It sounds like reverse productivity porn, but actually it’s more literal than you’re expecting. Unless you know about my knee injury, of course, in which case you’re either cackling in amusement or groaning in pain. I’ll take either, it’s all good. ;}

http://blip.tv/play/g6JigbaYOwA” type=”application/x-shockwave-flash” width=”540” height=”443” allowscriptaccess=”always” allowfullscreen=”true”>

I used to feel obliged to let people know how bad I did in school. I never did my homework; I wrote stories and drew pictures through my classes, as much and as often as I could get away with it (and sometimes when I couldn’t).

I read paperbacks and comic books—it’s harder for the teacher to notice if you make sure to have a pile of textbooks on the front corner of your desk. (At least, that was my theory.) My grades were middling, because I had to keep them at a certain level to avoid too much trouble, and to avoid getting kicked out of the theater program.

Even in college, when I had chosen my own focus, there was a theme: All of my performance and studio grades were excellent, but I stumbled through theory and history classes, though I made a bigger effort now that I was an “adult”. I didn’t read fiction in those classes, but I did do business planning and ideastorming about things that had nothing to do with music. Don’t get me wrong, I was interested in those classes—just not the way I was supposed to be.

When I truely “applied myself,” I was brilliant.

But I didn’t do that very often.

I am no longer defined by my technical performance in school—not even college. I’m defined by what I’ve done, and what I go on to do with what I have. I’m defined by what I’m willing to learn, and how steadily I’m inclined to grow and change and help others. I’m not a failure because the schooling I had wasn’t quite right for me. My life is getting better and more amazing constantly. No one cares that my grades were lame. And even “school” isn’t what I thought.

School isn’t some series of institutions with structured exercises and grade point systems.

School is me. The most important school has always been me. I just didn’t discover that until after I was grown up.

It doesn’t matter what you did before.

It only matters what you’ll do now.

I get a kick out of the way people look at me when I say I’m waking up at 5 the next morning.

Willingly.

Excitedly!

Or when I show them my (very) green vegetable juice for the day. Or when I announce that I’m embarking on a polyphasic sleep trial—22 waking hours for every 24. Or when I mention that I haven’t worked a “regular job” in the last five years at least, and I don’t intend to do so ever again.

You know. Stuff like that. Strangeness. Edges. Poking.

Is it possible that part of my motivation to do thrilling things is the fact that someone somewhere thinks I’m nuts? (In addition to improving my life, of course. Duh.) Is it just the exhibitionist edgewalker in me? (If that doesn’t give you a rockin’ mental image, I don’t know what will.)

Perhaps I should use this particular tactic to motivate myself more often? The ability to elicit strange looks and confused responses?

Would it work?

It might. It really might. But you know what’s better? The poking. I like to poke people. I get a kick out of poking people. Many people only ever experience real growth when poked, and without poking, I think we’d all get a little bit too comfortable. We need to be exposed to the things we don’t understand. Sometimes, we need to be confronted with them! We need to see that even considering our differences, we still manage to have things in common. We need to see that the diversity around us is healthy, positive—and more than that, essential to the forward movement of the entire world around us.

And maybe I’m just a little bit of a sadist. Because I admit it, poking people and seeing the freaked out looks on their faces when they’ve encountered a mindset they don’t understand, that’s entertaining. But it’s incredibly exciting, too. Because—what do you think will happen next? If poked often enough, forgetting isn’t an option.

Might they under go some kind of dramatic learning or new understanding?

Might they open up to more change and growth over the course of their whole lives?

God, it could be anything.

Doesn’t the growth potential just give you shivers?

Marty and I have been watching Back to the Future. (He bought all three of them the other day.)

When I was growing up, I wanted that almanac—with all the sports scores for the next fifty years. The Perfect Solution. Fast, reliable, easy money. Solve all my problems. Exactly what I needed. And I wouldn’t even have to work for it!

But what do you get, exactly, when you get the Perfect Solution? You don’t get new skills. You don’t get new knowledge about yourself. In fact, if that Perfect Solution gets screwed up, you’re right back where you started and not particularly better off. (I’ll bet you’re pissed, though.)

If I had ever gotten that almanac (by some strange theatrical twist of fate), I could have made a lot of money really fast. But I wouldn’t have learned anything new. And if I suddenly found myself back at square one, I wouldn’t have any way to change it. Except maybe to wait for another Perfect Solution.

That’s why “winning the lottery” isn’t going to help. Getting a quick fix isn’t like changing what you can do. Changing what you can do means you can change your fate at any time. Not just once.

You don’t need an almanac from the future, or a lottery win. You can find another way. And then, no matter what happens, you’ll know that you can change your fortune. You can make $20, and then $50, and then $500, and then $10,000. You can connect with one person, and then a thousand. You can do anything. But you don’t gain those skills by having someone or something save your ass. You gain those skills by saving your own ass.

The real “Perfect Solution” is to learn, grow and act.

So stop waiting and get DOing!

Megan’s Self-Learnification Extravaganza shall commence shortly. Please take off your seat belts and wander around the cabin, adjusting seat backs at random. It’s going to be a bracing flight!

(There’s more information in notes on the photo in Flickr. Click safely!)