Advice is such a tricky critter. Sometimes, from all angles, it sounds brilliant.
Don’t drink poison.
See? The intellect behind that bit of advice is dizzying. Of course, if you’re trying to develop an immunity to iocane powder so you can one day do amazing things like rescue the true love of your life– well then, by all means– drink poison.
Man in Black: All right. Where is the poison? The battle of wits has begun. It ends when you decide and we both drink, and find out who is right… and who is dead.
Vizzini: But it’s so simple. All I have to do is divine from what I know of you: are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet or his enemy’s? Now, a clever man would put the poison into his own goblet, because he would know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I am not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool, you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.
The problem with advice is that it can almost always be argued from any direction, especially if you begin to allow for exceptions to the rule. (The ol’ “Steve Jobs was a college dropout” argument, if you will.)
The internet is rife with advice, and some of it is classically good advice, and some of it comes from me (and others who only want the best for you)– but that doesn’t mean it’s the necessarily the best advice for you.
I stumble upon this situation all the time, so here I’ve compiled 3 reasonable, heartfully-given pieces of advice that I did not choose to take:
I was married at 22 years old.
Perhaps. But for me, it was like leaving one of those really awkward parties that ran out of cheese dip early.
- Said me, right now.
I’m not saying everyone should run out and get married early in life. I’m also not saying you should feel bad if you aren’t. I have a bevy of gorgeous single friends who have no reason to feel anything less than stellar about their lives.
But I am saying– for me, it’s been one of my more brilliant, life-shaping, happiness-making decisions. If you’re one of those who puts “Don’t get married before 25″ on lists, you’re probably thinking about how– even at 7 years of marriage– my husband and I are well in the window of a first marriage divorce rate.
Only time will tell, I suppose– but please know, even though you seem to have real life concerns about my cognitive abilities– you’re still welcome to come to our 15th anniversary party.
You can bring cheese dip.
I chose not to travel the world.
St. Augustine obviously didn’t have the internet or global commerce.
Not everyone learns the same.
If I had to describe all my best friends in a series of words, “traveler” would definitely be on the list. I love travelers because they have a dedication to understanding different life paths, acceptance of possibility, and a willingness to interact with a wide-variety of culture.
It’s something we have in common, even though I prefer never to leave my block. Instead I’ve used my dollars to live a life I’ve enjoyed most every day.
Whenever someone tells me that I can’t possibly understand the world without seeing it, I want to sit them down and tell them fairy tales from around the world. I want to celebrate with them the hundreds of cultural events that I take very seriously every year. I want to tell them about the tragedies that still scar the people I know and love– war, floods, and shrunken heads, attempted genocide, and mad conquistadors. I want to make them something to eat using ingredients I use every day that they have most likely never heard of– dashed liberally in dishes they don’t know. Of course, if I did all that, I’d most likely have to listen to criticism about my travel choices all the time because fairy tales from around the world are amazing.
I love that people love to travel. It’s the basis of how my loved ones found their way to me. The idea that we have to in order to embrace perspective– well, I disagree.
My fairy tale doesn’t look like yours.
I don’t have a blog niche.
How can you possibly give directions if you don’t know where I’m going?
People blog for a myriad of reasons. I’m not blogging for money, I’m not a writer, and I’m not building a fan club for some future secret project. Unless it’s so secret that even I don’t know I’m planning it.
I started this blog to have a place to safe keep some of my more treasured literary pieces from beloved authors– and fell into a community. Today, I’m mostly here for social purposes and to read others– so I’m comfortable in my nichelessness, despite the fact that “Find a niche” appears on nearly ever blog advice list. My nichelessness fits me like a well-worn dinosaur suit.
Like most advice, though, only time will tell. The best we can do is pick a goblet, take a drink, and hope that we’re the ones with an immunity to iocane powder.
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What’s some oft-given advice that you’ve ignored? Did it work out for you?
(Also, if you’re up to a trek ’round the sphere, check out Al’s blog. He just featured me on his wonderfully kind Follow Friday. He’s a Whovian, an artist, an inspiration and a very dear bloggy friend: http://kattermonran.com/2014/01/31/follow-friday-rarasaur/)