Friday, December 3, 2010

Welcome and let's get right to it! (The Quicksand Post)

Hey all! My name is Dennis Cummings. I'm going to go ahead and assume that before I attract a massive following (or a following at all) that the core group will be people who already know me. So I'm not going to go and tell you who I am. It is too big a question and frankly, I do not feel like writing about it right now. Instead, I figured it would be best to just start doing what I want to do, talk about subjects that I think about and give the world my thoughts. Its interesting (hopefully), short, and will allow other people to interact, feel involved, and hopefully value.

Today I want to talk about quicksand:



Ok, not that quicksand.

I want to talk about metaphorical quicksand, the idea that when you try to pull yourself out of something, it only serves to pull you deeper and deeper into a quagmire, be it Vietnam, a failed relationship, or something stupid you said. Perhaps quicksand is best described by someone much smarter than me, the great Shane "Footsteps" Falco.

"You're playing and you think everything is going fine. Then one thing goes wrong. And then another. And another. You try to fight back, but the harder you fight, the deeper you sink. Until you can't move... you can't breathe... because you're in over your head. Like quicksand."


Truely a modern day Socrates 

All kidding aside, quicksand may be one of those things I truely have trouble with and something I think we all can deal with, be we grand kings or lowly carpenters.

Or both.
I think in my life, no other example of this is clearer than the job interview. You have between 30-60 minutes to tell someone why you are THE person for the job. Stress is a factor. You read the rumors about interviews (after all, when you are unemployed or underemployed you have more than enough time to read snappy articles like "10 Job Interview Facts You NEED to Know"). You know that (or at least you think) that one small move can sink you. Bad breath, you suck. Bad handshake, go to hell. Don't like the right sports team or some small thing, go die.
The very fact of the recession has helped reinforce in people's mind, that your qualifications are close to moot. After all, there is such a big pool of labor out there that prospective employers can simply pick from a number of qualified employees.

So what does this have to do with quicksand? Well for me, how can you walk into an interview without feeling like stepping in quicksand? You know you're qualified, you can explain why you're qualified, so the only thing you can do to improve yourself: constantly worry and criticize the smallest things about yourself. And herein lies the suicidal fact about quicksand: once you start to do this, you become out of your element. You act strange, you "over talk", you over think, and you fall flat on your face.

"Now if you'll just take a look at the Experience portion of my resume"

So what do you do? Well after 12 months of over criticizing I have found an answer.

I have no clue.

Relax, I'm not giving up. I just realized, quicksand can only be escaped when you admit that you are in a mileux where you have no option other than to do your best. You have reached your Acme. You have studied the ancient texts. You have entered the Thunderdome.


(I was going to use a Lion's Den analogy, but how can you not use this picture!)

The only option is really to walk right in and be yourself. After all, you have done all you can. Focus, play your A game, but do not worry about the things you can't fix, they will only pull you deeper into the mire.

The only real problem is... what if the real you is just as neurotic, nervous, and crazy already?

Insert your name here?


(as always, my goal is to inspire genuine thought, so feel free to comment, respond, or just think!)

2 comments:

  1. I'd like to think that I was the inspiration for your inclusion of Vietnam as an unwinnable situation in this post.

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  2. Thank goodness you added the qoute from Shane "Footstep" Falco, it really hits the heart.

    ReplyDelete