Lent Day 16: The Subtle Art of Not Giving A...

I am a reader. My sister is a reader. My half-siblings are readers. Our dad was a reader. My mom was a reader. Books were present everywhere in our house while we were growing up. In our playroom, bookcases lined the walls with scores of books appropriate for children. (Except for that one book up on the top shelf that apparently both me AND my sister found.) In the living room, there were two gigantic bookcases right inside the door that contained hundreds of my mom’s books - almost exclusively Bible study resources and Christian themed books. I don’t recall her ever reading a fiction book. My dad was the opposite. In their bedroom, there were several long short bookcases that were stuffed to bursting with novels. He was into Steven King, Dean Koontz, Stephen Counts, Tom Clancy, James Michener, Louis L’Amour, and many others. I only remember him reading a handful of non-fiction books - mostly about the Marines or Korean War. I’m kind of an amalgam of both of them. I can fly through fiction books, and I love reading fiction. I’m a big fan of Lee Child’s Jack Reacher series. I loved Harry Potter and The Hunger Games. I’ll read anything by Andy Weir (The Martian, Project Hail Mary). When I was in middle school, I read the Tom Clancy novels that had been released to that point. I also read the entire Sherlock Holmes catalogue. In high school, I discovered how much I loved Shakespeare. If the book is good, I don’t really care what genre it is from. But I also love non-fiction books. I’ve read hundreds of Christian themed books over the years. But I’ve also read books on the Korean War, business, sports, and mythology. I just love reading. I married a reader, also. Heather devours books on a pace similar to mine and my sister’s. She came from a long line of readers as well. The truly disappointing thing is that we birthed no readers. Our daughter used to read more, but now she mostly just rereads Harry Potter when she is in the mood for books. The boys hate reading. I don’t understand how that happened. 

Since I’ve read a lot of books, I’ve become more … picky … about them. If a fiction book isn’t grabbing my interest in the first third, I’ll abandon it. Shoot, I walked away from The Stand after I halfway through it. That was a big investment to leave, but I just wasn’t feeling it. I can recognize lazy writing pretty quickly. I take advantage of my Amazon Kindle Unlimited subscription, and it does recommend some pretty awful books. It isn’t just new authors who can release a stinker either. People like Lee Child pump out so many books that the writing gets sloppy, which bugs me. I also hate it when some big name person gets a book deal and can’t write. I can usually tell when they brought in a ghost writer; it doesn’t sound like the person’s voice at all. With non-fiction books, the two biggest issues I’ve noticed are bloat and greed.  Bloat is when a person has a great idea for half a book, but they have to make it stretch to a full-length book. This happens a TON with religious books. A pastor will preach a sermon series and decide to turn it into a book, but there is only enough material to create 1/2 to 2/3 of a book. So they start repeating things a lot. They don’t have enough to say, so they repeat things a lot. It is very repetitive. But they have to repeat things a lot. Annoying, isn’t it? Once I get the gist of those books, I’ll walk away. I appreciate the concept and some of the content, but it isn’t worth the mess of the last third.  With greed, that is when an author hits on something that becomes popular. So they go back to the well to release a sequel that is basically just the same thing, but shuffled around a little bit. They might tweak it, add a few new stories, expand the concept from one person to a group. They’ll put out a teen version, a workbook, a group study, a kid’s coloring book, a pet-friendly version, a third version. But there isn’t really anything beneficial in the follow-ups. It’s the literary equivalent of Mexican food: the same five ingredients repackaged in different serving styles. Rarely will I read a follow-up non-fiction book from an author that appears to be a Thanksgiving leftovers experience. Someone like Malcolm Gladwell is different. He writes about different things each time. There may be some duplicated threads, but the general content is different. Plus Gladwell is such a good writer that he could make a menu interested to read four hundred pages about. 

I have enjoyed a great many books, but there are only a few that I think had a huge impact on my life. I may pick up a thing here or there in most books. I’m talking about those books that you can look back on and show that the journey you were taking shifted. Your beliefs changed. Your heart expanded. Those books are the reason I read. I may love Harry Potter, but it didn’t change my life. Sure it gave me another franchise to enjoy and collect too many knick-knacks from. But it didn’t change ME. Same goes for The Martian and Shakespeare. They gave me knowledge and culture and vocabulary and enjoyment. But not life-change.  There are definitely some books that I will say caused a paradigm shift in David. Here are a few of them:

Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller  This book came out in 2003 and brought so much controversy with it. That’s part of the reason I didn’t read it for several years - many members of the staff at the church where I worked were not fans of the book. When I finally did read it at the urging of a friend of mine, I felt like I had been pummeled by a heavyweight fighter. It was in those pages that I for the first time began to see the ingrained insidious “normal” thoughts I had about race from growing up in the church in the South. I went and read Miller’s followup Searching for God Knows What, and it continued my discoveries. Yes, there was a lot of repeated content, but at that point I needed things said multiple times because I was reeling from the revelations. 

The Bible Jesus Read by Philip Yancey  I love Yancey. I’ve read a ton of his stuff. It is always thought provoking, and I usually walk away with at least a few things to work on. This book was about the Old Testament. It was phenomenal. The most impactful section was the chapter about The Psalms. (Did you say songs? Yeah, they’re psalms. - for the John Mulaney fans out there) He pointed out that you could break down the 150 Psalms almost into thirds, with one third being psalms of lament. This is where David (usually) is yelling at God, angry and confused. That flew in the face of how I was taught to pray. Why lie to God? He’s big enough to take your hissy fit. Really changed me. Of course, this book fell victim to the Mexican restaurant problem, but the original was great. 

On Desperate Ground by Hampton Sides  This was a book about the Korean War - more specifically about the Chosin Reservoir campaign. My father was in that war and that campaign. That was where he was wounded - physically and emotionally. He never talked about his experiences there. This book allowed me to get a small understanding of what he went through. And that gave me a better understanding of him. I got something priceless from that book. 

Tears We Cannot Stop by Michael Eric Dyson  Oof. This one gutted me. It was written by a Black man for people like me. It explained what life was like for the average Black American. And it was a difficult, painful book to work through. But it was worth it to have my eyes further opened about the divide in our country. It also cemented my desire to do something to bring about change. 

The Subtle Are of Not Giving a F*** by Mark Manson This is where I will spend the rest of my time, Your Honor. In keeping with my usual habit of jumping on trends long after they have passed, I just read this book. That came out a decade ago. I remember walking through Target, seeing it on the shelves, and laughing at the title. It seemed like it was being sold forever. Then there were the inevitable burritos and enchiladas of followups. Then there were the knock-offs where every author worked a naughty word in to the title, hoping to trick someone into thinking the restaurant menu had expanded. Truthfully, what got me to even think about reading it was when a picture of Rep. Katie Porter circulated where she was reading it during the House Speaker vote. I found the image humorous, then I remembered the book and thought I would check it out. Free on Kindle Unlimited? Don’t mind if I do. I had no idea what I was in for. 

When Michael Scott in the epic documentary The Office is being interviewed for the regional director position, he is asked what his biggest weakness is. He responds, “I care too much and try too hard.” Showing that even his weaknesses are strengths. The interviewer was about as impressed as you were. We hear that phrase “I care too much” often. “I care too much about the Atlanta Falcons. I still haven’t gotten over 28-3.” “I care too much about Marvel movies. I can’t believe someone trashed Ant Man and the Wasp: Quantumania.”  “I care too much about my kids. I can’t stand thinking that they might get hurt.”  This line could be put on my tombstone. “Here lies David Staples. He cared too much.” But it wouldn’t be written in a good way. I care soooo much about what people think. It drives me. Actually, it usually stops me. Hence this whole writing project. When I start working on something, immediately a montage of people pop up in my head. I think about how they might respond, based on previous experiences with that person. They are all people who at some point I was a subordinate to or I respected. Their opinions mattered to me; apparently they still do. And why wouldn’t they? If you look at yesterday’s post, I mentioned how love and my worth were tied up in my behavior. So what people thought of me MATTERED. If they didn’t like what I was doing, then they wouldn't think I mattered. They would shun me, turn their backs and ignore me, give me the silent treatment. Or they would explode and yell at me, rip me to shreds, push me down into the sewer. Time and time again, I had this happen - from when I was a small child to literally this past Fall. It has never stopped happening. And each one of those experiences would further drill the same message into my head: you are only valuable if you do things right. There is no room for mistakes, no room for failures, no room for just basic ignorance. For things that I HAD to do, I always faced this tremendous pressure to do it right … or else. But for things I did not HAVE to do, it was usually easier to just not do it than run the risk of facing someone’s displeasure with me. I won’t attempt a home improvement project because I’m afraid I’ll do it wrong and get mocked for it. I won’t try a new recipe in case I mess it up and make everyone upset. I won’t consider a different view on life because I might offend someone who will call me a tool of the Devil. And I sure as hell won’t write anything that could be seen as problematic - which could be defined as being outside of the “normal” or just sucking in general. 

The Subtle Art… starts right off the bat by telling us we care too much about too many things. That we need to stop caring. Then Manson goes on to explain what that really means. He isn’t saying to be ambivalent or indifferent. He gives a great example of what would happen if someone fleeced his mom out of money. He wouldn’t sit there and say “eh, so what you old bat.” He would care a LOT. He would shoot off like a missile and destroy that person who hurt his loved one. He says we should not care so much about all of the other things, so we can care a LOT about what matters. I thought about something as simple as watching some lunatic driving crazy on I-77. I will get so angry about it, especially if they are on their phone at the same time. Have I stopped at a light and yelled at a fellow driver to get off their phone? Possibly. Have I made it very clear that I didn’t appreciate the driver of a pickup truck cutting me off by driving illegally through handicapped spaces to steal my parking space by throwing my empty Kickstart can in the bed of his truck? Possibly. Did that guy follow me through Target because he had watched me through the window throw my Kickstart can into the bed of his truck, probably because he knew he was wrong and saw how mad I was? Possibly. And did I leave the Target to see the Kickstart can placed directly behind my tire? Possibly. And were my kids there with me during this, which led to them chastising me in the car for my stupidity? Possibly. See? I care too much about the DUMBEST things. I get distracted by stupid things. I will read a news site and feel my blood boil at the latest thing done by this government person or celebrity. Why? I don’t live in their state. I don’t interact with that vapid douchecanoe. 

My therapist and I have been discussing this whole issue for a while. At my last session before I caught the Black Death, I told her how frustrated I was that I had this block on my writing. I would look at the clock and see I had a good two hours before I had to pick my son up from school. I had nothing to do, so I could write. I would have an idea, like working on the Raymond the Fat Assassin book. I would sit on the couch with my computer. Two hours later, I would put the laptop down to get my son. Nothing would have been written, but I would have watched three movie trailers and completed fifteen quizzes on Jetpunk.com. It was like I got frozen, worrying about so many things. I had talked a friend the day before this session about the problem. And he said, “I wish I could put some of my ‘don’t care’ attitude into a pill and give it to you.” My therapist agreed. Then she made another brilliant comment. (I’ve said it before, but I’m serious. She is incredible. Big fan of therapy.)

“You say you are trying to make your life look more like Jesus’s right?” Silent nod from the sofa. “Do you think He cared what people thought? Did he worry that someone would get upset about what He did? No. He had a short amount of time and a lot to accomplish. So he didn’t spend any time worrying about other people’s opinions.”  Jaw drop on the sofa.

This was a week or so before I checked out The Subtle Art… And that book took that concept and ran with it. We have a short period of time here on Earth. We need to maximize it and not waste time on stupid things that don’t matter. Instead, we should focus our time and energy on things that do. Now, don’t get me wrong, this book would not fall under“Christian Living” at Barnes and Noble. As if the title didn’t clue you in on that. But the principles in it meshed perfectly with what I’ve been exploring. This whole concern about what others think … I got that from the church. Part of it was due to the whole “you are worthless if you aren’t perfect” thing. But there were other sources too. People love to quote 1 Corinthians 8:9 about not being a stumbling block or Matthew 18:6 about not offending children. They use this with actions like drinking and dancing and playing cards. Those things could be a stumbling block! I might make the person get angry. Well, what if the person is an overly sensitive judgmental snowflake who gets all in a tizzy when a kid rides past her house on his bike? Or like my jerkwad neighbor across the street, who yells at the DoorDash man for putting the food on the wrong porch and then coming back to get it. She would much rather he NOT come back to get it, so she can go out and steal it because HEY free McDonald's. (That seems like way too specific of an example for it to not have happened.  It did. Both the yelling and the stealing.) If I’m supposed to not do anything to make Little Miss Jackass across the street upset, I would do nothing. She hates everybody and makes it a habit to yell at her neighbors on their front step because they didn’t handle something the exact way she would have and threaten to call the police on their teenaged daughter. (Again, that example seems super specific.) You would be paralyzed if you tried to live that way. EXACTLY! HE CAN BE TAUGHT, PEOPLE!

There was a lot of other great stuff in that book. He talked about the how dumb it was to get hung up on bad things that happened. Then it told the story of this musician who got booted out of a rock band. He was so angry that he decided to start his own rock band. He would become the best guitarist ever and recruit the best musicians. And then he would work to crush that other band. So he created his band and became successful. It was Dave Mustane, leader of Megadeath. He’s considered one of the greatest guitarists. His band sold 30 million albums. The band that kicked him out was Metallica, who is one of the biggest bands of all time with album sales of 190 millions albums. To this day, Mustane feels like a failure because he didn’t trounce Metallica. How dumb is that? Yet, how often do we do stuff like that on our scale of Kickstart cans and pickup trucks. The book also talked about people who stay at jobs forever because they are frightened to step out and do the thing that they are really passionate about because they are afraid they will fail. (Cue the meme of the puppet looking around, trying to look innocent.) He talked about people not thinking about their own mortality because it made them uncomfortable and afraid they will die not doing anything worthwhile. (Meme again.) There was a section on the value of pain and suffering. The chapter on why we aren’t special. The discussion on how we aren’t at fault for bad things happening, but we are responsible for how we respond. And how we are all wrong. All the time. 

That last one is something that I have been saying for years. People in the church love to argue about … well, everything. But they especially love to argue theology and doctrinal issues. (You know, even though we are specifically told not to do that in the Bible, but whatever.) People will get so worked up about their position and almost refuse to interact with people from the other position. You want to see those people get even MORE worked up? Tell them you don’t care. Better yet, tell them they’re both wrong. Because they are. I started doing that to be a punk, but then it became a lot of self-preservation. I wasn’t interested in getting eviscerated by a friend because my opinions didn't match up. Thank God that never happens any more. (Sad blank stare.) Manson says that everyone is wrong about everything; some people are just a little less wrong than others. He points out medical advances and how people 500 years ago thought blood-letting and drinking urine were good health practices. We think of them as malpractice monsters. Now, fast forward just 100 years from now with whatever medical advances that are made. Those people will think we were all a bunch of raging morons.(They won’t be wrong…) There is a lot of pride and ego in being right. TRUST ME, I know. That was my calling card aaaaallll through school. I wore my academic successes on my sleeve and jacket and hat and any other piece of clothing I could get them on. That was what made me special. And then I worked at the Apple Store in the Florida Mall when I was in my thirties and my supervisor was a 19 year-old who barely made 1000 on her SAT.  I became much more comfortable being wrong when I realized I wasn’t the smartest person in my own house, let alone in every room I entered. In fact, I’m the least smart person in my house. I’m smarter than the dogs, but that’s it. We’re all wrong, just to different levels. So why are we fighting over who is the least wrong? 

When it comes to book discussions, in the words of Captain America, I can this all day. Hence the 3600+ words I’ve already written. In closing, Your Honor, I will say that I highly recommend this book. There is a lot of cursing in it. When the title has the F-word in it, you shouldn't be surprised at that tidbit. But if you can look past your sensibilities on that issue, there is a lot of very valuable stuff in it. It has made its way into my pantheon of life-altering books. So give it a shot. Or don’t. You’ll like it. Or you won't. Either way, I don’t give a….