People following their dreams and ambitions. Yes, it is frustrating if you have a whole battle plan figured out and stick to it, yet the desired end is nowhere to be seen. But. Isn’t it worse to have all these dreams and do nothing to achieve them?
That’s me…incapacitated by inaction. It feels too overwhelming and scary to pursue them. What if it doesn’t work out? I hate having this fear of failure. This constant nagging of the logical part of my brain thinking only of paying the bills and mortgage forcing the creative part into submission. It is debilitating.
I guess I am not in a very positive bubble at the moment because I am taking this personally… Well, that is not entirely true, I just feel a bit tired. To be honest, I don’t really want to go down the rabbit hole of self-doubt and feeling sorry for myself. I could, but what is that good for?
Sure, everyone has dreams and ambitions and plans and stuff. And it is frustrating if things don’t go according to plans. Especially if you have a whole battle plan figured out and you tick the boxes one by one and the desired end is nowhere to be seen.
Source: 365 Days of Writing Prompts
3rd line of the song you’re listening to at the moment, 15 minutes of writing.
The song is Livin’ for That by Lil Pitchy
The above is the updated version to fit the format of 100 words. Below is the raw version in line (mostly) with the rules of the prompt.
It is not the worst thing though. Isn’t it worse to have all these dreams and do nothing to achieve them? And feel sorry for yourself? Even sadder is if one gives up on all dreams.
I’m sort of in the passive group of sad people who have dreams but for some reason are incapacitated by inaction…I am trying to get over that. Sometimes it just feels too overwhelming and scary to pursue something, and let’s be real, (also I’ve just realized that I forgot to start the timer…but I think I’ve been writing for about 10 minutes, so I’ll just do the timer for another 5. I’m failing at the simplest tasks…) you have to be willing to dedicate your time and energy to your dreams and take the big jump into a scary place. It may not work. It may be a complete disaster. I hate having this fear of failure. This constant nagging of the logical part of brain that thinks only of paying the bills and mortgage and forces the creative part into submission. It is debilitating. I think I just went down the rabbit hole…
I have always a notepad on me. At least one. I make notes. I love making notes. I am obsessed with making notes. I also add notes to my phone and on random pieces of paper that I then stuff inside the notepads, books, my diary or to many other places where I subsequently abandon them. When I finally attempt to bring some order to my note-making, most of the time I can’t decipher any of them as any doctor out there would be proud of my handwriting. I am compiling those notes, always thinking I will come back to them. I must. One day. When I won’t be too busy making notes about making notes.
When I was little, I noted all important information on my skin, on my arm, palm, back of my hand. That way I never forgot anything. Unless the pen washed out. I started practicing this again. However I think it might be getting little out of hand!
What do you think?
Last weekend I was attending Feables, convention dedicated to TV series Lost Girl and Once Upon A Time. I stayed at a nearby hotel, about 5 minutes walk from the venue. The room was clean, the air-conditioning unit didn’t kicked in as soon I walked in (that is a good thing, I live in Britain not Brazil), the bed was comfortable and I could even open the window! The view wasn’t much but you can’t expect postcard scenery when you are booked so close to the airport. Ok, the twice needed reboot of electricity was annoying but overall it was a pleasant stay.
The hotel’s restaurant was small-ish but with reasonable menu and I chose the Rustic Waldorf salad for dinner. The presentation of the dish was beautiful, with thinly sliced apples arranged into a flower on the top of the green leaves smothered in vinaigrette (the traditional recipe has mayonnaise – but I didn’t mind that too much as I’ll take vinaigrette over mayo any day). But then I saw it. The green ragged leaves of what at that stage I was desperately hoping to be parsley only to be devastated to find out that it wasn’t. Waldorf salad is not supposed to contain coriander. Definitely not one that is claiming to be rustic. The recipe is simple – apples, celery, walnuts, salad leaves. Coriander is not a salad leaf. Coriander is a herb. A vile one. If I say that I hate coriander with passion, that would be an understatement. I commenced a food autopsy. The viscous herb made a quarter of the greens and the cute apple flower actually represented the only apples in the salad. I wanted to cry. At least the walnuts were plentiful. I left hungry, angry and disappointed (also fully refunded with a free drink but that’s not the point).
After this traumatic experience I was avoiding the restaurant the next day but decided to give it another try the day after. I was playing it safe and ordered a hamburger. Again, the presentation was beautiful and I was mentally prepared not to bother myself with the side salad full of coriander. I don’t eat burgers as a normal person. I always remove the top bun and leave it on the side. I also use cutlery to eat it. Which is strange as I eat almost everything else (that isn’t runny or would make me look like a Homo neanderthalensis) with my fingers. The third semi-chewed mouthful ended up in a napkin when the overwhelmingly foul flavour of coriander assaulted my taste buds. Seriously, what mad chef would put coriander in a burger?
I think I am a reasonable person. I know how very much I dislike the herb. I do not eat most of Thai or Vietnamese dishes for this reason and when dining out in my favourite Indian restaurant, I obsessively request that no fresh coriander is to be present in any of the meals. However it seems that the coriander invasion is out of control now and something needs to be done about it.
Something also needs to be done about child abuse. Would you help by donating to NSPCC?
or really any other place where you can unwittingly pick it up, touch it or get it unstuck from the place where it was stuck just for it to be stuck again to a piece of your clothing. I have come across gums that were old and hard, easily mistaken for a tiny stone, slimy and wet, where you can see the saliva of some moron slowly drying up and gums in various other stages with different consistency, colour and degree of stickiness.
Most common appearance of the disposed gum is on the pavement where the little parasites are waiting to be picked up by a stranger. They will suck onto the sole of your shoe and won’t let go no matter how hard you try to rub them off against the curb or how skilful you think you are with a piece of wood, plastic or anything else you find may be used as a blade to sever the ties between the gum and the bottom of your shoe.
It is not advised to try the two aforementioned methods of gum removal if you acquire the gum from the train seat. Big chance is you probably won’t notice the presence of the gum until you are told about it by a goodhearted person (depending where you work as you may also become a joke of the office) or when you take your pants off. I was told that putting the affected garment inside a freezer for a while will help toughen up the gum and it is then easier to remove. Of course I was told this after I had destroyed my trousers.
For me, the least pleasant of all of the abandoned gums is the gum that you discover under the table in a restaurant after you just washed your hands. There are so many things that can go wrong when you are in restaurant – why people leave their germs around on top of that?
I am sure that many of you have experienced a troubled gum and have found a way how to deal with it. However it is not always easy to deal with and step up to a bully and therefore bullying is my zero tolerance issue this week as well.
Recognize. Organize. Deputize. My autocorrect keeps changing these and suggest they should be written with S and not Z. I always (read – most of the times) change them back. Even if the ugly dotted red lines glaring at me are trying to make me bent to their will. No. It looks better with Z. Z is strong where S is smooth. I don’t care if it is American or British way of spelling. It is more aesthetically pleasing. So is colour to color btw. Could we please establish aesthetic English?
Autocorrect is not the only thing I have zero tolerance to (actually I seem to be dissatisfied with rather lot of things!) and therefore I have decided to start my own A to Z challenge about things I am not happy about. So this post is not only the last one for the A to Z Challenge but is also the first one for my alphabetical Zero Tolerance series. I just simply can’t part with the beautiful perfection of ABC.
Every Wednesday, I will be publishing new post with a ‘serious’ issue I am faced with on daily basis. However as I feel this might get out of hand very quickly, I have decided to balance it out with a serious (without the apostrophes this time) issue starting with Zero tolerance to Animal cruelty.
I will also try to include a link to a charity or an organization that is helping with, fighting, or educating about the issue. For this week it is RSPCA.
Z in the A to Z Challenge.
because that is what I have been doing repeatedly while attempting to write today’s penultimate post. I am tired and sleepy and it doesn’t help that I am getting comfortable in my bed. I am also aching. I hit the gym, and the gym mercilessly hit back.
Tomorrow is the last day of this wonderful alphabetical experience and it makes me little sad. So I have decided that there will be a surprise with my Z post! Me excited – not only about the surprise but also because my sister is coming over for a visit.
Well, I’m going to sleep now.
Y in the A to Z challenge.
I couldn’t think of a suitable word starting with X. And I became even more desperate after consulting my dictionary.
~ xerox ~ Xmas ~ x-ray ~ xylograph ~ xylophone ~
Instead of opening a bigger dictionary, I have started to think how and where are we using X. X marks a treasure on a map. We used X to sign documents in the dark ages of illiteracy. Now, in the age of text-language, X stands for kiss and is often used as a substitute or abbreviation (as in the dictionary entry Xmas). And we are still happily making decisions by penning x inside neat boxes on ballot papers. In mathematics it represents the unknown value, although the Romans may argue that in fact the value is ten. It features in extremes and extras and its triple form advertises adult themes. It even has a chromosome and rays named after it. X is something special.
X in the A to Z challenge.
Upper Crust, the saviour when
the train door closes on your drunken face,
another half an hour
waiting in the dark and rain
Saviour when you really shouldn’t be outside
or by yourself
The feeding hand that will ease your hangover
the supplier of stodge that
makes the next day little bit prettier.
Upper Crust, we (the insolent idiots who always miss the point where one more pint is a pint too much)
U in the A to Z challenge.
I have finally found some time to read (and I mean read, not skim) other posts in the A to Z challenge. There are so many! I have managed to go just through a minuscule fraction of them but I will persist, I promise.
Some of my favourite ones so far (but trust me it is difficult to choose):
All of the above have a theme which I think is the reason that has made them so appealing. I think I might be theming next year too. As this is my first year, I don’t really know what I am doing. Literally I’m just going from A to Z jumping of random thoughts. On one hand this gives me freedom to do whatever I feel like in the moment but also leaves me without any resemblance of a structure which I think could be quite helpful. Well, I have learned something.
Majority of us are enjoying the last day of a very long weekend so I will leave you to it. Read, rest and have a friendly robot help you with your domestic duties.
R in the A to Z challenge.
I have come to the point where my drafts, ideas and notes are on so many different papers, in so many different places and in different forms that I am getting lost in them. For me to function, I need to stay organised however my strongly developed sense for neat piles and lists is being seriously challenged by this overflow of things that wants to be finished.
Pros: I have ideas.
Cons: The aforementioned ideas are in the queue waiting to be developed into meaningful or otherwise publishable pieces.
And queues are the thing I have a problem with. I am not patient. For me to join a queue means that whatever is at the end of the queue is life-and-death important. Otherwise I wouldn’t bother. Queues hinder progress. I live in the UK. The British citizens are very organised while queuing. I have never thought I will find a nation so immersed in the culture of queuing. Then I visited Brazil. Let’s just say that the conclusion of this trip in regards to the issue of queuing is that the United Kingdom has still a lot to learn.
My queues are based on tiredness, formed around lack of time, mixed with impatience and a dollop of laziness. They are flavoured with the fear of failure and soaked in the despair of self-doubt. No wonder I’m avoiding them. Please someone tell me to stop moaning and get over it. Please, I beg you.
Q in the A to Z challenge.