As I write this, I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Hermosa Beach. I arrived here a little later than I planned, due to an unforeseeable circumstance: I woke up this morning with a plan in my head and motivation in my soul, and then I remembered that Failure to Launch is now available on Netflix instant stream. Okay, so it was totally foreseeable; it doesn't take much to distract me, and I tremble before rom-coms, especially ones that start with just a few clicks of my television remote. And I am completely aware that Failure to Launch is by no means a high quality flick. But I happen to love both Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew McConaughey (god, that is such a hard name to spell), and I found myself craving a good zone-out-feel-good session.
Anyway, I'm not making excuses for myself. It was a good decision. And immediately after the movie was over, I cleaned, showered, and headed out the door, so ultimately my motivation was not altered in any way.
So, now here I am. Hermosa Beach. A good 45-minute drive from my apartment. I've only been here for an hour, and I only have about an hour left until my parking meter runs out. It's already after three o'clock, which means the sun will be setting in less than three hours. Thus far, I have done the above activities, bought myself a quick belated birthday gift with my 20% off coupon at my favorite Hermosa boutique, and eaten a double chocolate cupcake.
To most, I feel as though what I have been describing would seem like a very satisfying Sunday. After all, weekends are supposed to be breaks, at least for those of us that work Monday-Friday jobs. But I don't feel satisfied. I feel edgy and anxious. I feel as though it has been a wasted day, because I have nothing to show for it (except for, now, this blog post). And then the work week begins again tomorrow, and the daily grind starts all over again. So what was the purpose of this whole weekend, anyway?
This is nothing new - hell, I've now written about it twice in one month. But each time I struggle with it, it feels new. How easily I forget that this is an ongoing thing for me! It seems like such a revelation, when really it's just a tired old mental habit. How does one get past a block like this - like, really, really get past it? Declarations of change are all fine and dandy, until their legitimacy goes up in a poof of smoke.
I know that what it really comes down to is simply starting. My head is so constantly a-whir with intangible grand ideas and intentions that it often feels like they must be coming to fruition, as if my on-the-go brain is willing them to happen by just thinking about them hard enough. What's lacking is the real life action. But when I see how many baby steps need to happen to actually produce something tangible from my ideas, I get overwhelmed and shut down a little. Starting doesn't seem to be worth it if there isn't an immediate result. We all know that's wrong, but that doesn't change how I deal with it.
The funny thing is, contrary to my own beliefs, I have been starting things lately. For the past two weeks, I have been traversing all of the legal aspects of starting a small business, and it's actually been quite a success. I filed for my fictitious business name (DBA), opened a business bank account, registered for my California seller's permit, figured out sales tax (for the most part), officially posted the first two listings in my Etsy shop (more listings to come), and applied and was accepted for a new health insurance plan (this last one was not business related, but it was important - I just turned 26, so I can no longer be covered by my dad's plan and had to sign up for my own, and I had no idea how it would pan out). I created a brand-spankin'-new photography web site, to be revealed tomorrow. I checked a lot of items off a lot of lists. Things are finally happening, you guys! But I still feel like I could be doing more. And so I drive for a long time just to be near the ocean, hoping it will cure my woes, and it soothes them temporarily, it really does, but in the end, I have to be my own cure. I know that.
I leave you with a list of things I am currently grateful for, despite my restless mind: the sea (duh), friendly cafe workers, iced tea, the ability to wear a sundress at the end of September without a single fear of being chilly, palm trees, my health, my boyfriend, my job, the ability to start my own business, my family (happy belated birthday, Dad!), having a television that came with Netflix already installed, the return of my television shows and my subsequently rockin' Hulu queue, and sunshine, sunshine, sunshine.
See how easy that is? I already feel better.