46(?)/46/46 – Day #2: HAPPY NEW YEAR!

So, it’s 2015 and that means everyone is busting out their resolutions. Lose weight. Eat better. Save more money. Be nicer. All things people have pledged and all valid and good goals.

I’m not a fan of making new years resolutions. For example, I didn’t decide on Jan. 1 of last year to quit smoking. I decided one day in Feb. or March (can’t remember which) to quit, and I quit. A specific day of the year isn’t enough motivation for me to start or stop something.

But everyone keeps asking me what my resolution(s) for 2015 is/are. So, to appease these people, here is my lone New Years 2015 Resolution:

I resolve to be me.

Yeah, that might sound like a simple thing to do, but it’s really not. This is ME we’re talking about. I spend a good part of my life debating what I should or should not say, what I should or should not do, and what others might think about my decisions. In other words, when I say I don’t really care about what others think, what I really mean is that what others think of feel aren’t enough to stop me from doing or saying what I want to do or say.

Yes, ladies and gents…there are times when I STILL don’t say or do what I want to say or do.

Feel free to shudder at the thought.

But frankly, my resolution has less to do with what I say and do and more with what I allow around me and the things I go along with. Up until now, I’ve excused behavior or attitudes or opinions that made me uncomfortable, whether it was because I “thought” I understood what they person really meant, or I was sure the person didn’t actually mean what they said and were just talking out of anger, confusion or just legitimate ignorance. I did that a lot last year.

A. LOT.

I’m not going to do it anymore. If you say something I don’t agree with or that could be interpreted in a variety of ways, I’m going to ask you to clarify it. From that point, we’ll either remain friends with a new understanding, or…

Because I’m no longer willing to be the “exception.” I’ve done that for 45 years. I’m not doing it for 46.

This covers a variety of areas and not just the obvious ones some of your immediately jumped to. It covers both my personal and professional life. That said, just because we might not agree on an issue doesn’t mean the friendship is over. I disagree with a lot of my friends about a lot of things, and I KNOW many of you disagree with me quite often. Those aren’t the types of situations I’m referring to. I guess, the only thing I can suggest is that you be you, I’ll be me and we’ll see what we see.

So I guess you could sum up my resolution as such: The gloves are off.

See what happens when you make me do something I don’t want to do? 😉

No More Do-overs!

I have a game on my phone that I play a lot called Basketball Shot. Basically, you flick the ball in the hoop as fast as you can, and try to score as many points possible in a set time period. Each level has a score you have to beat to advance.

Well, being the geek that I am, I pretty much figured out early on that you want to pad your score as much as possible in the early stages, because as the game progresses, there is less time, but you still have to meet that level’s score. So, I have benchmarks set that I have to meet in each of the first three stages. If I don’t meet them, I reset the game and try again.

A couple of days ago, as I was about to reset the game for probably the tenth time, it hit me. I’m addicted to do-overs. If things don’t go well when I first start them, I either chuck the whole project and start again, or more in my nature, I move on to something else. Another way of looking at it — if it’s too hard, I look for something easier. Something I know I can accomplish without even trying.

I cannot tell you how many opportunities I’ve missed because of this mindset, and I’d bet you’ve fallen victim to it as well.

• Have you ever seen an ad for a job that you would love to have, but one of the qualifications would take you out of your comfort zone, so you didn’t apply?
• Have you ever turned down a writing gig because it would require you to do something you’ve never done before (interview a client, cold call business, write in a style format you didn’t know)?
• Talked yourself out of doing something you really wanted to do because it might require a risk of some sort (relocation, pushing other work to the side, others might gripe about it)?

Sure, you had your reasons for why you walked way from these opportunities, but were they good reasons?

So, I’ve decided: No more do-overs. No more walking away from opportunities because of fear of the unknown, or because it might be hard or I might fail.

In my head, the only real way to fail is to not even try, or worse, to try and give up because of what might happen. This is no longer acceptable.

I decided several years ago that, I was really only going to pursue things that made me happy. I guess I should have included the caveat that some of these things might be hard, but to go ahead and do them anyway. But I guess its never too late to change ones life philosophy.

So, no more do-overs or resets for me. I will do my first three stages as well as I can, and play the game out to its natural conclusion. If I win, great, if I don’t, at least I can say I stayed in the game til the end.

I’m A Writer?

On an almost daily basis, someone asks me the following:

“When did you become a writer?”

“Why did you become a writer?”

“When did you know you wanted to be a writer?”

“How did you become a writer?”

I don’t think I’ve ever asked a doctor or a lawyer when, why or how they decided to enter their professions. Didn’t ask my mechanic the last time he fixed my car (though, in hindsight, considering what he charged me, I should have!), nor have I asked my hairdresser, cop buddy or my mother who is a retired nurse any of these questions.

However, all of the specific people I mentioned above (read: Hi, Mom!) have asked me repeatedly. And if they have asked, I’m sure many others have wondered.

So, with that in mind, here is when, why and how I became a writer.

The short answer: I don’t know. It just happened.

Seriously.

Sure, I could lie and say I had some great epiphany while walking in the forest, or near the ocean or in the desert, but it wasn’t a spiritual revelation.

I’ve always liked to write. I wrote my first short story when I was six, received my first writing award when I was seven and won my first writing competition when I was eight. Teachers constantly commented on my writing abilities. The term Gifted Writer was all but tattooed on my forehead. I rocked essay tests (to the chagrin to one high school history teacher  who thought giving an essay test was the ultimate way to humiliate his students), and while my college classmates were sweating coming up with a 10-page paper, I was striving to shave away the five extra pages I always seemed to have.

Outside of school, I wrote for fun. I finished my first novel when I was 12. I wrote a bit of poetry when I was in high school, and always kept a diary or journal.

But even with all that writing;  even after reading Master of the Game and The Grass Is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank and wanting to write Just. Like. Them…

I still didn’t consider myself a writer.

Years passed. I still wrote, but mainly for myself. I because a business consultant, business teacher, and eventually a proposal writer.  But even when I had a job with “writer” in the title, I still didn’t consider myself a writer.

Even when I wrote a column for two publications and provided business articles for several others, I STILL didn’t consider myself a writer. Writing was still just something I did…

Then one day, about 4 years ago, I was hanging out with a group of friends, and someone I only knew in passing asked me what I did for a living. Before I could answer, another friend replied, “She’s a writer.”

My friend’s bestowal of the title kinda shocked me. I started to protest, but then my friend continued, telling the other friend about things I had published and what a great writer I was.  I was forced to smile and nod acknowledgement, even though it still felt like phony to me. Sure, I wrote for a living, but in my head, I wasn’t a writer.

A few weeks later as I was preparing to back up my hard drive, I opened my “Documents” folder.

I had over 1,000 documents that I had written. Papers, articles, business plans and other writing projects I had completed, in folder upon folder.

That’s when it hit me. I might not believe my own press, but my friend’s pronouncement of me as a writer combined with a vast array of documents I had actually written could not be denied.

I was a writer.

And I’ve been one ever since.