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I really like trying to drive home (yes, I HAVE to go home, to be in the same place as the book that's due tomorrow that I haven't finished) when I'm in the visual disturbance phase of a migraine. So bear in mind that I can't even see.
This week, I want to start setting some goals for myself. I've talked to a couple people about that, and mainly it's not things like "Have student loan of insanity paid off within a year" or "Climb K-2". It's more like "I want this minor debt taken care of by New Year's" and "I want that much published."
Because every day I face the fact that somewhere in my smallminded twisted personality, I conceived the idea that success was the same as "beating someone else to the punch." So, if I want to be a writer (maybe) I need to be published in a significant way before person or persons who I am directly competing with is. Whether that person(s) will be published is up for debate. However, the possibility exists.
Therefore, to be a success in my own mind, someone else has to lose, which means I need to start setting (and meeting) actual goals. This means, that as I clear off the decks to take a good whack at beating The Dead Letters into line, I can't decide I hate my clothing and decide to cut out two shirts, a pair of jeans and a skirt. This means that I can't spend half an hour a day making anal-retentive little lists of specialness.
I declare this to be the year of shit or get off the pot. Write something long, or shut up about it. Strive past your level of incompetence and see what happens.
I declare this to be the year of meeting goals.
And now I'm off to the loo. Migraines- they're like being drunk except cheaper and less fun.
This week, I want to start setting some goals for myself. I've talked to a couple people about that, and mainly it's not things like "Have student loan of insanity paid off within a year" or "Climb K-2". It's more like "I want this minor debt taken care of by New Year's" and "I want that much published."
Because every day I face the fact that somewhere in my smallminded twisted personality, I conceived the idea that success was the same as "beating someone else to the punch." So, if I want to be a writer (maybe) I need to be published in a significant way before person or persons who I am directly competing with is. Whether that person(s) will be published is up for debate. However, the possibility exists.
Therefore, to be a success in my own mind, someone else has to lose, which means I need to start setting (and meeting) actual goals. This means, that as I clear off the decks to take a good whack at beating The Dead Letters into line, I can't decide I hate my clothing and decide to cut out two shirts, a pair of jeans and a skirt. This means that I can't spend half an hour a day making anal-retentive little lists of specialness.
I declare this to be the year of shit or get off the pot. Write something long, or shut up about it. Strive past your level of incompetence and see what happens.
I declare this to be the year of meeting goals.
And now I'm off to the loo. Migraines- they're like being drunk except cheaper and less fun.
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From:
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From:
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I'm the person who gives people birthday gifts at the wrong time of year and thinks nothing of it. I'd rather give the gift when I see something they'd like than try to just find something ANYTHING at the right time. My family is starting to cope. I do things when they seem appropriate, and that often puts me on an odd "year" length - though, realistically, these are, generally, goals that can be accomplished in the six months left of the year, IF I get off my butt.