what would you attempt to do?
29 December 2008 
The first gift I opened on Christmas Eve was a paperweight. I opened a lot of great gifts after that, but the paperweight was one of the best.
what would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?
Inspiration is a funny thing. My uncle first told me the phrase on this paperweight when I was afraid of moving to New York. Back then, it was a paperweight on his desk, a constant reminder that he can do anything he puts his mind to, and he was simply passing along that advice to me.
I look over my To-Do list today at work — process invoices, file contracts, proofread and compile reports — and I know there’s no risk of failing. But now a paperweight, heavy with inspiration is at the bottom of that list.
What about the challeges, the things I could fail to accomplish? It asks. Why haven’t they been added to the list?
I knew about the paperweight. Its phrase is in my blog archives and on my Facebook profile. But having it right here, feeling the weight of its meaning, reminds me that I should add more to my to-do list.
- I will not allow yesterday’s success to lull me into today’s complacency, for this is the great foundation of failure.
Choosing my life for me
3 April 2008
Filed under Uncategorized
Tags: blogging, bourbon, career, future, journalism, life, sleep, twitching cheeks
It’s 1:30 in the morning, and I just got back from work.
My cheek won’t stop twitching — who knew that cheeks twitched?
I don’t remember the last time I got more than five hours of sleep.
My roommate informed me that she didn’t pay the rent and she doesn’t have any checks.
I still stink of the cigarette I smoked a few hours ago. (No, I’m not a smoker, not even a social smoker. But on nights like this I envy the sense of calm that falls over agitated smoker after that first drag. I try it every six months or so when I’m desperate for something to calm my nerves. Maybe if it worked I would try it more often.)
I have recently neglected this dear piece of my soul. But tonight is a night for blogging. It’s also a night for bourbon, and Alanis Morsette.
Within the next few days, I will reject my carefully laid summer plans, back out on writing a story I once described as a story worth giving up everything else for, and dress up in a ridiculous Dutch costume with a bustline from the 18th century. I will do all of these ridiculous things for my own good — and for once in my life I will do them against the good of others.
I’m throwing away all my plans…and in a certain way, I know exactly what I’m doing. Yet, as exhilarating as that is, I can’t be excited about it. I’m so used to following the mold — no, I’m used to leading the mold. Breaking away from it isn’t my thing.
So why do it? Because the idea of following the mold this time makes me sick to my stomach. Because at some point I have to stop reaching others’ expectations and start setting and reaching my own. Because if I continue at this rate I’ll either die from lack of passion for what I do or from lack of sleep.
