Category Archives: cloud nine
It’s like role call. Waiting to hear your name. Waiting to get off the bench on the sidelines and show everybody out in the audience, what you’re made of—to score. There’s ups and down, you feel hope and then rejection when what you’re standing around anxiously for doesn’t show up.
Waiting games can get to you. The adrenaline builds up slowly. You can feel your heart pulse in your ears. You breathe faster. You feel warmer—totally depending on that one person to give you a chance.
I’m writing today because no matter where we are in life we’re always waiting for something. You’re first or last baby to be born. You’re new car you’ve been saving for years to buy. A house? A new job? Maybe a new semester in school to start over again and swear, the next time, you’ll get that A.
I’m waiting. I’m biding my time and continue to write up a storm. I’ve written two short stories and I’ve started my next trilogy. This one’s better. This one is based on a couple of eighth grade girls I tutored back in school.
So I guess my point today is about the next step and what you do when you wait. No matter what step it is, there has to be one and I’m trying to take my own advice—
To continue stepping somewhere—
To keep moving forward no matter what—
And to fill my brain with other things I love—
People were right when they said dreams never came easy.
And if you’re interested in the science formula of waiting, here’s what I found:
S = P – E.
In this formulation, ‘S’ stands for satisfaction, ‘P’ for perception and ‘E’ for expectation.
I hated cleaning my room. My mom would ask me. Of course I’d have to do it. So I’d pick the same standard strategy every time: use the bed. Didn’t matter if I had to squish it and squeeze it so tight something might linger underneath the bed skirt. I’d shove it all under there with some power and I’d do it fast. If I didn’t do it fast, I’d get sucked in to all the neat little toys I’d forgotten about because:
1) my room was too messy to find them, and
As I grew older, I cleaned my room by sorting. I sorted my stuff into stacks and piles and lined them up on my desk or around a dark corner near the dresser. These stacks would get so tall, they’d shake. I’d have to lean them against the wall. Sometimes they’d fall, but not all the time.
There was one certainty to my strategy of cleaning my room: mom would get so mad she’d go in my room and clean it all up herself. Then I couldn’t find anything.
So here is my thought: What if the way we cleaned our rooms when we were little says something about the way we handle our dreams. They’re both about goals: Cleaning a room vs. chasing a dream. Strategies for one could easily define the strategies in the other.
So how do we reach our goals? How do I figure out how to clean my room? The first step is to slow down and decide if I want to be marginal, or do I want to make this goal really worth something.
I decide I’m sick of marginal. So I take a good look around the room. I compartmentalize—sort –and I get rid of the things I don’t use or need. I decide what amount of time I have and I focus. I might listen to a few favorite tunes as I go, but that’s what I call motivation.
In any case, the main idea here is this: I have to want to really clean up my room; I can’t push it under the bed like I used to. Sounds a lot like chasing dreams to me…