jakebe: (raven)
jakebe ([personal profile] jakebe) wrote2004-09-06 09:01 am

What You Say

So I have this nasty tendency to be really down on myself when I mess up, or fail in some way, or do something I should know better about. You'd be amazed how much of that bile actually bubbles over into my dealing with other people.

It's not a bad thing to hold yourself to standards, but what do you do when you don't live up to them? I don't want to give myself carte blanche permission to just let myself off the hook whenever I screw up ("Oh well, that's just you, it's all right!"). I mean, how do you ever improve that way?

On the other hand, I'm not really into the idea of punishing myself for fucking up; my overall mood sours and I'm not as interested in treating other people fairly when this happens. I'd much rather handle my disappointment in a way that doesn't involve other people. One of the ways I can avoid such an outcome is to not disappoint myself in the first place, which I've been working on but is so much easier said than done. It always seems like the small victories eventually get overshadowed by the more common failures.

I suppose one of the things I could do is throw myself into discerning the reasons behind the failures. If I know what went wrong a bit more intimately then I can devise a plan to avoid a repeat of the incident. Maybe that'll work.

Anyway, the weekend's been busy, and the next two weekends promise to be about as bad.
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So I have this nasty tendency to be really down on myself when I mess up, or fail in some way, or do something I should know better about. You'd be amazed how much of that bile actually bubbles over into my dealing with other people.

It's not a bad thing to hold yourself to standards, but what do you do when you don't live up to them? I don't want to give myself carte blanche permission to just let myself off the hook whenever I screw up ("Oh well, that's just you, it's all right!"). I mean, how do you ever improve that way?

On the other hand, I'm not really into the idea of punishing myself for fucking up; my overall mood sours and I'm not as interested in treating other people fairly when this happens. I'd much rather handle my disappointment in a way that doesn't involve other people. One of the ways I can avoid such an outcome is to not disappoint myself in the first place, which I've been working on but is so much easier said than done. It always seems like the small victories eventually get overshadowed by the more common failures.

I suppose one of the things I could do is throw myself into discerning the reasons behind the failures. If I know what went wrong a bit more intimately then I can devise a plan to avoid a repeat of the incident. Maybe that'll work.

Anyway, the weekend's been busy, and the next two weekends promise to be about as bad. <:) Next week, Mordenheim and Lyanna are coming up from Texas to enjoy some good Arkansas weather and a scaaaaary night out in the woods. We're looking forward to telling each other ghost stories around the campfire. :D One of the things getting me is I've never told stories like this before; the closest I've come is telling my sister potty humor serials when we were going to bed every night. But those can't in any way pass for any...shred of story, plot, character development, spook factor or anything. In fact, I can't remember much about them except the hero was called Terrance, and he kept falling down stairs. It worked for my sister, but I think folks will have more discerning tastes. :)

So I'm scrambling. I have a few really good story threads, one of them involving a farmer who just...disappeared on top of a hill somewhere out East in the 1800s (it's an obscure 'urban' myth, but it's basis may be tracked to similar things happening in England), and another little story I heard about a family taking a wrong turn down a lonely stretch of highway and ending up...somewhere else. Nothing to stretch into a full-fledged ghost story, though; I'll be taking Vance Randolph on the bus with me to see if he's got anything good to say. :)

I've been having pretty vivid dreams for the past week or so, as well, most of them involving zombies. I think this contributed to an overall, low-lying sense of dread when I visited <user site="livejournal.com" user="tangpau"> and <user site="livejournal.com" user="brothercatfish"> in Eureka Springs this weekend; saw a picture of Jack Kerouac that just about scared the Christ out of me, and couldn't sleep for a good while afterwards. My excuse: I was waaaaaay drunk.

Rozberk, Hethe and Russ came down for the Labor Day weekend, and Crystal's 21st birthday party. From what I know, it was a blast. I think all the jetlag caught up with me or something, and I was pretty much out after one hard lemonade. I don't think my tolerance for alcohol has gone down *that* much. Let's hope, anyway.

Things to do before work and everything. To everyone who braved Frances and made it through: thanks for not being too affected by it. ;) You're all in my thoughts, please keep taking care. <:)