I have trouble with New Years Resolutions. I can't remember last year's, or the years' before, and neither can most people I talk to. Lately, I've started to suspect that maybe they don't really matter. (If you are one of the few who not only remember your resolutions, but also achieve them, good for you, and go jump in a lake).
But everyone always asks sometime in December or January, "So what did you resolve for this year?" Perpetually afraid of the scorned looks (I have gotten) when I dared to say, "None," as if having no resolutions means I'm self centered with no need for improvement, I planned a list. It included things like, Exercise More, Stretch, Write, Start Photography, Publish That Paper I Wrote Way Back in September, and Be A Better Person Always.
The list felt heavy, and futile. Sure, I want to improve myself. Sure, I want to do more things I like. I just don't really believe New Years Resolutions will help me. So this year, I have no resolutions.
Instead, what I really want, and what I'm trying to develop, are habits. I want a habit of writing, of exercising, of eating well, of cooking, of keeping my house tidy, of getting rid of unnecessary things, of dancing, of doing other things I love.
Well that's all sunshine and rainbows, but less than a month into 2012, I've already started falling into the most deadly of traps: Over-Enthusiasm.
What? Can one really be TOO enthusiastic? you ask.
Well, yes. You see, I get so excited about developing all those habits above, and dive so far into them, that my "habits" are unsustainable. I wanted to exercise, so I started running for forty five minutes three times a week. Guess how long that lasted. Go on, guess. (Hint: the answer is less than a week).
I wanted to to start de-cluttering, which resulted in near-tears and the inevitable failure to manage the buildup of dishes, or laundry, or mail. That's not mentioning the argument or two that may or may not have included the question, "Did you seriously just hide that dirty bowl in the closet?!" Apparently I have become a clean-demon wielding a vicious broom in the eyes of my poor clutter-blind boyfriend, bearing down on him with the vicious punishment of Hades at the hint of a stray sock or dirty dish.
I wanted to start photography, which has resulted in a grand total of less than ten photos. I wanted to write more blogs, and while I've partly succeeded at this, the majority of my blogs are unfinished messes waiting in the growing pile of un-published posts.
On the plus side, I am becoming a master at failing (see previous post).
On the downside, I haven't really developed any habits yet. So, I am going to try and (wait for it, I know it's hard to believe), have patience.
Instead of trying to change or develop twelve new habits right now, I am going to try and just develop one. Just a little bit. In the meantime if I have some free time and want to do something else, I will pause, and try not to do it. I do not need, today, to change many things. I need to change one thing, one thing so simple I can't possibly fail at it, and then do it tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after. Eventually, in a month, if I've done it everyday, I'll move on to the next habit.
(Disclaimer: This particular idea for doing things isn't really mine. I learned about it from Leo Babauta, who writes both Zen Habits (http://zenhabits.net/) and Mnmlist (http://mnmlist.com/), two fantastic blogs).
So, I am declaring my intentions now. My first habit is healthy eating (which usually means more cooking). I've started by trying to eliminate/reduce meat (especially red meat), eat more vegetables, etc... I'm trying new recipes, trying new foods I've never eaten (kale! who knew it can be delicious?! Just don't ask Brian).
I'm not doing anything too drastic. I'm not throwing out the leftover sausage and chicken in our freezer. I'm not cutting out all dairy (yet), I'm not purging myself with a supposedly body cleansing detox program. I am simply trying to buy more green things, and eat them, and eat slowly. In the meantime, I will do my best not to worry about clutter, or too much exercising, or getting rid of stuff, or publishing that paper.
And if I fail, that's okay, as we've already covered. I'll just start again, and do better the next day. Hopefully, (and it helps that I love cooking and trying new recipes), not only will I eventually develop a good habit of cooking and eating healthy, but this habit will be sustainable. If I'm really lucky, I won't even scare off my boyfriend with sweet potatoes, nuts, lentils, and vegetarian chili.
Then, next month, I'll have the energy and enthusiasm born of success to start on the next habit.
Wish me luck!
January 25, 2012
January 23, 2012
Opinions
If you haven't noticed this about me yet, don't start now, but I can be judgmental sometimes.
I really don't do it on purpose, I promise. I just get caught up in thinking about things a certain way, and want other people to understand. And then I vehemently talk about the things I'm passionate about, so largely that it can drown out any contradictory remarks. Some beliefs are so critical to how I see myself that even acknowledging other possibilities is like denying the validity of my beliefs and myself.
It's kind of a fucked up way to think about things. And so, I'm working on it.
Thing is, because I'm thinking about it, I start seeing it everywhere.
So I started thinking about these judgments that are everywhere and all the things people say and wondering where they come from, and it made me think about all the opinions out there, and where they come from, and what that means for how we live and interact with other people, and how to handle it all.
Our lives are flooded with opinions on what we should know about, think about, do, and buy. They come from news, radio, TV, billboards, stores, the internet, schools. They are in the minds and mouths of friends and lovers, families and coworkers.
These opinions cover many things. They tell us what to eat and how to exercise. They tell us not to smoke and drink, and to smoke and drink more. They tell us what to learn and how to learn it, who will be successful, which music and movies are hip, what technologies to buy. They tell us we are beautiful, and ugly. They tell us what we should be careful of, afraid of, plan for, pay attention to.
They tell us all the bad things that will happen if we don't know about, think about, do, buy X, Y, and Z. We will be ostracized, die young, or get sick. We will be judged. We will be bad people, bad friends, bad citizens.
Opinions aren't bad. Our loved ones are important to us, and we want to know what's important to them. Most of us want to be better citizens. Many of us want to be better people, and some opinions can help us figure out what all that means and how to do it. Advice can help us grow.
But opinions can have bad side effects, and too many can be overwhelming. They can make us feel self-conscious and keep us busy. We wonder what to think, amidst all the choices, and become paralyzed from so many options of what we should know about, think about, do, and buy. Or we just do and buy what we're told, and end up wondering where half our stuff came from, and why we have it.
Often, we choose things that are important to us, and think, do, and buy based on those. But we can forget where these opinions came from, and why they came in the first place. We also forget that they're opinions, and believe that they're Truths.
Sometimes, we think that everyone should believe certain opinions, and we tell everyone what they should be thinking and doing, just like us! We do it for their own good, because we want them to be happy, and to make the world a better place. Except that "better" is an opinion too.
We sometimes allow our opinions to become judgements. We get defensive when people disagree with us, because our opinions are ourselves, and we do not like attacks on Who We Are. Judgements can be hard to hear, and are often detrimental to happiness.
I am often overwhelmed by the opinions around me. I have often felt stupid when I was criticized for not reading the news, or watching the right movies, or knowing the right products, or wearing the right clothes.
I have judged people when I heard them talk about the wrong things, do the wrong things, or buy the wrong things.
If you get overwhelmed by opinions, if you are judgmental when you don't want to be, then I have something to propose. While we can't get rid of all the opinions and judgements in the world, we can become aware of them, and their effect on us.
And then, we can try to let go.
I really don't do it on purpose, I promise. I just get caught up in thinking about things a certain way, and want other people to understand. And then I vehemently talk about the things I'm passionate about, so largely that it can drown out any contradictory remarks. Some beliefs are so critical to how I see myself that even acknowledging other possibilities is like denying the validity of my beliefs and myself.
It's kind of a fucked up way to think about things. And so, I'm working on it.
Thing is, because I'm thinking about it, I start seeing it everywhere.
So I started thinking about these judgments that are everywhere and all the things people say and wondering where they come from, and it made me think about all the opinions out there, and where they come from, and what that means for how we live and interact with other people, and how to handle it all.
Our lives are flooded with opinions on what we should know about, think about, do, and buy. They come from news, radio, TV, billboards, stores, the internet, schools. They are in the minds and mouths of friends and lovers, families and coworkers.
These opinions cover many things. They tell us what to eat and how to exercise. They tell us not to smoke and drink, and to smoke and drink more. They tell us what to learn and how to learn it, who will be successful, which music and movies are hip, what technologies to buy. They tell us we are beautiful, and ugly. They tell us what we should be careful of, afraid of, plan for, pay attention to.
They tell us all the bad things that will happen if we don't know about, think about, do, buy X, Y, and Z. We will be ostracized, die young, or get sick. We will be judged. We will be bad people, bad friends, bad citizens.
Opinions aren't bad. Our loved ones are important to us, and we want to know what's important to them. Most of us want to be better citizens. Many of us want to be better people, and some opinions can help us figure out what all that means and how to do it. Advice can help us grow.
But opinions can have bad side effects, and too many can be overwhelming. They can make us feel self-conscious and keep us busy. We wonder what to think, amidst all the choices, and become paralyzed from so many options of what we should know about, think about, do, and buy. Or we just do and buy what we're told, and end up wondering where half our stuff came from, and why we have it.
Often, we choose things that are important to us, and think, do, and buy based on those. But we can forget where these opinions came from, and why they came in the first place. We also forget that they're opinions, and believe that they're Truths.
Sometimes, we think that everyone should believe certain opinions, and we tell everyone what they should be thinking and doing, just like us! We do it for their own good, because we want them to be happy, and to make the world a better place. Except that "better" is an opinion too.
We sometimes allow our opinions to become judgements. We get defensive when people disagree with us, because our opinions are ourselves, and we do not like attacks on Who We Are. Judgements can be hard to hear, and are often detrimental to happiness.
I am often overwhelmed by the opinions around me. I have often felt stupid when I was criticized for not reading the news, or watching the right movies, or knowing the right products, or wearing the right clothes.
I have judged people when I heard them talk about the wrong things, do the wrong things, or buy the wrong things.
If you get overwhelmed by opinions, if you are judgmental when you don't want to be, then I have something to propose. While we can't get rid of all the opinions and judgements in the world, we can become aware of them, and their effect on us.
And then, we can try to let go.
January 16, 2012
At What I Dream to Fail
Yesterday I watched a really neat short TV show on Yahoo called The Failure Project. If you've heard of it, that's awesome. If not, here's a quick synop (the details might be slightly off, but the gist is there).
Once upon a time two sisters somewhere in their thirties decided to dare each other to fail at one of their childhood dreams. For the first time in decades one sister pursued singing in order to "win" the dare (she ended up in a choir). A few friends heard about this, and one was so excited he decided to do the same thing with a group of his friends. They would support each other as much as possible while they each pursued a dream of theirs, one they never pursued before because it was so likely to fail.
Eventually someone in TV met the guy who started this all, and decided this would make an awesome TV show. And it does (despite the fact that no franchise has really supported it, and it's only in 15 minute clips on Yahoo).
The main point of the show isn't for everyone to succeed, but rather for everyone to fail, and in the meantime break down all those stigmas against failure, and hopefully experience something life-changing and enlightening.
After watching a couple of short clips, I started wondering what were some of my childhood dreams, and what I would do if I wasn't worried about failing or all the practical life issues of having a regular salary and savings, etc...
While I had many dreams as a kid (several of which involved discovering an alternate reality or learning magic), the most important and persistent of these was writing a novel. I've always loved writing. Most minutes I wasn't exploring or reading as a child, I was writing. I started way back in second grade with stories and poetry for our school's literary journal (I still have a copy). In middle school this continued and a couple of friends who shared a similar passion and I spent our afternoons and weekends writing a story. We made it as far as around seventy pages or more.
In high school I had slightly less time, and slightly more self-consciousness, so my writing suffered. In college, I pursued a writing minor, and took classes in fiction writing and creative non-fiction. I participated in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) in November of one year, but didn't get nearly to 50,000 words, and became disgusted with my poorly designed novel (which is kind of the point of NaNoWriMo; they don't expect you to write an earth-shattering work of genius, just to get people writing lots and lots, to overcome exactly those boundaries I came upon and at which point I gave up).
Throughout it all, I couldn't give up science (which I also love, but perhaps without the same fervor and childhood abandon as writing). Mostly this was because I was old enough to realize that making a living off of writing fiction was about as likely as going to Mars: it wasn't necessarily impossible, but so close that to pursue it was fairly laughable and vaguely embarrassing. I certainly didn't want to end up writing technical journals for pennies, or having to sleep on my friends' couches for years, or start selling my organs on the black market for groceries (that seemed like a natural progression at the time).
So science it was (and is). But I always dreamed of doing both. I figured I could keep writing on the side, and when an idea struck me, I could just write slowly and surely until it was done. Even when thinking about medical school, I dream about all the great stories I'll have, all the people I'll meet who can provide inspiration, the great blog posts I'll write on the interesting things I learn. This idea of doing both is still feasible, but about as much so as that trip to Mars.
That's because writing takes time. Lots of it. And all those things I say I will pursue on the side for at least a few hours a week, turn into a few hours a month, or less. There's always something else that seems just as entertaining, and often less work, like drawing, or going for a swim, or watching TV, or dancing, or playing music. I love all these things, and want to be great at them. Then again, none of them are childhood dreams, and so I fear much less the possibility of failure. These aren't things I want to make a living doing, while writing for a long time was definitely one of those things. I thought I could get good at writing when only writing the things I wanted to write, when I wanted to write them. I thought writing was a talent, even when I espoused it being about hard work.
My blog is a great example. I had wonderful ideas of how much I would write, and how inspiring it would be, back when I started. Only I was determined not to write any bad blog posts. I aimed for each one to be better than the last. Which meant that my weekly posts turned into bi-monthly posts, and are now barely monthly posts.
Writing is entirely about hard work, as is anything else. Talent might give you a jump start for the first ten minutes you do something, but after that, you're all on even ground, and you're going to have to work. Really hard. Harder than you think you can feasibly work.
And so I have decided to try harder to fail at writing. I am going to write bad posts. I am going to write bad stories. I am going to submit those stories somewhere and they are going to get returned to me with regretful rejections. But I will be writing harder than before. I will be writing more than before.
So heads up. You might be seeing some fiction on this blog upcoming. And it will probably be terrible. Wish me luck, or better yet, wish me more failures.
Once upon a time two sisters somewhere in their thirties decided to dare each other to fail at one of their childhood dreams. For the first time in decades one sister pursued singing in order to "win" the dare (she ended up in a choir). A few friends heard about this, and one was so excited he decided to do the same thing with a group of his friends. They would support each other as much as possible while they each pursued a dream of theirs, one they never pursued before because it was so likely to fail.
Eventually someone in TV met the guy who started this all, and decided this would make an awesome TV show. And it does (despite the fact that no franchise has really supported it, and it's only in 15 minute clips on Yahoo).
The main point of the show isn't for everyone to succeed, but rather for everyone to fail, and in the meantime break down all those stigmas against failure, and hopefully experience something life-changing and enlightening.
After watching a couple of short clips, I started wondering what were some of my childhood dreams, and what I would do if I wasn't worried about failing or all the practical life issues of having a regular salary and savings, etc...
While I had many dreams as a kid (several of which involved discovering an alternate reality or learning magic), the most important and persistent of these was writing a novel. I've always loved writing. Most minutes I wasn't exploring or reading as a child, I was writing. I started way back in second grade with stories and poetry for our school's literary journal (I still have a copy). In middle school this continued and a couple of friends who shared a similar passion and I spent our afternoons and weekends writing a story. We made it as far as around seventy pages or more.
In high school I had slightly less time, and slightly more self-consciousness, so my writing suffered. In college, I pursued a writing minor, and took classes in fiction writing and creative non-fiction. I participated in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) in November of one year, but didn't get nearly to 50,000 words, and became disgusted with my poorly designed novel (which is kind of the point of NaNoWriMo; they don't expect you to write an earth-shattering work of genius, just to get people writing lots and lots, to overcome exactly those boundaries I came upon and at which point I gave up).
Throughout it all, I couldn't give up science (which I also love, but perhaps without the same fervor and childhood abandon as writing). Mostly this was because I was old enough to realize that making a living off of writing fiction was about as likely as going to Mars: it wasn't necessarily impossible, but so close that to pursue it was fairly laughable and vaguely embarrassing. I certainly didn't want to end up writing technical journals for pennies, or having to sleep on my friends' couches for years, or start selling my organs on the black market for groceries (that seemed like a natural progression at the time).
So science it was (and is). But I always dreamed of doing both. I figured I could keep writing on the side, and when an idea struck me, I could just write slowly and surely until it was done. Even when thinking about medical school, I dream about all the great stories I'll have, all the people I'll meet who can provide inspiration, the great blog posts I'll write on the interesting things I learn. This idea of doing both is still feasible, but about as much so as that trip to Mars.
That's because writing takes time. Lots of it. And all those things I say I will pursue on the side for at least a few hours a week, turn into a few hours a month, or less. There's always something else that seems just as entertaining, and often less work, like drawing, or going for a swim, or watching TV, or dancing, or playing music. I love all these things, and want to be great at them. Then again, none of them are childhood dreams, and so I fear much less the possibility of failure. These aren't things I want to make a living doing, while writing for a long time was definitely one of those things. I thought I could get good at writing when only writing the things I wanted to write, when I wanted to write them. I thought writing was a talent, even when I espoused it being about hard work.
My blog is a great example. I had wonderful ideas of how much I would write, and how inspiring it would be, back when I started. Only I was determined not to write any bad blog posts. I aimed for each one to be better than the last. Which meant that my weekly posts turned into bi-monthly posts, and are now barely monthly posts.
Writing is entirely about hard work, as is anything else. Talent might give you a jump start for the first ten minutes you do something, but after that, you're all on even ground, and you're going to have to work. Really hard. Harder than you think you can feasibly work.
And so I have decided to try harder to fail at writing. I am going to write bad posts. I am going to write bad stories. I am going to submit those stories somewhere and they are going to get returned to me with regretful rejections. But I will be writing harder than before. I will be writing more than before.
So heads up. You might be seeing some fiction on this blog upcoming. And it will probably be terrible. Wish me luck, or better yet, wish me more failures.
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