There is, of course a first time for everything. In the recent movie, The Martian, Matt Damon has a fascinating line when he starts going on about how he’s the first person to climb a hill, leave footprints where he walks on Mars, that everything he does, he knows is the first time a human has had that experience. It was riveting stuff, and made me realize how seldom we can really say that about the things we do here on earth.
Even for complex and tough goals, one can’t say forthrightly that you were the first to do something like run a marathon, write a novel or build a home from scratch. Though each is an amazing accomplishment, we know for a fact that many, many others have done each of those things before.
At the individual level, we can imagine our special nature. For example, if you write a novel for the first time, it is YOUR novel. No one else wrote it. You own it. That makes it new and unique for you, a first-time event.
Recently, I accomplished my first selfie. This started quite the laughing match between my wife Debbie and our younger daughter Skyler. I believe they may have thought I’d taken many selfies before, but if they had those thoughts, they were wrong. I’d been hiding my blindness of the simplicity inherent in taking selfies.
When by myself, I tried to take photos with my iPhone of funny or interesting things I did. I turned the front face of the phone away from me to direct the lens back at me so it was focused on wherever I stood at the time, then clicked.
This led to forehead shots, waist shots, blurry hair and one shoulder being captured on the photo. But I couldn’t figure out how to make sure the phone was lined up with my face. “How the heck do all these people take selfies so easily?,” I thought to myself.
It couldn’t be that hard. Going about my daily life, I’d watch (but not that closely) how others pulled it off. They extended their arms, then clicked away. Simple enough. I would try again with the same result.
Choosing not to Google-away, I slogged through and gave up, which is what typically happens to the gadget-challenged individuals of the world (who will never be traveling to Mars on an exploration expedition, that’s for sure). Because a few quick steps don’t bring us to an answer and we don’t want the Internet to show us up once again, we decide to retire from the arena.
So, no selfie attempts for me over a 12-18 month period. Then, standing in our kitchen the other day, something occurred that forced me to reconsider, while Debbie and Skyler watched. I spun the phone around, and clicked, and Skyler asked what I was doing. When I mentioned, “taking a selfie,” she asked why I’d flipped the phone. “That’s how you do it, isn’t it?,” I replied.
For those of you initiated to the selfie, you are targeting me as the bozo I am. Skyler broke into laughter. She showed me the button to reverse the lens, so I could look in the screen and SEE MYSELF while clicking. “Oh, that’s how you do it,” Mr. Non-Intuitive Technology Man muttered quietly. Deb and Skyler chortled.
A whole new world has opened to me. Self-absorbed nation, here I come. But let the record reflect, I haven’t taken once since, and there is the strong probably I can forget where that button is before the next selfie opp comes along.
Even for complex and tough goals, one can’t say forthrightly that you were the first to do something like run a marathon, write a novel or build a home from scratch. Though each is an amazing accomplishment, we know for a fact that many, many others have done each of those things before.
At the individual level, we can imagine our special nature. For example, if you write a novel for the first time, it is YOUR novel. No one else wrote it. You own it. That makes it new and unique for you, a first-time event.
Recently, I accomplished my first selfie. This started quite the laughing match between my wife Debbie and our younger daughter Skyler. I believe they may have thought I’d taken many selfies before, but if they had those thoughts, they were wrong. I’d been hiding my blindness of the simplicity inherent in taking selfies.
When by myself, I tried to take photos with my iPhone of funny or interesting things I did. I turned the front face of the phone away from me to direct the lens back at me so it was focused on wherever I stood at the time, then clicked.
This led to forehead shots, waist shots, blurry hair and one shoulder being captured on the photo. But I couldn’t figure out how to make sure the phone was lined up with my face. “How the heck do all these people take selfies so easily?,” I thought to myself.
It couldn’t be that hard. Going about my daily life, I’d watch (but not that closely) how others pulled it off. They extended their arms, then clicked away. Simple enough. I would try again with the same result.
Choosing not to Google-away, I slogged through and gave up, which is what typically happens to the gadget-challenged individuals of the world (who will never be traveling to Mars on an exploration expedition, that’s for sure). Because a few quick steps don’t bring us to an answer and we don’t want the Internet to show us up once again, we decide to retire from the arena.
So, no selfie attempts for me over a 12-18 month period. Then, standing in our kitchen the other day, something occurred that forced me to reconsider, while Debbie and Skyler watched. I spun the phone around, and clicked, and Skyler asked what I was doing. When I mentioned, “taking a selfie,” she asked why I’d flipped the phone. “That’s how you do it, isn’t it?,” I replied.
For those of you initiated to the selfie, you are targeting me as the bozo I am. Skyler broke into laughter. She showed me the button to reverse the lens, so I could look in the screen and SEE MYSELF while clicking. “Oh, that’s how you do it,” Mr. Non-Intuitive Technology Man muttered quietly. Deb and Skyler chortled.
A whole new world has opened to me. Self-absorbed nation, here I come. But let the record reflect, I haven’t taken once since, and there is the strong probably I can forget where that button is before the next selfie opp comes along.