Thoughts and Times of Paul Zube

As I slog through this frustrating thing called moving, I have overly dramatic thoughts about owning absolutely nothing.

I have essentially given away all of my furniture, and that feels good. I have donated a few books, but I still have far too many. But also not enough. Someday I hope they'll be in a room as a library instead of stacks of reading work-in-progress.

There are knicks and knacks all over the floor looking for boxes and bags. You know, they're the hardest things to pack in some ways, but some of the few things that I actually value having. Gifts and reminders. Great memories of some of my happiest times with wonderful people.

Clothes have been donated, but not completely. I have less than I ever have, and it still somehow feels like too much. It would be nice to have nothing...until I find my next place, my next book, my next knickknack.

Nine days until I don't have a place that is my own to live in.

With an expiring lease and some still falling into place opportunities, I am going to be vagabonding for a little bit. Couch surfing really. It's not exactly where I want to be in life, but the opportunities are potentially really cool...so we shall see.

However, as I contemplate my impending unhousing, I have been reflecting on the last time I felt like I have had a home. That was in 2009. It has been 15 years since I have had a home?!

I couch-surfed in 2010 as my life was uprooted. I did have some time in a space on my own, but it was borrowed space and never something I really moved into. Then off to my current life, which has really been more of a guest in another's home than me having a home. That is a little dramatic and I know it is the result of my own choices, but it has definitely been more like a prolonged guest scenario. Essentially I have had my own room as my space. The rest was mostly my roommate's, or at least dominated by their possessions.

I also had an office where I spent more time than not. Doesn't feel like that should count as a home though. It was a home the same way the coffee shop I'm currently in has functioned as a home space.

As I stumble my way through a few side projects and gig work, I want to rededicate myself to making meaningful advances in some of the writing projects I have in mind.

Starting on June 1, I am going to challenge myself to 30 straight days of doing some writing on some of my projects. I am playing around with ideas of extreme transparency as well, so I might make a Notion page public to track this (and also experiment with that as a tool for project management in an open environment). This is really just a post to remind myself that I want to do this because there are some cool projects I want to make advances on:

Limits of Agency

Legitimate Peripheral Participation in Civic Life

Honing Moderation Skills

Coordinating and Collaborating in Volunteer-Driven Organizations

Effective Onboarding/Offboarding

Public Development of Best Practices

Sometimes when I am working on a project or a task I forget about the people in my life. It's temporary, but it definitely happens.

Not to everyone though. Some people stay with me all the time; never forgotten. Even now. Sometimes even less forgotten than the people immediately around me.

I don't yet have a better place to put this, so I'm going to use this platform even though I use it so rarely.

During 2023 I worked a variety of gig jobs. It has been a rewarding but also uncertainty-filled experience. My goal in 2024 is to have one primary source of income and be able to focus on that. I have a few start-ups I'm working with to see if we can get them off the ground. We'l see how that goes!

During this time, however, I have had to "upskill" (I don't really like that term, but whatever) and do some self-learning, etc. It's been enjoyable and something that I am honing into a habit that I can use in future work, volunteerism, and just life in general.

As a result of this honing of a habit, I have played around with the thought of developing a newsletter-type type of side gig that might also end up being a consulting firm. As I have thought about names and whatnot I have worked myself toward RPZ...aka Replace Paul Zube.

Through my work and volunteer experiences, I have run across a variety of workplace personalities, but a relatively common component is that security/power comes from hoarding information. We have probably all heard of the mantra of making yourself irreplaceable through skill, knowledge, etc. This is pretty common wisdom in the corporate world. It's sadly part of academia as well.

This approach decreasingly sits well with me. First, research that I have read throughout my career demonstrates how important information disclosure is for collaboration, relationship formation, etc. Second, in my professional life I have run into too many gatekeepers of knowledge or process that take great delight in being the bottleneck of progress. Third, I have become a bottleneck in a few organizations because, despite my discomfort with the idea, I am pretty skilled and capable.

In a conversation I recently had with a newer member of a volunteer group I am part of, I mentioned that it is so important to share everything that I know and that I'm hoping that I can become redundant in our organization so that when we are trying to do things it's not just me that can do it, but anyone who needs to can. This was apparently a surprising approach to them. They assumed that everyone who wants to contribute wants to become irreplaceable.

I was already leaning in the direction of trying to be redundant, but personally. Now i think that this might be the central focus of my professional and volunteer life. If I am able to take my knowledge and skills and pass them on to more people, that is a great success. Teaching is perhaps where this started as a mindset, but I think most formal students are not yet ready for that approach to really sit with them. Perhaps RPZ is a company that makes books, blogs, newsletters, etc to push for this paradigm. Disseminate knowledge, develop more knowledge, and disseminate more.

I attended Michigan State University in the mid 2000s, so obviously my social feeds are full of an outpouring of grief, anger, shock, and all other types of emotional outpourings we as Americans have become all too familiar with. I get to experience this tragedy in a new way, however, as I now have people asking me what they can do to help, and most often, where can they make a contribution to help. I truly believe this comes from a good place. I have even privately donated some money myself to help cater some meals for the counselors who are now on campus providing care. But I'm not going to say where to donate, and I'm not entirely certain that donation does much. Here's the crux: money doesn't make this better. Money doesn't do much to help at all. But America loves donating. It's easy, it's relatively cheap, and it can give us a sense of accomplishment. We can feel like we helped without having to actually give up much at all.

Perhaps in a more stoic mindset, I could plumb my mind for the reasons donations are so valuable. Certainly I can think of victims that survive needing medical bill assistance. I'm also not discounting that survivors may need access to new services, equipment, and counseling. All of those cost money. All of us would benefit from help there. I see these as systematic failures, however. But, I am not wholly discounting the need for donations. My main point here is that donations are our default - and that's a problem.

As a broad generalization, Americans seem to want to sprinkle money on problems as though that's a solution. Politicians are going to ask for donations so they can help our communities be safer. People will donate to organizations that support gun violence legislation. None of those work without people showing up to hearings, voting, calling their reps, holding reps responsible when they don't do anything, or worse yet, recite gun lobby talking points.

We need effort not money. We need to understand gun violence research. We need to insist that gun violence research be permitted in the first place. We need to move beyond meme-level arguments. Guns don't kill people, people kill people opposition just doesn't cut it anymore. Of course violence is easier when there is ready access to and the ability to conceal tools that are designed to inflict damage. But we can't just focus on the guns alone. I do not claim to be an expert here, but is seems like the leading causes of gun violence are:

Despair

Depression

Anger

Resentment

We need to do something about that. Why are we ok with a society that requires people to fall through a concrete floor before they get to a safety net? Why are community mental health/counseling services so inaccessible to so many in need? Why are we comfortable providing platforms for people to stoke violence without consequence? Why do we seemingly want a culture of individuals ready to personally defend themselves at all times. As a friend pointed out in another post, we shouldn't want to live in a John Wayne movie. I really enjoy post-apocalyptic fiction. Because it's fiction. I don't want to live it.

There are very few people that know me well. There have been times in my life where that has been thrown at me as a insult or complaint. That's somewhat understandable as I do tend to be somewhat private in my thoughts and certainly some of my feelings. To the extent that I'm closed off, I have done significant work on. But I think there are still those that would think that they don't know me well enough. And maybe they don't, but I would argue maybe that's them?

This is inspired by a recent dinner with former colleagues who explicitly invited me over to talk about my new job and how things are going and to "catch up." I'm all for that, but it struck me that there was very little listening being done. Most of the conversation was a launch pad for their thoughts and experiences. I know them well, but they don't know me. And for me, at least, I don't need to be so heard that I would interrupt or interject myself into their sharing.

I don't think I'm the world's greatest listener, but it is something I value doing. So, perhaps a few ideas next time you want to get to know someone better.

Make space to listen

Ask questions and follow those up

“We did it, Dad!”

Memories are strange in the way that the will sometimes emerge from the ether that is one’s mind. Today such a memory emerged as I helped a friend work on their car. On the surface it is a racing memory, but as I dwell on this this thought it is so much more about my dad and the person he showed me to be and the relationship we had and have. I won’t say I’m quite teary eyed, but there is some mist. 

When I was 11 my dad asked if I wanted to go to a invitational only event in Clayton, NY. This was an annual event that brought kart teams from all over the north east. This was before I had started doing national events, so this would be the first time I had driven against anyone that I didn’t already know from my local tracks. The invitation wasn’t super difficult to achieve, but you did have to demonstrate some proficiency, which the year before I had. This was to be the start of my 3rd full season of driving. It was a kick off event for the season. 

Not only did we go, but we were going to be in a different class. As a experiment, the organizers of the event created a new class for junior drivers. This class required a slightly heavier kart (50 lbs, which is a lot!), but more horsepower (about 2...but that’s a lot more when we’re talking about the difference between 5 and 7 hp). 

A little context might be necessary here. When my dad and I first started karting, we got at best 3rd hand equipment. The chassis that we used from my start until I was 15 was a 15 year old chassis that we bought from a guy who was in a much higher class. The axle was heavy. The wheels and tires were much too big. Our engine was old and we never got it worked on. We did everything on the cheap. We had to. I certainly didn’t grow up poor, but I did grow up without the resources to be racing rich. Our kart was heavy and slow. And my dad was ok with this and always told me that as a young driver I was just there to learn how to drive. It didn’t matter if we won or finished last, my job was to learn how to drive well. And I did, I just didn’t know it.

So when we got this chance to run a littler heavier, but with more horsepower, we took it. Our kart was always over the minimum weight anyway. As I recall, we only had to add like 15 pounds to the kart to make it legal for this new class. 

So here we are, at an invitational race in a brand new class at the start of my 3rd season of driving. This event was a two day event (normally a kart weekend is a single day) and it paid. I mean, not a lot, but winning your class got you something like $2,000.00 for a junior class and $6,000.00 for the senior class. It attracted pretty big teams and good drivers. My class, as an experiment, was pretty small. Only about 7 karts. So in the race there would be two classes racing together. One class was slower in terms of horsepower, but lighter, and then the class I was in.

I know, this is maybe not what you’re reading for, but thanks for hanging in there. 

So there are good teams. There are good drivers. I’m in a new class. The race is going to be multi-class racing. Now it’s time for practice. Practice was multi-class too....and we are SLOW! We eventually figured out that we needed to make carburetor adjustments for the new restrictor plate that this new class allowed for..and we eventually did. But practice 1 we are SLOW. Like real slow. We didn’t look at time sheets, but we were probably last. Not just in our class, but the slower class too. Practice 2, we’re still slow (we still don’t know the carburetor thing, we figure that out the next day). Practice 3, the last practice of the day, we’re SLOW. During that last session, we “raced” a little with some of the slower karts ( I learned the track, we had made some chassis changes, we were faster). 

This is where my memory really started though. It’s the end of the day and a random guy walks to our pit area. My dad and I are packing all our stuff up for the night into our van. This guy....in my mind he’s the classic upper-class villain in every comedy that has ever been made. Polo shirt. Slicked back hair (I have no idea if that part is true). This guy walks up to my dad. I’m right there, but he’s here to talk to my dad. This guy...his son is a quick driver in the slower class. He came here to tell my dad to make sure I stay out of his kids way during the race. He said more than that...but that’s basically the message. My dad responded with grace. I remember that. He was calm and said “thank you for talking to him and we’ll see what happens on Sunday, but my son is a clean driver and I don’t see there being a problem.” (not a direct quote). I’m 11 though, and I’m gutted. As we go to the hotel, my dad says we learned a lot that day. We’ll figure some things out in the morning practice before qualifying. I’m still gutted. An adult basically said get out of my kids way...you suck.

Sunday. We make some chassis adjustments. We figure out the carburetor thing (thanks to a person in one of the classes that older drivers can compete in). We do practice. We’re not dead slow anymore. But I still don’t really know how we compare. We don’t really look at time sheets. My dad keeps me focused on improving. 

Qualifying. I do what I can do. We’re first. By a lot. And asshole dad’s kid is also first in his class. But I’m not in his way anymore I guess. 

Race. I drive away from everyone. I lap asshole dad’s kid. Definitely not in your way anymore. I guess you’re in my way. 

I win. This race is a big race. They do interviews of all of the winning drivers after the race. During the last lap I know I shouldn’t let my mind wander, but it does. I think about what I’m supposed to say. Thank your sponsors. Talk about how good the kart was. Talk about how great the competition is. I have watched all the pros do these interviews on TV all the time. I know what I’m going to say.

Interview time. All of my last lap prep is gone. A microphone is in front of my face. “How did the race go?” “Pretty good, we got the kart working well today”

“Anyone you want to thank?” “We did it, Dad! We did it!”

He was out in the paddock somewhere. I didn’t get to see his face when I said these words. I like to think he smiled. 

He gave me a hug when I got back to our van. 

“Yeah, we did it.”

I just want to tell a person I love them.

I worked real hard to get over some barriers,

But I haven't a person that I'm allowed to say such things to.

So say I love you when you love.

There comes a time, for various reasons,

Bizarre random thought thanks to the 2019 Women’s World Cup of Soccer. First of all though, what a great World Cup and I was ecstatic that the U.S. won. The gap between countries is definitely closing, but the U.S. still seems to have a bit of an edge. And the poise with which those players handle being on top, the criticism that they receive, etc is truly worth emulating. Wow. 

More importantly (not at all and in fact much less importantly), the ads that ran in the U.S. were interesting to me because it used the mythology of David and Goliath but then essentially flipped it so that U.S. fans knew this time they were Goliath and all the David’s out there were going to see just how big and powerful we are. 1. Weird. 2. Got me thinking.

The David and Goliath story gets used a lot in sports. A mismatch between teams is often referred to in these terms with the underdog being represented by David. And the more I thought about it (I know, my bad), the weirder this seems. I’m not a theologian, so bear with me here. 

How is David the underdog? It’s clearly Goliath.

1) David has a better weapon. A sling is a wildly powerful weapon that can be used at range. A skilled user (which I’m pretty sure David was) can create incredible velocity and do so accurately. Goliath was armed with a spear or staff or something. Basically, it’s a stick. Goliath brought a stick to a sling fight. Everyone who witnessed this event should have known that Goliath was at a serious disadvantage.

2) The magic reason. David was chosen by God! It’s a Bible story, so that kinda has to be mentioned. Ok, so maybe the crowd didn’t know that and/or were skeptical. They still should have known from the equipment advantage that David would win, but as a story about “underdogs” how is being chosen by a divine entity ever a disadvantage. We, the readers of this story know that now. So when we talk about David as being an underdog, we’re kinda defeating the purpose of the story. It’s as silly as underestimating Yoda now. I mean sure, when you first seem him stealing what is probably just a Cliff Bar from Luke we might underestimate his size. But the MOMENT it is revealed he is a Jedi, underestimation should go out the window. Size doesn’t matter with magic/divinity. 

So when we use this analogy in sports, it seems backwards. David should be the innovative team that is changing the game and has a clear advantage. Goliath is out matched, out slinged, and out divined. 

So back to the what really kicked this wholly unnecessary thought process. The ads wanted us to think of Goliath as being the U.S. and that meaning domination. First, it shouldn’t mean dominant force and second, and more interestingly to me, it means that the U.S. is hoping to defeat God’s chosen. When Goliath wins, God’s chosen loses. I have never loved U.S. sports more. 

So, dear reader, maybe it’s time to put David to bed as the underdog? Especially in sports. If you want your team to win or think it has a clear advantage, just go with an actual unstoppable force...The Juggernaut, bitch! 

I am exhausted by almost. Almost defines my life, as I am sure it does others. There is not rest for this exhaustion. Just another almost. And I worry that I’m slipping into a protective case. Why care or expect or anticipate if almost will be my reward. Which I’m sure leads to not-even-close instead of almost. Maybe that would be better though.

A regular Tuesday turned into one of those moments where I get quizzical looks as though I have said something wholly bizarre. While enjoying a few drinks with a friend, the topic of past relationships came up. She is about to get married and was surprised I wasn’t. Her conclusion was that she and I are both better off because we aren’t with the people from our past. 

I disagreed. And got that look. Yes, I do have people in my past who I might be better off without. But I can really only think of two. One because they ended up becoming a person I don’t think I would be able to recognize as the person I dated in high school (happens often I suspect). Another because they were generally mean and thoughtless regarding how they treated me. Neither of us were in good places at the time, so I suspect we are both better off. 

But overall, I’m not sure I am better off without the others in my life. In one sense, I suppose I would not have met people I subsequently fell in love with. But I’m not sure that’s better off. The people that I have loved I love. Not actively per se, but they made me who I am. I guess I have only dated people that I respect and enjoy as people? That shouldn’t be too uncommon I hope. 

I’m glad I was with the people I have been with. Part of me wishes I could be with them still of course. Not to the point where my life is governed by that loss, but still I think I’m better off for having been with them and loved them. I hope that I equally made a positive impact on them. Unlikely because I’m the one that is left, but I hope anyway.