Because it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.
And you get to join in if you feel like it.
I can’t believe we’re already at 42.* Apparently the answer to life, the universe and everything is chicken. Friday chicken. Not for eating, of course. Never mind. Back to me!
*42, you say? But wasn’t last week Friday Chicken #40? Yes, it was. As was the week before. Whoops. Anyway, here we are.
Okay. My week was seriously challenging and hard.
I met up with a lot of internal resistance and external crap and … yeah, there was just a lot of hard. Lots of feeling extremely bleargh and wondering why I do what I do.
So I must say that one of the really lovely things about this particular ritual is that writing this post brought me back to how much good there was too, which was cool.
The hard stuff
Feeling like dirt.
You probably already read about it but dirt dirt dirt.
As if existential angst weren’t bad enough …
On Sunday I gave the worst class I’ve ever taught.
And that’s including that awful, awful time in San Francisco when they put my workshop next door to the extremely loud African drumming class.
I choked. I bombed. I screwed up like I’ve never screwed up before.
And I know why, which is worse.
You know what happened? I let a chunk of external criticism wallop the hell out of me. And it absolutely paralyzed me. And I lost my confidence.
The craziest part? I’ve been teaching since I was fourteen years old. I have never lost my confidence while teaching. And it happened.
Of course, having a horrible headache and some not-very-fun stomach cramps made it worse, yes. But I gave a less-than-good class.
And I felt bad for everyone who took it. And I felt like dirt about it all week.
Then I gave another crappy class the next day. And it was really, really, really depressing.
Forgetting why I do this.
Thanks, existential crisis.
I got so down that I just could not remember why I do what I do.
Usually I’m walking around being all I’m on a mission from god, people … but for a couple of days this week the spark was elusive and tiny and not always there.
Scary. Really, really scary.
The good stuff
Remembering why I do this.
So I felt like dirt and then I went into the Kitchen Table and saw these amazing people helping each other destuckify with kindness and attentiveness and patience and love.
Using my concepts and techniques.
It just about knocked me over, it was so heartwarming and beautiful.
And it reminded me that even on the hardest, hardest days, I can’t possibly be as big as a screw-up as I think I am.
Hooray for The Fluent Self! Woot. Oh, yes. You heard me.
So my gentleman friend got offered a gig doing logo design stuff for Microsoft.
And he was able to turn them down because my business does well enough that he doesn’t have to take work that doesn’t make him jump up and down with glee and stuff.
It feels really good.
Two new pirate hires.
I’ve added two more people to my wacky pirate team this week.
One is the wonderful Kelly Parkinson who is now my
copy-editor pirate milkmaid.
This was our conversation:
Kelly: Why would you hire me? You’re a fantastic copywriter. You don’t need me.
Me: I hate the polishing. I need someone to polish. You’re the best there is.
Kelly: Cool! So … you want this to be a one-time thing or is this like, you call me when you’re out of milk and eggs and then I bring milk and eggs?
Me: Oh, milk and eggs. Definitely. Bring me milk and eggs.
Kelly: I mean, if you decide you want to go vegan for a month, that’s fine too. It’s not like I need to be constantly bringing milk and eggs.
Me: We’re out of milk. Get over here!
And then I hired
____________ (I’ve had a massive crush on her ever since she gave a brilliant class for my students) to be my new bookkeeper pirate monies lady.
She is the Keeper of the Treasure. She is the Reconciler of the Log.
We like her.
I heart Pistachio.
It completely made everything better.
She’s a terrific teacher and just shines goodness and wonder. I love everything about her. What a pleasure!
And … the best thing that happened this week.
So I’m at this bar. And I’m holding a gigantic box with a bunch of ducks on it. Also there is an illustration of a duck sailing a pirate ship on it.
Including (because he’s awesome) an especially fluffy pirate hat, an eye patch with a duck on it … and plenty of assorted booty.
But I didn’t know that yet because I hadn’t opened it yet.
Bartender: Whoah. What’s with the mysterious-looking duck package?
Me: Oh. I run a cult. It’s kind of a duck-centric … cult.
Bartender: Right on. Is it nefarious?
Me: It has been known to be. On occasion.
Bartender: Is it international?
Bartender: Far out.
Every once in a while? I love my life.
And … STUISMS of the week.
Stu is my paranoid McCarthy-ist voice-to-text software who delights in
torturing me misunderstanding me. I can’t stand him.
Anyway, the gems from this week, including Stu’s little acetyl moments:
- “from to your caucus” instead of come to your class
- “crime is swell” instead of Bye Michelle
- “got to love Seamount aptly” instead of that he loves you madly
And … for extra meta:
- “stew them as” …. instead of Stuisms
And … for extra depressing:
- “have these” instead of Havi’s
This refusing-to-say-my-name crap is actually starting to be a thing. I think he does it just to piss me off because we’ve been working together since like, January, so really, he should know my name by now.
But no. He will still insist on referring to me as Heidi, Harvey, Hailey, Havee, Hobby, Jaime and (his latest favorite) hubby before getting around to guessing right.
That’s it for me …
And yes yes yes, of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments bit if you feel like it.
Yeah? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?
And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious weekend. And a happy week to come.