We all make mistakes. It's a natural part of life. Unfortunately, I recently had one of those moments while behind the wheel. It was a rainy Monday afternoon and my husband and I were randomly driving around in a small community not far from where we live. I was looking at street signs, trying to figure out where to turn next, rather than noticing a stop sign. Oops. Crazy thing is, I actually noticed the creepy looking cop car parked there as I checked the intersection and slowly made my turn.
A moment later I heard the infamous, "Whoop, whoop," and saw the flashing lights in my rear view mirror. I've been pulled over several times in the past, each time for not doing anything wrong. Once, the guy was just bored and pulled me over with the lousy excuse that one of my back lights might go out soon. The next couple times were for headlights that were out. I get the fact that safety is the most important thing on the road, but is it really necessary to give drivers heart attacks?
Here's the thing, the car that pulled me over this time, was one of those angry looking black mustangs. The point of having police is to maintain order, and to protect people when something bad happens. Unfortunately, these days, seeing an officer is more likely to induce fear than a feeling of safety. Even if I know I'm doing everything right when I'm driving, I instantly get nervous when I see them out there. It's kind of sad really.
I'm not normally political in any way shape or form, but I must admit I'm getting a little tired of being overly regulated. Shouldn't we be smart enough to do things like wearing seat belts, and not writing text messages while we're driving without having to have laws about all these things? I mean, honestly, I don't think we should have to be scared that the police out there are looking at us all like we're probably going to be doing something criminal. I'd rather have them doing service projects than parking on the side of the road with their radar guns out trying to fill quotas.
I completed online traffic school today, really the only option with my current work/life schedule. I can appreciate that I did something wrong, and therefore have to pay for it. It sucked, and wasted a few hours, but it is important to stop at stop signs, and I do want to do that. I just wish we could all be treated like we're responsible adults, rather than feeling like some one is out there, just hoping we'll do something wrong so they can pull us over and feel powerful.
Rant complete :)
Showing posts with label Fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fear. Show all posts
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Thursday, October 6, 2011
The Challenge
Technically, I suppose you could say I'm putting things off. My blog is not some sort of money producing tool. Sure, every now and then I look at the "monetize" tab at the top of my display and wonder... At the moment I have a massive "10 followers," whatever that means. Not quite sure I'll amass a great and grand following even amongst family and friends. Do they know I have a blog? Yes. Do some of them check it at least fairly regularly? Sure. But that's about as far as it go. All the same I keep coming back, feeling some urge to write about this life of mine in a public format. Silly me. Perhaps it's because I know no one will ever be able to read my journals. I want some sort of proof that I existed in legible form. It's a thought.
But back to the challenge topic.
It's wonderful to have someone who believes in your dreams. This is especially true when you have trouble believing in them yourself. Naturally with the death of someone as memorably visible in most American if not international households as Steve Jobs, everyone is thinking about creative genius, and watching the you tube video of his speech to look for inspiration. If you haven't taken the time to sit down and listen, it really is worth it. His thoughts on living life to the fullest and being who you really are have a spine tingling effect.
I'm not expecting to wake up some morning and find myself suddenly in possession of a great financial fortune. I don't buy lottery tickets, and the likelihood of all those Publishers Clearinghouse ad things I file ever paying off...well, let's just say it's unlikely. But I do have dreams. I have dreams of writing something that people will read. I have dreams of using the gift I've been given to share with people in some way. However, except for the people who know me well, or those who randomly happen across my internet ramblings, I'll never achieve any of those goals if I don't just sit down and write something. And beyond that, if I remain afraid and never send my writing out, no one is going to just come to me and say, "Hey Sarah, I was thinking that maybe you'd like me to take all those stories from inside your head and make them into books that people can hold in their hands or read on their handheld devices." It. Just. Won't. Happen.
I suppose the easiest thing to do is to just have a dream. You can take it out and pet it every once in a while. You can blow on the dying embers in a moment of passionate thought, and be warmed by the very idea of your dreams. But they won't get you anywhere if you don't act on them.
I can be very like Alice. "I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it." Lewis Carroll, for all his undoubtedly drug tripping ways, really knew how to pack a punch, or speak directly to my problem. I'm loaded with thoughts and ideas. I have advice to hand out in bunches to anyone who asks. When it comes to my personal life goals and dreams, however, I get all tripped up and fumbly.
As I mentioned before, it's really good to have someone who believes in your dreams. My wonderful husband is just that person. He has done everything in his power to try to inspire me to write. He comes at it from different angles than I would, and there are times when i just don't know how to take his advice, but I know he gives it because he loves me and he wants to see me really live. He wants to see me achieve the dreams that he knows are in my heart.
So this past weekend when we were away for a couple of days he gave me a challenge. It was a serious challenge, and not one to be taken lightly. I even went so far as to shake on it, turning it into a promise. Breaking promises? Really NOT my thing. On October first he gave me 90 days to write a novel. NINETY DAYS. That's not a whole lot. Now, there will still be room for editing and revising and all that jazz, but on January first he wants me to have a completed manuscript. And if I follow through, he has promised to do everything he can to help me with the marketing aspects, which is an area I where I really struggle.
Challenge accepted, now to get down to it. For the past few days I've been mulling things over. I've always got a little back stash of story ideas floating around. He told me it couldn't be something I've already been working on. I have at least two novels that I've made a considerable amount of headway with, and could easily tie up over the next three months. But no, this has to be something all new.
I believe I've finally settled on the winner, and now I just have to get it done. I know it won't be easy. I know, especially with my new job challenges, that most days I'll feel like I have no time, and no drive to get it done. But there are to be no excuses on January first. The new year is going to start with something big.
Failure is something that scares me to the very core. I've always done everything in my power not to fail. Every new rejection eats away at me and makes me curl up in the fetal position. I don't know if I'll be able to whip out Pulitzer Prize material, or even something worthy of a Newberry Honor Medal, in 90 days. That's not the point. Writing is one of those things that is stitched into the very fabric of my being. Now I just have to prove to him and to myself that I really can put my actions where my mouth is.
Here's to the challenge!
But back to the challenge topic.
It's wonderful to have someone who believes in your dreams. This is especially true when you have trouble believing in them yourself. Naturally with the death of someone as memorably visible in most American if not international households as Steve Jobs, everyone is thinking about creative genius, and watching the you tube video of his speech to look for inspiration. If you haven't taken the time to sit down and listen, it really is worth it. His thoughts on living life to the fullest and being who you really are have a spine tingling effect.
I'm not expecting to wake up some morning and find myself suddenly in possession of a great financial fortune. I don't buy lottery tickets, and the likelihood of all those Publishers Clearinghouse ad things I file ever paying off...well, let's just say it's unlikely. But I do have dreams. I have dreams of writing something that people will read. I have dreams of using the gift I've been given to share with people in some way. However, except for the people who know me well, or those who randomly happen across my internet ramblings, I'll never achieve any of those goals if I don't just sit down and write something. And beyond that, if I remain afraid and never send my writing out, no one is going to just come to me and say, "Hey Sarah, I was thinking that maybe you'd like me to take all those stories from inside your head and make them into books that people can hold in their hands or read on their handheld devices." It. Just. Won't. Happen.
I suppose the easiest thing to do is to just have a dream. You can take it out and pet it every once in a while. You can blow on the dying embers in a moment of passionate thought, and be warmed by the very idea of your dreams. But they won't get you anywhere if you don't act on them.
I can be very like Alice. "I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it." Lewis Carroll, for all his undoubtedly drug tripping ways, really knew how to pack a punch, or speak directly to my problem. I'm loaded with thoughts and ideas. I have advice to hand out in bunches to anyone who asks. When it comes to my personal life goals and dreams, however, I get all tripped up and fumbly.
As I mentioned before, it's really good to have someone who believes in your dreams. My wonderful husband is just that person. He has done everything in his power to try to inspire me to write. He comes at it from different angles than I would, and there are times when i just don't know how to take his advice, but I know he gives it because he loves me and he wants to see me really live. He wants to see me achieve the dreams that he knows are in my heart.
So this past weekend when we were away for a couple of days he gave me a challenge. It was a serious challenge, and not one to be taken lightly. I even went so far as to shake on it, turning it into a promise. Breaking promises? Really NOT my thing. On October first he gave me 90 days to write a novel. NINETY DAYS. That's not a whole lot. Now, there will still be room for editing and revising and all that jazz, but on January first he wants me to have a completed manuscript. And if I follow through, he has promised to do everything he can to help me with the marketing aspects, which is an area I where I really struggle.
Challenge accepted, now to get down to it. For the past few days I've been mulling things over. I've always got a little back stash of story ideas floating around. He told me it couldn't be something I've already been working on. I have at least two novels that I've made a considerable amount of headway with, and could easily tie up over the next three months. But no, this has to be something all new.
I believe I've finally settled on the winner, and now I just have to get it done. I know it won't be easy. I know, especially with my new job challenges, that most days I'll feel like I have no time, and no drive to get it done. But there are to be no excuses on January first. The new year is going to start with something big.
Failure is something that scares me to the very core. I've always done everything in my power not to fail. Every new rejection eats away at me and makes me curl up in the fetal position. I don't know if I'll be able to whip out Pulitzer Prize material, or even something worthy of a Newberry Honor Medal, in 90 days. That's not the point. Writing is one of those things that is stitched into the very fabric of my being. Now I just have to prove to him and to myself that I really can put my actions where my mouth is.
Here's to the challenge!
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
One of THOSE days...
Ever have one of those days when things just don't go right? It's like everything is just off kilter and bound and determined to get nothing but worse. Now, I've known a lot of people lately who've had ridiculous bad days. The kind where you wake up and expect normal, but by day's end someone you love is no longer in this world. It's been one of those years of death actually. Haven't known so many people that have died since 2003-04. (sigh) I certainly don't want to trivialize that sort of bad day with the kind I had on Saturday, but it was a doozy all the same.
It started out okay, pretty well even. Mark and I hit up some garage sales (something he's become quite fond of both hosting and visiting this summer) and we made a great find. A Foosball table in excellent condition. And not some wimpy little one, but a serious (heavy) one. So we had a little Christmas in September, and handed over the cash. It definitely wasn't going to fit in our little Milan, so we headed back to Moscow (all the sales were in Pullman today, due to the fair being the star event in Moscow this weekend) to borrow my Dad's truck.
While we were back at the house I had a little time. It felt good to sit be still for a while after getting up at 6 to check the sales, and I decided to check e-mail. I don't get much by way of exciting e-mail anymore these days. It seems most people now resort to facebook messages rather than actual letters (the paper kind obviously having fallen out of fashion years ago with the astronomical rise of stamp prices) so my inbox is mostly full of ads. It get lots from wedding sites, despite the fact that my wedding took place over seven months ago, as well as airline ticket companies, Publishers Clearing House, and different survey companies. Today, however, I got a most unfortunate e-mail that really kicked me in the stomach.
Basically I've been saying my entire life that I want to write. I've no doubt been spoiled by the praise of those near and dear to me. I got plenty of recognition in school, and figured I had a handle on the whole writing thing. Naturally, when my sister called me with the idea of joining some freelance writing website it seemed like a no brainer. I checked out a couple and was pretty excited by some of the options. Then I went to check my e-mail after having applied to a decent paying company only to receive a rejection letter.
It's not like this is my first rejection letter. When I was in High school I sent out copies of my manuscript and got a nice handful of the things, but I was aware that they were all unsolicited, and had been expecting rejection. But to have a company try to say nicely that I might have been told in the past that I could write, but it's highly competitive and I just don't have what it takes picked me up and threw me headlong over the edge. The thing is, I know I can do just about anything. Tell me what you want me to do, give me and idea of how to do it, and I'll manage. That's one of the reasons I've always been so irritated when job hunting. I know I can do these jobs, and all my previous employers will gush over me, but that doesn't mean I can manage to get an interview.
The whole episode brought me back to the day when I got a rejection letter from the Simpson acting group. The truth is, I probably would have been irritated by the sort of acting they did. It was all overly theatrical religious skits for chapel, but when I got the letter saying they felt like "God was calling me in a different direction" I was beyond crushed. I was down right angry. So angry that I wrote a letter to the club captain and informed her that she should seriously consider rewording her rejection letters because she had no right to represent herself as being equal with God when deciding what a person should do in life. The sad thing is, I haven't acted since then. Realistic or not, the entire thing put me off, and there really haven't been options since then. And I suppose you could say the rejections in high school put me off trying to publish anything, because I certainly haven't offered up a manuscript to a publisher since then.
It was just a black mark on the day. The sort of thing that's hard to shake. Mark and my parents were fabulous in trying to make me feel better and encouraging me to try again, but the truth is, a letter like that makes me lose the desire completely. Sure, there's another company that I can work for, but they pay an tiny fraction of the price and require three versions of every article. I'm the girl who didn't ever write drafts in college. They were a waste of time. Why write something over and over when you can do a great job the first time? Utterly pointless in my book. I know I should probably make myself do it, but it's really tough to force the issue.
After that it was hard to motivate myself to go and pick up the Foosball table. I wanted to sit in my chair and cry at my computer for the rest of the day. But we'd already given them the money. So we hopped in the truck and headed out. Unfortunately, the gas tank was empty so we had to put in a few gallons. I had the brilliant plan that I'd just add $10. It would be plenty to get us to Pullman and back. I asked Mark to pump for me, and I went inside to prepay. Nice idea, right? I mean, what station out there actually lets you pump before you pay without putting in your credit card first? I can't remember the last time I had that happen. Well, apparently the Moscow Chevron is a different sort of place. The trusting type you could say.
After waiting several minutes for the attendant to show up behind the counter, and then waiting a bit longer while she served the man in front of me, I was blown away when I told her to put $10 on 5 and she informed me that it was already more than that. Come again? Apparently, she'd been feeling extra helpful and just started it up without waiting to see if I was going to prepay. I rushed right out and shouted for Mark to stop the gas, but it was already up to $30. I. Was. So. Angry. I could scarcely contain myself. It was like adding expensive insult to crushed dream injury. I wanted to shout at the girl and ask her what she was going to do if all I had was $10. I mean, seriously. I was shaking and trying my best to talk politely, and assure her that I realize it wasn't her fault, nor was it Mark's fault. Most likely the whole mess was my fault. But I REALLY didn't want to throw away that much money at that moment. Not cool.
All this led to me just being a mess for the rest of the day. We got the Foosball table home, and after an immense amount of effort managed to get it into the basement. We won't talk about when it slipped out of my hands while we had it on its side to get through the door, or how my back is still not too pleased with how heavy the whole ordeal was. We just have to be happy that we have the beast. Not to mention how we had enough gas in the truck to drive up Moscow Mountain and have a romantic walk on our 7 month anniversary. (okay, so I didn't actually realize Monday was our anniversary until the next day. It also happened to be inventory day at work, meaning I was up at 4:15 AM in order to count a bunch of stuff. Not my favorite time of day.) Some days really are better to just put in the past and move on. Sadly, not everything is as easy to walk away from. I'd really been hoping the writing job could help us when we're living in Czech for three months with no jobs, and then returning to the US after, still with no jobs. Don't really have the life savings to fall back on that I had when we came back last time.
In his eloquent way, Mark reminded me that maybe this was all just God trying to wake me up from my every day life so I can start "REALLY" writing. Hard to say. For now I'm just going to do the best I can to keep on going through these days with the hope that some day it'll all come together for us, one way or another. And every day that isn't such a miserable, horrible, no good very bad day needs to be seen as a blessing. And I guess I even need to look for blessings in those icky days too. God does like to play like that every now and again, especially with me it would seem. So it goes.
It started out okay, pretty well even. Mark and I hit up some garage sales (something he's become quite fond of both hosting and visiting this summer) and we made a great find. A Foosball table in excellent condition. And not some wimpy little one, but a serious (heavy) one. So we had a little Christmas in September, and handed over the cash. It definitely wasn't going to fit in our little Milan, so we headed back to Moscow (all the sales were in Pullman today, due to the fair being the star event in Moscow this weekend) to borrow my Dad's truck.
While we were back at the house I had a little time. It felt good to sit be still for a while after getting up at 6 to check the sales, and I decided to check e-mail. I don't get much by way of exciting e-mail anymore these days. It seems most people now resort to facebook messages rather than actual letters (the paper kind obviously having fallen out of fashion years ago with the astronomical rise of stamp prices) so my inbox is mostly full of ads. It get lots from wedding sites, despite the fact that my wedding took place over seven months ago, as well as airline ticket companies, Publishers Clearing House, and different survey companies. Today, however, I got a most unfortunate e-mail that really kicked me in the stomach.
Basically I've been saying my entire life that I want to write. I've no doubt been spoiled by the praise of those near and dear to me. I got plenty of recognition in school, and figured I had a handle on the whole writing thing. Naturally, when my sister called me with the idea of joining some freelance writing website it seemed like a no brainer. I checked out a couple and was pretty excited by some of the options. Then I went to check my e-mail after having applied to a decent paying company only to receive a rejection letter.
It's not like this is my first rejection letter. When I was in High school I sent out copies of my manuscript and got a nice handful of the things, but I was aware that they were all unsolicited, and had been expecting rejection. But to have a company try to say nicely that I might have been told in the past that I could write, but it's highly competitive and I just don't have what it takes picked me up and threw me headlong over the edge. The thing is, I know I can do just about anything. Tell me what you want me to do, give me and idea of how to do it, and I'll manage. That's one of the reasons I've always been so irritated when job hunting. I know I can do these jobs, and all my previous employers will gush over me, but that doesn't mean I can manage to get an interview.
The whole episode brought me back to the day when I got a rejection letter from the Simpson acting group. The truth is, I probably would have been irritated by the sort of acting they did. It was all overly theatrical religious skits for chapel, but when I got the letter saying they felt like "God was calling me in a different direction" I was beyond crushed. I was down right angry. So angry that I wrote a letter to the club captain and informed her that she should seriously consider rewording her rejection letters because she had no right to represent herself as being equal with God when deciding what a person should do in life. The sad thing is, I haven't acted since then. Realistic or not, the entire thing put me off, and there really haven't been options since then. And I suppose you could say the rejections in high school put me off trying to publish anything, because I certainly haven't offered up a manuscript to a publisher since then.
It was just a black mark on the day. The sort of thing that's hard to shake. Mark and my parents were fabulous in trying to make me feel better and encouraging me to try again, but the truth is, a letter like that makes me lose the desire completely. Sure, there's another company that I can work for, but they pay an tiny fraction of the price and require three versions of every article. I'm the girl who didn't ever write drafts in college. They were a waste of time. Why write something over and over when you can do a great job the first time? Utterly pointless in my book. I know I should probably make myself do it, but it's really tough to force the issue.
After that it was hard to motivate myself to go and pick up the Foosball table. I wanted to sit in my chair and cry at my computer for the rest of the day. But we'd already given them the money. So we hopped in the truck and headed out. Unfortunately, the gas tank was empty so we had to put in a few gallons. I had the brilliant plan that I'd just add $10. It would be plenty to get us to Pullman and back. I asked Mark to pump for me, and I went inside to prepay. Nice idea, right? I mean, what station out there actually lets you pump before you pay without putting in your credit card first? I can't remember the last time I had that happen. Well, apparently the Moscow Chevron is a different sort of place. The trusting type you could say.
After waiting several minutes for the attendant to show up behind the counter, and then waiting a bit longer while she served the man in front of me, I was blown away when I told her to put $10 on 5 and she informed me that it was already more than that. Come again? Apparently, she'd been feeling extra helpful and just started it up without waiting to see if I was going to prepay. I rushed right out and shouted for Mark to stop the gas, but it was already up to $30. I. Was. So. Angry. I could scarcely contain myself. It was like adding expensive insult to crushed dream injury. I wanted to shout at the girl and ask her what she was going to do if all I had was $10. I mean, seriously. I was shaking and trying my best to talk politely, and assure her that I realize it wasn't her fault, nor was it Mark's fault. Most likely the whole mess was my fault. But I REALLY didn't want to throw away that much money at that moment. Not cool.
All this led to me just being a mess for the rest of the day. We got the Foosball table home, and after an immense amount of effort managed to get it into the basement. We won't talk about when it slipped out of my hands while we had it on its side to get through the door, or how my back is still not too pleased with how heavy the whole ordeal was. We just have to be happy that we have the beast. Not to mention how we had enough gas in the truck to drive up Moscow Mountain and have a romantic walk on our 7 month anniversary. (okay, so I didn't actually realize Monday was our anniversary until the next day. It also happened to be inventory day at work, meaning I was up at 4:15 AM in order to count a bunch of stuff. Not my favorite time of day.) Some days really are better to just put in the past and move on. Sadly, not everything is as easy to walk away from. I'd really been hoping the writing job could help us when we're living in Czech for three months with no jobs, and then returning to the US after, still with no jobs. Don't really have the life savings to fall back on that I had when we came back last time.
In his eloquent way, Mark reminded me that maybe this was all just God trying to wake me up from my every day life so I can start "REALLY" writing. Hard to say. For now I'm just going to do the best I can to keep on going through these days with the hope that some day it'll all come together for us, one way or another. And every day that isn't such a miserable, horrible, no good very bad day needs to be seen as a blessing. And I guess I even need to look for blessings in those icky days too. God does like to play like that every now and again, especially with me it would seem. So it goes.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Wasting Away
Time. It's one of those things that are just so difficult to gauge. There are times when it seems to fly due to busyness. There aren't enough hours in the day to get all the things done that need to be taken care of. There are other times when you realize it's disappeared but nothing has really been accomplished.
I always find it interesting at the beginning of any experience when days are easily measured. When I start a new job, move some place new, start a new project, each day really feels like an accomplishment. I can tell you the number or days, or even hours, that I've been tackling a certain task. But generally after a week or two the blur factor sets in. It's no longer so easy to separate what happens from one day to the next, and suddenly six months have passed.
I've fallen into one of those slumps where the days seem to evaporate before my eyes, I feel like I'm working hard on "something" but I can't really tell exactly what. Partly I'm filling out pointless job applications seeing as how I never get a call back. I find myself caught in momentary bursts of inspiration, only to notice several days later that nothing seems to have come of it all.
I've also experienced a strange sort of disconnect with life. While I seem to have gotten back into the swing of blogging, my e-mail in-boxes are jam packed with messages I don't even know how to deal with. Not only are there still pages of ads and such that are tied to wedding planning (sign up for one helpful service and suddenly they're all after you) and job applications, but there are also letters from friends that I should find some way to respond to, but somehow don't seem capable of doing it. It's not even that I don't have time, but that I seem incapable of knowing where to even start, so I just don't start.
I think that's a good way to look at my life right now in general. There are so many things I could be doing, but I just get so overwhelmed by the sheer number of possibilities that I don't do much of anything. I read a little here, write a little there, help out in the kitchen, but have trouble really assessing what I've managed to do when I get to the end of the day.
I've long been aware that structure is important to my life. I work best when I have a plan and just know what is going to happen next, but I'm at a loss to know how to create a schedule when I have no idea what I really need to be doing. I know I need a job, but seem incapable of making that dream a reality. I know people are going to need food, but find myself craving my easy world where I made myself a fruit salad and felt like I'd done something good because I was happy with it. Everything in my world seems to have turned into some sloppy mess that is, as usual, completely out of my control.
So the time is blurring, and I'm ready to feel like I'm doing something for the greater good and not just sitting around and expanding. (sigh)
I always find it interesting at the beginning of any experience when days are easily measured. When I start a new job, move some place new, start a new project, each day really feels like an accomplishment. I can tell you the number or days, or even hours, that I've been tackling a certain task. But generally after a week or two the blur factor sets in. It's no longer so easy to separate what happens from one day to the next, and suddenly six months have passed.
I've fallen into one of those slumps where the days seem to evaporate before my eyes, I feel like I'm working hard on "something" but I can't really tell exactly what. Partly I'm filling out pointless job applications seeing as how I never get a call back. I find myself caught in momentary bursts of inspiration, only to notice several days later that nothing seems to have come of it all.
I've also experienced a strange sort of disconnect with life. While I seem to have gotten back into the swing of blogging, my e-mail in-boxes are jam packed with messages I don't even know how to deal with. Not only are there still pages of ads and such that are tied to wedding planning (sign up for one helpful service and suddenly they're all after you) and job applications, but there are also letters from friends that I should find some way to respond to, but somehow don't seem capable of doing it. It's not even that I don't have time, but that I seem incapable of knowing where to even start, so I just don't start.
I think that's a good way to look at my life right now in general. There are so many things I could be doing, but I just get so overwhelmed by the sheer number of possibilities that I don't do much of anything. I read a little here, write a little there, help out in the kitchen, but have trouble really assessing what I've managed to do when I get to the end of the day.
I've long been aware that structure is important to my life. I work best when I have a plan and just know what is going to happen next, but I'm at a loss to know how to create a schedule when I have no idea what I really need to be doing. I know I need a job, but seem incapable of making that dream a reality. I know people are going to need food, but find myself craving my easy world where I made myself a fruit salad and felt like I'd done something good because I was happy with it. Everything in my world seems to have turned into some sloppy mess that is, as usual, completely out of my control.
So the time is blurring, and I'm ready to feel like I'm doing something for the greater good and not just sitting around and expanding. (sigh)
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Lost in a Forest...In love with the Greenery
Can't claim the title, it's from a classic song by Poor Old Lu and old favorite of mine. I've always been a sucker for witty lyrics. Okay, maybe not always. I've listened to plenty of drivel to be certain, not to mention all those songs that I even semi-sing along with, but haven't a clue what I'm saying, or what they're saying, or what it would mean even if I did understand what they're saying. It actually gets even funnier when you combine hard to decipher lyrics with non-native English speakers. The Corrs song "Leave me breathless" just might turn into "leave me Bradley"... you just never know.
But that's all quite beside the point. Like I said, I like those lines that make me think more deeply and spin me into thoughts of my own. Back in the day when I was an aspiring artistic e-mail writer, I enjoyed incorporating the lyrics of whatever I was listening to into my letters. I did cite them, no copywrite infringement or anything, but I found it odd how often they were able to express exactly what I was trying to say but somehow coming up short with.
So as I was sitting here in my parent's living room on a Sunday afternoon I had this line flutter into my head and realized it really does suit the mood of my recent days. I won't go into a full break down of all this song could mean, but more just how it hits me at the moment. Right now I sorta feel like I'm stuck in the midst of this sea of possibilities with no idea which way to turn or what to do or how to achieve ANY of it. I love the life I've been blessed to live, the experiences I've been able to have, all the trappings of what has come. But when I have to write out a resume I can see why people might balk a bit at wanting to employ me. My work experience is not only spread across the board of varieties, it's also spread across the globe. My transience is evident as my jobs go from CA to HK to OR to AK to CZ and here I am in ID. Come again? I've been able to experience so much that I'm not suited for anything in there here and now of every day real life.
The truth is, I would love to just be a novelist, to feel content spending hours typing away the ideas in my mind, knowing there was an audience out there chomping at the bit to read what I've come up with. But life is not predictable like that. So instead, I sit here stressing that I can't even get a fresh out of High School job because, in a sense, there's just too much to me.
I've been stateside for a little over four months now, and I've already hit the flee stage. This is where I start trying to figure out what I can do next to get mobile. I watch "House Hunters International" and dream of exotic locations. I have dreams about Hong Kong and the life I lived there, and I can hardly bring myself to even think of my pictures from Czech and the time I spent traipsing about Europe, hanging out in castles and cafes all chalk full of culture.
Then again, there's that part of me that's just begging to...dare I say the irritating word... nest (to be whispered in a hushed voice). I've been in an unsettled state of dwelling since July. And even before that my cozy world was invaded for the school year by a sort of monster that made it impossible to feel at home in my own home. I'm ready for a place where I can put my pictures on the walls, and organize my knickknacks from a life of world traveling and make my statement.
I need focus, balance, purpose, all those good things. I need (ugh) a job. Something to kick me out of the slump and re-energize me. After all, there are all these stories that need to be told, and I'm the one who's meant to tell them.
But that's all quite beside the point. Like I said, I like those lines that make me think more deeply and spin me into thoughts of my own. Back in the day when I was an aspiring artistic e-mail writer, I enjoyed incorporating the lyrics of whatever I was listening to into my letters. I did cite them, no copywrite infringement or anything, but I found it odd how often they were able to express exactly what I was trying to say but somehow coming up short with.
So as I was sitting here in my parent's living room on a Sunday afternoon I had this line flutter into my head and realized it really does suit the mood of my recent days. I won't go into a full break down of all this song could mean, but more just how it hits me at the moment. Right now I sorta feel like I'm stuck in the midst of this sea of possibilities with no idea which way to turn or what to do or how to achieve ANY of it. I love the life I've been blessed to live, the experiences I've been able to have, all the trappings of what has come. But when I have to write out a resume I can see why people might balk a bit at wanting to employ me. My work experience is not only spread across the board of varieties, it's also spread across the globe. My transience is evident as my jobs go from CA to HK to OR to AK to CZ and here I am in ID. Come again? I've been able to experience so much that I'm not suited for anything in there here and now of every day real life.
The truth is, I would love to just be a novelist, to feel content spending hours typing away the ideas in my mind, knowing there was an audience out there chomping at the bit to read what I've come up with. But life is not predictable like that. So instead, I sit here stressing that I can't even get a fresh out of High School job because, in a sense, there's just too much to me.
I've been stateside for a little over four months now, and I've already hit the flee stage. This is where I start trying to figure out what I can do next to get mobile. I watch "House Hunters International" and dream of exotic locations. I have dreams about Hong Kong and the life I lived there, and I can hardly bring myself to even think of my pictures from Czech and the time I spent traipsing about Europe, hanging out in castles and cafes all chalk full of culture.
Then again, there's that part of me that's just begging to...dare I say the irritating word... nest (to be whispered in a hushed voice). I've been in an unsettled state of dwelling since July. And even before that my cozy world was invaded for the school year by a sort of monster that made it impossible to feel at home in my own home. I'm ready for a place where I can put my pictures on the walls, and organize my knickknacks from a life of world traveling and make my statement.
I need focus, balance, purpose, all those good things. I need (ugh) a job. Something to kick me out of the slump and re-energize me. After all, there are all these stories that need to be told, and I'm the one who's meant to tell them.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Almost There...
Oh packing, how do I loathe thee? I'll not count the ways.
To do a thing so tedious would take to many days.
I dream of lofty weight limits, and luggage flown for free,
Of locking you without a fear that they'll safely let you be.
And then there are thoughts about airports, that flutter through my mind,
They seem to do so many things that make peace hard to find.
I do recall much sweeter eras of travel from the past,
When all those hard goodbyes didn't have to come so fast.
But now we all must live in fear of idiots with power,
Dreading the scans, the endless demands, and worries about two hours.
I'm ready just to have it done, and to be safely through,
To leave behind the stress and scales and be "home" fresh and new.
Any ideas what I've been up to today? Not to mention what every waking moment has been focused on for the past week or so. Hard to believe that tomorrow we're heading off. It sounds like we're going to make a night of it. Mark's sister will come in the afternoon to sleep for a few hours, then we're leaving about midnight so we should make it in plenty of time for our departure. Our flight leaves at 5:55, so we have to be there now later than 4. Pray that the road conditions are clear. It's been cold and icy with snow for the past few days. We've got roughly 2 or 3 inches at the moment. I don't think any fresh came down today, but it sure is cold. When I was in Prague on Thursday there wasn't any snow, but it can still be treacherous for driving.
We're also hoping for no flight delays. At the moment we should have plenty of time for getting through the whole immigration process, but delays would add stress to it all, so prayers for a smooth process all the way through would be immensely appreciated.
Hard to believe the time really is almost here. I'm in that holding pattern at the moment where most things are done, but I'm just not quite sure what to do with myself until it's really time to go. And the more times I check information about luggage and flight delays and weather the more freaked out I get. Unfortunately, even looking at wedding things freaks me out right now because I start seeing how close it all is and how I have no clues about anything and no job and and and... Breath. Do. Not Hyper. Vent. I. Late.
God is in control. I've seen that time and time again throughout this process. You'd think that would teach me to finally get over my habits of worrying and freaking out, but it seems I haven't grown up that much yet. I still fail. I still look at the daunting tasks ahead of me and question everything. Even those things I know to be true. There are so many things to be thankful for. So many reasons to rejoice. And in 48 hours I'll be flying over America. And in 72 hours I'll be sound asleep in McMinville (hopefully, if jet lag isn't to silly with me.)
Pause.
Sigh.
Keep breathing...
To do a thing so tedious would take to many days.
I dream of lofty weight limits, and luggage flown for free,
Of locking you without a fear that they'll safely let you be.
And then there are thoughts about airports, that flutter through my mind,
They seem to do so many things that make peace hard to find.
I do recall much sweeter eras of travel from the past,
When all those hard goodbyes didn't have to come so fast.
But now we all must live in fear of idiots with power,
Dreading the scans, the endless demands, and worries about two hours.
I'm ready just to have it done, and to be safely through,
To leave behind the stress and scales and be "home" fresh and new.
Any ideas what I've been up to today? Not to mention what every waking moment has been focused on for the past week or so. Hard to believe that tomorrow we're heading off. It sounds like we're going to make a night of it. Mark's sister will come in the afternoon to sleep for a few hours, then we're leaving about midnight so we should make it in plenty of time for our departure. Our flight leaves at 5:55, so we have to be there now later than 4. Pray that the road conditions are clear. It's been cold and icy with snow for the past few days. We've got roughly 2 or 3 inches at the moment. I don't think any fresh came down today, but it sure is cold. When I was in Prague on Thursday there wasn't any snow, but it can still be treacherous for driving.
We're also hoping for no flight delays. At the moment we should have plenty of time for getting through the whole immigration process, but delays would add stress to it all, so prayers for a smooth process all the way through would be immensely appreciated.
Hard to believe the time really is almost here. I'm in that holding pattern at the moment where most things are done, but I'm just not quite sure what to do with myself until it's really time to go. And the more times I check information about luggage and flight delays and weather the more freaked out I get. Unfortunately, even looking at wedding things freaks me out right now because I start seeing how close it all is and how I have no clues about anything and no job and and and... Breath. Do. Not Hyper. Vent. I. Late.
God is in control. I've seen that time and time again throughout this process. You'd think that would teach me to finally get over my habits of worrying and freaking out, but it seems I haven't grown up that much yet. I still fail. I still look at the daunting tasks ahead of me and question everything. Even those things I know to be true. There are so many things to be thankful for. So many reasons to rejoice. And in 48 hours I'll be flying over America. And in 72 hours I'll be sound asleep in McMinville (hopefully, if jet lag isn't to silly with me.)
Pause.
Sigh.
Keep breathing...
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Today is Tuesday
Just thought I'd state the obvious. Every now and then that's a good thing to say it like it is, right?
It's been a bit of a crazy few days. An early morning internet search, we're talking 4 AM, led to new discoveries about visas. That, naturally, spiraled rapidly into a first class freak out. It's been a while since I've felt so utterly devastated. Especially by my own stupidity. I felt as though I'd somehow failed everyone completely. The time scale I'd been counting on flew out the window, and new questions about whether we'd done things correctly or would have to start again at the beginning flooded my mind.
What a difference a few days can make. After countless freaked out messages with my mom, as well as a few e-mails to the US Embassy here in Prague, and a whole lot more time spent searching on the internet, I received news today that we have passed the first part of the process, and we are still okay. The information I was so afraid was late is actually something we aren't supposed to do for a little while yet. What a relief.
It's been interesting to look back at my entire freak out and see how little faith I really have. Throughout the process I have been praying that things would go well. I've been trying to do the right thing, and I've been trying to trust, but this moment showed me that I really hadn't been doing that as much as I'd wanted to believe.
In truth, I'm sure it was God who woke me up to the new set of facts, and it was me who overreacted. At least now that we know what is to be expected in the future we can prepare for it as much as possible now, and be ready when the time does come.
And now I can see how God really was working in each part so carefully, leading us into the right direction. How quick I was to think that my own humanity was enough to upset the plans of God. How quick to doubt that He was caring for me, more than I could even care for myself.
The process is not yet complete, and I'm still not certain how long it will all take, but with this newest information I know that the time is coming when all these things will be figured out and I can enter into the next stage of my life.
There are still so many uncertainties about heading back to the US. Obviously the job search is already in my mind, but not knowing exactly when I'll be heading back I must, once again, just learn to live more in the moment, and accept this time that God has given me to meditate more on life and my relationship with Him and with Mark.
It is so true that "Those that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength." If only I could hold that thought in mind more easily, as well as the truth that worrying will never add anything positive to my life, and only make every day that much more stressful.
It's been a bit of a crazy few days. An early morning internet search, we're talking 4 AM, led to new discoveries about visas. That, naturally, spiraled rapidly into a first class freak out. It's been a while since I've felt so utterly devastated. Especially by my own stupidity. I felt as though I'd somehow failed everyone completely. The time scale I'd been counting on flew out the window, and new questions about whether we'd done things correctly or would have to start again at the beginning flooded my mind.
What a difference a few days can make. After countless freaked out messages with my mom, as well as a few e-mails to the US Embassy here in Prague, and a whole lot more time spent searching on the internet, I received news today that we have passed the first part of the process, and we are still okay. The information I was so afraid was late is actually something we aren't supposed to do for a little while yet. What a relief.
It's been interesting to look back at my entire freak out and see how little faith I really have. Throughout the process I have been praying that things would go well. I've been trying to do the right thing, and I've been trying to trust, but this moment showed me that I really hadn't been doing that as much as I'd wanted to believe.
In truth, I'm sure it was God who woke me up to the new set of facts, and it was me who overreacted. At least now that we know what is to be expected in the future we can prepare for it as much as possible now, and be ready when the time does come.
And now I can see how God really was working in each part so carefully, leading us into the right direction. How quick I was to think that my own humanity was enough to upset the plans of God. How quick to doubt that He was caring for me, more than I could even care for myself.
The process is not yet complete, and I'm still not certain how long it will all take, but with this newest information I know that the time is coming when all these things will be figured out and I can enter into the next stage of my life.
There are still so many uncertainties about heading back to the US. Obviously the job search is already in my mind, but not knowing exactly when I'll be heading back I must, once again, just learn to live more in the moment, and accept this time that God has given me to meditate more on life and my relationship with Him and with Mark.
It is so true that "Those that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength." If only I could hold that thought in mind more easily, as well as the truth that worrying will never add anything positive to my life, and only make every day that much more stressful.
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