I have problems with decisions. These problems fall into a couple of different categories:
1. Day-to-day decisions such as where/what/when to eat, what to do for fun, et cetera.
2. Life decisions such as where/what/when to study, live, work, et cetera.
Decisions in category 1 are difficult to make because they're not essential, at all. Most of the time I don't have strong opinions on them either way. Pizza instead of Indian? Sure, why not? Eat at home instead of going out? Sure, why not? I don't care either way, 99.9% of the time. I won't be offended by any choice; in fact, I will be happy and content with any choice. When I say, "I don't make decisions" these are the kind of decisions I mean. Usually someone else has much stronger feelings about whatever the situation is than I do, and I'd rather let someone who cares make that decision.
Decisions in category 2 are difficult to make because they are essential. These are the ones I tend to make after long, long, long self-debate. I am usually okay with these decisions, and want them to take effect quickly. (See also: my feelings about my own hypothetical wedding.)
Recently, though, I've been second-guessing my category 2 decisions. I don't question my decision to come to Nottingham, but I question my choice of field of study both here (I should have done linguistics and medieval lit instead of modern lit and medieval lit) and at Luther (I should have done a math, communications, education, or business/finance degree instead of or in addition to my English degree).
I also have a decision to make in the next few weeks that falls into both category 1 and category 2. I have to decide where I want to live and look for a job for this next year. I don't really care where in the UK I live (category 1) - I think I could be happy in either Nottingham or London. London will be better for job availability, but Nottingham is better for cost of living. (There are other factors involved as well, but those won't be determined for a while yet themselves....) However, if I want to stay in Nottingham and share a house with my good friends, I have to decide very soon (category 2). It's a bit nerve-wracking at the moment. I swing back and forth from one to the other on a nearly hourly basis.
It's hard having to make decisions about one part of your future when the decisions about other parts of your future cannot be made yet. It seems a bit backwards in some ways. I wouldn't mind moving to London if I find a good job there. I wouldn't mind staying in Nottingham if I find a good job here. But most of the jobs that I am qualified for that would start at the right time for me (September) aren't being advertised yet. So I have to make a decision before I have all the information to make the decision.
26 May 2009
23 May 2009
A new try
This last week when I was in Minneapolis, I had a couple of conversations about blogs. I know a few people who have blogs, but who don’t update very often (like me), and we talked about how we get writer’s block, basically, about being profound and/or witty and that keeps us from posting anything. (We also talked about how we essentially write blog posts in our heads, and then by the time we sit down at the computer, we don’t feel the necessity of typing it all out because we’ve already dealt with whatever it was by writing it in our heads.) However, I find that the blogs that I enjoy reading the most are not necessarily the witty or profound ones, but the ones that present snapshots of daily life. And yet I can’t bring myself to write about “what I did today” most of the time. I’d like to change that, so today I present for you: what I did today.
I’m still trying to get over jetlag and get back on a normal sleeping schedule. It’s going better than it did in January, probably because I’m actually trying now. I still didn’t fall asleep until 3am yesterday. I had my alarm set for 9:30, so that I could get up and run some errands in the morning. Yeah, that didn’t so much happen. But I was up and showered before noon, so that’s a sort of progress, I suppose.
I walked into Beeston to the stationer’s so that I could get a plastic organizer box for my kitchen cupboard (perfect size for the Easy Mac and microwave Hamburger Helper packets that I brought back from the States) and an expanding file for things like bank statements in a probably futile attempt to keep myself organized. We’ll see how well that works. I’m trying to treat this summer term as a sort of reset for me, organization/work –wise. I am hopeful that my dissertation will be a little bit easier than this last essay writing session because of it. Hey, there’s always hope. The expanding file was the last main thing I needed to finish my room clean-up/organization of yesterday. There’s still a few little things, but that was the main thing. I still need to redo my makeup drawer and sort my books. (The Arts Graduate Centre on campus is now an official bookcrossing point, so any of the books that I have that I know I’m not going to get around to reading or don’t want anymore might as well go there.)
Then this afternoon I met a friend for a wander. She’s headed back to the States for her Ph.D. in less than a month, so we’re running out of time that we can spend together. We walked around Wollaton Park – the first time in years I’ve been in the park and the first time I’ve ever really walked around it. We went into the house, too - another first for me. I wouldn’t mind going back sometime (especially since it’s free). Then we came back here and transferred files - I have some movies on my hard drive that she wanted, and vice versa.
By the time I got back inside after walking her to the exit(where I live is kind of a maze, and all the buildings look alike), my flatmates had gotten the TV in our kitchen working for the first time since January. So I actually made some dinner and ate in the kitchen with my flatmates for once. It was good, but our kitchen is really too small to make that feasible for very long. Other than that, I’ve just been overly checking the internet (as usual) and watching American sitcoms on E4.
I’m still trying to get over jetlag and get back on a normal sleeping schedule. It’s going better than it did in January, probably because I’m actually trying now. I still didn’t fall asleep until 3am yesterday. I had my alarm set for 9:30, so that I could get up and run some errands in the morning. Yeah, that didn’t so much happen. But I was up and showered before noon, so that’s a sort of progress, I suppose.
I walked into Beeston to the stationer’s so that I could get a plastic organizer box for my kitchen cupboard (perfect size for the Easy Mac and microwave Hamburger Helper packets that I brought back from the States) and an expanding file for things like bank statements in a probably futile attempt to keep myself organized. We’ll see how well that works. I’m trying to treat this summer term as a sort of reset for me, organization/work –wise. I am hopeful that my dissertation will be a little bit easier than this last essay writing session because of it. Hey, there’s always hope. The expanding file was the last main thing I needed to finish my room clean-up/organization of yesterday. There’s still a few little things, but that was the main thing. I still need to redo my makeup drawer and sort my books. (The Arts Graduate Centre on campus is now an official bookcrossing point, so any of the books that I have that I know I’m not going to get around to reading or don’t want anymore might as well go there.)
Then this afternoon I met a friend for a wander. She’s headed back to the States for her Ph.D. in less than a month, so we’re running out of time that we can spend together. We walked around Wollaton Park – the first time in years I’ve been in the park and the first time I’ve ever really walked around it. We went into the house, too - another first for me. I wouldn’t mind going back sometime (especially since it’s free). Then we came back here and transferred files - I have some movies on my hard drive that she wanted, and vice versa.
By the time I got back inside after walking her to the exit(where I live is kind of a maze, and all the buildings look alike), my flatmates had gotten the TV in our kitchen working for the first time since January. So I actually made some dinner and ate in the kitchen with my flatmates for once. It was good, but our kitchen is really too small to make that feasible for very long. Other than that, I’ve just been overly checking the internet (as usual) and watching American sitcoms on E4.
What if.....
The greatest stories come out of “what if” questions. Personally, I really like speculative fiction, especially parallel universe and time travel stories. They usually come out of the biggest “what if” questions. What if the Axis powers had won World War 2, or the Confederacy had won the Civil War? What if JFK were never assassinated? How would the world be different?
“What if” questions are also why I write romance, when I write anything non-academic (an increasingly rare occurrence). Since most of my what-ifs revolve around my love life (or lack thereof), my story writing is a way for me to come to terms with my own what-ifs. The biggest one is, of course, the summer before I went to Slovakia. What if I’d stayed in the US instead? My life would be incredibly different right now.*
What-ifs often present themselves right away. You walk away from a situation thinking, “Oh, I should have done x or said y”. You torture yourself for minutes, hours, or days with different variants of what you could have done or said to make things turn out differently. But the thing about what-ifs is that you can’t really evaluate them until time has passed, until your life has progressed beyond that turning point. I don’t want to get all fatalistic about stuff, but if things are meant to happen, they will happen. What-ifs suck at the time – and for years afterward in some cases – but in the end you may end up where you are supposed to be, even if it’s not where you planned and imagined.
And that’s why I write romances based (loosely) around my what-ifs. I love my life right here, right now, but I need to explore my what-ifs, and give myself a chance – even if it’s a fictional chance – to live out the life I am not leading.
*Of course, the what-if in that case has nothing to do with my actually going to Slovakia, since that was all in place before the what-if moment. But it’s complicated to explain without going into details, so it’s easier just to blame the what-if on Slovakia.
“What if” questions are also why I write romance, when I write anything non-academic (an increasingly rare occurrence). Since most of my what-ifs revolve around my love life (or lack thereof), my story writing is a way for me to come to terms with my own what-ifs. The biggest one is, of course, the summer before I went to Slovakia. What if I’d stayed in the US instead? My life would be incredibly different right now.*
What-ifs often present themselves right away. You walk away from a situation thinking, “Oh, I should have done x or said y”. You torture yourself for minutes, hours, or days with different variants of what you could have done or said to make things turn out differently. But the thing about what-ifs is that you can’t really evaluate them until time has passed, until your life has progressed beyond that turning point. I don’t want to get all fatalistic about stuff, but if things are meant to happen, they will happen. What-ifs suck at the time – and for years afterward in some cases – but in the end you may end up where you are supposed to be, even if it’s not where you planned and imagined.
And that’s why I write romances based (loosely) around my what-ifs. I love my life right here, right now, but I need to explore my what-ifs, and give myself a chance – even if it’s a fictional chance – to live out the life I am not leading.
*Of course, the what-if in that case has nothing to do with my actually going to Slovakia, since that was all in place before the what-if moment. But it’s complicated to explain without going into details, so it’s easier just to blame the what-if on Slovakia.
04 May 2009
Scenarios
I really need to learn how to be ruder. Maybe ruder isn’t exactly the right word, but I really need to learn to speak up for myself, even when people say things that they think are innocuous, innocent, or helpful.
Scenario: I am getting ready to go to a ball. I am wearing a charcoal, shimmery dress. My toenails are painted bright green. I do not have a problem with this. I think it is unconventional, kind of creative, and honestly, I don’t care. My flat mates take one look at my toenails and inform me that I must change the colour. They will not take excuses. They give me their own nail polish. They do everything except paint them for me. They tell me that if I wear green, it will ruin my outfit. They do not listen to my statement of, “I don’t care.” They do not listen when I say that hardly anyone will be looking at my feet (“You’d be surprised.” “….I don’t care.”) They insist. I give in.
Scenario: I have hurt my foot, six days previously. It still hurts a bit to walk, and I want to get better quickly, so I am trying to stay off it as much as possible. A friend is having a birthday party at an unknown place in town. I decide not to go. I have warned the friend whose birthday it is that I might not be able to go. I text her before the party to tell her that I am not coming. She understands. My flat mates listen to my reasoning and tell me that I am stupid for not going, that I could go and “just sit” the whole time. My flat mates tell me that I should not “give up socializing” just because of the stress and pain.
Scenario: I have just started dating a guy I really, really like. Because of the aforementioned injury and our busy schedules, I am not going to see him for about ten days. I mention this to a flat mate. She tells me I should call him and invite him over. I say that he’s busy that night. She says I should invite him over after his rehearsal. I say that he’ll be tired. She says that if I won’t call him and invite him over, she will. I say no. She threatens to steal my phone and call him. I say no. She asks if my phone is in my room. I say no. She says that she’ll find it anyway and call him. I say no. Something of my anger must get through, because she stops then.
I suppose the main thing that I don’t understand, about any of these scenarios, is why my flat mates - all of whom are between five and eight years younger than I am - do not think that I am capable of making my own decisions about my appearance, my activities, and my relationship. I need to come up with a way to ask that question that doesn’t make it sound like I am attacking them - even if I am.
Scenario: I am getting ready to go to a ball. I am wearing a charcoal, shimmery dress. My toenails are painted bright green. I do not have a problem with this. I think it is unconventional, kind of creative, and honestly, I don’t care. My flat mates take one look at my toenails and inform me that I must change the colour. They will not take excuses. They give me their own nail polish. They do everything except paint them for me. They tell me that if I wear green, it will ruin my outfit. They do not listen to my statement of, “I don’t care.” They do not listen when I say that hardly anyone will be looking at my feet (“You’d be surprised.” “….I don’t care.”) They insist. I give in.
Scenario: I have hurt my foot, six days previously. It still hurts a bit to walk, and I want to get better quickly, so I am trying to stay off it as much as possible. A friend is having a birthday party at an unknown place in town. I decide not to go. I have warned the friend whose birthday it is that I might not be able to go. I text her before the party to tell her that I am not coming. She understands. My flat mates listen to my reasoning and tell me that I am stupid for not going, that I could go and “just sit” the whole time. My flat mates tell me that I should not “give up socializing” just because of the stress and pain.
Scenario: I have just started dating a guy I really, really like. Because of the aforementioned injury and our busy schedules, I am not going to see him for about ten days. I mention this to a flat mate. She tells me I should call him and invite him over. I say that he’s busy that night. She says I should invite him over after his rehearsal. I say that he’ll be tired. She says that if I won’t call him and invite him over, she will. I say no. She threatens to steal my phone and call him. I say no. She asks if my phone is in my room. I say no. She says that she’ll find it anyway and call him. I say no. Something of my anger must get through, because she stops then.
I suppose the main thing that I don’t understand, about any of these scenarios, is why my flat mates - all of whom are between five and eight years younger than I am - do not think that I am capable of making my own decisions about my appearance, my activities, and my relationship. I need to come up with a way to ask that question that doesn’t make it sound like I am attacking them - even if I am.
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