Stress isn't a word I use very often to describe me or my emotional state or how I'm feeling or anything like that. In fact, I feel like I'm kind of an anomaly in the English grad program here at BYU because it is full of people who seem to have a tank of stress-oline that powers them through their lives. Me, I just kind sit back and let it ride. Life kind of comes at me and I just go with it and try not to let things really bug me or get under my skin. I get a little unsettled at times, and it's not like I'm always perfectly balanced and live a life of leisure and happiness. Let's not even talk about the series of physical maladies that seem to be constantly swirling around me. (on that note, I kinda jacked up my foot last night at the football game while jogging down the bleachers. I woke up this morning and couldn't hardly walk. But it's felt better as the day has gone on so no worries.) But on the whole I feel like I'm able to deal with the usual stresses of life fairly well. One might even say that I take the title of this totally awesome Eagles tune as my life motto:
All that said, yesterday afternoon was one of those rare occasion when I was really, truly stressed about my life. Mostly it was due to my thesis. See since school started again I've been meaning to get in contact with my thesis chair and update her on the progress I made over the summer. I was able to get some preliminary research and reading done on my project, but I felt like I hadn't done nearly as much as I ought to have. I'd like to say that I was busy doing fun and exciting things all summer, but I wasn't. Don't get me wrong I did have a lot of fun this summer, but to be perfectly honest I didn't really do anything that should have distracted me from doing my thesis reading. So when I emailed my chair yesterday around noon I was assuming that she would respond saying we should get together some time next week. That way I could do some catchup work and be perfectly fine once we met. I was wrong; she didn't as I'd hoped. Instead she said we should meet at 4 pm, which was in 3 hours. Thus began the stressing.
Despite my misgivings, I agreed to meet with her at four and immediately began to feel about like this baby her every time his mom blows her nose except without the uninhibited laughing:
That look of sheer terror is what I was feeling. Now that I'm on this side of the meeting I'm not sure why I was so stressed out. It's probably because I read PhD Comics
too much. For whatever reason I envisioned me going up to her office
and feeling totally ashamed and humiliated because I hadn't lived up to
her expectations. I figured she was going to berate me for being lazy
and so on and so forth, and I didn't relish that thought.
Now before I go any further I need to make it clear that
my thesis chair is wonderful. She's very accomplished and
well-recognized in the field of composition studies, and she is very
kind and helpful to her students. So when I say I expected an
ego-breaking confrontation I was entirely without reason to think or
assume that that was what was coming.
At any rate I began to frantically go over all the books I've checked out from the library dealing with my topic and review all the papers I've written about it. I also decided I should put together a quick bibliography of the things I've actually read, so I could show her some progress. Now you'd think that in doing this I'd have realized that I actually have done a fair amount of work, and I'd be able to calm down some. But for some reason the stress kept mounting and getting worse and worse to the point that I was complaining and venting my frustrations and insecurities to the people who were in my physical as well as internet-mediated presence.
Finally 3:55 pm hit and the time of reckoning had come. I made the long walk over to her office, and as I was climbing the stairs I hit rock bottom. She was going to tell me my project and research was stupid and to figure out something else. I contemplated not even going to her office and quitting the program altogether. Ok that's not true, but I was in a dark place.
I knocked on her door and with a smile and a cough (she had a cold) she let me in. For the next hour I sat across from her in her office and we talked about my project. As the conversation progressed, my anxiety lessened and lessened until it all but went away. I realized that I did have good ideas and that my summer background research, while admittedly not as thorough as I'd have liked it to be, was sufficient for where I am in the process. She gave me some good advice on how to proceed, and actually seemed genuinely interested in the research I'm proposing to do. I left her office feeling excited and encouraged, which thing had been unknowable just an hour previous. That feeling of validation and excitement was as intensely sweet as had been my earlier pain and discouragement.
I left her office with a broad grin on my face and an assurance that I really am in the right field, and that I really am doing the right thing with my life.
I stopped by Meridith's office to tell her how it had gone, and after chatting with her for a while we decided to celebrate surviving my first real encounter with the beast that is the thesis with a little Cafe Rio. So we went down the stairs and left the JFSB and my thesis stresses behind...at least for a while.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Driving Slow
Quick disclaimer: I realize that "correct" American usage rules would dictate that that title read "Driving Slowly," but I feel like turning "slow" into an adverb paints a different image in the reader's mind than the one I intend. So there.
Saturday I woke up at the ungodly hour (for a college student on a Saturday) of 7:30 am in order to make my 8:30 am dentist appointment. It was just a bit too early for me, so instead of getting up and into the shower like a good boy, I reset my alarm for 7:45 am and rolled over. I don't know what I was thinking. My appointment was in Riverton, and since I live in Provo, I really should have been getting in the car to leave at 7:45 am in order to make it in plenty of time. But in my sleep-addled state I believed myself Superman and didn't worry about being on time. I eventually got out of bed at 7:50 am and realized the predicament I'd put myself in. Shamefully I admit that when I'm late in the morning I'll sometimes forgo the brushing of teeth, and instead I chew gum until I can get around to it later. I know, I'm disgusting. Unfortunately this wasn't an option since I was going to the dentist. So I showered quickly, brushed my teeth thoroughly (twice) and by the time I ran out to my car it was 8:10 in the am.
Needless to say I drove rather quickly up the interstate. Luckily it was still early enough on a Saturday that there wasn't too much traffic, and I arrived at the office of Dr. B. Charles Push, D.D.S. at 8:40 in the am. The drive, while relatively traffic-less, was kind of stressful for me. See, I don't really like driving too fast. Generally I don't really like driving at all, but I especially hate it when I'm late to something that's pretty important, like a dentist appointment I guess, and I feel pressure to drive more aggressively and quickly than I'm comfortable. Maybe it's the fact that I've been in 4 accidents in the past 4 years, 3 of which totaled the car and none of which was my fault, but I tend to be a fairly cautious driver.
As you're reading this you're probably thinking to yourself, "Sam's such a square. I mean, what 26 year old man doesn't love to drive fast? That's the kind of thing that's written on the Y chromosome, isn't it?" Well, the fact is I haven't taken a science class for several years now, and I barely scraped by with a B in Biology so I can't tell you the answer to the chromosome bit of that question. As for being a square, I guess that I'll have to own up to that one. I mean, I do go faster than the speed limit on a regular basis, and I even got a speeding ticket once. But I'm nothing like my buddy Rob who once, at 6:30 pm on Thursday, got us from my place in Provo to a concert in Salt Lake in some ridiculous amount of time like 35 minutes or so. He definitely was going over 100 mph at one point. It was a thrilling ride, an enjoyable ride even, but in that moment I knew that it was something I'd probably never do were I in the driver's seat, even if my car could do that.
Anyway, The dentist appointment went off without a hitch -- no cavities -- and I got back in my car for the drive home. As I pulled out onto Redwood Road, I started thinking about my earlier drive that had brought me up to Riverton. I really hadn't driven all that fast. I mean, I probably topped out at 85 mph, but even so it had been fairly stressful. So I decided to try something unheard of in today's society. On the drive back to Provo I decided that I was going to obey the speed limit very strictly both on the freeway and surface streets.
I know, you're probably rolling your eyes right now thinking, "So Sam's one of those idiots that's always making me late to things," and images like this are being conjured up in your mind:
I'm flattered at your depiction of me as an old man, and apparently yes I am one of those idiots. Or at least I was Saturday morning. But let me tell you, it was one of the most liberating experiences of my life. I'm not even joking. See, I knew what my limit was on the freeway, and I knew that no one else was going to drive as slow as I was, so I was able to set my cruise at 65 mph while in the rightmost lane and away I went. It was wonderful. Where usually while driving the freeway I'm thinking about how I can get around the car in front of me or worrying about the car behind me that's clearly approaching at a rate of travel much faster than my own, I was at peace with myself not worrying about others. I'm always trying to negotiate how fast is too fast and how fast is too slow and how can I strike a good balance without making everyone around me angry. But on Saturday, I just set the cruise, put on a podcast and enjoyed the ride. That's not to say I was completely oblivious to traffic around me, but the thing was I didn't feel any pressure to adjust to the outside conditions of traffic because everyone else was driving faster than me and they all either went around me or matched my speed behind me.
As I reached the construction in Pleasant Grove and I reduced my speed to 55 mph, I realized another thing. Not only was I not having to stress about the traffic around me and how I fit in to the crowd, I also didn't have the stress of knowing that if I were to be pulled over by a cop, they would have every right in the world to write me a ticket because I was inarguably going over the speed limit. My conscience was clear and I could just sit back and allow the sweet sound of Ira Glass' voice to wash over me. It was one of the most enjoyable drives ever.
Now don't get me wrong here. I wasn't driving down the road thinking to myself that I was all superior to the rest of the drivers who were passing me, or anything like, "Those crazy lunatics are going to get us all killed if they don't slow down." Rather I recognize that everyone has to drive however they're comfortable. If, like my buddy Rob, that means screaming down the road as fast as you can, so be it. If it means puttering along like an old grandpa, by all means.
I got back to my apartment in Provo and couldn't believe how wonderfully stress-free I felt. I decided that I was going to drive slow more often. And I kept that resolution right up until the next morning when I was late to church and had to go 40 in a 25 just to get there without being too late.
Saturday I woke up at the ungodly hour (for a college student on a Saturday) of 7:30 am in order to make my 8:30 am dentist appointment. It was just a bit too early for me, so instead of getting up and into the shower like a good boy, I reset my alarm for 7:45 am and rolled over. I don't know what I was thinking. My appointment was in Riverton, and since I live in Provo, I really should have been getting in the car to leave at 7:45 am in order to make it in plenty of time. But in my sleep-addled state I believed myself Superman and didn't worry about being on time. I eventually got out of bed at 7:50 am and realized the predicament I'd put myself in. Shamefully I admit that when I'm late in the morning I'll sometimes forgo the brushing of teeth, and instead I chew gum until I can get around to it later. I know, I'm disgusting. Unfortunately this wasn't an option since I was going to the dentist. So I showered quickly, brushed my teeth thoroughly (twice) and by the time I ran out to my car it was 8:10 in the am.
Needless to say I drove rather quickly up the interstate. Luckily it was still early enough on a Saturday that there wasn't too much traffic, and I arrived at the office of Dr. B. Charles Push, D.D.S. at 8:40 in the am. The drive, while relatively traffic-less, was kind of stressful for me. See, I don't really like driving too fast. Generally I don't really like driving at all, but I especially hate it when I'm late to something that's pretty important, like a dentist appointment I guess, and I feel pressure to drive more aggressively and quickly than I'm comfortable. Maybe it's the fact that I've been in 4 accidents in the past 4 years, 3 of which totaled the car and none of which was my fault, but I tend to be a fairly cautious driver.
As you're reading this you're probably thinking to yourself, "Sam's such a square. I mean, what 26 year old man doesn't love to drive fast? That's the kind of thing that's written on the Y chromosome, isn't it?" Well, the fact is I haven't taken a science class for several years now, and I barely scraped by with a B in Biology so I can't tell you the answer to the chromosome bit of that question. As for being a square, I guess that I'll have to own up to that one. I mean, I do go faster than the speed limit on a regular basis, and I even got a speeding ticket once. But I'm nothing like my buddy Rob who once, at 6:30 pm on Thursday, got us from my place in Provo to a concert in Salt Lake in some ridiculous amount of time like 35 minutes or so. He definitely was going over 100 mph at one point. It was a thrilling ride, an enjoyable ride even, but in that moment I knew that it was something I'd probably never do were I in the driver's seat, even if my car could do that.
Anyway, The dentist appointment went off without a hitch -- no cavities -- and I got back in my car for the drive home. As I pulled out onto Redwood Road, I started thinking about my earlier drive that had brought me up to Riverton. I really hadn't driven all that fast. I mean, I probably topped out at 85 mph, but even so it had been fairly stressful. So I decided to try something unheard of in today's society. On the drive back to Provo I decided that I was going to obey the speed limit very strictly both on the freeway and surface streets.
I know, you're probably rolling your eyes right now thinking, "So Sam's one of those idiots that's always making me late to things," and images like this are being conjured up in your mind:
I'm flattered at your depiction of me as an old man, and apparently yes I am one of those idiots. Or at least I was Saturday morning. But let me tell you, it was one of the most liberating experiences of my life. I'm not even joking. See, I knew what my limit was on the freeway, and I knew that no one else was going to drive as slow as I was, so I was able to set my cruise at 65 mph while in the rightmost lane and away I went. It was wonderful. Where usually while driving the freeway I'm thinking about how I can get around the car in front of me or worrying about the car behind me that's clearly approaching at a rate of travel much faster than my own, I was at peace with myself not worrying about others. I'm always trying to negotiate how fast is too fast and how fast is too slow and how can I strike a good balance without making everyone around me angry. But on Saturday, I just set the cruise, put on a podcast and enjoyed the ride. That's not to say I was completely oblivious to traffic around me, but the thing was I didn't feel any pressure to adjust to the outside conditions of traffic because everyone else was driving faster than me and they all either went around me or matched my speed behind me.
As I reached the construction in Pleasant Grove and I reduced my speed to 55 mph, I realized another thing. Not only was I not having to stress about the traffic around me and how I fit in to the crowd, I also didn't have the stress of knowing that if I were to be pulled over by a cop, they would have every right in the world to write me a ticket because I was inarguably going over the speed limit. My conscience was clear and I could just sit back and allow the sweet sound of Ira Glass' voice to wash over me. It was one of the most enjoyable drives ever.
Now don't get me wrong here. I wasn't driving down the road thinking to myself that I was all superior to the rest of the drivers who were passing me, or anything like, "Those crazy lunatics are going to get us all killed if they don't slow down." Rather I recognize that everyone has to drive however they're comfortable. If, like my buddy Rob, that means screaming down the road as fast as you can, so be it. If it means puttering along like an old grandpa, by all means.
I got back to my apartment in Provo and couldn't believe how wonderfully stress-free I felt. I decided that I was going to drive slow more often. And I kept that resolution right up until the next morning when I was late to church and had to go 40 in a 25 just to get there without being too late.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
On Disney Princess SpaghettiOs and Being a Cheap Food Foodie
Yesterday I posted a status on Facebook about how Disney Princess SpaghettiOs are better than regular type. I think there was a little bit of misunderstanding as to my intentions, so let me explain.
First of all, so that we're all on the same page, here is a picture of the SpaghettiOs in question:
I'm sure that many people read my status and thought that I was trying to be cute or hipster-ironic. You know, because a self-respecting 25/26in20days year old man can't genuinely like princess SpaghettiOs unless it's some kind of a joke, right? I completely understand the confusion here because this kind of ironic humor is an aspect of hipster culture that I readily participate in. I definitely don't consider myself cool enough to be a hipster, but some of my tastes intersect with that world and I'm comfortable with that.
That said, I can unequivocally put to rest the idea that I was trying to be funny; what I said about Disney Princess SpaghettiOs had nothing to do with irony or pop culture or hipster humor at all. Incidentally it also had nothing to do with the cultural subjugation of women, though it would seem that many of my grad school friends have but that one lens through which to see the world and feel the need to point out and rail against anything that gets their uber feminist hackles up. Seriously guys, it gets old.
Anyway, when I said, "Disney Princess spaghetti-ohs [sic] are way better than regular," what I meant to say was that as a food item and in terms of quality and taste, they are much, much better than the regular O's. Allow me to explain.
See, I see myself as kind of a foodie when it comes to incredibly cheap, packaged, processed and heavily industrialized foods. I know the best frozen burritos, I can whip up a mean pot of boxed mac and cheese, I consider corn dogs and ramen to be basic food groups, and I have a special knowledge of anything "spaghetti-related." Now I put the last item on that list in quotation marks because I realize many people wouldn't consider the spaghetti that I eat to be actual spaghetti. More often than not it's nothing more than noodles with butter on them, but that "nothing more" is fantastically delicious and if you haven't indulged in such a meal since you were a child I'd encourage you to do so. Along with my expansive knowledge of spaghetti comes a thorough understanding of the intricacies of spaghettiOs and other canned spaghettis.
Here is where I have to admit that I'm not a fan of canned spaghetti in general. I love the idea with every fiber of my clothing. I mean, I love spaghetti, so what could be better than easy access and rapidly available-to-eat spaghetti in a can? Well, I'll tell you what could be better, easy access and rapidly available-to-eat spaghetti in a can that is actually edible. I know, I know, I just claimed to be a cheap food foodie, but even I have a hard time downing canned spaghetti. Regular SpaghettiOs are an exception to my anti-canned spaghetti rule, and I usually enjoy them quite a bit, but even with SpaghettiOs the sauce to noodle ratio is too imbalanced on the side of the sauce. So when I get to the last few spoonfuls that are especially saucy I usually find myself enjoying the meal less and less and I end up straining off the sauce with my spoon to make for a more palatable food experience. For a long time this has been a frustration of mine. And that's where the Disney Princess SpaghettiOs come in.
As you can see in the above image, Disney Princess SpaghettiOs mix traditional SpaghettiOs with the Disney Princess ones. Now while I have absolutely no idea what allows for those seemingly random shapes to be considered Disney Princesses, that's not what's important here. What's important, as you can see, is that these shapes have a much tighter pattern which doesn't allow the sauce ready access to the full noodle. The result of which being there is a much better noodle to sauce ratio which allows for a much more enjoyable overall SpaghettiOs experience.
The biggest problem I see with Disney Princess SpaghettiOs is the knowledge that they won't last forever. After a few weeks, maybe months, the Campbell Soup people will get sick of paying Disney's licensing fees, and we'll be left with plain old O's once again. But until that time I will continue buying and consuming Disney Princess SpaghettiOs. I will savor every bite of that canned perfection, never knowing which will be my last.
First of all, so that we're all on the same page, here is a picture of the SpaghettiOs in question:
I'm sure that many people read my status and thought that I was trying to be cute or hipster-ironic. You know, because a self-respecting 25/26in20days year old man can't genuinely like princess SpaghettiOs unless it's some kind of a joke, right? I completely understand the confusion here because this kind of ironic humor is an aspect of hipster culture that I readily participate in. I definitely don't consider myself cool enough to be a hipster, but some of my tastes intersect with that world and I'm comfortable with that.
That said, I can unequivocally put to rest the idea that I was trying to be funny; what I said about Disney Princess SpaghettiOs had nothing to do with irony or pop culture or hipster humor at all. Incidentally it also had nothing to do with the cultural subjugation of women, though it would seem that many of my grad school friends have but that one lens through which to see the world and feel the need to point out and rail against anything that gets their uber feminist hackles up. Seriously guys, it gets old.
Anyway, when I said, "Disney Princess spaghetti-ohs [sic] are way better than regular," what I meant to say was that as a food item and in terms of quality and taste, they are much, much better than the regular O's. Allow me to explain.
See, I see myself as kind of a foodie when it comes to incredibly cheap, packaged, processed and heavily industrialized foods. I know the best frozen burritos, I can whip up a mean pot of boxed mac and cheese, I consider corn dogs and ramen to be basic food groups, and I have a special knowledge of anything "spaghetti-related." Now I put the last item on that list in quotation marks because I realize many people wouldn't consider the spaghetti that I eat to be actual spaghetti. More often than not it's nothing more than noodles with butter on them, but that "nothing more" is fantastically delicious and if you haven't indulged in such a meal since you were a child I'd encourage you to do so. Along with my expansive knowledge of spaghetti comes a thorough understanding of the intricacies of spaghettiOs and other canned spaghettis.
Here is where I have to admit that I'm not a fan of canned spaghetti in general. I love the idea with every fiber of my clothing. I mean, I love spaghetti, so what could be better than easy access and rapidly available-to-eat spaghetti in a can? Well, I'll tell you what could be better, easy access and rapidly available-to-eat spaghetti in a can that is actually edible. I know, I know, I just claimed to be a cheap food foodie, but even I have a hard time downing canned spaghetti. Regular SpaghettiOs are an exception to my anti-canned spaghetti rule, and I usually enjoy them quite a bit, but even with SpaghettiOs the sauce to noodle ratio is too imbalanced on the side of the sauce. So when I get to the last few spoonfuls that are especially saucy I usually find myself enjoying the meal less and less and I end up straining off the sauce with my spoon to make for a more palatable food experience. For a long time this has been a frustration of mine. And that's where the Disney Princess SpaghettiOs come in.
As you can see in the above image, Disney Princess SpaghettiOs mix traditional SpaghettiOs with the Disney Princess ones. Now while I have absolutely no idea what allows for those seemingly random shapes to be considered Disney Princesses, that's not what's important here. What's important, as you can see, is that these shapes have a much tighter pattern which doesn't allow the sauce ready access to the full noodle. The result of which being there is a much better noodle to sauce ratio which allows for a much more enjoyable overall SpaghettiOs experience.
The biggest problem I see with Disney Princess SpaghettiOs is the knowledge that they won't last forever. After a few weeks, maybe months, the Campbell Soup people will get sick of paying Disney's licensing fees, and we'll be left with plain old O's once again. But until that time I will continue buying and consuming Disney Princess SpaghettiOs. I will savor every bite of that canned perfection, never knowing which will be my last.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Flames on the Side of My Face
I was up a bit too late last night celebrating Smed's birthday considering what time I have to get up in order to teach at 8 in the am. So when my alarm went off this morning this is what was going on in my mind:
I just wanted my sleep and for my alarm to go the way of the singing telegram:
Unfortunately, none of that changed the fact that I still had to get up, still had to get ready, and that I still have to teach in 40 min.
Maybe after I'm done teaching I'll come home and watch Clue.
I just wanted my sleep and for my alarm to go the way of the singing telegram:
Unfortunately, none of that changed the fact that I still had to get up, still had to get ready, and that I still have to teach in 40 min.
Maybe after I'm done teaching I'll come home and watch Clue.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
In Which Sam Has a Brilliant Idea
I've just had a brilliant idea.
(note: I haven't really thought this through very deeply, but from where I'm standing...ok sitting, it seems pretty valid)
Schools and places of work should all be required to provide enough windows in any place where people study/work that there is no need for overhead lighting of any kind. On top of having more windows, schools and places of work should be required to not provide or install overhead lighting of any kind.
This would cut down on energy bills. It would expose people to more sunlight and help with depression issues as well as general well-being. It would make it impossible--well maybe not impossible but at least very difficult--to study/work at these places after the sun goes down. People would be forced to go home if they wanted to "get things done." As we all know, it's impossible to be school/work productive at home, so productivity during the sunlit hours of the day would be absolutely necessary and thus increase. Bosses and overseers would be forced to recognize that there's only so much that can be done while the sun is out, and they wouldn't be able to demand as much from their employees and underlings. In so doing, work-related stress levels would go down dramatically.
In sum:
Energy bills=decreased.
Daytime productivity=increased.
Work-related stress=decreased.
Depression rates=decreased.
Time spent at home with family, friends and loved ones=increased.
Overall satisfaction with life=increased.
Now I ask you:
(note: I haven't really thought this through very deeply, but from where I'm standing...ok sitting, it seems pretty valid)
Schools and places of work should all be required to provide enough windows in any place where people study/work that there is no need for overhead lighting of any kind. On top of having more windows, schools and places of work should be required to not provide or install overhead lighting of any kind.
This would cut down on energy bills. It would expose people to more sunlight and help with depression issues as well as general well-being. It would make it impossible--well maybe not impossible but at least very difficult--to study/work at these places after the sun goes down. People would be forced to go home if they wanted to "get things done." As we all know, it's impossible to be school/work productive at home, so productivity during the sunlit hours of the day would be absolutely necessary and thus increase. Bosses and overseers would be forced to recognize that there's only so much that can be done while the sun is out, and they wouldn't be able to demand as much from their employees and underlings. In so doing, work-related stress levels would go down dramatically.
In sum:
Energy bills=decreased.
Daytime productivity=increased.
Work-related stress=decreased.
Depression rates=decreased.
Time spent at home with family, friends and loved ones=increased.
Overall satisfaction with life=increased.
Now I ask you:
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Sustained Motivation
Do you ever feel really super inspired to go out and do all the things that you need/want to do that will help you to better be the person that you need/want to be, but then when the time actually comes to do those things the inspiration has run dry and you don't do them? ...ok, I'll admit that that was a really vague and nebulous question. Please disregard it. Rather than posing a question, let me illustrate what I mean by showing a few examples from my life, and then get to the real question later.
I have a hard time keeping myself motivated. Please consider the following two scenarios:
Scenario 1
Sometimes I'll be sitting in class and we'll be having a fantastic discussion about rhetoric or composition instruction or really anything to do with what I'm studying, and I'll feel this rush of adrenaline deep within me, and my heart will start beating faster as I think about all the individual research that I want to do to further my own understanding of the topics we're talking about. And then thinking about all that research makes me really happy because I take my excitement about the subject material as confirmation that what I'm studying and the direction I'm taking my life really is what I want and need. But then when the time rolls around when I should go into the library and do research, or work on one of the dozen pet projects that I have laying around, or even just do the base-line, required homework for the classes I'm taking, all that motivation that I felt during class evaporates and the only thing I want to do is sit around and watch episodes of mind-numbing and unenlightening TV shows like The West Wing or Once Upon a Time.
Scenario 2
Sometimes I'll be sitting in Sacrament Meeting and I'll be feeling great and super pumped about the things I'm going to do differently so that I can live closer to the Holy Ghost and better live up to the covenants I've made. Usually this motivation inspires me to set goals like going to bed earlier and getting up earlier so that I can exercise and read my scripture before I set out for the rest of the day, or making a conscious effort to go out of my way to serve other people and be kind to them, or to go to the temple with greater frequency. But then my alarm goes off at 6:30am and I decide that I'm too tired and I'll read my scriptures and exercise later. Or I'll think to myself, "I should really go to the temple today," and I'll think of dozens of other "more important" things that I should do instead of going to the temple. That motivation that I felt as I sat in church and listened to someone bear their testimony is all but gone in that moment when said motivation would spark me into action.
This kind of thing happens to me all the time. I look back at my life and I can think of dozens of experiences that I've had when this motivation that I'm talking about has hit me hard and I feel like I'm turning my life around. It's hit me while having countless conversations in the carrels with Tara and Jarron and Carolyn and Drew and Angela and Paige and Shannon and Becca and all my other grad school friends as we talk about anything and everything from rhetoric to dating to social/political issues to classroom issues to inane small talk. Somewhere in there I almost always feel that spark ignite in me that drives me to want to be better and work harder in many different areas of my life. It happens when I'm sitting quietly in the temple reflecting about my life and where I am in comparison to where I want to be. It happened numerous times while sitting Meridith's office talking about the class we were teaching and invariably started talking about how we're going to save the world from itself via composition education in the university classroom. It happens when I'm in the shower thinking about the day ahead of me. It happens while I'm talking to my parents about many varied things. It happens while I'm driving to and from Bluffdale with Maurianne. It almost always happens every time I get together with my family and I look at the awesome people that they are. But nearly all of these motivating times happen to me when I'm not in a place to take advantage of the surge of emotion and drive. By the time I'm in a situation where I have the time and means of actually doing the work that should be associated with this passion and motivation, all desire and yearning to do great things and be great myself has dried up and I'm nothing but a dried husk of laziness and discomfort. I'm not sure I'm totally describing my frustration here, but I think this is about as good as I can get for now.
Anyway, living this way is utterly infuriating.
All of this reminds me of the first day of my Shakespeare class a couple years back. Richard Duerden, my professor, said these words that have stuck with me and that are constantly ringing in my head:
Talent is desire to practice;
Genius is willingness to work.
I love that idea so much. I agree with it whole-heartedly. I yearn for it. So why the devil can I not actually sustain those moments of motivation so that they become the drive to me actually laboring diligently in my work, broadly defined?
So I now pose this question to any and all who happen to read this, admittedly overlong, rant about my frustrations with life:
How do you maintain and sustain motivation in your life?
What do you do to keep working and pushing yourself even when you really, really don't want to?
What are your secrets in this department?
Ok, that was three questions; please forgive me.
This is something that I've struggled with for awhile, so I'm open to any and all suggestions that anyone might have. If you don't feel comfortable leaving a public comment here on my blog, feel free to email me with any thoughts that you have on this subject at sam.dunn(at)gmail.com.
I have a hard time keeping myself motivated. Please consider the following two scenarios:
Scenario 1
Sometimes I'll be sitting in class and we'll be having a fantastic discussion about rhetoric or composition instruction or really anything to do with what I'm studying, and I'll feel this rush of adrenaline deep within me, and my heart will start beating faster as I think about all the individual research that I want to do to further my own understanding of the topics we're talking about. And then thinking about all that research makes me really happy because I take my excitement about the subject material as confirmation that what I'm studying and the direction I'm taking my life really is what I want and need. But then when the time rolls around when I should go into the library and do research, or work on one of the dozen pet projects that I have laying around, or even just do the base-line, required homework for the classes I'm taking, all that motivation that I felt during class evaporates and the only thing I want to do is sit around and watch episodes of mind-numbing and unenlightening TV shows like The West Wing or Once Upon a Time.
Scenario 2
Sometimes I'll be sitting in Sacrament Meeting and I'll be feeling great and super pumped about the things I'm going to do differently so that I can live closer to the Holy Ghost and better live up to the covenants I've made. Usually this motivation inspires me to set goals like going to bed earlier and getting up earlier so that I can exercise and read my scripture before I set out for the rest of the day, or making a conscious effort to go out of my way to serve other people and be kind to them, or to go to the temple with greater frequency. But then my alarm goes off at 6:30am and I decide that I'm too tired and I'll read my scriptures and exercise later. Or I'll think to myself, "I should really go to the temple today," and I'll think of dozens of other "more important" things that I should do instead of going to the temple. That motivation that I felt as I sat in church and listened to someone bear their testimony is all but gone in that moment when said motivation would spark me into action.
This kind of thing happens to me all the time. I look back at my life and I can think of dozens of experiences that I've had when this motivation that I'm talking about has hit me hard and I feel like I'm turning my life around. It's hit me while having countless conversations in the carrels with Tara and Jarron and Carolyn and Drew and Angela and Paige and Shannon and Becca and all my other grad school friends as we talk about anything and everything from rhetoric to dating to social/political issues to classroom issues to inane small talk. Somewhere in there I almost always feel that spark ignite in me that drives me to want to be better and work harder in many different areas of my life. It happens when I'm sitting quietly in the temple reflecting about my life and where I am in comparison to where I want to be. It happened numerous times while sitting Meridith's office talking about the class we were teaching and invariably started talking about how we're going to save the world from itself via composition education in the university classroom. It happens when I'm in the shower thinking about the day ahead of me. It happens while I'm talking to my parents about many varied things. It happens while I'm driving to and from Bluffdale with Maurianne. It almost always happens every time I get together with my family and I look at the awesome people that they are. But nearly all of these motivating times happen to me when I'm not in a place to take advantage of the surge of emotion and drive. By the time I'm in a situation where I have the time and means of actually doing the work that should be associated with this passion and motivation, all desire and yearning to do great things and be great myself has dried up and I'm nothing but a dried husk of laziness and discomfort. I'm not sure I'm totally describing my frustration here, but I think this is about as good as I can get for now.
Anyway, living this way is utterly infuriating.
All of this reminds me of the first day of my Shakespeare class a couple years back. Richard Duerden, my professor, said these words that have stuck with me and that are constantly ringing in my head:
Talent is desire to practice;
Genius is willingness to work.
I love that idea so much. I agree with it whole-heartedly. I yearn for it. So why the devil can I not actually sustain those moments of motivation so that they become the drive to me actually laboring diligently in my work, broadly defined?
So I now pose this question to any and all who happen to read this, admittedly overlong, rant about my frustrations with life:
How do you maintain and sustain motivation in your life?
What do you do to keep working and pushing yourself even when you really, really don't want to?
What are your secrets in this department?
Ok, that was three questions; please forgive me.
This is something that I've struggled with for awhile, so I'm open to any and all suggestions that anyone might have. If you don't feel comfortable leaving a public comment here on my blog, feel free to email me with any thoughts that you have on this subject at sam.dunn(at)gmail.com.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
New Books
So I just got back to my house and upon walking in the door I saw a package from Amazon sitting on the floor with my name on it. I set my basketball down, grabbed the box and walked over to the utensil drawer for a knife. Now you make ask, "Why Sam, you're a Dunn aren't you? Didn't you have a pocket knife on your person? Didn't you have your pants on?" In a word, no. No I didn't have a knife on me, and no I didn't have my pants on either. (I was wearing gym shorts) Thus, having no knife, it was necessary for me to turn to the utensil drawer.
Upon opening the drawer I saw that rather than having any utensils in it, it was empty except for a pizza cutter, a spatula and a can opener. No knives, no forks, heck, there wasn't so much as a measly spoon in there. A glance to the sink confirmed my suspicions as to the location of all our utensils. Turning back to the drawer, I decided the pizza cutter would probably do the job, so I grabbed it and started hacking away at the tape on the box.
The pizza cutter took much longer to do the job than I would've liked, but once I'd gotten the box open, I found this, or rather these, inside:
That's right, books. Not just books, but textbooks. As you can see from their titles, The Rhetoric of Agitation and Control and The Realm of Rhetoric, they aren't just ordinary textbooks either, they're awesome textbooks. Now having ordered them myself, I knew that these books were coming, so it wasn't a surprise or anything. In fact, I was really hoping that they would come today because I have a reading assignment due tomorrow out of one of them.
Even so, upon opening the package and seeing them sitting there smiling up at me, my heart leapt into my throat and I got an excited feeling in my stomach. You know that feeling you get as you're driving up to an amusement park, the one that makes you all anxious and, being right on the threshold of hours of fun and enjoyment, makes you feel like you're going to explode from the anticipation of it all.
Yeah, that's how I felt, and no I'm not ashamed.
Upon opening the drawer I saw that rather than having any utensils in it, it was empty except for a pizza cutter, a spatula and a can opener. No knives, no forks, heck, there wasn't so much as a measly spoon in there. A glance to the sink confirmed my suspicions as to the location of all our utensils. Turning back to the drawer, I decided the pizza cutter would probably do the job, so I grabbed it and started hacking away at the tape on the box.
The pizza cutter took much longer to do the job than I would've liked, but once I'd gotten the box open, I found this, or rather these, inside:
That's right, books. Not just books, but textbooks. As you can see from their titles, The Rhetoric of Agitation and Control and The Realm of Rhetoric, they aren't just ordinary textbooks either, they're awesome textbooks. Now having ordered them myself, I knew that these books were coming, so it wasn't a surprise or anything. In fact, I was really hoping that they would come today because I have a reading assignment due tomorrow out of one of them.
Even so, upon opening the package and seeing them sitting there smiling up at me, my heart leapt into my throat and I got an excited feeling in my stomach. You know that feeling you get as you're driving up to an amusement park, the one that makes you all anxious and, being right on the threshold of hours of fun and enjoyment, makes you feel like you're going to explode from the anticipation of it all.
Yeah, that's how I felt, and no I'm not ashamed.
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