Oops

So, guess what I forgot to do yesterday? 

As my consequence for missing yesterday, I'll try to write something a little more personal today. 

You know the feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you're anxious? Not the happy butterflies from Christmas morning or a first date. The dull ache that invades your lower abdomen and feels like it's inching up your chest then gives you a sharp pang every time you think you have it under control. 

Yeah, that one. 

For the last I-don't-think-I-can-count-how-many months it seems like I have had that feeling every day. I realize it hasn't been every day, but I think it's been more often than not. And it terrifies me, because that means my cortisol system has been running nearly nonstop for at least two years (actually more like three). And I was a psych major, I know what that does to my body. It's nearly midnight and I'm tired so I won't sit here and spell it out for you, rest assured it ain't good. But at this point every first step, every next step, basically everything is stress inducing. Which makes me freak out about what it's doing to my body, which makes me stress, which stops me from taking a new step and you can see the ugly vicious circle I have stuck myself in. 

Maybe if someone can write me my own Disney Princess song I can break free. Or at least distract myself long enough to lower my cortisol levels. 

Pick a Card

I really don't know what to write about. I don't want to write about the election because my life needs less emphasis on the radioactive carrot, not more. I don't want to write about searching for a job because that will just lead down the road of privileged 'problems' which just makes me feel horridly awkward. And I don't need to put any more obstacles in the way of writing this. So what do I write about? My art (which I'm not doing), my craft work (which can be pretty boring), my life (which is non-existent)? 

Does anyone else think this is getting old? 

Now what?

This little experiment is harder than I anticipated. Not that it's hard to write everyday, I mean I haven't really forgotten to do. But thinking of something to write everyday is rather hard. Especially if I am trying not to plan out posts. Maybe I need to start planning out topics and then let the post itself be a blathering rant. Yeah, that might the thing to do.  

So Damn Tired

I'm extremely tired today. And I did nothing all day. Which isn't fantastic for my mental health, or my physical health come to think of it. But right now I really don't care.  

Badee badee badee, that's all folks.  

Party!

So, I forgot about writing a blogpost because I went out for a friend's birthday. I don't know if it's a fail for forgetting, or a win for being social (which I have been having trouble with lately). I say win. Because it's my blog. And as the benevolent little dictator I say no sleep means it's still the same day. At least for today. . . yesterday? Whatever.  

Real step forward, no steps back?

Today I compiled a resume and other materials for a job application. Which is a pretty big and very tangible step for me. I haven't emailed it yet because I don't think the 10:15 time stamp is very professional, but it is ready to go tomorrow morning.  

It's the first time in a while that I feel like I'm making progress in my life. And I'm terrified, but it feels good.  

What Would You Do?

Do you remember the jingle from the Klondike Bar commercials? That just started running through my head in the last five minutes. Those commercials always seemed to be the height of consumerist idiocy. The people would do anything and everything for that (albeit delicious) ice cream treat.  

But what would they do for the less tangible, everyday treats? What would they do for financial stability, or friendship, or love? When faced with that idiotic commercial we think of the absolutely craziest thing we would do. But for things that are far more important we drag our feet at the mere idea of doing the bare minimum.  

So, what would you do-oo-oo for a Klondike Bar? 

Move a Muscle

I'm not feeling great and my brain immediately jumps into self sabotage mode.  

Just go to sleep. Forget about the blog post. You were never going to keep it up anyway.  

How the fuck are you supposed to change when your lack of faith is that deeply ingrained? 

 I guess you just keep moving the muscle and the thoughts will change eventually.  

Fake Step Forward, Two Steps Back

I feel like I have this habit of taking fake steps in my projects. This blog for example; writing my 5 sentences every day feels like forward progress toward letting go of my perfectionism. But has it actually helped me further any of my other goals? No, I still haven't applied to any jobs, I'm still not doing anything to get in shape. I pat myself on the back for managing to keep this idiotic dear diary going for more than a week and let myself off the hook for everything else. 

So how do I keep myself on track? What can I change or add to this routine that will push me to keep moving forward. Cause the last thing I need is to become as stagnant as the Giants offensive line on 3rd down.

15 Long-ass Years

Like so many others, my memories of 9/11/2001 will remain as vivid as that day for the rest of my life. In the intervening years I have graduated (and 'graduated') from 4 schools, I have celebrated 4 milestone birthdays, I have lost all of my remaining grandparents, and find myself struggling to figure out how to live as an adult.  

There has been so much life packed into these 15 years. Yet, when this day comes around every year it feels as though no time has passed. I am still 9 years old sitting on my best friend's couch, watching the Twin Towers fall over and over again on the tv.  

That fear and horror will never go away completely, I have learned to accept that. But the bravery and kindness that we witnessed that day, and in the days and weeks and years that followed, has made it easier to calm that fear the other 364 days of the year.  

God bless the families that lost loved ones. God bless the first responders who ran towards the fire. God bless those who protect us and our freedoms every day. And God bless and keep the men and women we lost that day.  

Overly Independent

So I listen to this podcast called Heroine (I think a lot of posts are gonna start 'I listen to this podcast') and it had this series of minisodes about 10 creative blocks. The last one was being overly independent.  

That's always been a big problem for me. I find myself incapable of asking for help. It's a sign of weakness and failure. I am 24 years old. I should be able to put together a resume on my own. I should be able to get an interview on my own. It shouldn't be that hard. 

Except somewhere between the empowerment of the 80s/90s and now it became nigh impossible to get what my mother calls a 'grownup job' without knowing the CEO of the fucking company, or at least knowing someone in HR.  

The country became obsessed with intellectualism and suddenly a college degree became worthless. I shouldn't need my BA to be a fucking secretary. I could answer phones and organize a schedule when I was in high school. Pick a diferent way to weed people out. 

(I really don't care if that's an improper use of intellectualism) 

Excuses

It's difficult not letting the excuses stop you from moving forward. I don't have the right equipment; my ideas aren't good enough; I'm not ready. 

 The truth is nothing is ever ready. So how do you keep going despite the excuses? 

Sheer will power is the only answer I can come up with. And will power has never been my forte, just ask the frequently depleted chocolate stashes in our house.  

I guess the only thing I can do is keep pushing forward. That or give up. But what has giving up ever gotten me? 

Drained

I have spent the last four days completely drained, emotionally and physically.  

I have long acknowledged my status as an ambivert. The ability to recharge by being social or chilling alone was quite helpful in college. However, I've come to realize that there are some people wih whom socializing is only draining. 

Of course these are people I attempted to spend last weekend with. And it has taken over four days to recuperate. The logical thing would be to minimize social interactions with these people (at the very least no more weekend long plans).  

But there is a hefty amount of guilt that accompanies that logic. These are not people I can just completely cut out. So how can I do what's best for me without passing judgment on them? Or can't I? Is it okay to say fuck them, I'm more important? And how do I tell my mother without making her feel bad? 

Why Bother

Well that streak lasted long.  

I had my oh shit moment at about 6:15 today. And instead of writing right then I said fuck it. I had already missed my 6 pm deadline, why rush to do it then. I'll worry about it after dinner. I'm already 2 hours past my deadline, why not wait till after I watch Alias. Once the driving fear of a deadline is gone all that is left is the paralyzing fear of I fucked up.  

It certainly doesn't help that in the first week of this experiment all I've managed to write about is this experiment. After a certain point self-reflection gets really fucking tedious.  

Why So Scared?

Why is everything completely terrifying?

Obviously not everything is terrifying, I'm just a fan of hyperbole. But there are many things in my life that scare me more than they should. Like making a photo book for my father's uncle. We went to his 90th birthday last December and I still haven't made the book. After we got back I was too scared that the photos were horrible, so I couldn't even bring myself to download them to my computer.  

What is it about seeking perfection that stops me in my tracks? 

 I know I'm not alone, but that's not really as comforting as people think it is. I don't want to think about the other poor schmucks like me. I want to know how other people do it. How do other people avoid the paralyzing trap of perfection? How can you be okay with okay? 

Some days, a lot of days, I wish I could be happy with mediocre so I can stop being so goddamn aware of the pit of my stomach.  

Planning

Maybe I need to set a time deadline other than midnight. Because 4 of my 5 posts just make midnight, and today I just had an oh shit moment. I don't want to keep writing three sentences at 5 of just to keep up the vow. I want to actually start writing something of substance.  

So, an addendum to the original rules: I will post before 6 pm unless I have a very good reason.  

Chug-a-long

This project seems to be doing its job. Four days in and I'm already seriously pushing myself.  

I get stuck looking for the perfect topic and suddenly it's 11:00 and I've written nothing. Baby step for today: accepting the shitty topic with 2 hours to spare.  

I realize this step seems negligible, but it's a step forward. And that's not nothin'.  

The Glut of Decisions

Have you ever been paralyzed by too many options? 

That's what it feels like when I try to write. With the infinite possibilities of the English language how can I possibly find the right word.  

I suppose the problem is thinking there is only one right word, or one right anything. The answer is to find a right word. One of the hundreds that are completely adequate for expressing my idea.  

But that doesn't mean it's easy.  

Why Start Here

If I treat everything as too precious, why start here? What does basically free writing at the internet do to help that? Why not change something that's actually going to affect your life? 

Well, change is fucking scary.  

That journey of a thousand miles crap has been floating around for centuries for a reason. Most of the time you have to take a step to begin. Move a muscle change a thought, as my therapist says.  

This is my step; this is my muscle. If I try to pinpoint the first thing I was too precious about, I think it was writing.

So why not start here? 

Too Precious

I am stuck. I am 24 years old, I graduated from college 2 years ago, and I'm still living with my parents with no job. There are about 3 billion things you could label as my "main problem". 

 The one thing most people wouldn't say is that I treat everything as too precious.  

By that I mean I am afraid to commit to anything because I don't want to do the wrong thing. My yarn stash is the perfect example. There is yarn I've had for 10 years because I haven't found the exact right project to use it on.  

So this blog is an attempt to break that mindset. I vow to write a post every day (for at least the next year). I vow to spend no more than 1 minute trying to figure out what to type next. I vow to publish the first draft no matter how much it makes me cringe.  

Because if I can post to the forever world of the internet without being precious about my words, maybe I can be less precious about everything else.