Just Like Starting Over

Okay, it's time.

Starting over is something I do probably a few times a year. It usually involves making lists of things to do differently, things like, I'm going to floss my teeth and I'm going to those stretches for my hips and, like, some push-ups too. I'll add to the list: “work on story about Rose,” “interview Sage's roommate,” “get rechargeable batteries for audio recorder,” “type up blog post about list.”

The list is empowering. To write down all these things that I am going to do in the near future, and the things that I need to do in order to get the other things done—read Tom Sawyer as character research, join Burlington Writer's Workshop—and then to transfer the list into the dated pages of my weekly planner, it is energizing. Or maybe that is the caffeine consumed while making the list. In any case, the list is amazing. To have things to do! It feels great.  It's just, I have to not give up on the list.

Now, if things had turned out differently, I might be hiking the White Mountains as we speak. There, the list would consist of “wake up,” “put on backpack,” and “walk all day.” For a time this summer, that worked. I met some great people and enjoyed some excellent homemade dehydrated meals. But somehow, a few weeks ago, I found myself alone on a train hurtling up the Hudson River, and my arms were tan and I had blisters on my feet and my hair was tangled up just the way I like it, and I was on that train because I just couldn't walk another step. And I regretted that very much.

My grandmother, who, at this point in her life, doesn't know how to not hurt people with her oh-so-carefully chosen words, said, “You didn't think it through, did you? You didn't know how hard it would be.”

As politely as I could, I told her she was wrong. I thought about it a lot, I said. I knew exactly how hard it would be, and I went anyway, I told her. Then I went upstairs and slept for a very long time.

I came home after a mere 300 miles, and ever since then I have been unable to shake this terrible feeling of failure, this feeling like I never finish anything, like I always quit when things get too difficult. It doesn't matter that everyone I know says, “Wow, 300 miles, that's not nothing.” The point is that 300 is not 1200, and that I set out to do something and I didn't finish it. I'm a quitter. This really puts a damper on the whole summer.

So, while I've been home for several weeks and I've done a few things, some of which even count as being productive, I haven't written anything for this blog. Do Things and Stuff Every Day nearly got shoved in the corner like all of the other projects I've started and never finished. It wasn't going in the right direction anyway, the writing was not of top quality, it was just a bunch of cookie recipes and that was never supposed to be the point. I was going to give up, like I always do, on this little website that nobody reads.

But I've decided instead to start over. I've got heaps of things to write about, I've got tons of projects, so many projects that sometimes I just stand in the middle of the room thinking about my projects, unable to decide which project to work on, and then I paint my toenails. And I think, man, I just painted my toenails instead of doing something productive? But it's okay, because I'm wearing sandals a lot these days so this is something that needed to be done.

I'm feeling better, after weeks of not feeling so, not only because I've moved into my new apartment—some of the best features include bamboo floors, a balcony, and not being my parents' house—but because I have so many things on my list. Some days I have to ride my bike all over town to get everything done: library to print this form, back home because I forgot my bike lock, hardware store for cup hooks, Recycle North for frames and fabric. And of course, one of the most important things to do when unpacking in a new apartment is arranging your art on the walls. Yesterday I put up my planets on the wall above my desk:

And I realized that I needed one more planet for it to look complete. So I painted one:

Success! And I have some much bigger projects coming up, including a custom-built loft bed, a kitchen island or prep table or bar, and a new paint job on my road bike. In the meantime, I'll be painting more planets on other round items, rearranging the kitchen over and over again, planting some fall crops on my south-facing balcony, and going to interviews for jobs I don't actually want to do. (How am I going to get everything on my list done if I have to work five days a week?) I'll still make cookies occasionally, but I think that the cookies of a few months ago were merely excuses for not working on the things I really wanted to be doing—i.e. the more difficult, more rewarding things. I'm starting over on these items; I'm making them less difficult. The list helps. New things are added and old things get crossed off all the time. Yes, this is the way it's supposed to be. This is Productive Amy. I am doing things. And stuff. Every day!