Failure is the New Success

I am ready to erase regret from my life, my conversations, heck, from my vocabulary. The only time I want it to enter my consciousness at all is when I’m thinking “Holy crap! I have NO regrets at ALL.”

This resolve is a long time coming. It’s been building inside and was definitely sparked by our decision to quit our jobs in March and travel through Europe in April and May. (Details: blog / vlog) The fact is that most people wouldn’t do what we’re going to do. They wouldn’t take the risks financially, or even physically. The El Camino is no joke. But I liked to think that I never wanted to be “most people.”

But I had found myself looking at other people’s lives. I was reading about amazing women achieving their dreams, setting goals and meeting them, surpassing their own expectations. I was happy for them and rejoiced with them. But I was finding myself mopey and self-pitying at the same time because I wasn’t “most people.” I put myself in this situation by doing exactly nothing.

I was getting sucked into watching other’s lives unfold and reading other’s stories instead of creating my own. I also realized that I had begun perfecting that awful art of comparing myself to others —something I often despise when I see it in other people, but was fostering within myself. I felt my regrets piling up on top of me, making it impossible for me to move. I was regretting that I wasn’t living my life as myself. I was watching people I admire and wishing I were someone else.

So when Kenny and I were discussing skipping our trip because things might not be easy when we came back, I decided that I didn’t care about what other people would do or the decisions they would make for their lives. I’m not living anyone else’s life. I’m not responsible for anyone else’s time or achievements or adventures. I just knew I couldn’t add one more regret to the growing pile I’d stocked and hoarded.

One reason I had so many regrets was because I was ultimately afraid of failure. I’ve always had this insecurity that I wouldn’t make anything of myself, wouldn’t be who I wanted to be, would always have this empty feeling of loss when I glanced around at what I’d built out of my life. But that’s stupid. So I decided that instead of making success my goal, I would allow failure to become a viable option. When you fail, it means you have tried something, you have participated in your life, and you have attempted to change. And that makes all the difference.

The effort is worth something. And failure is worlds better than regret. So I am welcoming failure into my life and shoving regret out the door and using the deadbolt. Oh, and I’m not shunning success, either. ;)

[oh no, not again]

Yes, again, my friends. Because I have had enough.
Before my dinner tonight, I don't remember the last time I ate a vegetable, unless we're counting the sun-dried tomatoes on my margherita pizza, or the seaweed wrapped around my bulgogi kimbap. Before my dinner tonight, I honestly don't remember the last time I truly cooked something. Not like, warmed it up, boiled it, or scooped it out of the rice cooker. But really cooked something. Tonight I did that. And it felt good.

I was going to the gym. How could you forget my Korean Aerobics Class Fiasco? But I had only signed up for a month. And that month is gone. Also, I got lazy. And I got cable. I am a firm believer in this equation: hours of tv watched per day = pounds gained per week. FOR REAL.

I ordered jeans last week. Because both pairs of my jeans have holes in the crotch, where my thighs are having their constant trysts. And I ordered from a Korean site, yes. But we ordered the sizes that matched my current jeans, both pairs which I bought here in Korea (miracle of miracles, I know.) They came. They were too small. I cried, but only for a minute. Sizes are wack in this country anyway. Who measures themselves in centimeters, really? That just makes your numbers huge! Anyway, I sent them back and exchanged them for the biggest size in both pairs. I got them tonight. One of them is a long way from fitting. But the second pair, they button. I wouldn't dare sit in them for fear that all my organs would protest and go on strike the minute they were squeezed that tight, but I buttoned those suckers. And the fat that buckled up and bulged over the waist of them was HORRID. OH MY GOD. I'm an old person. I'm an old, fat person! How did this happen?

Oh wait. I know. It's all the crap I've been eating. For the past month, I haven't paid attention to what I've been eating. I've just been shoving it in. And also, it's all the TV I've been watching. Because watching TV is so easy. So much easier than blogging. So much easier than emailing friends. So much easier than making lesson plans. Or thinking. Or breathing. Well, maybe it's on par with breathing. Maybe.

So, it's my fault. And yes, I'm deriding myself and metaphorically punching myself in my stupid face. But. There is hope, ladies and gentlemen. Because 7 months ago, this was my body:

Suck on that, belly fat! I know you were planning this hostile takeover and finally protruding further than the boobs, but you will be thwarted! You shall be dominated and then, exterminated. Also, thighs and butt, you better watch yourself. Because once The Belly is eradicated (yes again, shut up), you're next in line. I have my almost-fitting pair of jeans hanging on the wall in my room, along with a medium size shirt that my boobs and back fat used to fit into. I will fit into them again. I'm giving myself two months, y'all. Two months of mindful eating, intense gym visits, and hard work. I have a goal. I have an achievable-I-just-looked-like-this-less-than-a-year-ago goal. And I'm so tired of looking back at our honeymoon pictures and being jealous of  myself. I'm getting a car on Saturday: no excuse to not go to the gym; no excuse to not go shopping for fresh veggies because I have a way to transport them; no excuse to sit at home on my butt. Basically, I'm just preemptively removing all excuses out from under my feet.

Also, pray for me. A new Dunkin' Donuts just opened across from work.

Frankly Speaking

Pursue, keep up with, circle round and round your life... know your own bone:

gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw at it still.  ~Thoreau

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It all comes down to fear. I am afraid.

I've been thinking in spare moments. In the few minutes walk from the bus stop to the school. In the few minutes waiting for my macchiato in the coffee shop. In the few minutes while I wash the dishes. When I find myself thinking about why I'm not doing what I'm meant to be doing, I try to stop myself. But tonight, I didn't get to myself soon enough.

Why am I still struggling to get up in the morning? Why am I still spending more time reading blogs than writing one? Why am I still spending more time planning how I will study Korean than actually studying Korean? Why am I still talking about the planning stages of my writing project with Kenny instead of writing it? Why am I reading 10 different books now instead of writing one? Why am I lying in the bed for two extra hours in the morning instead of moving my body?

Today, while grading tests, I felt the fear turn over in my stomach. I realized I wasn't attempting anything because I was afraid of failing. I'm afraid of finding out that I'm not capable of what I set out to do. And so, to counteract the possibility of failure, I find ways to make sure I cannot succeed. I always have an excuse. My business seems to be creating excuses. 

I'm struggling to get up in the morning because if I have extra time, I should have something to show for it. What if I don't have anything to show? I'm spending more time reading other people's blogs than writing on mine because what if I don't get any comments, and no one reads my posts, and I'm not who I think I am to the blog world? I'm spending more time planning my study of Korean because what if I study a lot and hard and do the best I can and I never improve? I'm still talking about writing our book because what if I try to write my sections and it doesn't come together? What if I am not a writer at all? I am reading books because it's an excuse for not writing one myself. What if I stop reading and start writing, but nothing ever comes of it? I'm refusing to exercise because what if it doesn't help? What if I'm this big a year from now? What if I give up before I see results? I am afraid of failure.

Even in teaching, I find myself holding something back. I'm afraid that if I give it everything I've got and yet my students don't excel, I will find I am not a good teacher. 

I keep telling myself that these things are waiting for me. They are waiting for me to get up the guts and do something. But what if they're not? What if, at 26 years old, I have to start over? 

I'm afraid of being lost. 

What Day is It?

So, as I type this I'm munching on 56% Cacao pieces and sipping tiramisu in liquid form. It's delicious and I've no idea how many days I have (okay, it's like 32, but I don't care, so there). Anyhow, total and utter failure of my Super Duper Don't Be the Fat Sister Workout Plan. But you guys don't really care to hear about all that stuff anyway, right? It's boring, and you can click on 100 blogs and 99 of them will be some ChubbO complaining about how she just can't stand to look at herself one more minute, but then she can't stand to live without the 190 calorie goodness of an Iced Caramel Macchiato, either. Therein lies the rub. Although I've failed since the second day of my failtastic plan, I'm not giving up altogether. The way to success lies not in not falling down, but in getting back up after you've fallen down for the fifty-second time. And if I truly believe that, then I'll suck it up and get back on track. 

In other news: my holiday has been great so far. Thursday I went on a field trip to the Children's Park near Achasan and saw the animals with my monsters. It was a beautiful day and my kids made me feel like a celebrity, calling my name all day and running to give me hugs and pulling my hand to show me something. I truly enjoyed being their teacher because we were outside of the pressure-cooker classroom, there were no right answers, and hey, Danielle Teacher can do cartwheels! And of course, it was my 2 year anniversary.

My Thursday only got better as I left the park to meet soon-to-be hubby and we did a little ring shopping aaaaaaaaaaand... I totally found my ring. It's being handmade and I'll get it... well, I don't know when. It will be available the 10th of this month, but who knows when Kenny will actually deem it the right time to present it. I've fallen in love with it. It's different than anything else I've seen and although it's still shiny and pretty, it's also simple and my style. I think I truly allowed myself to be a girl about the whole thing and it took Kenny by surprise. But I have a right to be giddy and excited about it. So I am! I'll be sure to let y'all know whenever I get it. 

It may seem weird from a western view that I've already been proposed to, that my wedding was in the planning stages before that proposal took place, and that I still don't have my engagement ring after being engaged for over a month. But that's usually how it works in Korea. The wedding is pretty much planned and taken care of and then the girl waits and waits and waits and the guy makes a big show of the proposal and presents the ring. I guess it comes from the fact that wearing engagement and wedding rings is something that is becoming more popular in the younger generations here and is not generally regarded as necessary. But I'm glad Kenny was up for it! 

Enough mush. Onto the goodness that is my gift to you today. Yesterday we ventured a drive out towards Suwon to the Korean Folk Village. Kenny's parents warned that we shouldn't go anywhere, especially in a car, on a national holiday in Korea, but we pooh-poohed on their negativity and went anyway. We begged his father to borrow the navigation system and went on our way. I drove. This video is what happens when Danielle drives in Seoul. I know that Koreans have only been driving for a few years compared to the United States and the laws are a bit behind when it comes to safety issues on the roadways. Needless to say, it's crazy. But we had fun and even if we almost died a few times, it was worth it. Enjoy the long lost rage that resurfaced behind the wheel. I know you guys are probably missing The Rage a bit, and to tell you the truth, I am too. After watching this clip, you'll probably be able to hear my voice a bit clearer in any rants to come. 

P.S. He says "Pity on me" at the end and not "Pee on me."