Getting in Tune

  No, I'm not talking about my musical skills, which are pretty limited, though I'm trying to change that. I'm talking about perspective, my continued theme from last week. I have spent several months now working on my goals, while still sticking with the status quo which allows me to earn money while I'm trying to get the rest of this stuff in order. You gotta make some sacrifices (e.g. selling out) to get what you really want (e.g. making a living doing what I enjoy).
    Sidenote/bonus: the inspiration for my post title, and arguably the greatest band in rock and roll history: THE WHO.

    I'll admit, I've become a little despondent about my progress. I'm still enjoying working on my own projects, but I feel like my present track has hit a plateau in terms of progress toward my ultimate goals. It's been very frustrating to have the feeling that I've worked so hard and accomplished so much, while having so little to show for it.
    I feel like I need to revise my strategy, but I feel like everything is running at such a fast pace right now that I don't have quite enough time to reevaluate everything I've been working on to find a way to do it better. It's extremely frustrating to know that you're on a plateau in terms of results and productivity and not having the time to be able to improve it. If I were to stop work on these projects completely to strategize, I'd fall far enough behind that even if I came up with a better strategy, it'd take a lot longer to implement and might even undo some of the progress I've made so far.
    I have scaled back my work on a few things because I was on the verge of burn-out a few weeks ago, and it seems to have helped me get back on track a little bit, but I'm still not where I want to be with these projects. I believe in hard work, and I know nothing comes easy. I just wish I didn't also have to deal with everybody else around me trampling on my goals so that I can become their version of a productive member of society. I'm working on that in my own way with my projects; it's just a process that takes longer, and while more fulfilling, can take a long time to be lucrative, if it ever is.

    The argument against me is: you have to be realistic. You have to have a car. You have to have a place to live. You have to eat. Granted, I do have to eat, but I don't absolutely have to have a car. And if you want to get right down to it, I'd probably survive even if I didn't have a place to live.
    Case in point: I just saw a post about award-winning actors who were once homeless. And then they worked really hard for a few years, caught a break, worked really hard some more, and won an Oscar, a Golden Globe, etc.
    This was inspiring to me. Not that I want to deliberately live out of my car until such a point as I'm successful with my writing, but if these people made it to where they are after living out of their cars or at a bus station or whatever, there's hope for the rest of us with dreams. There are no hand-outs. We all have to put in the work, the perseverance, and the time to get to where we want to be.
    Sometimes that means we have to make sacrifices, and sometimes it means we have to do things that our families and friends disapprove of in order to achieve our dreams. Of course, looking like Halle Berry probably wouldn't hurt.

Success is simply getting up one more time than you fall down. 

(I attribute this to a wall-sign in Jerry Maguire,
but I'm not sure where it came from originally.)

Sweet Exhaustion - Er, Victory

  What a rough month! Writing this novel was like pulling teeth! Truly a labor of love, I guess. Novel completed just a short while ago, with the final word count at: 50,748, based on Nano's word counter (MS Word is about a hundred or so words extra--though I have no idea where it could possibly be pulling them from...). Winner's badge now on the sidebar, and doesn't it look so snazzy ;)
    Surprises: My main character got married--something I never thought she'd do. She also ended up with the guy I didn't think she was going to end up with. I managed to make the best friend pregnant, instead of the main character like I usually do for whatever reason--it is an excellent word count padding technique when used appropriately, though. And I finished! This was the first year I doubted finishing, just a little, though I was determined to finish anyway, come hell or high water. I'm just a little surprised i finished because I had to write the last 25 thousand words within the last week alone because I had fallen so far behind during the earlier part of the month.
    In other news, work just got really busy! I felt like I've been hit with something new to add to my to-do list almost by the hour, and the to-dos I had at the beginning of the week are now being pushed further and further down the list. But, I'm always glad to be busy than unbusy! My boss hesitated to ask me to write a 1400 word piece (or rather, several of them) yesterday, and I was like, 1400 words? No sweat. I'm about to reach 50k on a novel. Now that I have, I no longer fear word count. I never really was bothered by it before--I only hesitated if it was a topic I wasn't too familiar with. But now, I really have no fear of it. 1000 words? Five? Ten, you say? Let me at 'em!
    I feel like I've become inordinately cheesy, and I'm going to blame some of the people I've been dealing with at work recently. Cheesy and clever are not the same thing, and I hope that because I'm able to recognize the difference, I will be able to strike the cheesy element down and continue with my previous quippy, sarcastic, and hopefully occasionally humorous tone.
    While I'm not counting my chickens on new winner's goodies from Nano this year, I'm hoping for something new that I will actually put to use this time. Free stuff is always best, but discounts are ok if it's on something I really want. I have not taken advantage of my winner's goodies too much in the past, and I'd like to do so this year, but only if it doesn't make me feel poor or irresponsible for buying something I don't really need...
    Also, getting better at skiing. I've been twice, and despite the cold and wind, I think I'm improving. I've been told I'm improving. However, I may have been told a few too many times, because the first day I went up, I did so great on the bunny hill, that I thought I was ready for a regular hill. Unfortunately I was taken up the highest damn hill they had open, and my overconfidence and decreased fear of falling got me going WAY too fast and I couldn't stop. I wiped out hard, broke my goggles, and got a nosebleed. I didn't break my nose or my leg or anything, and didn't get a concussion, I don't think, but that was terrifying. I think I better stick to the bunny hill a few more days before I take on another hill. (Also, icy conditions plus me as a beginner do not mix.) In any case, I don't think my fall ruined me. Just humbled me. It's the boyfriend/teacher's fault--he kept saying how good I was doing. And picked the large hill with the never ending chair lift ride.
    Anyway, Happy End of November to All, and to all a good night! And if you participated in no shave November this year, shave!

My eyes are killing me. 

A nap, perchance... 

Then again, hockey's on! 

What else is new with you? Did you participate in Nano? Did you win? 

Have you had unseasonally early snowfall in your neck of the woods? 

Whatever. Comments are open!

I'm Trying

  "I'm trying" is one of the weakest phrases in the English language. I feel pathetic for even repeating it here. Twice. And yet it seems so fitting for so many situations. Falling behind in your work--hey, I'm trying. Can't quite make dinner and go to the gym in the same night--I'm trying. Keeping a straight face (or worse, a smiling face) when everything around you seems to be crumbling--I'm trying. Trying is useless. Either you do something, or you don't. You succeed, or you fail. You win, or you lose. Don't mistake this for making things black and white. They're not. They never are, even though things would be so much easier if they were. But when it comes to doing things, either you catch up with your work, or you don't. You find time to go to the gym and get dinner for the family, or you don't. You smile through the pain, or you make a sour face and grumble every time anyone speaks to you.
    I suck at hiding things, so on the last one, depending on who I have to smile for, I will fail more often than not. I also suck at multi-tasking. We are all much more efficient when our minds only have to focus on one thing. Right now, I'm writing. My writing would not be coming out quite so coherently were I also trying to check my social media, read other people's blogs, and eat dinner at the same time. With that, I fail quite a bit. And generally, I'm ok with it. We all fail from time to time. I prefer failing when no one's looking, and the only one to judge my failure is me, but it's not a perfect world. I also succeed a fair amount of the time. I get something done sooner than I anticipated. I managed to keep everyone ignorant of the fact that I'm totally full of shit. I finished a blog post. There are plenty of things I succeed at every day.
    But these little successes are almost never enough to carry you through the failures. When we fail, we fail big. Or at least, it always seems a lot bigger when it happens. The guilt comes up and the criticism starts, and the derogation sets in, and then someone else says something about it. One small criticism from someone else, even if they said it in good faith or to be constructive, can hurt and shock our confidence a lot worse than any of the horrible, self-deprecating things we can come up with to chastise ourselves. We are our own worst enemy when it comes to failure, because sometimes, a lot of times, it turns out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, but all the hurtful things we say to ourselves when we catch a mistake or when we fail to do something are flesh wounds compared to the hemorrhaging killshots other people can fire at us. "I'm such an idiot, you say to to yourself, how could I forget to do that?" pales in comparison to "You didn't do that? All right, who wants to do that instead?"
    The best we can do is not let other people get to us. Easier said than done, I know. Boy, do I know it. But if we're going to end up in therapy, it should be because we're crazy, we're complicated, we're off our rockers; not because someone else drove us crazy, complicated us, or snatched the rockers out from under us (no idea if that is the correct contextual use of rocker here, but, moving on). Everything always seems like a big deal when it first happens. But the part that we control is how quickly it shrinks into something forgettable. We just need to learn to accelerate the forgetting process so we get over stuff quicker. The impact of the incident will increase the time it takes to forget it, but self-analysis and self-awareness are always helpful.
    PS: I MAYBE finally found an apartment. I agreed to sublet it, but I still have to sign papers and write checks and what-not. But agreeing and setting a move-in date seems reasonable to start honestly hoping. Thanks, Universe. I needed that one today. :)

Do, or do not. There is no try.

These Vagabond Shoes

  I was torn as to whether I should write about the quandary of an apartment search I'm still having, or whether to write about a piece of nostalgia I experienced recently. Since I think I will probably manage to wax a little more poetic with the latter, that's where we're headed.
    The little piece of nostalgia I experienced happened at the movie theater last weekend, where I saw 4, count 'em 4, movies. One of which was Friends with Benefits, which takes place in New York City. I had no idea of this as I entered the theater, considering they played up the Hollywood sign scene in the previews so much, but I was elated when I discovered it took place in Old New York. While it doesn't evince the "New York State of Mind" quality that some movies do, When Harry Met Sally or pretty much any Ed Burns directed movie, it prickled at my nostalgia nonetheless. A few years ago, though now it seems much more distant than that, I was going to move to new york. I was going to move there after I finished high school, go to college there, become a big-city girl, find my dream job, fall in love, and publish one of my damn novels if it was the last thing I did.
    Obviously, things didn't quite pan out that way. I stayed in state for college. I have a good job, but not the job I imagined having once I was college-graduated and big-dream bound--publishing, advertising, law office, basically somewhere where you wear a suit and high heels and carry a briefcase and drink martinis after work at happy hour. I live in what I would classify as a large town, as opposed to a world-renowned metropolitan city. I fell in love when I was seventeen (it was a very good year), and I am still unpublished, except for the musings and ramblings I post here at Insistent and Persistent.
    The world sure looks different now compared to when I was 15. I can't imagine having such a competitive job and wearing high heels every day. But I still imagine what my life would be like if I had done what the 15-year-old version of myself wanted me to do. I would probably be living in a crappy apartment, making more money than I am now--but because of the housing costs in Manhattan, it wouldn't really feel like I was making more money. I would probably be reading and watching a lot of movies, which is much of what I do in my spare time here. I would be alone, because I'm afraid of going out by myself to meet people. I wouldn't be friends with my neighbors, or hanging out and getting to know the bartenders and the regulars at a local watering hole. I'm way too shy for that. And considering the types of neighbors I might have, not getting to know them might be for the best.
    It's interesting to think about where you thought you'd be and where you ended up by that age. Things definitely don't work out the way you expected them to. Ever. But I always wonder if that's because life gets screwed up and derailed from time to time, throwing a wrench in your perfect, if not perfectly thought out, plans, or if it's really because you never had the balls to try something terrifying like moving to a city where you don't know anyone and trying, not just to survive, but to succeed.
    I think it's probably a little bit of both--we all know how indecisive i can be, and this is no exception. I think if I put the effort into looking for a job there, I could get one. It might take me a while, but I think I could do it. The apartment might be tougher, but I'd figure something out, even if it meant, god forbid, living in Jersey for a few months. But, we come to the "if it ain't broke" adage in which we reason that: I already have a job, I have a place to stay even if it isn't ideal, I have a relationship, and I'm making it on my own, for the most part. Why would I give all this up for a shot at some pipe-dream nostalgic fancy that's lingered on for eight years? (Eight--god that makes me feel old.)
    The fact is, I wouldn't. Not now. If one of those things seriously fell into disarray, I might revisit the idea. But my life, despite all the complaining I do, is actually going pretty well. The "grass is greener" ideology only applies when the grass on this side of the fence is no longer green, as opposed to when it's green, but not as lush and deliciously deep green as the grass on the other side of the fence.
    So, New York, you'll have to wait. Maybe someday I will meet you again and take you by storm, dazzling you and all your big-wig, pompous, New-Yorker-reading, nicotine-saturated echelon with my brilliance. But for now, I will daydream and write and imagine that you are still as beautiful and chaotic and interesting as you were the last time I saw you all those years ago.

If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere.

Skiing: A Review

I went skiing yesterday for the first time ever. And I'd like to share that experience since I don't really have much else to talk about today.
    First, I had planned on heading home Thursday evening, but I had a paper to write for one of my classes, so I thought I would have more success with it if I stayed at my apartment and headed up Friday morning. I wrote my paper, after several hours and much tribulation and effort, and sent it in to my teacher. I took my time a little more than I intended on Friday morning, but finally I got all my stuff together and headed home. I waited for my boyfriend, who's the skiing expert that was going to teach me a few things, to come pick me up to head up to mountains. He was late, as usual, due to bad traffic, as usual.
    Around 1:30 in the afternoon (bear in mind, the ski resort closes at 4pm), we left. We stopped to get Chipotle, so I wouldn't starve all afternoon after all that extra exertion that I'm not used to, and then we were really on our way. When we finally got there, it was about 3pm, giving him an hour, or so, to teach me the basics. We bought a lift ticket off of someone in the parking lot who was finished for the day--this is common practice, I gathered, but I felt somewhat guilty nonetheless--and we went to get in line for the chair lift. (Just my luck, the Bunny Hill was closed, so I had no choice but to go down a regular run with everyone else.)

Photo from the Road Up to the Ski Resort

    The second I got my boots locked onto my skis, I felt I'd made a huge mistake. I couldn't stand still because they kept slipping around, and I didn't think I'd ever be able to control my legs enough to get down the entire hill. I could barely move my feet to get the skis pointed in the right direction, and the ski lift was beginning to look terrifying. The chairs at least were chair level, so all you had to do was sit down. Mission accomplished. But on the long ride up the hill, the ground's distance below me varying from a few feet to nearly 20 feet, my anxiety kicked in and I started to cry. I had no confidence in myself at all that I'd be able to get off the chair lift once we got to the top, and I'd just keep going around and around until they stopped it and I could get off.
    My only frame of reference for the chair lift experience was movies and TV, and in those, the people usually jumped from the chair to the ground which was several feet below. I was afraid I'd jump and break an ankle or something, or worse, tumble back down the hill. However, I soon learned that my fears were completely unfounded and, in fact, ridiculous because when you get off the chair, the ground is right at your feet. You don't have to jump at all. You just have to get out of the way before the chair knocks you over. Crisis one: resolved. Except I did fall after getting off the chair lift. The only time that day that I fell accidentally. The other times, I fell on purpose so I wouldn't get going too fast and lose control.

Another Photo on the Way Up

    The next thing was getting down the run. The first part was very straight and not steep at all, so I felt ok. Not confident, but at least not terrified. I managed to get to the end of the straight stretch mostly unscathed and still standing, for the most part. However, there was a turn at the end of it, which was not only terrifying, but seemingly impossible.
    I won't go through every detail of the entire exercise of my first experience on skis, as this post would probably be twice as long, so I'll skip ahead. I finally made it about halfway down the mountain, though I walked across one part that was particularly ominous and steep, before the ski patrol people wanted us off the mountain since they were closing for the day, and they called a snowmobile to take me the rest of the way down the hill. This was probably for the best, as I would have been there another half hour trying to go by myself because I refused to go any faster than a slow skid.

All these were taken in the car, since I left my phone in the car, not wanting to break it from falling so many times.

     So, two panic attacks, about half a dozen falls, and over an hour later, I was at the bottom again. I skied for the first time, and rode a snowmobile for the first time, both in one day. I was pretty pleased with myself. Despite my terror, the unpleasant wind, and the fact that I am sore pretty much everywhere today--in muscles I had no idea I used--I think I'll be heading back up to the mountain. The season is pretty much over now, but there's always next year. But when that time comes, I will definitely be going on a day when the damn Bunny Hill is open.

Fear: check. No broken bones: check. I think it's safe to call that a success.