Monday, September 21, 2009

My "Drive For Pride" Campaign

I was very tired when I was here yesterday. It was all I could do to stay awake. I was feeling some confusion, and the words "would've, should've, and could've" made me feel more confused.

Anyway, I wasn't thinking of any "Drive for Pride" campaign -- it never occurred to me -- at least until I said it. Then I went on typing and forgot it. I was laying on the bed a while later, catching up on some rest, and I started thinking, "Did I say something about a 'Drive for Pride' campaign?" So I checked, and, sure enough, there it was:

What's the use of numbering my "Would've, Could've, Should've" posts? I guess there's really no use. I'm about to launch a "Drive for Pride" campaign ... sometime this week ... and I guess I'm just very proud of the posts, enough that, so far, I'm keeping track.

I'm not even sure what it's all about -- I didn't leave myself many clues -- but if it bubbled up from somewhere in my unconscious and showed up like that, I guess I will indeed have to launch one.

Just reading the paragraph again, it sounds like the "Drive for Pride" campaign has to do with patting myself on the back a little. Numbering things make a series, I don't think anyone would dispute that. A series shows a certain level of thought and intensity. To be able to put together thoughts with intensity and come out with a series requires some ability. And abilities are something we're proud of. How many people do you know who are only able to do one-offs, if those?

But I'm thinking, maybe I should make the "Drive for Pride" campaign more than something just about me. Like maybe some kind of efforts of mine about bringing pride and self-esteem to those around who don't have it. Let's say they hire me to go to schools to give assemblies. My basic theme is pride and self-esteem, with a big banner behind me that says "Drive for Pride." And I've got a clown with me -- female, thinking of the kids' safety -- who twists balloons into animal shapes and can do it fast enough to please a mob of screaming kids.

The "Drive" part is kind of like "Strive," except you're driving toward it instead of striving. Strive implies a lot of potentially vain activity, tensing up your neck, breathing irregularly, being alone like a hermit in a shack. But drive sounds very purposeful and direct, something a group could do together, like a drive for old newspapers. Usually when we think of a drive we're collecting something. I'm trying to get people to seek out and accumulate pride and self-esteem for themselves.

Eventually they've have me on the local news, maybe any local cartoon shows that are still in existence. The balloon lady will be there with me. She has the business of really drawing the kids in while I'm laying on them the seriousness of self-esteem and pride. Somehow she and I will want to develop a careful balance so that they're not just there for the balloons. Like getting the balloons and leaving. What would it do for my self-esteem and pride if there's 500 kids when she's passing out the balloons and only 50 when it's time for my pitch?

I'll worry about that when it comes. Maybe she won't be able to twist balloons fast enough to please them. Maybe I'll pick up the secrets of how to do it, even though my hands aren't as young as they used to be, and I'll be able to cut out the middleman. Or we'll do it together and share the glory.

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