Found written in an old day planner of mine, from 2002 or 2003:
I am an interesting dichotomy.
- I will complain about a job, then complete it to the best of my ability.
- I prefer to be “behind the scenes,” yet feel put out when I fail to get the credit I deserve.
- I feel I “deserve” a job in my field, then don’t have faith in my abilities when I apply or interview for one.
Funny how certain people can get so obsessive about what they enjoy, but in such different ways.
When I was a kid — and I’m guessing most kids are like this — I went through phases of What I Want To Be When I Grow Up. I remember that being a standard getting-to-know-you question from the grown-ups, and I always had an answer. Well, almost always.
I don’t remember when I first joined ballet at age four, but Mom tells me that she gave me a choice between ballet and gymnastics lessons, and I chose ballet. I took lessons at Laura Penton’s Academy of Classical Ballet (which has long since changed names and merged with another studio); I attended ballet classes for four years, and tap for one year. During that time, I was convinced that I was going to be a ballerina when I grew up, despite the fact that I was obviously going to be too big overall — both slightly overweight and tall for my age. Neither of these things were quite so obvious to me at the time as obstacles, though, and Mom didn’t tell me until long afterward about how Ms. Penton had told her that she already knew I wouldn’t get far in the field of dance.
When I was eight years old, we moved from Ohio to Florida. We really didn’t have the money for me to take ballet lessons there, and I remember being horribly upset… for a few months. Once I started school, though, my focus shifted from ballet to science. We were within a couple hours’ drive of the Kennedy Space Center, and both the local news and my teachers at school seemed to make a big deal of shuttle launches and NASA in general. Over the next year or two, I went on a field trip to Cape Canaveral, watched the Challenger explode on live television, and learned how to program in BASIC. When the Guidance Counselor at school asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I told her I wanted to be a computer programmer for NASA. And she told me that I shouldn’t limit myself like that.
At the time, I thought that was the most bizarre response to my highest aspiration. I understand now.
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It’s so easy to say things like, “I don’t know where I’d be today if it weren’t for [fill in the blank].”
It’s much more interesting to actually give it some thought.
Sometimes, I like to trace things backward and realize what an amazing combination of circumstance and decisions brought me to where I am today. The realization makes my life that much more amazing.
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One day last week, I went to write a “what’s up with Diana” blog entry while I was at work. Just snagging five minutes here and there, so it was kind of disjointed and stream-of-consciousness. What I came up with was so unexpectedly negative, I didn’t even feel I should post it. I kept it in my home e-mail, though, just so I could look back at it later with a giant WTF.
I’ve been under some weird kinds of stress lately, I guess. Nothing earth-shattering, but a collection of little things. My aikido rank test is coming up on Saturday the 26th, and I don’t feel as ready as I should be. I have training for work in Columbus and in Chicago coming up next month, and I’m still unsure about how to properly book my hotels and my flight out to O’Hare, so I’ll be sure to be reimbursed by the company. I’m in the midst of a weight-loss challenge, which I seem not to be winning right now.
All of these things seem petty and manageable on their own (and I’m sure there are others I’ve left out, including the monthly hormonal BS), but their combined effect is unusually powerful right now. I can go from zero to pissed in about two seconds, for no good reason. Poor Aaron is positive it’s all him, but it seriously isn’t. It’s me. Being weird. In a not-so-good way.
No, sir, I don’t like it.
The trick seems to be balancing my diet, exercise, and productivity to gently affect my mood. If one of those goes down the shitter, the whole balance is thrown off, and I go down some fucked-up spiral of “I suck”-ness. I’m always so hard on myself for not living up to my own unreasonably high standards. It’s like I have to consciously psyche myself out in such a way to fool the part of my brain that knows I’m not doing everything “right.”
I want to be confident. I want to be knowledgeable. I want to be healthy. I want to look good. I want to feel good. I want to like myself. I want to like myself as I am. I want to stop looking in the mirror and asking myself, “What is WRONG with me?”
I want to want what I already have.
Since I’ve volunteered to produce The Drinking Gourd Podcast for the Toledo Zen Center, Aaron has been reminding me not to let myself be used, or to get too much work on my plate again. It’s a valid argument, and one that has helped me avoid trouble in the past. Right now, though, I only feel positive vibes about this project, and I think I know why.
Community.
It’s been a long time since I really felt like part of a community. Work isn’t really a community — I’m talking about someplace outside of the work and family environments, where people with a common thread in their lives meet regularly and talk frankly and feel comfortable with one another. I suppose this would normally manifest as a church group, or a support group, or even a user group. For me, the sangha (zen community) has been emerging as a community of which I feel I am a part.
Going back to religion: in the Mormon tradition in which I was raised, any member of the congregation can be “called” to a particular position in the church, be it Sunday School teacher, pianist, clerk, or bishop (head of a congregation). It is generally understood that, if you are called to serve, you don’t turn down that calling. Some people do, sure, but it’s generally frowned upon. Even if it’s too much for you to handle, you trust that God (and the local Priesthood authorities) gave you the task for a reason, and that you will grow spiritually because of your calling, and you will receive blessings in Heaven.
In retrospect, I can see how serving a calling in the church can increase the feeling of community from each of its members. That’s sort of how I feel now. I feel like I’m contributing to the community by doing my part, and I don’t feel like the sangha is taking undue advantage of my skills.
It also doesn’t hurt that, almost any night of the week, I can drive just over five minutes to the dojo/zendo and drop off CD-Rs, or pick up the digital recorder, or just talk with Sensei, and then drive home — and only have used up 20 minutes of my night. As cool as the internet is, I’m coming to appreciate human contact more and more. You don’t get the same energy by reading someone’s words as you do from hearing them spoken, not to mention the fact that some people don’t have a proper mastery of the written English language.
So, even though I’m having to be reimbursed for the $30 I spent today on printable CD-Rs and printer ink, and even though I spend about two hours editing each podcast, and will probably spend another hour burning and printing CDs of each… I think it’s worth it.