I'm working on polishing up the latest draft of my attempt at writing a full-blown book. I don't think of myself as an anxious person, but this thing is driving me batty. I've gotten some decent feedback on it the few times I've sent it out to be read, but I do long stretches of editing in between.
Just me and the text.
I'm constantly looking for errors, tweaking for improvements, criticizing my every weakness.
The only thing that makes me feel more incompetent than critiquing myself is the horrifying process of waiting for feedback from someone else.
It's like overachiever hell.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Community
Sometimes I really hate Idaho. The blistering hot summers, the nasty cold winters, the complete lack of precipitation, the raging fires and corresponding smoke in the summers. Couple that with the fact that it's the most remote capital city in the 48 states and toss in the part about being young...
It translates to me watching most of my friends move through the transitional phase of life by moving out of mine. I have roots here--my family lives here. Brent's family lives here. What we lack in mobility we make up in stability. I have a safety net for emotional, financial, or physical needs.
I guess it always amuses me when I hear the trendy leaders of the day harp on "community" over and over. The people who talk about it most understand it the least. Community isn't something you just make. It's something that's woven together, year after year, generation by generation. You don't just get a group of people together and say "Voila! Community!"
Instead, it's built around those roots that hold me down. I realize I may never live outside of this valley of irritating temperature extremes and piss poor air quality. I know my friends have cool adventures in new places and never come back. I also know that the level of stability I have here is something a transient lifestyle will never accommodate.
I hate being hot all the time in the summer and cold all the time in the winter, but I'm surrounded by a group of people that faces the same challenges beside me. Our shared struggles build bonds that electronic communication and world travelling can never touch.
It translates to me watching most of my friends move through the transitional phase of life by moving out of mine. I have roots here--my family lives here. Brent's family lives here. What we lack in mobility we make up in stability. I have a safety net for emotional, financial, or physical needs.
I guess it always amuses me when I hear the trendy leaders of the day harp on "community" over and over. The people who talk about it most understand it the least. Community isn't something you just make. It's something that's woven together, year after year, generation by generation. You don't just get a group of people together and say "Voila! Community!"
Instead, it's built around those roots that hold me down. I realize I may never live outside of this valley of irritating temperature extremes and piss poor air quality. I know my friends have cool adventures in new places and never come back. I also know that the level of stability I have here is something a transient lifestyle will never accommodate.
I hate being hot all the time in the summer and cold all the time in the winter, but I'm surrounded by a group of people that faces the same challenges beside me. Our shared struggles build bonds that electronic communication and world travelling can never touch.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Friends
I've been working through the nature of friendship lately. I know that I'm a very loyal person who tends to hold on to friends for a very long time. That said, I have high expectations of them and do not keep around those I don't think are worth the time.
I have a lot of friends in my horse life. It's easy to be friends there--our common experience is so great that very little incentive is needed to call someone a friend. My circle is populated with people with an understanding of the difficulties we face, the creatures we care for, and that crazy passion that drives us. It's easy to be friends because our lives are so similar.
But what about the rest of them? Although I find it harder and harder to make friends with people in the "normal world", I still have some. I do treasure them. I've come to realize that the hallmark of friendship, whether horsey or not, is caring for one another. Laughing together and crying together. Caring even when you don't always understand the nuances of what they're going through. Being willing to set aside yourself and listen and care about another soul flitting through the same moment in time.
An emphasis on the last. A friend shares their life with you and open yours to them. We care, even when we don't understand.
Abandon that, and the friendship is gone.
I have a lot of friends in my horse life. It's easy to be friends there--our common experience is so great that very little incentive is needed to call someone a friend. My circle is populated with people with an understanding of the difficulties we face, the creatures we care for, and that crazy passion that drives us. It's easy to be friends because our lives are so similar.
But what about the rest of them? Although I find it harder and harder to make friends with people in the "normal world", I still have some. I do treasure them. I've come to realize that the hallmark of friendship, whether horsey or not, is caring for one another. Laughing together and crying together. Caring even when you don't always understand the nuances of what they're going through. Being willing to set aside yourself and listen and care about another soul flitting through the same moment in time.
An emphasis on the last. A friend shares their life with you and open yours to them. We care, even when we don't understand.
Abandon that, and the friendship is gone.
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