Just Give Up

You know it's hopeless.

So just give up already.

You've been trying for weeks to lose weight, but you've eaten just enough cookies to negate the extra walking you've been doing. But you can't give up cookies FOREVER. So just give up. Go on. Accept that you'll always have that stomach, just the way it is. All those Biggest Loser contestants have different chromosomes than you do.

So give up. Quit trying.

And it's not like you'll ever get a real job again. Why the hell are you even wasting your time applying? Just suck it up, keep the job you hate. Don't bother with college. Years from now, it's not like you'll suddenly have a job you like. Why even try? Just go home and watch TV. Take your mind off your crummy life.

But accept that it's crummy. And it always will be. So give it up already.

Why are you still working on your goddamn novels. They all suck, and even if they ever don't suck, even if you finally get them where you want them to be, it's not like the publishers out there will ever read them. Or at least it will take time--years maybe--and that's too long. Better to use your time eating your way through three pints of ice cream than working on those stupid novels. At least ice cream tastes good. Okay, sure, there are some really good parts to that novel. Yeah, sure, you might actually have fun writing all that crap. Or even revising it, if you're a complete lunatic. Just don't think, for one minute, that it's going to get you anywhere.

So give up. Just give up.

Like anybody gets anywhere just by working at it. Sheesh!

Being Means Doing

It took me years to call myself a writer.

Now I can use the term in public--without that weird clog in my throat I used to get trying to make the words come out--but I'm still a fraud. I say, "I'm a writer."

But it isn't true. A writer, above all, writes. Notice the present tense. Better yet, make it present progressive: A writer is writing. Currently. Right now. Putting words on a page, revising, creating worlds and characters, designing suspenseful and meaningful plots, enjoying the Lego-like building and destruction that children enjoy.

A writer is planning query letters. Reading scenes aloud to hear the dialogue. Arranging words in their best order for poetry. Perhaps even finding a rhyme or two (though that's rarely me).

I have a friend who is a painter. She told me, "I try to make painting a priority--try to spend at least three days a week painting."

I asked her, "You get three days a week in? That's impressive."

She frowned at me, thought a bit, and said, "No, I get about one day every two weeks." Yet she is far more of a painter than I am a writer.

I do write. A little. I am writing this blog entry. I write a poem here or there. But mostly I just grade essays. Mostly I do laundry and dishes. Mostly I write business letters for my other jobs, assess journals for my classes, prep for teaching. Clean my house.

But I don't write. If I have a few minutes of free time, I go play piano. Hell, I even paint more than I write. I go to play rehearsal. I watch TV, even if I hate everything I watch. I fill my hours with tasks I dislike, instead of pulling back, taking days here and there just to write.

I still can't figure out why I do it, but I do it nonetheless. And until I start writing again, I'm not a writer.

Maybe someday I will be.

Why Do I Listen to Myself?

I have given in at times...

I've backed away from a challenge when people suggested I wasn't good enough to do something. I've held back from trying when I knew no one expected me to make it.

But I've also proven people wrong so many times. I wasn't supposed to marry my hubby--it wouldn't work, my family said--but we're about to celebrate 20 years of marriage. I was told not to try being a teacher (it wouldn't suit me), yet I've managed to get three degrees in English and teach for nearly as many years as I've been married. And I'm a good teacher. I'm interesting, I'm effective, and I'm fair but tough.

I've learned to ignore what people say. They are too quick to give up on me, to likely to be skeptical about my abilities, too likely to brush over me, dismiss me, ignore me.

But then my own inner voices come... and they tell me the same things... and I don't ignore them. I let them shove me down, pull me back, shiver me into a corner. I back away from challenge. I hold back, I keep quiet, I shut myself up entirely.

Why? Why do I listen? Why don't I slap those nasty voices into next week (oops, there's a bad pun), toss them in the trash where they belong, wash myself free of them in the shower, letting them go down the drain and disappear for good?

Better yet, why don't I try to SHOW them? I do this with outside people, but I don't challenge my own voices. Why don't I just see this as a challenge?

It's because they are me. They are my caution, my tact, my defensive mechanisms. These same voices keep me from saying stupid or mean things out of anger. Sometimes shutting up is the best choice, and I'm grateful when they help me make it, too.

I can't just chunk them out a random window. They are as much me as the determination, the work ethic, the sensitivity, the everything of me. But they need to go to their room sometimes, and let me work. They need to leave off. They need to go take a nap or something so that I can get back to writing without them screaming at me.

Wow. They're listening. I'm amazed. I can see their shoulders hunching a little in shame. I can see their sad looks. Their off to their rooms to think about what they've done. Are they giving me the day off? I sure hope so. I could use the afternoon for writing. Without their looking over my shoulder.

Now I'm off. If they pop their heads out, I'll just glare until the heads disappear. If they start grumbling, I'll turn on the radio to drown them out.

Maybe I should turn on the radio NOW.

Not So Philosophical

Sometimes I find it hard to think when everyone around me is screaming.

The amount of trauma drama all around me right now astonishes me. And I believe most of it is invented, self-inflicted, self-wounding. People raging all around at each other, then keening loudly because everyone has abandoned them. People taking everything personally. People harming each other, then wondering why others seem so ticked. What could the matter be?

Tough life.

Thank God I don't have to live it. Not because the swirling waters around all around my ankles, but because around my ankles they can't sweep me off to drown. I have to choose to walk into the deeper water.

I don't choose to. And I won't choose to.

Life is just life. It's good and bad. People are kind and cruel. But I have a choice. We all do. My choice is to do what makes me happy, avoid the trauma drama, and help my kids keep their equilibrium, too. So this morning, with the world falling all around me, I'm at peace, knowing that I have not lost my mind. I can calm the waters all around me, give my kids a chance to swim in the warm water, and have a glorious, sunny day.

Despite the trauma drama.

Hurdles

I'd love to start working on my Mermaid novel again.

I really would. But I have two syllabi to finish... and they need to be finished NOW. Class starts Monday for one, Tuesday for the other.

My little devil voices have been whispering... "Why not just get part of it planned, and then you can plan out the rest as you go?"

I'm no fool. I haven't been teaching 20 years for nothing. If I don't plan it out now, I'll be scrambling mid-semester to get it done, and then I'll have papers that need grading, other projects pending, and God only knows what else.

You see, the syllabi seem like hurdles right now... and they sort of are... but they are self-imposed. I could do what the voices say, but I'd be putting off more planning, starting the semester without a crystal clear idea of where the semester will end up, setting myself up for panic later.

And I don't like panic.

Same with novel writing. Only once have I written a whole draft of a novel without planning it out meticulously. And my next "revision" of that novel will mean scrapping 75% of it, minimum. It means more work for me in the long run, not less.

That's why I plan. And that's why I'm off to finish those &%*#(@ syllabi, to save myself a world of time later.

Anything you're in the midst of planning?

I Resolve Nothing

I make resolutions every freaking year.

By the time the end of the years rolls around, I can't even remember what they were. No, really, I can't. And nothing ever seems to change. I watched the ball drop last night (it doesn't get less lame with time, I'm afraid), and then the year 2013 popped up on the screen.

I looked at the hubby, and he looked at me. He shook his head, reading my thoughts the way I read his. "It looks like an ugly number, doesn't it?"

I nodded. I normally love the number 13, but the flashing year numeral looked wrong on the screen--garish, mistyped, overblown, or something--and I took a step back. The hubby disappeared, and I found him moments later in the other room, away from the crowd, just sitting and looking at his knees.

A few minutes later we drove home. And now it's morning, the day looks normal, and I have a list of work things to get done before the week ends. This list reminds me of daily tasks, ones that simply MUST get done, and they leave no room for long-term resolutions.

So, for the first time in God knows how long, I'm not making any year-long goals. I'm going to take today, do what I can with it, and do the same thing tomorrow. That's it. No lofty guilt-inducing goals to become a runway model, save the world, find a cure for cancer, or write fifteen books.

I'm just going to face each day, one by one, and make the most of living in the moment.

Be blessed this year, everyone. For those of you who have made resolutions, I hope your daily behaviors get you there, and you meet your goals. For those too caught up in turmoil to handle what you have now, may you find calm and peace enough to balance out your lives a bit more.

For those of you who truly believe you can change the world for the better this year, I send all my good karma and wish you all the success in the world. But only today is promised to me, so...

Cleaning

I'm doing the regular cleaning stuff--dishes, laundry, sweeping--but my focus over this final week of break is to clean out the other have-tos:

1. Finish my syllabi and print them off for my classes.

2. Set up my online class on Angel.

3. Complete all mending/sewing projects.

4. Prepare five canvases for next painting project.

5. Go through kids' clothing in prep for their start of term. Donate small clothing.

6. Get ahead with my Firehouse work so that January and February are more relaxed.

And I think that's it. Clearing out the junk makes my whole life easier, and hopefully I'll set myself up for active achievement in the writing, painting, musical, and sewing realms in the coming year. I won't tell you what my new year's resolution is yet. Perhaps you can guess?

What "housecleaning" are you doing right now? What are you preparing for?