truly what I have achieved, shouldn’t be a drawback.  It should be something to celebrate, something to rejoice in and enjoy!

And yet, I occasionally find myself wishing that I did have some flaw, some character defect that I must strive every day to overcome.  And my motivation for such a flaw is nearly farce.  Curious yet?  Think you’ve guessed the reason?  Here it is:

I see other writers, other people in all different areas and fields, who can draw strength and inner focus from the challenges they have overcome.  Through their conquering of their inner demons, they find motivation, courage, and remarkable insight into the human condition that allows them to insert depth and emotion into whatever they pursue.

For me, on the other hand, a spoiled upper-middle-class white kid, born an American citizen, raised in a loving two-parent family, gifted with a good education, and with plenty of career opportunities in my field – what insight do I have?  I have not had any experiences with the rougher side of life.  The closest I have come to tragedy is on the cinema screen.  Knowing this, how can I hope to convey such depth and strength of feeling in my work?

I hope that, by now, you are actively cursing me.  Much like a spoiled, petulant teenage girl, I am complaining because my life is “too good.”  What arrogance!  How dare I mock my success, spit in the face of the great sacrifices that others have made to raise me to this position?  And I know, deep inside, that I am happy to not be fighting demons.  I am happy that I have not had to endure tragedy, that my life is a cakewalk.

Yet still, sometimes before I drift off to sleep (in my own apartment, paid for in full, without debt, what a stuck-up ass), I wonder whether I have not yet truly lived.

Mental Depths and Shallows

In science, there’s a concept of buoyancy.  Things are buoyant if they float, that is, if their average density is less than water.  On the other hand, if this average density is greater than water, they sink.  If the density is equal to water, they stay wherever they’re placed, and are considered at “neutral buoyancy.”

Now, what’s the buoyancy of your thoughts?
No, I don’t mean the buoyancy of the brain.  Although, if you’re curious, the brain is actually at relatively neutral buoyancy, which is how it floats inside our heads without hitting the bottom of our skulls.
(Take a moment to consider this.  If your brain was to somehow come out of your body underwater, it wouldn’t bob to the top, like the rest of your body.  Instead, it would just hang there in the water, drifting back and forth along the currents . . . )
(Now imagine a whole school (flock?  Shoal?) of brains, roaming in the depths of the ocean.  Existing without bodies, they drain the mental energies of their prey, dragging down sailors from capsized ships into the depths, where the brains will feed off the dying thoughts . . . )
But I’m getting off topic.  No, think about thoughts.  That’s right, meta-thinking.  
There are definitely shallow thoughts:
  • “Oh my god, look at her dress.  It totally does not look good with her body.”
  • “How many of these could I fit in my mouth at once?”
  • “I’m sleepy.”
  • “I think I should watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians.”
  • “Is this Justin Bieber?  I love this song!”
Yep.  Pretty shallow.  Splashing around on the edge of the mental pool.
On the other hand, there are certainly deep thoughts as well:
  • “What is my purpose in life?”
  • “What will happen to the universe, in the end?”
  • “How will I be remembered, after I’m gone?”
  • “If I eat myself, will I weigh twice as much, or nothing at all?”
Now, take a moment and reflect.  Do your day-to-day thoughts tend to be towards the shallow end, or the deeper end?
Personally, I have noticed that, like a joyful minnow, my thoughts seem to enjoy alternating between surfacing and diving.  While sitting or trying in vain to fall asleep, I will find myself pondering the deepest questions in life, when all of a sudden, my deep thoughts are interrupted by an idle wondering about when the next episode of Top Gear will be on.  Bam, back in shallow territory.
Going a step further, do different people have different mental buoyancies?  Does my friend, who watches nothing but reality television, have a brain that moors in shallower waters than mine?  Does another friend, who insists on reading dry and musty poets, have a brain hiding deeper in the depths?  
And now, for the scientific part of my brain: how could this be measured?

The Yellow Car Game: Primer

Passengers in my car are often startled when my hand shoots out, fast as a striking snake, to point at nearby vehicles.  This action is usually accompanied by a triumphant cry of “Yellow car!”.  These passengers, confused and distraught, are obviously missing out on the important part of road life that is the Yellow Car Game.  And so, for these poor souls, I present the basic lessons.  May they soon become an integral part of your driving experience.

The Game: Yellow Car

The Objective: To have the highest number of points at the end of the voyage.

Points: One point is awarded to the first person to spot a yellow car that corresponds with acceptable parameters and say aloud, “Yellow car”.  Note that each yellow car is only worth a single point; if the yellow car is passed a second time, on the same voyage, it is null and is not worth a point, having already been “called.”

In the event of a tie, in which two or more people call out a yellow car at the same time, no points are awarded.

If a person calls out “Yellow car” on a car that does not fit the acceptable parameters, this results in the deduction of one point from their current score.  Negative points are possible, although the driver may choose to negate this rule for a specific voyage.

Parameters for Yellow Cars: To be worth a point, a yellow car must be a “non-commercial” vehicle.  To eliminate small businesses, school buses, and other such vehicles, there must not be writing on the yellow car.  (Obviously, automotive brand names and license plates are ignored).

All parties must agree that a car is yellow in color.  Gold, orange, and faded tan cars are not considered to be yellow.

In the case of multiple colors on a car, the majority of the vehicle must be yellow to be counted as a yellow car.

Lime Green Cars: Lime green cars represent a special variable in The Yellow Car Game.  Rather than being worth a number of points, the first person to verbally indicate a lime green car that corresponds with acceptable parameters may choose any one other player in the vehicle.  The chosen person’s current point total is reduced to zero.

Note that to maintain game balance, the car must clearly be lime green.  Dark green, ivy, hunter, or light green cars are not considered to be “lime green,” and the mistaken verbal calling of these cars results in the loss of one point.

Variation: on long car trips, where the loss of all points would be game-breaking, lime green cars may instead result in ten points being subtracted from the total of one person, selected by the caller of the lime green car. This rule must be agreed upon by all parties at the commencement of the trip, before the first lime green car is spotted.

Variations: To increase or decrease the challenge level, the following variations may be put into play by unanimous agreement at the beginning of the voyage:

  • Moving Vehicles: Only yellow cars on the road may be counted; parked cars are not worth points.
  • Eagle Eye: Simply pointing to, or beginning to say the words “yellow car”, is enough to cause a player to lose a point if the car does not fit acceptable parameters.
  • Handicaps: Depending on the skill of the driver, they may be given a mutually agreed upon “head start”, usually between two and five points.  All other normal rules apply.
  • Orange Cars: Orange cars may be worth half a point.
Single-Player Mode: If a person is driving alone, they may choose to play The Yellow Car Game to themselves.  These scores are for bragging only, and may not be incorporated into multiplayer games.