Sometimes Just [censored] It

Originally posted at arashafshar.substack.com/p/sometimes-just-censored-it
​May 10, 2024

Possibly due to the 13 years it took to bring me into the world after my brother, a feeling I've maintained about my childhood has been one of my parents’ overprotectiveness. I feel like any attempt I made at taking risks was responded with aversion and panic. One of the ways in which this sheltered upbringing manifested itself in my adulthood was a constant need for reassurance with anything that involved figuring out something with my hands and tools. "Is this ok? Am I doing this right? Should I be using this screwdriver or this other one?" For the majority of my life, I was petrified of doing something incorrectly so I'd just simply not even try. This realization was one of many I had at my first Burning Man.


The reason I was able to easily shrug off the rainstorms of 2024's Mud Man was that my very first Burning Man was also one marked with lots of rain. My first one was the year where folks were stuck in their cars out on Gate Road for over 24 hours before even being able to get into the event. For those of us early access pass holders already inside, we were figuring out how to make due with the messed up roads we'd have to deal with for the rest of the week.


Inside our camp, I'd watch my campmate, Boone, hammering and fixing things. Boone's human form is, in oh so many ways, the opposite of mine. He is naturally powerful and seems to have grown straight out of the Earth. So far as I've surmised, he can build and fix pretty much anything. Without him knowing so, I spent a lot of my first burn asking him for permission to do things. On one occasion, as he was hammering down some hardened playa mud around camp, I asked if it would be helpful to utilize one tool over another. This inquiry was responded with snark by he and his partner, which lead me to a huge realization. By not trying to do it myself and constantly asking, I was giving the impression that I was sitting around and giving orders. I was mortified that that's how I was coming off. So I started giving myself permission to do things wrong and be ok with being corrected. To try it first rather than always be asking if I’m allowed to.


And so it was that I began internalizing Burning Man's most important lesson: Try. In this environment and with these people, it's ok to fuck up. We're all kind of a mess anyway. Give it a swing and if it's not perfect, we'll have a great story to share over a beer later. At one point, while Boone was teaching me how to jerry-rig some part of our shade structure, I noticed we were using metallic connectors that didn't match the poles. I asked if we're doing this right. "Sometimes just fuck it," he responded.


Over the past decade, it's safe for me to say that I repeat those words to myself at least two or three time a week. When I get in my head about something being perfect, when I find myself obsessing about the most efficient way to carry some heavy things up the stairs, if I'm nitpicking how to strap something down or if I'm editing a podcast or a photo and I catch myself fixating on some collection of pixels… When faced with these little idiosyncrasies, I'll just repeat Boone’s words to myself: Sometimes just fuck it. I’ll just finish the thing and move on. Sometimes done is better than perfect.


Today I hit publish on episode 150 of Burner Podcast. Every previous episode has been an improved interview and this one is my first time releasing a fully scripted piece of audio. As I listened to the final mp3 one last time, multiple things yelled out at me. There is a segment where I touch on my complicated relationship with my Iranian-American community and I feel like I dropped the ball on closing the loop, so it comes off as if I have nothing positive at all to say about my heritage. In another segment, I noted trailing off a bit too long on an analogy which I'm not sure I brought back around to the topic at hand in a sensical manner, so I worried that it might seem to some as if I totally randomly brought up my profession for no reason. Additionally, even though I'm pretty sure every story shared and every person mentioned has been shared and referenced on many previous episodes, it feels as if there is an added weight due to this episode having a pre-formatted narrative structure, even if said structure was thrown together only a day before recording. "It's not like I'm publishing an audiobook," I had to keep reminding myself. It is simply another episode of the show I've already been doing - just a little spiced up. With the final nudge of one final thumbs up from my very own organizational psychologist PHD on infinite retainer, I decided to hold my nose and take the leap. Sometimes just fuck it.


It won't be absolutely perfect. It has holes. It may poke some people the wrong way. But sometimes just fuck it. You can't know how a thing will change once its out there in the world until you let it go.


This episode is, to some extent, a bit of a test balloon. I really enjoyed doing it. It took a lot longer but I think the sum of the parts, a combination of writing and recording, was more artistically satisfying than the individual components on their own. I'm eager to go deeper into this process. This is to say, if you're digging it, keep an ear out for the forthcoming Yesterday I Was Clever Podcast, where I'll be doing more scripted audio things.
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burnerpodcast.com/previous-episodes/150