There, I finally got started. I didn't know how to start this thought and I kept trying different ways and nothing really seemed to dive into the concept so I chose this phrase, that has almost nothing to do with what I'm saying but that's where we're starting this.
So now what I actually mean is that everyone has terrible ideas. Like, weird impulses that come and go and have to be filtered through. I think everyone has these, and its just some people deny them and claim to have normal minds and others acknowledge and give attention to them and then another group of people actually act on them and try to recreate or discover something based on them. And you can be part of any of these groups and it's totally up to you how you approach those weird, awful ideas in your head, but I do think that everyone has some form of them.
Now, because I'm never going to actually be in anyone else's head, I have nothing to seriously support this idea. I mean, I've talked to others that have echoed this thought, and many of those people have also claimed, "Oh, for sure, everyone has thoughts like these, it's perfectly natural." But I have no actual idea how many of those people are just shitty liars who were trying to make me (or themselves) feel better. That's a part of the equation here that is somewhat left open. But the point is, at least for the sake of my argument, that everyone has a mind and has these thoughts running around and there are different ways to go about dealing with them, and how we deal with them actually makes a big difference in how we live our lives.
Now, I have always felt that the bad ideas are what fuels creativity. Everyone has bad ideas. Especially creative people. Think of any musician you ever heard of. Did you hear them when they first started? Well, I guarantee he or she sucked. They were awful for a long time. They were either trying to be just like someone else and emulate something they didn't make, or they tried to make something new and it didn't work for a long time. And then they kept trying and kept working, and they got better, and they started to actually learn from their mistakes and build from them and build something really special. To me, creativity is keeping that stream going, and not shutting off the spout before the good stuff comes out. You gotta push through the crappy stuff and get to the realness that lies within, the stuff you have to work for and develop.
Here's the thing: you have to take a chance with what you're doing. It's not enough to just have the idea, you have to actually pursue the concept that you build. And if you're like me, you probably don't remember every great idea that you have. You might not remember all of the bad ideas that you have. But if you act upon the good idea or the bad idea, it just might stick in your mind for a bit longer. Or forever.
Case in point: I used to play organized basketball when I was a kid. We lived in a pretty small town in Texas, so it wasn't the top notch competition or anything, but it was fun, and there were a few good teams and I was on one of them. It was my dad and another guy who were the main coaches, and they both had sons on the team. I don't want to say the other kid's name or his dad's name, and you'll probably get why in a second, but we'll call them the Stanley's, and we were very good friends with their family. I was close with the kid, my dad was close with the other coach, they had younger kids and my mom liked their mom, we were all very happy and we were a good team and we lived close to one another and it was cool.
So you can understand that I had a lot against me making it awkward for the two families. But I was up to the challenge.
It was late in a game, and it was very close score and I think we were up by a few points. It was in a timeout and the other coach, Mr. Stanley, was telling us what to do. Now I had been in the game, and my adrenaline must have been high, because I remember I was excited and energetic and I couldn't concentrate. So it was like basically every moment of my childhood, all energy and no logic for anything. So Mr. Stanley is talking to us, and he's going in great detail on what we should do when we come out of the timeout, and for whatever reason, I can't stop focusing on the ball. See, he's holding the basketball while he's talking, and I can't focus on his words because I'm just looking at the ball. And for a reason that I, to this day, cannot even begin to explain, one of these terrible ideas that I've been talking about popped into my head:
Victor, you should totally slap the ball out of his hand.
Again, I don't know why. But that was the thought that decided to grow in my head. And I remember it so specifically, because it's the first time I ever remember having my inner conscience go through kind of an argument in my head, almost like a review process of this idea. It went something like this:
Side 2: Well, no. I'm not gonna slap the ball out of my coach's hand. That's crazy. Why the hell would I do that?
Side 1: Dude, slap the ball out of his hand. This is what he really wants one of the kids to do.
Side 2: Why would he want that?
Side 1: It'll show how focused you are.
Side 2: No it won't. In fact, if I was focused, I would be listening to him right now.
Side 1: You are listening though.
Side 2: No I'm not. I have no idea what he's saying, and I think he just said something to me directly.
Side 1: So slap the ball then. That will fix it.
Side 2: That doesn't make sense.
Side 1: So what? You know you want to.
Side 2: Of course I want to, but I shouldn't, right?
Side 1: Just do it anyways.
Side 2: Okay, screw it.
I don't know that it went exactly like that in my head, but basically that's how I came up with the conclusion that I should slap the ball out of his hand. This back-and-forth, conversation with my subconscious that resembles a Dr. Dre and Eminem song, Guilty Conscience. So long story short, this all takes places in my head during the timeout, and I ended up going with Side 1. I slapped the ball out of his hand while he was coaching us on what to do in the game.
The next thing I realized was I was bent over backwards, with Mr. Stanley's hands clasped tightly around my head, similarly to how the ball was being gripped. For real, I don't remember him lunging at me or actually grasping me, it was a literal flash of light and we were there, in that stance. And he was almost holding his breath he was so furious, and he was locking eyes with me, and I can still see his facial expression, this look of pure rage, like he was saying in his head, "Not a jury in the world would convict me. No one would hold me responsible for killing this kid if they knew, if the KNEW how infuriating this kid is."
Now, after the initial realization of what had to have happened, I felt incredible embarrassment for myself, having listened to my own head on one of the worst ideas I think I've ever had. Then, I feel the same amount of shame for him, having been put into a situation like this and not showing more restraint. Then, I feel embarrassed for my dad and for Mr. Stanley's son, both of whom are right there in the huddle with us. Then I feel bad for both of our families, who were across the gym, watching all of this and probably not understanding very much of what was happening. Then a little bit more shame on behalf of the team, because both the refs and the other team and all of their families are looking over too, now. They thought I had a seizure or something, the ref actually stopped the game to check on us. Then I feel one more pang of embarrassment for having embarrassed everybody involved.
I got benched for the rest of the game. I honestly don't remember if we won or not.
My dad and Mr. Stanley had words about this incident later, I was told. They did not give me details, but I can imagine there was an aspect of "he's my son, I know how much he can drive people crazy" and an aspect of "he's my son, don't ever do that shit again." The relationship was strained between our families for a little bit, but it got better after a few weeks. I think a big part of it was that I almost immediately put the incident behind me, I seriously think I forgot about it by the time we got home that night. For real, I think I asked if Mr. Stanley's son could sleep over that night, I was that aloof to it.
Speaking of which, I should say this real quick because I never got a chance to any other time. From then on, I don't think I ever once looked at Mr. Stanley and thought of that incident. Truth is, I wouldn't have blamed him if he had gave me a spanking there, in front of my own father. Not that my dad was soft on discipline either, I'm just saying, I didn't blame Mr. Stanley for what happened. Still basically don't. If he ever reads this (and he'll know who he is) let me say this again: I DO NOT BLAME YOU ONE BIT. I hope you don't still think about this moment as much as I do. As much as you can make the claim that Mr. Stanley made his own terrible decision, I feel his reaction was natural and understandable, and I hope that he's doing well.
Back to the fact that I caused this whole issue. Me. I did that. Wasn't that bad idea? Shouldn't I have listened to side 2 of my mind? That's a moment I will probably never fully live down, and I've tried really hard. But a lot of great things have come out of me and my wandering mind in the future. I'm glad I did not shut my wacky side down over the years, because it's the who and how I am and love that part of my self. That's my point in all this. Love your faults, your crutches, your silly moments, even your epic failures. Don't have a guilty conscience about it. Build from it, learn from it, share it to others and laugh about it. Let your mind wander here and there, and enjoy the ride. Hell, piss some people off here and there.
Honestly, who else even remembers this shit, right?
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