Monday Is The Day!/ NoSaladWithoutMeat page 33

[kuno1chi]

Sweetie...
I wish I was there. I'd make you tea and bacon.

[piano-doctor-lady]

<<PDL, I don't get the outliners reference? Was that for inspiration? You're as mysterious as ever :]
But the discussion wasn't about writing for the sake of writing as a hobby but getting published, so since that's not gonna happen me writing in my personal diary is pretty much all I'll have left.>>

Its a damned fine book, Outliers, heartily recommended, especially for young people who tend to be hard on themselves. An outlier is someone at the end of the curve, someone who does something remarkably, extraordinarily well.

It discusses how "brilliance" hasn't all that much to do with success, which can often be started by the workings of chance. He's worked out several really neat examples. He points out, for instance, that Mozart's greatest works (MOZART! The guy who wrote music from age 4!) were all written when he had put in over 10,000 hours of writing music. He found a number of other examples where 10,000 hours expended was the magic number.

There's no way that anyone will put in 10,000 hours (BEFORE the world fame, probably not even expecting the world fame) without really enjoying the activity itself.

I remember a number of times through the years when excellent musicians talked about how irate they would get when people said to them, "Oh, how TALENTED you are! If only I had such TALENT!!" completely ignoring the ten hours a day they've been practicing, year after year.

The hard question you might ask yourself isn't whether or not you can get published, and if you can you'll write, and if you can't you'll bitch about it but not write.

The question is whether you enjoy WRITING, or do you just enjoy the idea of being a "published author."

An even harder more challenging question is whether you enjoy WRITING for its own sake, or is there something you truly need to say?

I am a "published author" in a minor way ... it happened that I wrote first, about stuff which mattered to me, and the offer to get hired for it came on its own, with no effort on my part. The best way for it to happen, I think.

[Beef Cake]

I try my best to improve my confidence and do less whining and more... men :][/B]

*reads BeefCake's post*
*takes cold shower*
*looks at BeefCake's profile pic*
*faints*

[I]*Beef

[Beef Cake]

Yeah, we've got some pretty tasty snacks here, especially in French land.
French accent + Canadian men... But I think they only look good, kinda like a giant chocolate covered cake, it looks good but you should stay away because you'll regret having it the next day.

I wish there was a gay switch I can use, chicks dig me.

I wonder

[PrimalEagle]

This journal cracks me up.

[DarthFriendly]

. Oh, who am I kidding...I might have better luck harvesting some Unicorn bacon.

...

Better be careful I hear that regular consumption of Unicorn products leads to the formation of huge crushes on Ronald Reagan.

[NoSaladWithoutMeat]

Haha, Beef Cake you've used numerous Looney Tunes references. Now I know for a fact, you are the man for me

PDL, I think I get what you mean.
I can draw well and my mom's dream for me was to go to art school. People still tell me, "you should become a visual artist", when they see one of my old drawings. But putting the 'unrealistic profession' aspect of it aside, drawing isn't something I enjoy doing and able to do for long periods of time. That's why it never even occurred to me to do it as a career.

If I really admit it to myself, writing is sort of the same way.
I'm only good at it because instead of expressing my emotions physically I would express it through writing poetry or long, whiny posts at some forgotten blog. It's just something I'm good at, and it's not limited to English either. When I lived in Israel my Hebrew teacher would rave about my writing just as much, it was decided then and there that I should be a writer.

Growing up I changed my mind about it hundreds of times, from psychology to becoming a detective (too many Law&Order and X-Files episodes) but my laziness usually got the best of me and I'd give up on studying hard to become *insert profession here* because it wasn't something I really wanted to do.

Why I chose writing, at the end? I'm not sure, maybe I thought it would be easiest but as far from a boring 9-5 job as can be.
But maybe you're right, I don't think I can write for long periods of time, I often have to make myself. Writing professionally (articles etc.) is dreadful. I will probably enjoy writing a novel one of these days, but until that happens I have no idea where I stand.
And that is what brings me to the most annoying question of all? Should I just become a dentist like my dad always wanted me to because it's a lot of money and guaranteed employment?
It's nice chasing a dream of a future you've envisioned from a young age, but what if you don't have one?

Crap, why did I find this out today? PDL, couldn't you have asked me that years ago? Maybe if you were visiting Toronto and you felt this uncontrollable urge to come up to a skinny, big-eyed girl, take out the cigarette out of her fragile hand ("you'll only grow to about 5'2, you idiot!") and ask her "do you enjoy writing? Is it something you can do 10 hours a day?", we wouldn't be in this mess!
No wonder I wasn't excited about getting in, I thought I would later on but now I just feel hollow...

I don't know what to do now except for finally getting my BA. I've transferred, withdrew, flunked out and enough is enough. My friends are graduating already and I'll keep living with my parents if I don't get up on my own feet.
Maybe I'm just not a very positive person but I've always envisioned myself as growing up to be unaccomplished. Is that weird?
The thing is, it never made me sad, it just sort of made sense that no matter what sort of dreams I have I will never accomplish them, because they're unrealistic or something. Kinda like I don't really belong here, and just visiting.
When I've watched Ally Mcbeal (yeah, I wanted to be a lawyer that time) it felt like I'm just seeing myself portrayed on screen. Ally can never be happy, she has to make things up, she lives in a separate universe of music and romance... something that can't exist in the real world.
One of the other characters said to her, "you will never be happy, you'll always want something more, something that no man can provide you that's why you feel the necessity to make him up", and it's exactly the case with me. And it's something that others have said to me, people who went out of their way just to please me but couldn't make me happy.

Gosh, I'm getting too philosophical.

I slept for 13 hours today. I don't even know how it happened. I kinda think there's something deeply ingrained that's sabotaging my sleeping habits, my diet and my motivation. I'm unhappy because I have no purpose. Even when I get everything served to me on a silver platter I still don't enjoy it.
I don't understand!!! Why can't I be happy? Is there something wrong with me?

I realize how stupid and boring it must be for you all to read this, most of you can't figure out why I whine so much when life is so simple.
You get up and you enjoy the day for what it is, but I can't. Please understand that, for what's it's worth, I use this place to figure things out because I can't figure this out with any of my friends, or even by talking to myself.
I wish I could be happy instead of pretending or bring happy for a fraction of the day until something goes wrong until I remember "oh, wait a minute, I should be doing something else, this is all wrong".

This isn't even about self body-image. I sort of got over that. I kinda look at myself a little, unsatisfied with what I see mostly, but I don't dwell on it. This is totally different.

I think I need to be on a sort of daily schedule so I don't have time to think and get depressed, but the fact that there's something that's bothering me no matter how hard I've suppressed it, it ends up preventing me from being on schedule. Then, I get these dreams... and they are the same dreams over and over again, where I'm feeling helpless, like I've forgotten something important and I need to finish it and then I can move on... but I can't figure out what it is. I can't figure out how to fix myself.

Haha, this is getting so long and pathetic. I literally cried while typing for a bit.

It's in the back of my mind, the answer for what it is that would complete me, the thing that would make me happy... it's there, I can feel it fighting for a voice but muffled by excuses, by 'what ifs', by logic.
Sometimes I get it right, and I tell myself:"it doesn't matter where it takes me, as long as I do it, I'll be happy, I'll be fulfilled' but then I get discouraged, I stop doing it and I feel like I can't do it, like I can just dream about it because it'll never happen.
It something that scares me and has since I was 17, that's why I've evaded it for so long even though I had the means to do it.
Even though I've spent my entire summer's paycheque on it. Even though, when I think about, listen to it and grasp it I feel so alive, and it's the only time I do!
Why am I so scared? I've heard someone say, the things that are hardest are the ones that are worth the most.
I guess it's true, but maybe that thing and I, we can never form an understanding, maybe we weren't mean to be?
Maybe this noble artistry is better than me, maybe I don't deserve it?

I don't know.

I have to go to French class.

Maybe, I'll spend the little money I have on this passion. Because God knows, Kung-fu isn't worth the 700$... but this thing, oh, I would put all my money on the table for a chance, for a single opportunity to feel alive for a while.

[batty]

jesus, you sound like me when i was your age.
spend the money on the passion. get that passion about..something. actually, you might not find it, it might come to you. but you will get something and you'll feel alive again.
i want to give you a hug and bake you a big batch of meatza.

[Diana Renata]

One of the other characters said to her, "you will never be happy, you'll always want something more, something that no man can provide you that's why you feel the necessity to make him up", and it's exactly the case with me. And it's something that others have said to me, people who went out of their way just to please me but couldn't make me happy.

Wow... girl can I relate! I often wonder if that's the basis for my dating issues... and my career issues. *sigh* I can always imagine myself in these perfect situations that will never happen, and find myself disappointed when life doesn't quite stand up to the dream. I can imagine myself in all these wonderful careers. I've imagined myself doing everything from veterinarian, to joining the military, to becoming a model. Then I slack out and say "nah," and sink back into the reality of my factory job. I've learned to like that job. It's become comfortable and enjoyable. I could be happy doing it for a long while, so long as I continue to make ends meet. But still, there's a part of me that thinks how unbelievable it would be to kick ass in the military, or be one of those beautiful girls in a magazine. I have come to realize I have to stop comparing every guy I date to my "dream guy" that doesn't exist. He doesn't exist. I have to understand that and realize that loving a guy that isn't my dream guy ISN'T settling.

Don't do what I do. I'm 28 and I never followed a dream. Granted a lot of my dreams were tied to my fitness and appearance (both of which I lacked... which makes me wonder if there's a deeper psychological reason for choosing those dreams rather than one seemingly more attainable.) I know I'm rambling, but the point is, don't settle for a good paying job if you're going to hate it. It's not worth it. Trust me. I would LOVE to be getting paid $17 working for the big factory the rest of my family works for, but it's a miserable job. I'd hate it. My job makes me happy, even if it does pay so little. I really, truly think it's the better way to go.

Holy crap girl! $700 for Kung Fu!? I agree the money would be better spent on your passion. The fantastic thing with writing... you can write yourself into any life you can imagine. Whether it's a master of kung fu, a lawyer, a detective... or anything else. Write about what it would be like to be those things. Who knows, you could be the writer of the next big tv series. You never know.

[NoSaladWithoutMeat]

I don't know.
I just "can't".
I think about it, I think of how I 'could'... yet, I can't! There are so many obstacles... shyness, being antisocial, no particular talent, no friends who share the same passion, no skills, and I do try it doesn't work!
It's right there in front of me but I just... Augh.

I want to die.
And have one of those clinical death experiences. I've watched a documentary about it and it talked about how people completely changed their lives and finally knew what they were meant to do. It's like you have to die first to figure it out, to come up to an imaginary blackboard where it says "You must be a writer". Or I wish I was one of those people who knew what they wanted to be since a very young age, because those people always end up getting what they want.
And I wish to god I had that mentality of "I'm happy doing this and I'm content", I can't live like that. I'm burning from the inside out if I'm not pursuing some prestigious Writing degree, if I'm not with that guy I like... It's so destructive!
I think I'm too egotistic to settle for things. Even when I was a child I thought things like "I'm different, I'm special, I was meant to do something really great", and that's at the age of 5! I didn't need anything other than "knowing that" and living in my own little world. Writing comes close, especially if I inspire or help people, but it's not *it*.

Bygones.

Should I eat mayo?
I'm trying to get my veggie intake but it's so hard!
I can't eat that much!

I got up at 15:30 :'c. I slept for 12-13 hours and I had weird dreams!
L: 0.5 cup of veggies (calif, green beans, broccoli, carrots), 0.5 tomato, 0.5 zucchini (the other half I fed to my mom) with an egg and a slice of pork roast.
D: 2 bacon slices (mmmm...), some cabbage, tomato, cremini mushrooms and other unidentifiable things. An egg. Some mayo.
My body still hurts from the 4 lame sprints I did, I feel like a broken puppet.
S: 5 strawberries and 23 blueberries (I counted them for SparkPeople.
-> My meat and strawberries were from the farmer's market.

71.2 Fat
17.4 Protein
11.5 Carbs
-----------
760 Calories (wtf?! but I couldn't really eat anymore, plus I hardly did anything physical except for walking to French class)
I though of eating some coconut oil to up my calories but I'm not really doing anything, so maybe there's no need.

And I know I promised not to complain, but I feel even bigger than when I started... It's so odd.
I don't even know what to do now...
And needless to say I didn't get my period this month... :x