Things have been a little tough lately: lots of weekends away, the end of my online class looming close, WoW beckoning me to power through the home stretch to level 80. So many distractions!
Tonight, I'm turning that around and putting off outlining my final project in favor of posting a little something on the blog. Also, as I recently posted on Twitter, Hemmingway wrote 500 words per day. 500 words seems like hardly anything at all, and it makes me want to set a similar goal for myself. However, I got to wondering, where does this leave me for editing? Sometimes I'm doing a lot of cleanup work and might not make a net gain of 500 words even though I've written/revised that many. This is a quandary, but on the bright side, I opened up my manuscript tonight and noticed 1000 words had jumped in there somehow! I'm now up to 52,528. In case you were wondering, here's the latest addition (comments welcome):
Showing posts with label grad school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grad school. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Grad School Week One
The other day I began wondering if getting my master's degree might be a big mistake—all that time disappearing. Truthfully, I'm intensely ambitious in the present only. I do make a hobby of crafting big goals for my life, but I suspect it's just because the act of making plans is such an engaging pastime in the present.
Trying (and failing) to think of one long-term goal I have set and actually brought to fruition, I realize I may have a commitment issue. The immediate pain of losing time to spend with friends, work on my manuscript, play my piano, watch movies, and play WoW makes me feel I've lost something. Not to mention all those activities are immediately gratifying: a level gained here, a chapter polished there, a phrase suddenly becoming smooth under my fingers.
This isn't the first time I've gotten into one of these self-questioning frames of mind and rationalized my way out of a commitment, either. But wait! This story has a happy ending, after all.
Instead of feeling discouraged, I did something uncharacteristic, something I haven't done before: I visualized my future. I love to hate the word visualization, mostly because my mind generally refuses to craft a clear image. In this case I don't think I needed one.
All I needed was to imagine how it felt. I let my imagination wander, curious where it would go: I imagined my sandaled feet disappearing beneath a long skirt, eyes in their comfort zone hitting matte black at every angle. I was backstage, but on a quiet day, surveying. Something smelled like sawdust. I imagined a group of jovial adults gathered there to rehearse in the evenings, much like the groups I used to perform with—a pit orchestra wedged between empty seats and stage. Kids in a classroom reading a script for the first time, maybe even one they had written. Opening nights. Music. A small office, tidy, maybe with a secondhand couch, that I may or may not walk into with a baby cradled against my body in a sling.
I may never have this. Life has a way of handing us something slightly different than we had planned. But in imagining what I could create someday, I made my current efforts seem worth it. I guess this is what overly optimistic types call "keeping your eyes on the prize." I don't think I ever thought about what that means. Now I have an idea: when it's hard to see past the and nots (and not having endless hours to wander through writing and singing and aimlessness), sometimes we need to reach out and touch the thing we're working for in the end. Because in reality, 18 months is hardly any time at all.
And as a creative person, that imagining shouldn't be so hard to do.
Trying (and failing) to think of one long-term goal I have set and actually brought to fruition, I realize I may have a commitment issue. The immediate pain of losing time to spend with friends, work on my manuscript, play my piano, watch movies, and play WoW makes me feel I've lost something. Not to mention all those activities are immediately gratifying: a level gained here, a chapter polished there, a phrase suddenly becoming smooth under my fingers.
This isn't the first time I've gotten into one of these self-questioning frames of mind and rationalized my way out of a commitment, either. But wait! This story has a happy ending, after all.
Instead of feeling discouraged, I did something uncharacteristic, something I haven't done before: I visualized my future. I love to hate the word visualization, mostly because my mind generally refuses to craft a clear image. In this case I don't think I needed one.
All I needed was to imagine how it felt. I let my imagination wander, curious where it would go: I imagined my sandaled feet disappearing beneath a long skirt, eyes in their comfort zone hitting matte black at every angle. I was backstage, but on a quiet day, surveying. Something smelled like sawdust. I imagined a group of jovial adults gathered there to rehearse in the evenings, much like the groups I used to perform with—a pit orchestra wedged between empty seats and stage. Kids in a classroom reading a script for the first time, maybe even one they had written. Opening nights. Music. A small office, tidy, maybe with a secondhand couch, that I may or may not walk into with a baby cradled against my body in a sling.
I may never have this. Life has a way of handing us something slightly different than we had planned. But in imagining what I could create someday, I made my current efforts seem worth it. I guess this is what overly optimistic types call "keeping your eyes on the prize." I don't think I ever thought about what that means. Now I have an idea: when it's hard to see past the and nots (and not having endless hours to wander through writing and singing and aimlessness), sometimes we need to reach out and touch the thing we're working for in the end. Because in reality, 18 months is hardly any time at all.
And as a creative person, that imagining shouldn't be so hard to do.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
And the Graduate Adventure Begins...
Yesterday I began my first grad school course. I think I've been feeling as if, because my degree program is exclusively online, I can weave it seamlessly into my everyday life. Not so. An accelerated 18-month master's program does not slip into one's life unnoticed.
I posted this sentiment on my Facebook profile last night and a friend commented, "welcome to no time ever!" I've always struggled with time management. Actually, I'm surprised I don't have a tag for it yet. The fact that workaholic me said right off the bat I need to make sure I set aside time to practice piano, play WoW, and watch movies is a good sign, though. I'm no stranger to burnout, and every once in a while I take great pains to avoid it.
However, I feel distinctly ready to break out Stephen Covey's Seven Habits again. At times like this I need to remember, above all, how everything we do is a choice. Putting away dishes while a pot of water is boiling. Getting lost on Facebook, spying on people I haven't spoken to since 2003. Using my early Saturday morning to write, not clean or play video games, because I know mornings are where my ideas live. Sitting down at the piano. Watching a movie with my friends or husband. Working extra hours because I feel overwhelmed by my workload.
Each of these things represents prioritizing one thing over another. One of those half-hour jags on Wikipedia could have been a half hour of writing practice. I need to remember that making time for fun stuff is okay (not to mention necessary!) and I should feel good about viewing each time expenditure as a conscious decision. Would I really decide not to write on my manuscript so I could spend 45 minutes reading about people I don't know on the internet? Do I feel comfortable justifying an extra hour at the office—which, let's face it, is not going to be the thing that makes the difference in terms of praise or achievement—in favor of cooking a nice dinner with friends I'm intensely thankful to have in my life?
At first I feared all this time crunching would lead me away from the blog. I think it may do the opposite. It may make it better. Incidentally, the first articles I've had to read have focused on creating multi-dimensional definitions of success by recognizing your own needs, values, and work style. As I continue to face plenty of challenges and shifts in the course of my life, this sort of critical thinking will serve me well. It will also, more than likely, give me plenty of fodder for my writing. We'll see where this big adventure leads, but I'm quite hopeful the challenge will prove worthy of my efforts (and vice versa).
I posted this sentiment on my Facebook profile last night and a friend commented, "welcome to no time ever!" I've always struggled with time management. Actually, I'm surprised I don't have a tag for it yet. The fact that workaholic me said right off the bat I need to make sure I set aside time to practice piano, play WoW, and watch movies is a good sign, though. I'm no stranger to burnout, and every once in a while I take great pains to avoid it.
However, I feel distinctly ready to break out Stephen Covey's Seven Habits again. At times like this I need to remember, above all, how everything we do is a choice. Putting away dishes while a pot of water is boiling. Getting lost on Facebook, spying on people I haven't spoken to since 2003. Using my early Saturday morning to write, not clean or play video games, because I know mornings are where my ideas live. Sitting down at the piano. Watching a movie with my friends or husband. Working extra hours because I feel overwhelmed by my workload.
Each of these things represents prioritizing one thing over another. One of those half-hour jags on Wikipedia could have been a half hour of writing practice. I need to remember that making time for fun stuff is okay (not to mention necessary!) and I should feel good about viewing each time expenditure as a conscious decision. Would I really decide not to write on my manuscript so I could spend 45 minutes reading about people I don't know on the internet? Do I feel comfortable justifying an extra hour at the office—which, let's face it, is not going to be the thing that makes the difference in terms of praise or achievement—in favor of cooking a nice dinner with friends I'm intensely thankful to have in my life?
At first I feared all this time crunching would lead me away from the blog. I think it may do the opposite. It may make it better. Incidentally, the first articles I've had to read have focused on creating multi-dimensional definitions of success by recognizing your own needs, values, and work style. As I continue to face plenty of challenges and shifts in the course of my life, this sort of critical thinking will serve me well. It will also, more than likely, give me plenty of fodder for my writing. We'll see where this big adventure leads, but I'm quite hopeful the challenge will prove worthy of my efforts (and vice versa).
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Weekend Full
This weekend was full of personally significant moments, like I was getting reacquainted with my life again. I started my application essay (finally deciding to go ahead with my non-profit MBA) and managed to articulate better than ever what I want from life. Check it out:
My dream job is running a non-profit performing arts center that puts on provocative music and theatre performances and provides a space for youth and adults to hone their craft -- be it acting, writing for the stage or screen, or putting poetry to music. I want to create a safe space where people of all ages and backgrounds can experience the intensity and enchantment of stage performance.
And also, while at a training for work (and secretly for me, too) I heard these words:
"Life is worth the risk."
Life is worth the risk. Yes. What good words to hear -- really hear -- right now. Because to get anywhere we must always be changing, always be willing to dive in headfirst. What a good thing to remember.
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