February 27, 2011

Some times things seem so easy that the idea of failure never approaches. Once for brunch I thought it would be so simple to whip up  a batch of scones, chocolate and blueberry, to contribute to the boozy lunch. I followed the recipe, was very careful but they turned out awful. The texture was wrong. They were flimsy and too moist. I still brought them, I mean blueberry and chocolate still taste good but I knew they weren’t great. I never made scones again. I never knitted socks again. I never made brownies again.

I’m the type to give up. I want to be that person who tries again and again and again until I get it right. That’s why I’m unhappy in my job and how I generally spend my days. I’m so busy trying not to fail that I’m not doing anything challenging or fulfilling. What am I going to do to change this? I don’t know but I’m going to try, try, try, and try again. Trying is something new to me.

To punish myself I look for articles about young start ups, successful Brooklynites pumping out bouillon cubes and vodkas and cupcakes and popsicles and all sorts of (mostly food) items. I read about these successful and younger than me people for inspiration but all it really inspires is bouts of frustration and sadness. To hear someone say they are happy with what they do. Happy getting up each morning to accomplish their goals. It’s so upsetting. It’s heartbreakingly difficult to get up each day and sulk to a desk only to go home and collapse in exhaustion.

This year I’m tackling my failures. It’s not a resolution, I don’t do those but I guess I’ll call it a goal. Wish me luck.


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