Surprise Visits and Juggling

Oh, how I love surprising people!

This past Tuesday I found myself in Saskatchewan, surprising the close friend pictured above (on the left; I'm on the right). This is something that I've been planning with her boyfriend for about a month or so now, and I was so, so, SO happy to finally get the chance to do it! Even though I only got to spend one full day with her, seeing her was fantastic and I had so much fun. :)

Now, moving on.

Am I the only one who sucks at juggling? Not the physical, three-balls-three-bowling-pins kind of juggling (although I suck at that, too). I'm talking about juggling in the figurative sense; juggling work, juggling school, juggling family and friends and sleep. Juggling time.

I've always sucked at this. It never mattered how many to-do lists, schedules, resolutions, plans, or promises I made; one thing would always end up taking precedence over the others. Sometimes it was writing. Sometimes it was time with friends. Sometimes it was Sims. (A lot of the time it was Sims.) I favour one thing over the others, and focus on that for days, weeks...sometimes even months, if I'm into it enough.

I'm the same way with my writing projects, too, now that I think about it. I start one project. I work on it for days, weeks, months. Then I get bored; I switch to another project, or start a new one entirely. It's because of this that I have so many unfinished short stories, and why I'm always jumping back and forth between writing projects. It's part of the reason why I have such a hard time finishing the things that I start.

It's frustrating. Reeeaaally frustrating. It's frustrating because I have such a short attention span, and because--despite all they taught me about time management in university--I still fail to be good at it.

I love wangin' it. I love the spontaneity, the excitement, the freedom that comes from not planning every second of your day, every day of your life. But sometimes, it does make it hard to get stuff done. It's hard to juggle when you don't know how many balls are about the get thrown your way.

(Ooooooh check me out, using all of my fancy-shmancy metaphors. I'm deep.)

It takes practice, I think. A lot of practice.

But hey, I have the next 12 months ahead of me to practice. I'm sure I'll get it right.

Eventually.

Until later,

- Justyne

Perfection

Editing is a pain in the butt.

To be completely honest, I rarely make it to this point. I've been trying to finish a decent novel since the fourth grade, and every time I normally give up before I even finish the first draft. I blame it on my perfectionism, and the whole "EVERY WORD MUST BE PERFECTLY PLACED NO EXCEPTIONS" feeling. I edit as I write, then give up when it's still not coming out absolutely perfectly. One time I restarted a novel four times, and worked on it for a good two years, without even making it to the halfway point.

The biggest problem with this habit of mine is that I end up with countless different projects of varying degrees of completion, with nothing actually done. I've been writing for almost ten years, and I still have yet to actually finish a project to the point that I am satisfied with the final product.

It gets frustrating, sometimes. Sometimes it feels like I've been wasting my time, working for years with nothing solid to show for it. But the one thing that can pick me up when I feel like this is looking through my old writing.

Sure, it's bad. Terrible, even. A good half of it isn't done, and the half that is done is filled with very poor plot points and explanations and little--if any--character development. But honestly...it's cool. It's cool to look back at my thoughts from when I was sixteen, fifteen, fourteen. It's cool to see the ideas I had then; the snippets I wrote when I wasn't paying attention in math class and the piles upon piles of notebooks I filled throughout the course of my high school career.

So even though I have mountains of projects that will probably never be completed, I think the little collection that I've grown over the years proves that I do have something to show for it. And I enjoy taking the time to read and rediscover it. Until I realize just how poorly it was written and cringe in embarrassment, anyway.

But that's cool, too. Because it means that, at the very least, I've improved a little bit. Even though the words may not be perfect, they're at least a little closer.

But editing is still a pain in the butt.

Until later,

- Justyne

Random, Mid-August Musings

Kiiiind of late blog post tonight. Totally forgot it was Friday, to be completely honest with you. WHOOPS~

I think the biggest problem with being out of school (and having a job where your work schedule is irregular like mine) is that I can never remember what day it is. Like ever. The date I can handle, if only to make sure I'm not feeding the public expired food at work. But will I ever manage to figure out the difference between Tuesday and Wednesday? Nope.

The summer is coming to an end, which depresses me a little. I never realize how much I love summer until it arrives, and then leaves just as quickly. It's not even the looming beginning of school that brings this feeling; or at least it shouldn't be, considering that I'm not even going to school in September.

Speaking of which...I think the fact that I won't be attending school--high school, university, or otherwise--still hasn't quite sunk in yet. Maybe it won't, until everybody is going to school without me. I shouldn't feel too left behind, though, considering I'll be at my old high school often visiting the few friends I have that are still attending. (You know who you are!)

Finally, I have recently developed an addiction to painting my toenails. It started when I found a bottle of neon orange nail polish at Shopper's, and giggled giddily as my toes basically glowed after I was finished using it for the first time. I purchased two more neon colours today, and will be spamming my Twitter account with pictures when I get the chance to use them. (What'll I do when the summer ends and I'm forced to start covering my brightly painted toes with socks and sneakers? Paint my fingernails, I guess. I'll have to remove the polish before work...but I can't simply let my nail polish sit for 8 months unused!)

This has been a fairly random blog post...that's what I get for forgetting about this until 11 o'clock at night, I suppose.

Until later,

- Justyne

Drive-Ins and Curvy Roads

I love road trips. I love long car rides, blasting the radio (preferably country music or Disney soundtracks), and riding with the window rolled down. Most of all, though, I love the sense of adventure. Even if you know exactly where you're going, or if you've taken the same trip a million times before, I still feel like heading out onto the highway is like heading out on some big adventure.

Or maybe that's just me.

Anyway, the reason I'm talking about this is because I just got back from  my camping trip a few hours ago. (Yes, another camping trip.) Unlike the one I went on a couple weeks ago, though, this one was a good 4-5 hour drive away.

You know what that means.

(If you don't...read the first line of this post.)

I had another fantastic four days with friends, and it was another nice refresher. (Not that I needed another real refresher, since it's only been about two weeks since my last refresher, but I digress.) We slid down water slides, visited a drive-in movie theatre, saw a couple shooting stars (my first two ever, I might add), and followed a random, curvy gravel road that led absolutely nowhere but was fun to follow anyway.

Which leads me back to my love of road trips.

Someday I just want to hop in a car, packed with essentials, and just drive. Drive all over the country, all over the continent. Visit big cities, small towns, and everything in between. Visit national landmarks and stupid road-side attractions. I want to go on an adventure, and write about it on the way.

I think, out of all of my dreams and goals and ambitions, this is the one I want to do the most. I think this would be the best adventure; the best way to write. One of the things I love most about writing is that you can do it virtually anywhere--at home, on your bed; during class, when you're not paying attention (which I totally didn't ever do ever...ahem); at work, when you're on break; on a plane, on a boat, on a train. Or in a car, in some small town nobody's heard of, inspired by the change of scenery and the brand new people you meet there.

I just think that's awesome.

The only real thing that's stopping me, I suppose, is my lack of funds. And car. And, y'know, driver's license. (Not like that's important or anything...) But I'm sure I'll have all of these things one day.

Eventually.

Until later,

- Justyne

Hiding in the Bathroom

Of all the places I thought I'd ever be blogging from, I don't think I ever quite considered this one. And yet, here I am. For those of you curious, I'm hiding from my ladle-wielding sister. It's a bit of a long story, involving things like blankets and disabled iPhones and my mom saying stuff like, "Put down that shoe." Just another day in the life of me, I guess.

(Do you think it's safe now? Whatever, might as well finish off before I go bounding back out into the war zone.)

You'd think that after 18 years I'd be the pro at avoiding distractions, with all of this chaos raging around me. And yet I still find myself watching episodes of 'Til Debt Do Us Part and Kitchen Nightmares instead of writing.

I think my biggest problem is that I welcome distractions. It's probably why I leave the TV on when I sit down to write, and why I bring my laptop upstairs in the company of my family. I hate focusing on one thing for too long, but at the same time that's the only way I can ever get stuff done.

I'm getting better, I think. I block distracting websites when I'm writing. I've learned to block out other people--for the most part, anyway. But still, these things only lead to a few measly hundred words a day. Better than nothing, I guess, but definitely something to be improved upon.

(Quick update from the war front: I have left the bathroom and my sister hasn't started attacking me with a ladle. Yet.)

But anyway, I'm trying. I'm writing every day, no matter how many words I get down. So at least there's that. I'll get the hang of this eventually.

If my sister doesn't kill me first, anyway.

Until later,

- Justyne

Refreshments

There's something about a simple vacation that motivates you to get stuff done.

Yesterday, I returned home from a 4-day camping trip with a small group of friends. I had an absolute blast--even if I left covered in mosquito bites. And after spending that time swimming, reading, and taking over the world (i.e. playing Risk), I feel more ready now than ever to buckle down and start writing.

It's surprising how much such a simple and quick little trip can just reset everything--refresh my mind and get me back to work. It's one thing to spend four days procrastinating, with the reminder of what I should be doing hovering over me and stressing me out. Having the knowledge that I don't have to write, that I can take this time to relax and spend time with friends, makes me feel so much lighter and that much more willing to get back to work after everything's over.

So while certain aspects of my trip linger around--my countless mosquito bites, my raspy voice (a result of much talking, yelling, and goofing around in general with friends), and the scent of campfire smoke clinging to my clothes--my vacation is over.

Time to get back to work.

Until later,

- Justyne

Fears and Definitions

Hey there! How've you been? I haven't seen you in ages! Come on in, have a seat! Can I get you anything? A drink? A snack? A long overdue blog post, perhaps?

I realize that I've been MIA for the past couple of months, and I apologize for that. I've been...struggling, to say the least. I haven't forgotten about blogging; I've just been having trouble finding the right things to say. Or maybe, more like afraid...of voicing what's been on my mind lately.

Do you ever feel that way? Feel scared to tell people what your biggest dream is--especially when it's not the most "realistic" career plan around? Do you ever feel silly talking about your hopes and dreams for the future?

I've felt that way for a while now. Writing is incredibly important to me; it's my passion, the dream that I've held dear since the fourth grade. When I start to tell people about my writing, and what I want to do with it, I feel...kind of raw. Open. Exposed.

My writing is not a secret. This blog is proof of that. I don't go out of my way to keep it hidden. But as I've gotten older, I find myself more and more reluctant to tell people about my writing. It's like I'm afraid of what they'll think about my career path; like I'm afraid that they'll tear my dreams down, say that they're not "realistic enough". That I need to pick something else. Most people assume that I don't want to go back to school because I'm unsure of what job I want, and it's gotten to the point that I neglect to correct them; I just let them think what they want to think.

It's...easier that way, I guess.

I know what I want to do. I know what I want to accomplish. I've known these things since I was nine, and they've never once changed. I'm tired of feeling self-conscious about my dreams because of what others might think of them, and I'm tired of feeling worthless because I'm not living up to my so-called "potential".

And most importantly, I'm tired of feeling like I'll let everyone down if I don't make the right decision.

But see, here's the thing about that: Despite what anyone says, regardless of their profession or age or the amount of experience under their belt, nobody can tell you what the right decision is. Only you can do that. And even though it may feel like everyone around you--your family, your friends, your teachers--are pressuring you to go in another direction...

They will support you.

In the end, it doesn't matter how "normal" or "realistic" your job is. It doesn't matter whether or not you have a degree. It doesn't matter if you need one or two or three extra jobs to help pay the bills. All that matters is that you're happy, and you're doing the thing that you love.

I'm still afraid sometimes. Afraid that no one will like my work. Afraid that maybe it won't turn out like I want it to.

But I'm even more afraid that if I give in--if I return to university, work towards a degree I don't really want and get a "smart" job that I don't really care for--that I'll lose everything. My passion. My dreams. My writing.

You can't define yourself based on the amount of money you make. You can't define yourself based on the career you have, or the size of your house, or how old and run-down your computer is. I think that, if you could only define a person with one thing...it would be their passion for what they love.

I will write. Because regardless of how much money I'm making--if I'm making any at all--it's who I am. I am a writer, and I won't let myself be defined by anything else.

What defines you?


Until later,

- Justyne