I did not. I mean, not very often.
I skipped school and frequently failed to do my homework out of lack of motivation. There was no reward if I got A’s and no disincentive if I flunked. Which I did, sometimes.
(click on this picture to get a closer look of me in fourth grade, also the evil teacher with the very bad taste in slacks)
Later on, I learned to balance my love of shirking, daydreaming and reading books with getting B’s and C’s and not skipping quite as much school. I bumbled through high school and college in this fashion. One time, I wanted to prove to myself that I could do better. I made straight A’s that semester. Immediately thereafter, it was back to the B’s and C’s.
My biggest motivation was always recognition. You can’t really show off grades, and I always wanted to hear how brilliant I was. And I genuinely believed that I was gifted, so I never cared too much for what the report card said.
I followed the same pattern with my jobs—I did my best, within reason, but I was frequently late, and often missed work. I worked hard out of a sense of pride, but I found it was pretty difficult to get motivated to care very much. As genuine recognition is pretty scarce in the workplace, I mostly worked for the paychecks and out of a fear of disappointing my bosses or summoning down their wrath if I screwed up.
Everything changed when I went to massage school.
Suddenly, I was doing something I wanted to do, I’d chosen it, I was paying for it with my own money…as a result, I was never late for class, not even one time, not out of pride or fear—but because I wanted to be there. I studied really hard, and aced every test—I was number one in the class, and yet, while I was (and am) somewhat proud of that, it was never that big of a deal. It just felt … natural somehow.
That was about six years back. Now, having been at Massage Envy for almost two years, I’ve only been late one time (it was unavoidable, an accident had shut down the freeway), and only had to call in sick a small handful of times. It’s funny, I’m not even proud of that. Maybe in a sort of detached way, but really it is just the way things are supposed to be. I’m not late because my clients depend on me … it is where I want to be, need to be … it is where I am meant to be.
I don’t even take criticism personally. Sure, it’s no fun if someone doesn’t like my style, but for some folks it just is not a good match. I’m not the best therapist in the world, not even the best therapist I know, and that doesn’t really matter to me. I know I am doing my very best, and feel so damned good about it! I love what I am doing and it is actually fun to go to work—I know that sounds absurd, but there it is!
When I was young, I dreamed of being a big-name author or research writer and seeing my name in the book stores. When I started Mythical Beings, it was because I had visions of becoming a big-shot mythology expert. Everything2 was about dreams of glory and accolades and people telling me what a jolly good fellow I am.
The thing is, the more I write, the less I care about all those things. Don’t get me wrong, it felt absolutely great when Paul Grushkin put my essay in his book. And I love to hear from people on E2 that something I wrote touched them in some way. And the gals at my writers’ group seem very keen on my work (all the while never letting me get away with anything). But I would do it even if those things weren’t there. I’m finally doing it for love.
I once told someone that I was an “avid amateur” writer … totally forgetting that not everyone uses that word the way I do. The word is derived from that Latin word, amare, where we get words like ‘amorous’ … amateur means lover. And that it why I’m doing it these days. I’m doing the writing and the myths out of love.
And, I guess, in that sense, even though I am a professional massage therapist, I’ll always be a bit of an amateur there too.
