Fulfillment versus Enjoyment

Preview:

I encourage each of my readers to think of the standard by which he or she most measures his or herself.  I thought about, and I decided that I measure myself by how well I meet the goals I set for myself, the challenges I choose to undertake, and the profit I bring to my company.  However, I thought of those people, myself included, and it is clear that they do not spend every waking hour to further their achievement of those standards.  Where was the disconnect?  The answer was quite simple.  There is a difference between fulfillment and enjoyment, between pride and joy.

4/12/14

Key West, Florida

I have decided that I will start publishing my Travelogue, or at least an edited version, starting with this entry.  It is only fitting that I started my Travelogue the first night I stayed at a hotel (as opposed to with a relative) on my last Florida trip, smoking one of my favorite pipes, and I will start the Blog under similar circumstances.  My current readers will know that the Travelogue has become more and more philosophical, and the theme of tonight’s entry will be fulfillment versus enjoyment.  The philosophy usually fits in as the expansion of some thought or thoughts I have while I am travelling, but it can also come in the end as a reflection.  There certain abbreviations that I use, people mentioned on a first name basis, concepts that may seem unclear, all of which will be explained in either foot notes or parenthetically, or to avoid offending people who are mentioned, though it is not my policy to do so in the version I currently send out.  If I receive enough positive feedback, I will edit down the first year of the Travelogue and publish that in some form as well.

Without further ado, I begin where I closed last night.  It was 2AM when I finally sent out the Travelogue, but it might not have been 4AM until I fell asleep.  The room was hot, and I was sweating.  I tried wetting a towel and wrapping it around my legs, but that did not help.  I was just hot and sticky.  Eventually, I fell asleep, and I woke up before 9AM.  Since I did not have a set schedule for the day, as I usually do, I did not set an alarm, and I estimated that I could have probably slept until noon.  As I was getting changed, I heard David (my grandmother's second husband) knock on the door and ask if I wanted coffee.  I have been very sick for the past 4 days with practically no appetite, and I hadn’t had a cup of coffee since Tuesday morning, but I knew that the coffee was free, and the worst that could happen was that I would not drink it.  David is a very generous man, but there is one thing demands.  If you order something, you sure as hell better finish it.  I did not think that that rule would apply to free coffee.  I went outside to their back porch, and I looked across the “lake” at the golf course, and I do not think I ever realized how beautiful of a view it was.  I have probably seen that exact view on over a hundred mornings, yet this could have been the first time I ever thought to take a picture of it.  Then, it was time to test my new Samsung Galaxy S5 for water-resistance, since I intended to take it snorkeling tomorrow.  I first dipped it in the pool and quickly dried it off.  It was still working.  I then tried to take a picture underwater, but it would not work.  I remembered on my S4 that I could adjust the volume key to either zoom or take a picture, so I tried to find that setting, but it was nowhere to be found, so I took a shot.  I put the phone underwater and pressed the volume key.  Voila!  I had a nice picture of my face.  I sent Young (my boss and the man I respect more than any other in the world) the picture, since he had advised me not to test the water-resistance of the phone and because I knew that my smiling face was pretty much the last thing he expected to see first thing in the morning, and I called my cousin to see what his schedule was for the weekend, since I would be passing by his city on my way to and from Key West.  We decided to meet for dinner tomorrow night, and he kept talking for quite some time until we lost the connection.  It was so good to hear him happy and energetic as opposed to the depressed state he was in the last time I saw him.

I then heard my grandmother ask who was up, and I said that I was.  She asked if I had seen David, and I told her that I had not seen him but that he had asked if I wanted any coffee.  She was confused because she heard me talking to someone, so I told her that I was on the phone with my cousin.  After she came out of her bedroom, she asked what I wanted for breakfast.  After I ate my breakfast and we chatted for a little, I thanked her for breakfast and excused myself.  I came to think about how much she goes out of her way to make sure I’m well-fed and provided for while I’m here, and that led to me thinking about how people measure their self-worth.  That’s not the right word, and I am trying to think of a better one, but it will serve as a place holder once my reader sees the point I am trying to make.  Ah, it should be the standard by which they measure themselves.  My grandmother probably measures herself to some degree by how she takes care of her guests.  David does, too, in addition to how well he helps his community board.  Some of my co-workers measure themselves by how well they take care of their children, two of them being single mothers.  I respect that tremendously, but what bothers me is when I hear them measuring themselves by how much time they spend cleaning, sometimes to the point of obsession.  It bothers me more than anything, I think, because they are short-changing themselves.  They each have to take care of two children on their own, an unimaginably difficult task, especially in New York, especially on one paycheck, especially without any child support and alimony, and they choose to measure themselves by the extremes they go to in cleaning their homes?  Returning to my original point, my mother likely measures herself by how well she takes care of her family, my father by the support he provides to his family, the way he has raised his children.  My brother measures himself by the contributions he makes to cancer research, his fiancé by the effect she has on saving the environment.  I encourage each of my readers to think of the standard by which he or she most measures his or herself.  I thought about, and I decided that I measure myself by how well I meet the goals I set for myself, the challenges I choose to undertake, and the profit I bring to my company.  However, I thought of those people, myself included, and it is clear that they do not spend every waking hour to further their achievement of those standards.  Where was the disconnect?  The answer was quite simple.  There is a difference between fulfillment and enjoyment, between pride and joy.  Both are Efficient Causes of Happiness, so they must be balanced out in order to avoid becoming either a Stoic or a Hedonist.  I continued to think about this as I got dressed, reorganized my cigars, and got packed for the next two days.  I decided to leave my suitcase there and only take what I would really need for my journey.  I said goodbye to my grandmother and went to the car.  As soon as I stepped out into the sun, I had to turn around.  I rang the doorbell, and my grandmother answered, asking knowingly, “What did you forget?”  “My sunglasses.”

Once I got back to the car, I lit up my Ashton ESG, hands down the best cigar made outside of Cuba, but it had no taste.  I was still too sick to really enjoy it.  As I was driving out, I decided to stop at the cigar store.  Loving the fact that I could just walk in without having to worry about what to do with my cigar, I opened up the door, and I did a double take.  Was this the same cigar store?  It was half the size.  “It looks different.”  I announced. The guy was not very knowledgeable, but I picked out ten cigars, since that carried a 10% discount, and got a tin of butane.  He rang me up, and I paid in exact change.  The price seemed a little high, so I looked at the receipt.  Sure enough, the discount was not applied.  He had some difficulty figuring out how to process the refund, so I asked if it would be easier for me to just take another cigar.  I knew that I probably could have taken a more expensive cigar, but that would not have been fair.  I chose one that I liked that was almost exactly 10% of what I had just paid, and I was on my way.  I was feeling really spent and exhausted.  The drive was less than two hours and should have felt like nothing, but it seemed to last forever, and the ESG was not gaining any more flavor.  As I was approaching the park, I remembered something my dad had said about his father when we went over a decade ago.  If we had asked him to come with us, he would have been glad to because he all wanted was to spend the day the day with us.  With my David and my grandmother, it was different, they decided that they didn’t need to see the Everglades, and that was that.  This was not an issue of fulfillment versus enjoyment, but rather differing definitions of enjoyment.  I finished the cigar just as I saw the entrance sign for the Everglades, and I got out to take my picture.

My original plan was to hit up the main VC (Visitors' Center) first, take my picture with the (World Heritage Site) plaque, recreating the one from 2001, and then head to Flamingo VC to get my last (National Park passport) stamp, but that seemed shallow.  Shouldn’t I wait until I had that final stamp, finished the brochure I had been working on for 13 years, and the recreate the picture?  I had to pass by this VC again on the way back.  I decided to head into the VC, get the new brochures, stamp them, and then head straight to Flamingo VC.  There were a lot of stops along the way, but I decided to skip them.  It was not an issue of a time crunch but rather one of exhaustion.  I knew that I needed to sit in an air conditioned car to recover and that I would not enjoy the stops until I had gotten that last stamp.  I was also starting to get really hungry, but my appetite was still not there, so I had one of my Atkins coconut bars, which hit the spot perfectly.  In fact, I will now pause so that I can have another one and light up another pipe.

My plan at this point was to get my stamp, light up my cigar, say Everglades Complete (Complete is an interesting concept.  It means I am completely done with a destination and never need to return there.  For a country, it means see every World Heritage Site and Olympic Stadium, take a picture outside the main government building, have a Cuban cigar, and eat a local meal.  For a Canadian Territory, it means the same thing.  For a U.S. State, it also means every National Park Site in that state.  For a National Park, it means to have a Cuban and get my brochure stamped at each VC.), walk around that area a bit, get as far south as I could before turning around and heading back.  Some context here.  I had discovered this morning that the southernmost point on the U.S. mainland was actually by the Flamingo VC, but it was not accessible.  The closest you could get would involve a strenuous hike sure to take at least half a day.  I didn’t have half an hour of hiking in me.  I decided that I would get as close as I could by car, walk the water, and then call that point the southernmost point.  I went inside to get some souvenirs and that precious stamp.  The rangers were fawning over the vintage brochure, and I lined everything up perfectly for the stamping.  All of my other stamps, from different years, were clean and crisp.  As I was inking the stamp, I thought to myself how funny it would be if I messed up the stamp.  I tested it on the pad and double-checked the date.  I lined up the stamp right on the brochure, pressed down, and immediately knew that something was wrong.  The stamp felt wobbly.  I checked the brochure, and I was devastated.  The date had not come out.  I stamped again, and the year was visible, but the rest of the date was not.  I would now need to have three stamps.  Had I ruined my brochure?  Had all of my hard work gone to vain?  I realized that the problem was that the way the brochure was folded, the stop was on one of the folds, and one side was a little thicker.  I unfolded the entire brochure, carefully lined it up so that the stamp would still be over the VC icon and that the date would still be visible.  This was my last chance.  There was no room to do a fourth stamp without it being obscured.  Contact!  It worked.  It wasn’t pretty, but it worked.  I stamped the new brochures and went back outside.  I had cut my Bolivar and was about to light it up when I realized that view I saw was just like any other body of water in the world.  This was not the Everglades I knew.  How could I say Everglades Complete to such a vista?

I decided that I would light up the cigar at the southernmost point.  I looked at the map of the campground and realized that the best option was a little recreation area nearby.  I parked and walked straight to the water.  I then had to decide where exactly would be the southernmost point in that area.  I carefully walked back and forth, figuring out exactly where that point would be, and I found it, declaring it “the southernmost point on the U.S. mainland that is accessible by walking for less than a mile.”  Had anyone else ever stood on that spot with that intent in mind?  I lit up my Bolivar, no easy task in the wind, and finally announced, “Everglades Complete.”  It was so refreshing to not be on a time crunch, to be able to spend 10-15 minutes walking around to figure what point would meet that crazy definition I had chosen.  I decided that I would do the drive back to the main VC Yosemite style, stopping at every interesting vista and stopping point for some pictures.  Having finished the fulfillment phase of the park, I could now move on to the enjoyment, and I did.  I put down the window, blasted the music, and made my way.  It was great, marveling once again at the beauty of the Everglades.

I finished my cigar after the last stop and was soon back at the VC.  I was worried since it was late in the day that I would have trouble finding someone to take my picture at the plaque.  I was wrong.  I asked a guy in his 30s, figuring he would be excited to try the new S5.  He didn’t even notice, but he took some pictures, including the one where I recreated the pose from 2001.  I then realized that I had posed with the new brochure not the 2001 brochure, so it was back to the drawing board.  I asked an old guy, who was less familiar with technology.  He asked where to press to take the picture.  I had changed the settings so that you can press anywhere, so I said the line I had been waiting to say, “Just tap on my face.”  He took some pictures, and they came out great.  Triumphant, I was ready to leave the park, and I was starving once again, my appetite finally back.  I stopped at the gator shack I had seen on the way in.  Some woman was standing next to me as I was looking at the menu, and the cashier asked if we were paying together.  The woman said that I could pay for her if I wanted, and I laughed.  The cashier didn’t get, so the woman said that we were not.  I should have taken her up on that offer. The value that I would have gotten from that joke would exceeded the cost of her meal.  I ordered some gator bites, which came with fries, and some pieces of gator salami for later.  When my food came, I ravenously downed all of the gator, and a few fries, which probably put me over my carbs for the day.  I went back to the car, lit up a Jaime Garcia, and was on my way to Key West.  I am starting to fall asleep, so I will pause to recover a little bit and move inside.

The ride to Key West was also relatively short, by my standards, about 3 hours, but I was still spent, so it, too, felt like an eternity.  When I got out of the car, I got a notification from Google that my Gmail account had been suspended for a Terms of Service violation.  I went into full panic mode.  How could I contact them to resolve it?  Can you call Google?  Do they have real people working there?  Other than the programmers, why would they need any employees?  I pressed the “Contact us” button, and practically instantly I received an email to work email saying that the problem had been resolved and that I should try again.  It still didn’t work, and I was distracted through the whole check-in process.  I went to move my car and get ready to head out.  I had forgotten to put the guest parking permit on the car, so I had to go back for that.  Meanwhile, sunset had come and gone, but there was still the possibility of getting to the famous Southernmost monument by civil twilight.  I figured that I might be able to find a replica of the monument, which I would only allow myself to buy after taking a picture with the original.  The main street of Key West, Duval Street, was like a miniature version of Bourbon Street, filled with bars, souvenir shops, and cigar shops.  I was in no state to drink and wanted to wait until I had the picture with the monument before I bought the replica, but I did stop at each cigar shop, getting a few more sticks.  When I finally got to the sign, there was a family having their picture taken, which took quite some effort.  Since they had imposed on someone else, I knew that they would not mind me imposing on them to take mine.  They did.  It is an interesting part of the social contract, though Rand would entire dismiss the kind of Social Contract Rousseau describes, that you can almost always ask a total stranger to take your picture.  In fact, many times when I’ve taken a selfie, I’ve had strangers come up to me offering to take the picture, though I almost always refuse, preferring the selfie.

As I walked back I said something to the effect of “Alright, time to get a replica, some dinner, light up a pipe, write my entry, go to sleep,” sensing the humor in it, I continued, “go to Dry Tortugas, have dinner with Roy, go back to Jackie’s, spend Monday relaxing, have a Passover Seder, head to the airport, go to Central America, and hopefully say CA-4 Complete,” thereby laying out my whole plan for the next eight days.  I stopped at every souvenir shop on the way back, but I could not find the replica except at one place where it was too big and overpriced.  I wound up going back to the place where I had first seen it, and it was of a lower quality, but the price and size was right.  I also got a couple of keychains.  I just needed a t-shirt.  I walked into another store and announced that I wanted a Southernmost t-shirt in XXL, and he had the perfect one.  I joked to myself that I could now say “Key West Complete,” but I reminded myself I still needed a meal and a Cuban and possibly an NP if Dry Tortugas NP was part of Key West.  I guess I would also need town hall, but it was just a joke, not a goal.  It was now time for dinner, so I went to the crab shack that the receptionist at the hotel had recommended.  During dinner, I looked for a picture of the Everglades to send Kayla (a very pretty girl I met when I was collecting autographs with whom I have remained in touch and who lives in Orlando), since I had told her I would be going to the Everglades instead of Orlando, and I realized that I had neglected to take the kind of scenic landscape pictures I had recently started taking to use as wallpapers for my laptop.  I found one that kind of worked and sent it to her, but I was upset that I made missed the swamp for the bushes, so to speak.

The food was good, but my appetite was gone.  I had ordered two appetizers, and she commented that I had barely eaten it.  I said that I wasn’t that hungry and asked for a slice of Key Lime pie for dessert, knowing I could not leave Key West without having a slice of Key Lime pie.  I had three small bites, two more than I needed to have, since it was practically pure carbs and very much not on my diet, but I justified it given how little I had eaten.  I headed back to the hotel, got myself situated outside, lit up my Ardor, and proceeded to write this entry.  During my first pause, I went inside to turn down the air.  I saw a sign that said not to turn it below 72F.  I need a very cold room to sleep.  Reader, I am sure there have been moments in your life when you have wanted to say something but held your tongue.  Furious, I grabbed the pad and wrote the following note: “TELL ME THAT BEFORE YOU TAKE MY MONEY IF YOU EXPECT IT TO BE FOLLOWED!!!”  I turned the AC down as low as it would go to 61F and wrapped the note around the remote.  I lit up my Castello and continued my entry, which I will now close so that I can finally publish it.