I've been musing about the High-Value jargon lately, and what it would be like to produce content for Low-Value men.

I will remark that my own measurement for when I truly was Low-Value was rarely quite right. Grad school me? No style, but elite creativity and banter. On the other hand, 31-32 year old me was perhaps peak in money and societal value, but I didn't like living in that guy's body as much as society may have thought I should have. You get the idea.

However, HOWEVAH, I think it's important for men worried that they are experiencing Low-Valueness to be willing to walk back within themselves and stay there for a little while. Because too often, a man wants to perform Value-Checks in the outside world, and use those as a measure of one's value. Even if some of those Value-Checks get cashed, the man is sliding towards a Producer, Praise, or Playboy mindset as a way to generate value.

 I think that we men often mistake noise (as in Signal to Noise Ratio noise) as value. And that we mistake the quiet as a sense of lost value. But Value is not measured in DM's or comments or likes, nor in attention per se. Visibility is, but Value is not.

Look, the strong silent type is dead for a good reason. But somehow we men replaced him with the weak loud type, shooting off blanks wildly in all directions hoping for a hit. Spray and Pray, Announce and Pounce, etc. And mind you, I refuse to recuse myself from judgment at this sort of trial.

One of my few abilities is that I do eventually learn from my mistakes, and regroup and reform. But as I age, I think I'm less willing to sit at my own bonfire and watch my illusions burn in order to create better ones. So I think it's particularly important to practice these inward journeys, in a safe way that protects against sudden downward spirals, of course

One of the moments I get most excited about is when a student knows they are going to graduate. They will soon lose the diploma itself, or misplace it on their move. But the achievement itself cannot be reversed. No one can take away that accomplishment from them, and it will be written down in the college registrar's office. Or take a team that wins their conference title. It may be a down year for the conference, but someone had to finish first, and they did.

However, the fact is there are indeed achievements that can be taken back. One's best workout body is now just seen in old photos, and is gone. Your current body gives you no real credit for being able to dunk a basketball (ok, ok, I never could, shh let me dream here) a few years ago. Or take one's successful start to a job: one can still be laid off or fired after years of good performance and wise choices. And don't get me started on the way divorce makes the entire timeline of a marriage seem like a failure, when in reality things may have been relatively decent until the marriage's sudden end.

I think my problem of late has been that I am hyper-sensitive to the impermanence of certain achievements. I know that I can be let go from jobs where I excelled for some period of time, and I know that I may be blocked by those who were once close friends and mutual confidantes. So it colors the victory of the moment: if I were an 18th century Hawthorne character, I'd be muttering something about the burning of the grass of the field. But I realize that part of the joy of being a human is indeed the surprise factor, the fragility of our victory. We celebrate with the player who successfully dunks or scores partly because of the implausibility of it all. It's a small miracle when any two of us can create a strong bond, let alone a marriage and family, is it not? So I will try to make peace with the impermanent.

I was chatting with an old friend about an incident that happened years ago. At the time, I had decided not to ask too many questions about what did and didn't happen.

One of the more fascinating things about America's culture is that we're both very private and very didactic.

On the one hand, there is a firm tradition in many parts of America that one minds their own business. Should my neighbor wish to roll across their lawn in a Speedo in the middle of December, it is my neighborly duty to pretend that I can't hear or see a thing.

On the other hand, and I'll give America's Christian tradition proper credit here, there are plenty of places in America where your neighbor will gladly look into your business and make their opinion known. And so yes, bless your heart, fool, but also, this version of America will go put a coat on their Speedo-clad neighbor in winter and gently suggest they go inside.

So when I say "None of My Business," I may be wisely recognizing that I have plenty of problems of my own, and giving my neighbor the privilege of space and silence. Yes, you can find Bible verses about this too: Matthew 7:5-6, among others. I may be saying that I don't want my neighbor to be too vulnerable in a way that would cause me to despise my neighbor or bring them embarrassment. "None of My Business," in the right mouth, can be a noble expression of love for my neighbor, that I will not satisfy my curiosity at my neighbor's expense.

But when I say "None of My Business," I may also be saying that I don't care about my neighbor, and that I prioritize my own needs first. I may be saying that I don't want to carry my neighbor's burden, as Galatians 6:2 would say. I could be turning away before my neighbor is able to take a breath and tell me the truth of what happened. None of My Business can also be the coldest thing to say, a claim that I am not my brother's keeper, that someone else will have to be their Good Samaritan.

I've lived in New England and the South in the last three years, and I've seen versions of both in action. I find it fascinating and frustrating that it is difficult to say when it truly should be "None of My Business."

I was talking with a friend who has long since left our shared Christian faith. There was at times the usual awkwardness that occurs when one has moved forward and the other is left behind. But we tried not to put the other one on the spot.

There was a moment where we both discussed a desire for rebirth and reformation. This is summer 2021: we both had attempted various protective measures and odd rituals to stay afloat during the last pandemic year. We both needed a refresh.

She was looking for a non-religious way to such rebirth, while I had a more mixed approach. But the truth that came out of our discussions was that we both wanted to somehow schedule this refresh, to time our rebirth, to be in charge of the revitalization process. But the frank truth is that we can't necessarily engineer being reborn. It takes the right stranger, the right meeting, the right book. We can sit there and talk about our need for change as much as we want, but I think it's difficult to be one's own savior (lower-case s on purpose).

I hadn't posted a photo of myself in a while, so here you go. This is from the Los Angeles conference in 2021. What are your updates, gentle reader?

I've thought about the last few years, and what led me to decisions. For the most part, the voice inside my head, which I hesitate to call God (out of respect) but sometimes has felt spiritually discerned, has been right about most things. While I'm a Pentecostal Christian who believes that God can lead us by talking to us and giving us signs, I've been somewhat cautious about going too far into this realm. I still think it's extraordinarily easy to convince yourself that your own instincts and whispers are that of the Divine, or to mistake noise for signals. I also had a horrible situation here on Xanga years ago where I felt the voice inside me was trying to lead me to marry someone who was a pathological liar. I trusted my logic, thankfully, but it was an experience that left me shaken.

However, I've been wondering what would happen if I do take the voice as truth. If I tell people things that the voice seems to lead me to, would I be ranting in the dark? Or, am I committing a greater fault, of not trusting my instincts and my feelings, of being so logical I'm not open to my own heart?

It's a weird problem, but I'm curious: have you followed your own inner voice and/or what you felt your mind/God telling you for long periods of time, and what did it mean for your life?

It's a rare privilege, to be able to dance as if no one is watching. To not be self-conscious, to launch your final shot in the game as if fans aren't screaming and cheering to distract or encourage you. We should all have the ability to conduct our lives unbothered by the antics of others, right?

However, on social media, having an audience of one (yourself) is an indication that you may just be doing something wrong. I've been considering lately what it means not to have an audience, and what one should do as a result.

On the one hand, look, living in a way to be commended by history will always leave many people behind. Being anti-slavery in, say, 1850 wasn't a great public opinion to have in most states. Having a small audience can be a compliment, that you are a lead user, adopting the tools and techniques of the future ahead of time and...

...but let's be honest, friend, it may be unlikely that you or I are either technological marvels or ideological martyrs. At a certain point, shouldn't one go where the people are? Not all the people, but some people? If one's preferred discourse and presentation falls on deaf ears, isn't that an indication that the ears or the presentation are wrong?

I'm not sure, honestly. I've contemplated withdrawing from social media for 2022: there's an argument that social media itself has so warped our idea of an audience that we can only find our voice by leaving it. But I couldn't resist getting my page re-opened (thanks Eugenia!) and launching one more last return, even if this ventures on the tragicomic, haha. Keep in mind that if I lose comment access, you can email me at xangagreek at the usual place if you need to.

A few weeks ago, I went to Mexico for a job interview. I do not speak Spanish, but I am trying to be more adventurous on this job search. Too often, instead, I've been safe in my career choices.

My father worked the same job for 30+ years and then ended up taking early retirement from there. Growing up, I thought I could do the same, working in a factory as some kind of engineer or manager for decades on end, never leaving Ohio. Guess what, that hasn't happened. But I still somewhat dream of stasis, of becoming a fixture at some small university and teaching several generations of families.

But I don't think that is the right way to live anymore. I think that I take more risks in my personal life precisely because I may be more bored than I realize at work. Perhaps I need a more varied job, a more frightening job. So there I was in Mexico, trying to use translating apps, trying not to just stay in my hotel room. I was trying to at least be a brave coward, ha. Sometimes I couldn't quite fulfill my dares, as when I tried to head to a local mall, and couldn't quite convince myself to go. But I at least have an idea of what life there would be like, and they'll send the job offer next week, and then I'll decide.

I've seen the meme floating around about "Name 3 accomplishments for 2018." My problem is that accomplishment indicates that I did something in 2018. As if!

No, the truth is that 2018 was more about subtraction. My circle of friends got smaller. My job will be changing, as will my location. My hobbies? Spending? Other nice coping mechanisms acceptable to Western white Christians? Heh, all needing to decrease.

I'd like to think that the fire of 2018 is done burning, and that 2019 will be a year of abundance. I'm tired of writing melancholy-tinged blog posts, tired of complaining. But the fact is, I had a long-term girlfriend and a good future at my workplace on December 30, 2017. I now have neither.