I've never wanted to look back on my life and wish I'd done something. Which isn't to say that I haven't made mistakes, or missed my fair share of opportunities. I'd sit on the subway (or stand, or lean) and think about all of the other places I could be, or all the places that I wanted to go and think "why not?"
At the end of September, we were going to buy a car. I spent most of the month saying "Don't worry about anything, we'll have our car by October." It seemed like a little thing, and a giant thing all at the same time. A way to transport ourselves, our resources. A great idea.
We didn't get a car, and I'm devastated. I feel the failure more than all of the little triumphs that I've seen since I moved here. One of the first things that I was told as a grant writer at my last job was that people are going to say no to you, and that disappointment goes with the territory.
But its not just that someone said no to us. We had a great opportunity laid out for us, and I didn't put enough of myself into it. My failure. My missed opportunity.
I've come to realize in the past weeks, that there are opportunities everywhere. There are resources aplenty, along with proposal deadlines that come and go, and complicated requirements, and people who drag their feet. There are setbacks and victories. And as it turns out, a world of disapointment.
A twenty-six year old, I'm one of the oldest people here. I've held a real job. I've had a lease. Me, and others who are willing, have to be administration, cheerleaders, and promoters of the positive. Yet I've found myself, in recent days, becoming run down by negativity and the feeling that I'm, we're, just not doing enough. Three months is almost six, six months will soon be twelve. And then what?
I imagine I'll be back on the subway. Sitting, reading ads for The New School or the Freelancer's Union, listening to my music. I'll think about all of the things that I could have accomplished here, and all of the things I did. And be happy that I didn't miss the opportunity.
At the end of September, we were going to buy a car. I spent most of the month saying "Don't worry about anything, we'll have our car by October." It seemed like a little thing, and a giant thing all at the same time. A way to transport ourselves, our resources. A great idea.
We didn't get a car, and I'm devastated. I feel the failure more than all of the little triumphs that I've seen since I moved here. One of the first things that I was told as a grant writer at my last job was that people are going to say no to you, and that disappointment goes with the territory.
But its not just that someone said no to us. We had a great opportunity laid out for us, and I didn't put enough of myself into it. My failure. My missed opportunity.
I've come to realize in the past weeks, that there are opportunities everywhere. There are resources aplenty, along with proposal deadlines that come and go, and complicated requirements, and people who drag their feet. There are setbacks and victories. And as it turns out, a world of disapointment.
A twenty-six year old, I'm one of the oldest people here. I've held a real job. I've had a lease. Me, and others who are willing, have to be administration, cheerleaders, and promoters of the positive. Yet I've found myself, in recent days, becoming run down by negativity and the feeling that I'm, we're, just not doing enough. Three months is almost six, six months will soon be twelve. And then what?
I imagine I'll be back on the subway. Sitting, reading ads for The New School or the Freelancer's Union, listening to my music. I'll think about all of the things that I could have accomplished here, and all of the things I did. And be happy that I didn't miss the opportunity.
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