"When I get sad, I stop being sad and be awesome instead. True story."
The only thing wrong with that quote, is that Barney Stinson said it, and not me. There are a ton of reasons to be pessimistic, especially now.
As a matter of fact, last night I was lying in bed, about to fall asleep. My mind wandered, and I thought about all of the things I had to do the next day. Truth is, the past week had been lousy. Between challenges at work, and the knowledge that it is only mid-February, I actually felt a little sad. I began to dread the prospect of waking up the next day, when I have to do it all over again.
Then I took Mr. Stinson's advice. Why should I be sad, when I can be awesome instead?
My mind wandered to a time and place far from mid-winter, far from the challenges of operating a dairy farm in southern Wisconsin. I recalled a brief stretch of my life when I worked on a scuba dive boat on the Great Barrier Reef. That experience was awesome.
We would wake up at the crack of dawn, grab some gear, and dive into the ocean. The visibility was spectacular. We'd descend to the white sandy bottom. The water was warm enough that I did not need a wetsuit. Here and there, reef sharks were finishing their night prowl. I'd look up. The hull of the vessel bobbed lazily in the morning swell. I will never forget that image, of looking up at the bottom of a boat.
Standing on the floor of the ocean, we'd play games. If I planted my feet firmly in the sand and exhaled, I could lean back at impossible angles. Waving my arms, I could recreate the bullet-dodging scenes from "The Matrix." By simply inhaling a lungful of air, my torso would become buoyant enough for me to stand upright again.
The experience was awesome. It was the last thing I thought about before I finally dozed off, and you know what? The next day went a whole lot better than the last.
This underlines an important point - One need not be on a scuba dive boat in Australia to be awesome.
Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. There is nothing awesome about Valentine's Day, other than it happens to be my anniversary. Four years ago, on Feb. 14, 2008, I went into business for myself.
Starting my own business was certainly a turning point in my life. Prior to doing so, I was working two part-time jobs. I struggled to earn enough to pay rent. Heck, there were a couple of months when I could not even afford the power bill. This was not awesome, so I decided to do something about it.
On the one hand, I can't believe it has already been four years. On the other, the circumstances that defined my life prior to making this decision feel like they occurred a lifetime ago. Along the way, I've had plenty of help, in the form of a supportive family and startup-friendly circumstances surrounding my industry.
I bring this all up not to pat myself on the back, but rather to illustrate a point I made earlier. There are a ton of reasons to feel pessimistic, especially now. If you don't feel depressed on your own, someone will undoubtedly come along and try to convince you how miserable you are (and then ask you to vote for them.)
By far, the most depressing argument taking place in this country right now involves disparity of wealth. Those in power would have you believe that there has never been a more unequal distribution of prosperity - and therefore, happiness - than the current situation in the United States. How many times have you heard the phrase, "Everyone must pay their fair share?"
What a stupid argument - for two major reasons. First, there is not a disparity of wealth in the United States. When both human-drawn rickshaws and Land Rovers that cost $200,000 use the same roadway (as in China) then it can be argued that life is unfair.
Second, I don't understand why I should care that someone makes more money than I do. I am a dairy farmer. The farmer is the stereotypical lowest rung of every human social ladder. When it comes to net annual income, you would be shocked at how little I make.
However, I do not feel poor, nor do I feel disadvantaged. In the past 12 months I have had the opportunity to hike the Grand Canyon, and pilot a multi-million dollar U.S. Navy helicopter simulator. I work harder than people who are worth far more than me, but so what? I chose to do this.
To be honest, there is not a day that goes by that I am not thankful that I work in the industry that I do. Farming is the one industry where government regulators throw up their hands, recognize they know nothing about agriculture, and just leave us alone. They are there to help in a time of catastrophe, but as long as we continue to provide cheap food, we are ignored. I cannot think of a more symbiotic relationship than that.
I don't care how much money Mitt Romney makes, and I think it is sadistically ironic that Obama will spend a billion dollars trying to portray him as a rich fat cat. Like I said earlier, the more you pay attention, the sadder you become.
Take it from me. You don't have to be a millionaire, or wealthy, or even powerful, to be awesome.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
The only thing wrong with that quote, is that Barney Stinson said it, and not me. There are a ton of reasons to be pessimistic, especially now.
As a matter of fact, last night I was lying in bed, about to fall asleep. My mind wandered, and I thought about all of the things I had to do the next day. Truth is, the past week had been lousy. Between challenges at work, and the knowledge that it is only mid-February, I actually felt a little sad. I began to dread the prospect of waking up the next day, when I have to do it all over again.
Then I took Mr. Stinson's advice. Why should I be sad, when I can be awesome instead?
My mind wandered to a time and place far from mid-winter, far from the challenges of operating a dairy farm in southern Wisconsin. I recalled a brief stretch of my life when I worked on a scuba dive boat on the Great Barrier Reef. That experience was awesome.
We would wake up at the crack of dawn, grab some gear, and dive into the ocean. The visibility was spectacular. We'd descend to the white sandy bottom. The water was warm enough that I did not need a wetsuit. Here and there, reef sharks were finishing their night prowl. I'd look up. The hull of the vessel bobbed lazily in the morning swell. I will never forget that image, of looking up at the bottom of a boat.
Standing on the floor of the ocean, we'd play games. If I planted my feet firmly in the sand and exhaled, I could lean back at impossible angles. Waving my arms, I could recreate the bullet-dodging scenes from "The Matrix." By simply inhaling a lungful of air, my torso would become buoyant enough for me to stand upright again.
The experience was awesome. It was the last thing I thought about before I finally dozed off, and you know what? The next day went a whole lot better than the last.
This underlines an important point - One need not be on a scuba dive boat in Australia to be awesome.
Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. There is nothing awesome about Valentine's Day, other than it happens to be my anniversary. Four years ago, on Feb. 14, 2008, I went into business for myself.
Starting my own business was certainly a turning point in my life. Prior to doing so, I was working two part-time jobs. I struggled to earn enough to pay rent. Heck, there were a couple of months when I could not even afford the power bill. This was not awesome, so I decided to do something about it.
On the one hand, I can't believe it has already been four years. On the other, the circumstances that defined my life prior to making this decision feel like they occurred a lifetime ago. Along the way, I've had plenty of help, in the form of a supportive family and startup-friendly circumstances surrounding my industry.
I bring this all up not to pat myself on the back, but rather to illustrate a point I made earlier. There are a ton of reasons to feel pessimistic, especially now. If you don't feel depressed on your own, someone will undoubtedly come along and try to convince you how miserable you are (and then ask you to vote for them.)
By far, the most depressing argument taking place in this country right now involves disparity of wealth. Those in power would have you believe that there has never been a more unequal distribution of prosperity - and therefore, happiness - than the current situation in the United States. How many times have you heard the phrase, "Everyone must pay their fair share?"
What a stupid argument - for two major reasons. First, there is not a disparity of wealth in the United States. When both human-drawn rickshaws and Land Rovers that cost $200,000 use the same roadway (as in China) then it can be argued that life is unfair.
Second, I don't understand why I should care that someone makes more money than I do. I am a dairy farmer. The farmer is the stereotypical lowest rung of every human social ladder. When it comes to net annual income, you would be shocked at how little I make.
However, I do not feel poor, nor do I feel disadvantaged. In the past 12 months I have had the opportunity to hike the Grand Canyon, and pilot a multi-million dollar U.S. Navy helicopter simulator. I work harder than people who are worth far more than me, but so what? I chose to do this.
To be honest, there is not a day that goes by that I am not thankful that I work in the industry that I do. Farming is the one industry where government regulators throw up their hands, recognize they know nothing about agriculture, and just leave us alone. They are there to help in a time of catastrophe, but as long as we continue to provide cheap food, we are ignored. I cannot think of a more symbiotic relationship than that.
I don't care how much money Mitt Romney makes, and I think it is sadistically ironic that Obama will spend a billion dollars trying to portray him as a rich fat cat. Like I said earlier, the more you pay attention, the sadder you become.
Take it from me. You don't have to be a millionaire, or wealthy, or even powerful, to be awesome.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
