Why I am Stopping NaNoWriMo
8/11/04 23:43![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eredien1.) As my life is, I do not have enough time. I have been coming home regularly at 9 or 10 pm from a full day of work for the past two weeks. I do not then have four hours to spend an evening. It's not a matter of giving it my best effort, it's a matter of being able to give it any effort at all.
2.) I can't live with my family anymore or else I will go crazy. The urgency of finding a job in February is more important than finishing a novel this month. (Yes, you read that correctly--I did just say that getting out was more important than writing.)
- I worry a lot about small things that come out all right in the end; it is my way of seeing what obstacles I need to overcome before I can reach goals. I usually do not worry so much about something I become physically ill from the psychological effects, and generally think that level of sustained worry is very unhealthy for a person to carry about with them. Before yesterday, I only had worried myself to the point of physical illness twice; one of those time was when I told my pastor I was a dragon and was afraid I would be kicked out of church, and the other was when I told my parents the same and was afraid I would be put on medicines or sent to a psychiatrist.
Yesterday, I worried myself sick trying to talk rationally with my parents about why I should go to England over Christmas. I told them I'd saved an adequate amount of money; they wanted to know an exact dollar amount. I told them I'd be taking off Christmas instead of the entirety of November, they told me I had bad timing. I told them that when I came back, I would have about a week to pack and move before I went to Boston so keeping my job after England wouldn't be worthwhile, they urged me to take a leave of absence (which I am relatively sure my job will not grant anyway)and not drop an opportunity to go gallivanting off across the wilderness. I played the I'm Young, I'm Not Comitted to Anyone or Anything, This is a Free Ride, Do You WAnt me to Wait Until I'm 35 with Two Kids card, and they said, "this is a rash decision."
I feel guilty about going to England, as if I am doing something wrong. This in and of itself is wrong. My father mentioned I should ask the advice of someone "like a mentor, older and wiser with a little more perspective on the issue." So far, everyone I have asked has said, "that's crazy! They want you to keep working a dead end job instead of going to England for an all-expenses paid trip?" I agree, but they make me feel like I shouldn't.
When my mother was my age, she'd graduated from a party school, smoked pot, and hid strange men from the customes officers under the seats of her train car at the border crossing as she backpacked across Europe for a month.
I want to go to England.
Why have I worked this hard all my life to be responsible? If I'd set lower expencations in the beginning I wouldn't be expecting to live up to them.
- On the other hand, I doubt I would have been self-satisfied: tonight my father, mother, and I were watching a reality show, the $25 Million Hoax." Premise: Pretend to win $5, and then $25, million. In 5 days, spend all the money on yourself while acting rude to family and friends. Put yourself through a lot of thought about if this is right, and then do it anyway. At the end of that time, if you haven't spent any money on them and they all still can stand to be around you, you get $400,000 actual dollars to use however you want.
I found the premise of this show repugtant. Not only that you would lie in the first place about something that could make the life of your not-so-rich family different, but that you are also forced to trade on their love and respect for you. I watched it hoping she would give up and do the right thing and tell her family. Money is one of the least important things in life, in the end; trading your honour for it is like trading silver for dirt.
Dad: "I could do that really well."
Mom: "You would be great at that, honey."
Dad: "Do you think ypu'd want to do that?"
Me: "No." I'm offended you asked. I thought you raised me better. I guess not. I wonder where I learned it?
Dad: "What if it was a big novel contract? Would you do it then?"
Me: "No!" Not trusting myself to speak, I get up and leave. My God. Why the hell would I corrupt my gifts? Why would I want to fake the work it takes to get a real novel contract? I still wouldn't have a book at the end of it, anyway, which is really the point!
- At least they're not worrying about my sister dropping out of College of Drunken People and living at home for a semester until she manages to get her butt back to Germany to study. That's godl I was worried I'd have to mediate.
Anyway, all this is: I'm going to get out by Janruary if it kills me, because if I don't, my spirit, sense of self-confidence, and mental health will (are already in the process of being) be crushed. Not beyond the point of no return, because hope never is, but more like small amounts of hope are slowly being removed.
I'd prefer not to have to re-learn everything I learned in the last four years (eg: I can do it if I don't give up, I make my own choices and live by them, you don't always have to care what others think of you, but if you surround yourself with the right people, you ought to care what they think and listen to their advice even if you choose not to take it, surrounding yourself with things and people that make you happy is good, you have not lost the capacity to trust, people care about you) over again, but eventually if things keep on this way I'd get beaten back to the point where I'd have to start from there.
So I will be looking for a job from now until I find one. Anything really just to leave. And then I will do a novel, because what grows out of heartsickness is usually poisoned flowers.
2.) I can't live with my family anymore or else I will go crazy. The urgency of finding a job in February is more important than finishing a novel this month. (Yes, you read that correctly--I did just say that getting out was more important than writing.)
- I worry a lot about small things that come out all right in the end; it is my way of seeing what obstacles I need to overcome before I can reach goals. I usually do not worry so much about something I become physically ill from the psychological effects, and generally think that level of sustained worry is very unhealthy for a person to carry about with them. Before yesterday, I only had worried myself to the point of physical illness twice; one of those time was when I told my pastor I was a dragon and was afraid I would be kicked out of church, and the other was when I told my parents the same and was afraid I would be put on medicines or sent to a psychiatrist.
Yesterday, I worried myself sick trying to talk rationally with my parents about why I should go to England over Christmas. I told them I'd saved an adequate amount of money; they wanted to know an exact dollar amount. I told them I'd be taking off Christmas instead of the entirety of November, they told me I had bad timing. I told them that when I came back, I would have about a week to pack and move before I went to Boston so keeping my job after England wouldn't be worthwhile, they urged me to take a leave of absence (which I am relatively sure my job will not grant anyway)and not drop an opportunity to go gallivanting off across the wilderness. I played the I'm Young, I'm Not Comitted to Anyone or Anything, This is a Free Ride, Do You WAnt me to Wait Until I'm 35 with Two Kids card, and they said, "this is a rash decision."
I feel guilty about going to England, as if I am doing something wrong. This in and of itself is wrong. My father mentioned I should ask the advice of someone "like a mentor, older and wiser with a little more perspective on the issue." So far, everyone I have asked has said, "that's crazy! They want you to keep working a dead end job instead of going to England for an all-expenses paid trip?" I agree, but they make me feel like I shouldn't.
When my mother was my age, she'd graduated from a party school, smoked pot, and hid strange men from the customes officers under the seats of her train car at the border crossing as she backpacked across Europe for a month.
I want to go to England.
Why have I worked this hard all my life to be responsible? If I'd set lower expencations in the beginning I wouldn't be expecting to live up to them.
- On the other hand, I doubt I would have been self-satisfied: tonight my father, mother, and I were watching a reality show, the $25 Million Hoax." Premise: Pretend to win $5, and then $25, million. In 5 days, spend all the money on yourself while acting rude to family and friends. Put yourself through a lot of thought about if this is right, and then do it anyway. At the end of that time, if you haven't spent any money on them and they all still can stand to be around you, you get $400,000 actual dollars to use however you want.
I found the premise of this show repugtant. Not only that you would lie in the first place about something that could make the life of your not-so-rich family different, but that you are also forced to trade on their love and respect for you. I watched it hoping she would give up and do the right thing and tell her family. Money is one of the least important things in life, in the end; trading your honour for it is like trading silver for dirt.
Dad: "I could do that really well."
Mom: "You would be great at that, honey."
Dad: "Do you think ypu'd want to do that?"
Me: "No." I'm offended you asked. I thought you raised me better. I guess not. I wonder where I learned it?
Dad: "What if it was a big novel contract? Would you do it then?"
Me: "No!" Not trusting myself to speak, I get up and leave. My God. Why the hell would I corrupt my gifts? Why would I want to fake the work it takes to get a real novel contract? I still wouldn't have a book at the end of it, anyway, which is really the point!
- At least they're not worrying about my sister dropping out of College of Drunken People and living at home for a semester until she manages to get her butt back to Germany to study. That's godl I was worried I'd have to mediate.
Anyway, all this is: I'm going to get out by Janruary if it kills me, because if I don't, my spirit, sense of self-confidence, and mental health will (are already in the process of being) be crushed. Not beyond the point of no return, because hope never is, but more like small amounts of hope are slowly being removed.
I'd prefer not to have to re-learn everything I learned in the last four years (eg: I can do it if I don't give up, I make my own choices and live by them, you don't always have to care what others think of you, but if you surround yourself with the right people, you ought to care what they think and listen to their advice even if you choose not to take it, surrounding yourself with things and people that make you happy is good, you have not lost the capacity to trust, people care about you) over again, but eventually if things keep on this way I'd get beaten back to the point where I'd have to start from there.
So I will be looking for a job from now until I find one. Anything really just to leave. And then I will do a novel, because what grows out of heartsickness is usually poisoned flowers.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
13/11/04 00:28 (UTC)And you'll be glad to know that a lot of British restaurants are getting the hang of al dente veg. It's not all flaccid these days. ;)