I have this reoccurring dream. I have been having it with few variations since I began school (maybe before that although I can’t really remember.) So here’s the gist of it:
I want to take several classes. I sign up for two classes, one math, and the other science. The math class is on Tuesday and Thursday and science is on Wednesday. I usually make it to the first of each class but after that I never manage to get back to them. I know what all of the work assignments are and I get them done, getting A’s for the finished product. If there are tests in the classes, I show up for those and score A’s on them, too. But I always fail the classes because of attendance. At some point, I know I must drop the classes but I never get around to it and so I have failing grades on my record. I sign up again but the same thing continues to happen.
What stops me from going to the classes? 1. They are held at very busy, over-attended schools where I go to the building but I am overwhelmed by the amount of people going, so I turn around and go home. 2. I get lost in the hallways looking for the classrooms or get distracted by water fountains, other classrooms, and people chasing me in stairwells – so I leave. 3. I have other work to do that conflicts with the class schedules.
I equate the math and science classes with things I believe are important – writing and art. But while I value them, I don’t value them enough to put in the time needed to accomplish a successful outcome. 1. I am afraid of the opinion of others. 2. I am easily distracted and lack focus on my true goals. 3. I let things like my job, the laundry, whatever, get in my way.
I get The Writers’ Almanac sent to my email. This was part of the one dated December 7, 2011:
Willa Cather worked at McClure’s for five years, but it was stressful work, and she was not writing much of her own fiction. In December of 1908, she got a letter from her mentor, the writer Sarah Orne Jewett. Jewett wrote: “My dear Willa, — I have been thinking about you and hoping that things are going well. I cannot help saying what I think about your writing and its being hindered by such incessant, important, responsible work as you have in your hands now. I do think that it is impossible for you to work so hard and yet have your gifts mature as they should — when one’s first working power has spent itself nothing ever brings it back just the same, and I do wish in my heart that the force of this very year could have gone into three or four stories. […] I want you to be surer of your backgrounds, — you have yourNebraskalife, — a child’sVirginia, and now an intimate knowledge of what we are pleased to call the ‘Bohemia’ of newspaper and magazine-office life. These are uncommon equipment, but you don’t see them yet quite enough from the outside […] You need to dream your dreams and go on to new and more shining ideals, to be aware of ‘the gleam’ and to follow it; your vivid, exciting companionship in the office must not be your audience, you must find your own quiet center of life, and write from that to the world that holds offices, and all society, all Bohemia; the city, the country — in short, you must write to the human heart, the great consciousness that all humanity goes to make up.”
My morning mantra:
And before going to bed:
Merry Meet and Blessed Be