So in the guise of resolutions (but mostly just to help stave off my own boredom), I’ve created my own version of the 52 week challenge. The challenge? Do something different every week.
So every week this year, my goal is to try something different. It could be anything, I won’t limit myself here. But I’ll be scouring the void for different projects, games, travels, visits, haunts, what-have-you’s and forget-me-nots of just stuff to do. I’ll try to update this post with the ongoing saga of my 2014 resolution to keep track of how I’m doing.
Let the games begin!
- Week 1: DIY Jewelry Box
- Week 2: Read the J.J. Abrams Book “S” in 1 Week
- Week 3: Attend a Career Management Event
- Week 4: Go Kart Racing!
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With the noted radio silence from November, it’s safe to say I completely crashed and burned with the NaNoWriMo Challenge I had set up for myself. Work and an overwhelming sense of depression just kicked my ass through the holiday season for 2013 and here I am, chewed up and spit out on the other side. 2014. Lovely.
Work is the primary offender. I know, I know, total #firstworldproblems, boohoo with the tiny violin, be thankful I even have a job and the whole lot of it. But you can’t help what you feel.
In any case, I’m determined to stop the internal whining and just grin and bear it. Work is work. Yes, it is stressful. Yes, I am a workaholic. Yes, I push myself with self imposed long hours to make things work. I’ve accepted that this is who I am but I’m now challenging myself to take the time to take care of *. I’ve had no issues pushing myself beyond reasonable expectations to get things done in my professional life. Why not have that same drive and determination my own personal life?
It’s taken me more than a decade of clawing through the muck to have that one brief intelligent thought. If I don’t live my life, who will?
But like all things, we’ll take baby steps. And hopefully 2014 will see a resolution that finally sticks.
48,312 more words to go! Day One is under my belt and it only took 3 hours to get 1688 words on the page. If we’re going at that rate, it’ll be a long November ahead of me. I’m amazed it was so difficult to actually push out 1600 words. When I originally read that that NaNo estimate of 1667 words per day, I thought it would be simple to get the words but the difficulty would be the storyline.
Well slap me silly and call me Sally, but the most difficult part was getting the words on the page. With a mocking cursor blinking back at me more than I’d thought possible in a 3 hour time period (and yes, in my head, that fucking cursor is laughing at my inability to keep it moving and type a word), I now remember what a pain in the ass it is to write something. Writing something good or worthwhile is even harder.
Sigh. Why do we put ourselves through so much turmoil?
This is exactly why I think I preferred poetry and short story during college than the novel. Even an essay was easier to write than an extended piece of fiction. It requires so much effort and cohesion, I just want to throw my hands up in the air and go “Arghhh!” Why does it need to make sense? I don’t need to make any sense with my poems and I’m called enlightened.
What’s nonsensical in one is profound in the other.
Only 48,312 words to go….
I think the word that sums up this week is exhausted. Or weary. And it’s only Wednesday. I’m so utterly tired of my path that I’ve got half a mind to just to shuck it all and blaze a new one without provisions or planning. I’m tired of being tired and being made to feel that who I am and what I do is wrong. Consistently.
So I’m closing my ears and turning my heart away because this shit is slowly killing me. And you can’t be bothered to care because you can’t see the forest for the trees.
So I’ve opted to actually do something for the next month. NaNoWriMo. It’s some form of nanananapoopoo, I did something you didn’t do.
At least that’s what I keep singing in my head this lovely Sunday. I figured I needed something to motivate me into actually doing something. If not there’d be another colossal failure to shove back into the closet.
I’m awesome at the short and brief and master of the unfinished. A god of the half starts. So taking this challenge on in November will be quite interesting. It will be an absolute terrible piece of work; I have no flipping clue on how to even begin a novel, let alone outline a story or even draft a character study. Will these people in my lines and lines of text even need names?
I guess only time will tell. Bring it November.
So we’ve decided on another move. Now let’s see if we ever reach our destination. I feel like my life is littered with a ton of these false starts. And each of these failures leave me a bit more jaded in the end. It’s a wonder I’m not a jagged pointy edge by now, although I think the The Hubby may interject here with a wordy counter argument. He’d say I’m nothing but prickly edges at such a tender young age. Sigh.
Rewrite #ihavenoflippingidea. I keep finding myself in a this odd oscillation of writing that makes for a chaotic scene here. I keep reading articles and blogs about sustainability, marketability, reaching an audience, any audience, and what have you. An utter cornucopia of crap I tell you.
So I’m done with it. Push the pile of advice and crap in the corner and start doing what I want. Because honestly, trying to follow some mold has taken the fun out of it all. Which is why my attendance here has been so spotty. Because it’s the worst kind of work trying to do something that’s just not ultimately you. I’m hopping around, pretending to be something I’m not which is utterly ridiculous, especially when no one is reading anyway.
So in the wise words of Cartman, “Whatever. I’ll do what I want.”
Another my puppy is so cute post. Deal with it.
I’m bored. And I tend to get myself in trouble when I’m bored. I hate being bored. But I don’t know how to get out of the rut of being bored. I guess it goes hand in hand with my laziness…. but dang it! I like being lazy. And that doesn’t help the bored part of me. Sigh. What a paradox I’ve become….
So instead of pondering the merits of the cesspool I call my life, let’s look at a boring picture together.
I totally warned you. Boring.
I don’t have much for you today, so I leave you with a pic of office shenanigans.