(no subject)

Note to self: Java is probably best not tackled in the small hours of the morning.

The note of the day is frustration. I feel stuck. Can't alter the mood I'm in without help, can't get back or move forward, either. What have I done, what have I changed, what have I created? Nothing worth much, lately. All my energy's being spent on just holding still. Existing. Preservation, instead of progress.

Someone IM'd me tonight and challenged me to write a poem.. more than one, actually. Testing how fast the words could flow, how much I could write, pretty much regardless of quality. I felt grateful to her. Because she brought me outside myself, made me wake up and shut up and just think and do. But, fuck, how stuck am I, if I need someone to hold my hand and make me do it?

I took up springboard diving, in college. This matters because A) I'm afraid of heights. And B) I started out a non-swimmer that year. I'd only learned to swim six months earlier. Anyway. I showed up for class that first evening, and, after a few tries off the low board, realised that if I were ever going to be sure I wasn't wasting my time, I had to go off the high dive. I climbed the ladder against my coach's advice, looked down at the water... and froze. Probably one of the most intensely terrifying experiences I've ever had, and one of the most embarrassing. It lasted for forty-five minutes.

I was determined I wasn't going to back down; I wasn't going to climb down the ladder. But I couldn't make myself step off the diving board. I stood there, with my toes at the edge, feeling the breeze just cutting through my wet swimsuit, and trying not to bawl, because I was sixteen years old, for gods' sakes, I wasn't a baby anymore. I can still feel the texture of that diving board under my toes, still feel how it moved as I trembled.

It took the threat of someone being sent up to get me, to make me step off. Because, for all that I was terrified, I was just as determined to do it myself. I'm feeling that same paralysis now. Fear on one side just balances wanting to achieve something, on the other... and so I don't do anything. This disgusts me about myself. When I'm in the right company, I can be what I need to be, do what I need to. Take that away, and I accomplish.. what? And does the achievement, no matter what it is, really matter if I needed someone to hold my hand every step of the way? If I needed the impetus?

There aren't many things I've managed to do without some looming motivation. The violin, I wanted, yes, but I wanted it more when I was told I couldn't have it. Good grades were a direct result of competition. I had to be first. The consequences were dire if I wasn't. Carrot and stick. Right now, there is no motivation, no motivator, and I'm letting my fears get the better of me, and getting nowhere.

So I guess the question is, can I make fear of not achieving into a strong enough motivation to get past the other fears.

(no subject)

While I'm on the subject of getting past fears and determination... one of the most amazing things I've ever seen, I saw while I was working as a carnie. I was assigned the rock wall that night.. exactly what it sounds like. Five dollars, and a child over 70 lbs gets strapped into a harness and turned loose against a "rock" climb.

The kids, as you might imagine, came in all types, and with much the same results. Some made it, some didn't. I gave a boost where I could, cheered them on, led the applause from below, and kept parents from interfering too much. But that's another story.

Anyway, among the stream of children, there weren't many girls. So I'd have remembered Jessica anyway. She was a thin six-year-old, so light she barely made the weight requirement, and I honestly looked at her and thought she'd make it maybe halfway. She hadn't done the climb before, but she refused to start off on the easy slope. She opted for medium, I put her in harness, and up she went.

She got halfway up, and then progress stopped. I pointed out the easiest routes for her to take, told her which leg or hand she should move next, but it was easy to see she was exhausting herself fast. She slipped three times before her father started telling her to give up. Twice more, and I was agreeing with him. She caught herself, time after time, regained her ground, and after the seventh fall, when she was trembling so hard she could barely hold on, her father was begging her to stop. She looked down, shook her head, then looked up again and kept going.

It took her more than thirty minutes.. a hell of a long time for a kid, unused to climbing, to support her weight on just her fingers and toes. Most of the ones who made it, did so within ten minutes.

Needless to say, she proved us all wrong. She made it to the top, rang in, and came down, still shaking, but wearing the biggest grin I've ever seen.

The bravest person I've ever met.. and she's not even eight years old yet.