Discipline

Discipline [dis-uh-plin] : behavior in accord with rules of conduct; behavior and order maintained by training and control

Way back in the first week of May, right before going out to Colorado for a work week (Colorado was

awesome, by the way, and caused lots of mulling thoughts after coming back), I volunteered to help with a ladies' brunch at church. Technically it was for Mother's Day, but all women were invited regardless of their marital/parental status. I guess it's nice to be remembered. XD

Anyway. I offered some dishes and silver to decorate a table, showed up to help get food ready, putzed around helping with the mundane stuff that always needs done at these sorts of things, etc. (It's kind of weird, but I find it comforting to do mundane tasks. There's nothing like setting a table or making tea or putting food on a table to make one feel like they're doing something simply because the results are visible.)

After brunch there was a speaker, and honestly, my first thought was 'oh, this is going to be something on biblical womanhood or something I've heard a million times and it's going to be boring'. That's not to say that the subject of biblical womanhood is necessarily a bad one, but hearing the same old thing over and over again gets a little old.

To my pleasant surprise she spoke about something entirely different. I can't recall at the moment the exact topic (I didn't take notes), but at one point she mentioned having a 'word of the year', or a 'word of the season', to describe one's current season of life.

No sooner had she suggested to write down a word or two, when the word 'discipline' sprang to mind.

This is something that I've been dancing around for years (sometimes it feels like my whole life, but that's my internal whiner exaggerating), but have never sat down and actually pin-pointed my underlying inability to stick with something for very long.

I have a great respect for people who are diligent, reliable, and disciplined in the way they live life. One such person is my dad, who has had the same unfailing routine for years: he gets up sometime between 3:30 and 4:00 AM every morning so that he can do his morning exercises (for a problematic back), read his Bible, eat breakfast, and devote at least an hour to playing fiddle.

When I was younger and my parents played music full-time, he usually practiced in the evenings during the week, after he got home from working part-time (not that music can't be a viable source of income, but rarely is it sufficient for a family of six). Getting a full-time job switched up his schedule, and for the last 12-13 years the practice time got flipped to the early mornings.

This unflagging steadiness has been a great source of comfort: first, in the fact that my dad is a steady, reliable person who could be counted upon to be more or less the same from day to day; and second, in the knowledge that discipline is feasible for 'mere mortals' (reading about disciplined people that are now dead is great and all, but death has a tendency to shroud a person in a degree of myth and unattainability).

Even with this knowledge and first-hand observation of discipline, it's a difficult thing to cultivate.

Here's just a short list of the things I wish I were more disciplined with:

-Reading my Bible daily

-Working out daily

-Art in general

-Horse training

-Writing (and by extension blogging)

-Bookbinding

-Entrepreneurial pursuits

-Getting up early to be more productive

-Learning another language

The only things lately that I've done with any sort of consistency is getting up early (I'm to 5:30 AM now, after months of tediously turning back the alarm a minute every few days), and working out semi-regularly (having an exercise journal helps immensely, as does driving to a little walking trail a few minutes from my apartment. Getting out of the house has an air of 'well, we've gotten this far away from home, might as well make the most of it'.)

The rest, though, always seems to fall flat after a few days of stick-to-it-ive-ness. And the root, much as I loathe the word, is entrenched in laziness.

Perhaps 'desire to do something else' would be a better word for it. When I should be training horses, all I want to do is lope one of the 'fun' horses in a field. When I have an idea for writing or musing, I want to read instead. When I should go out and walk to stretch out from sitting at a desk all days, I want to nap. When I get an idea for making and selling something, I want to play with designs.

On and on it goes. Suffice to say, every time I give in and don't do what I really ought to do, discipline suffers and days may go by without coming back to doing what I ought.

I don't really have anything encouraging to say, after all that, except that I know that 'discipline' is something I struggle with more than ever. The more I struggle with something, the more I know that I need to do it. The problem is buckling down and JUST DOING IT.

Aftermath

Hey guys. So it’s been several months since I’ve blogged here…..again. For now the only excuse I have is that I don’t have internet at all, unless it’s at work or the library. And the library closes, on average, at 4:30. I can sit in the parking lot to use the wifi, but sitting in the car after sitting all day at work isn’t exactly my idea of fun or productive.Instead of whining about lack of time/laziness/whatever, I'm just going to post some blatherings that I wrote back in December before and after I had been asked out by a perfect stranger. Enjoy it in all its unedited glory.

            12/8/14

Endless waiting is nervewracking. (The clock reads 11:20. I can’t leave til 11:45.)

            I’ve had a headache since Friday. Stupid nerves. It doesn’t help that there’s a low-pressure system hanging over the entire region. There is a blank sheet of clouds pressing down—I can feel it in my sinuses, under my eyes and wrapped around to the back of my neck.

            For the past few days I’ve found it difficult to eat, difficult to sleep, difficult to think. Saturday I was distracted with making jelly. Sunday all I wanted to do was cry and sleep. Part of the problem is having not gone outside for days, and part is the weight of stress, of facing something that is FAR outside of my comfort zone.

            In other news, I finished Lord of the Rings yesterday and picked up The Silmarillion for the third or fourth time in 18 months. Each time I read a little farther, until I get overwhelmed with the names and events and have to put it down for a few months. Maybe I will finish it in this attempt. Currently I’m embroiled in the tragedy of Turin Turambar, and read the part where he accidentally kills Beleg and is struck with grief and madness. I was reading over my breakfast, and hated to stop for work (which has been a rarity with The Silmarillion—most of it is so dense that it’s a chore, albeit a pleasant one, to read). And I hated to see Beleg die, after most of that chapter was about him and his labors to bring Turin out of self-imposed exile.

            Insert a great noise of sadness and exasperation.

            12 minutes to go. Words cannot express how terrified I am right now.

            I have it on good account from the pastor at church that this guy is at least decent. The terrible part is that I don’t even remember what he looks like (beyond tall and skinny). Presumably he’ll remember me (for which I’m not sure if I want to be remembered).

            Something that has really struck me lately is how many people (mostly from church) have come up to comment about me or my looks. It’s kind of disconcerting—at the ranch it’s kind of expected, or at least not unusual. But in real life I don’t know what to make of it.

*UPDATE*

            I’m back. And all the terror was ill-spent.

            That is to say: it was nice. And I’m glad that I went, for no other reason than it was good to do something that I wasn’t comfortable with. But he was nice enough, and thankfully called it ‘lunch’ rather than ‘a date’.

            I was waiting for the guy (let’s call him J) to show up, and there was an old man painting a fence nearby. So, to kill time, I introduced myself and picked up a paintbrush. I don’t think he knew what to do, because he stood there for a moment before saying, “Now what’s your name again?”

            Suffice to say, it was amusing. J showed up while I was painting the fence, and seemed a little surprised to see me occupied thus (though I couldn’t really blame him).

            My biggest relief was that as soon as I got there, all my nerves seemed to go away (beyond not being able to eat much—traitorous stomach!). The anticipation was truly worse than reality.

            Two awkward moments arose, but thankfully they were easily brushed off. The little waitress, who knew J, had brought drinks and was going to get menus. When she came back, she said, “Are you two on a date?”

            I said nothing, but laughed a little. J said, “Let’s call it lunch.” (Words cannot describe how relieved I felt at that little statement.)

            She persisted, and said “I hear y’all getting to know each other and it’s just so cute,” before fleeing in a tizzy. I passed a hand over my eyes; when I opened them J looked at me and said, “Small town.”

            Small town indeed. I would have run into the same problem back at home.

            The other awkward moment was when a kid in high school came up to me and said, “You’re the Earring Girl, aren’t you?” before making some small talk.

            (Story-time: I had made some origami crane earrings on a whim a couple of weeks ago. I had made a quick run to Walmart the day after making them, and in that time this kid saw my earrings, told his mom, and she bought them from me for $20. Made. My. Day.)

            I guess the overall feeling from the entire outing was one of “all right, I can do this.” Given time and association, I probably could become attracted (and would, given my tendency to latch onto people who give me attention O.e). At this point in time, I’m not looking for a relationship and I have several orange to red flags that are concerning.

1.      He’s a nice guy, yes. BUT he’s also newly divorced (officially for about a month (!), separated since August) (the biggest red flag at the moment).
2.  The only thing that we seemed to have a mutual interest in was hiking. (He’s more what I would label the typical product of public school and college—not in a bad way, but interest-wise)
3. My gut feeling is one of hesitation, and I’m just…not…sure.    

            There were a few hints of “maybe I could show you around” and “it’d be fun to go hike sometime and talk to you again”. I agreed to nothing as of yet. He mentioned something about how hard it is to find someone to do things with around here, and I agree completely. But my experience with men has been that they have a difficult time remaining ‘friends’. That’s not necessarily a bad thing: men and women are magnets, and if they get close enough they’re going to stick together. That’s the way we’re designed. But I know that if I don’t lay down a boundary, the chances increase that he’ll eventually want exclusivity.

            I am a little torn, because yes, it would be awesome to have someone to hike with. Yes, it’d be nice to have a local to show me around. But I have a feeling that it’ll have to be a girl, or no one, because leading this guy on (intentionally or no) can only end in messiness.

********************************

As a follow-up to that little excursion: I never heard from the guy again. *insert great feeling of relief* The indecision was VERY short-lived and after a day or so I was going "please don't call me please don't call me please don't call me". (And it's times like these that I look back on my blatherings and cringe a tiny bit.) Thankfully there have been no other prospects or interest shown from or towards anyone. The result has been a series of wild oscillations from "yay, it's great to be single!" to "FOREVER ALONE".

I also finished The Silmarillion shortly afterwards. For the first time EVER. *cheers* And in January I started my giant project of hand-piecing a quilt. If I can get pictures, some will be posted eventually.

For now, consider this a tiny little update into a facet of life in Arkansas.

 



Twenty-Fourteen: A Recap (part 2)

May-October: The Ranch

This next bit is probably going to be incredibly long…so please bear with me.

After staying with Kas for a night, she asked me if I could pick up an espresso machine on my way to the ranch. I agreed to this scheme. That morning I had also gotten wind that one of the girls I had worked with last year was flying in to Denver that morning, but she didn't have a ride. So I volunteered to pick her up. At the time that seemed like an innocent bit of good-will. It turned into a fiasco of driving to the wrong terminal, having to leave the airport and come all the way back around the get to the right terminal, trying to find her, finally managing to pick her up, and THEN going to get the espresso machine.

The good part was that we stopped for late breakfast/early lunch with Josiah, the videographer from last year. He had driven up from Texas about a week before. Once he heard that I was driving my own car, he looked out the window from Chick-fil-A and asked which one was mine. Cue the following exchange:

Me: See that dirty green car? Mine's the silver one right next to it.

J: Oh. *pause* See that dirty green car? That one's mine.

Apparently he had been caught in a dust storm on the way from Texas, and what with the snow and rain and mud on the ranch his car was looking a little worse for wear.

But anyway….moving on to the ranch! We arrived sometime in the early afternoon, and all the way up the mountain I could feel myself getting more and more excited to see the ranch. After all, the last time I had seen it, the place was half-buried under a mudslide. But I knew that people had been working on it all winter. Surely the place was looking better than it did.

When we finally pulled in the front gate…I almost felt like crying. The place looked better, it really did. But I knew that they needed to have the place open in a week, and all I could see was mud and heavy equipment and patches of melting snow. It looked like a construction zone. (The place was cleaned up in time for opening, but the very first impression was a little depressing.)

As a wrangler, the vast majority of the first week was spent on trail maintenance. One memorable moment of walking all over the mudslide, and then walking up a steep trail trying to keep up with Nick (the head wrangler) and nearly dying in the process sticks out very vividly in my memory. The rest of the time we were picking rocks from the new arena—that is, the new arena area, since the arena hadn't been built yet and we wranglers were going to build it over the summer—and getting horses from the lower pastures and helping the farriers and basically spending a great deal of time doing a lot of hard, manual labor. It was during this time that our wrangler group had to get to know each other and decide whether or not we would work well together.

Here are the wranglers, by the way!

L-R, back row: Andrew, Terry (honorary), Austin, Casey, Derek, EB, me, Larry (honorary)
L-R, front row: Claire (honorary), Gabrielle, Tori, Sara (women's work crew boss), Levi (ranch kid)

Can you tell that we have a hard time taking pictures of just wranglers? XD

The one face that I sorely missed was that of EB. 

EB and Copper

 

Me, Gabrielle, EB, Tori (otherwise known as 'EB and the triplets')

She's a few months younger than me, but for some reason it seems like she's much older and wiser (To be fair: though we're the same age, she's spent her years at a much higher RPM than me). I spent a lot of time in 2013 sitting quietly in her workshop and watching her work with leather and talking about people and life…so we became rather good friends. I still count her as a very dear, close friend. So when I heard that she wasn't coming back in 2014 I was pretty devastated. The first reaction, if I'm very honest, was 'if EB isn't there, then I don't want to go'. Thankfully I quickly came to my senses and decided that it would still be good if she wasn't there.

The summer wouldn't be complete without a description of the horses on my string, so here goes.

Chester-pony

Chase (part Bashkir Curly, a horse that has kinky/wavy hair)

Grace (aka Brunhilde, as I affectionately called her)

There was a bay gelding without a name, but I called him 'Patchy' due to some hairless spots on his face and neck. He started off as a major thorn in my side, but by the end of the summer I was starting to like him. Unfortunately I don't have any pictures of him. :/

There's so much that I can say about the summer…to keep everything from dragging out too terribly long I'll try to condense it into the general impression left on me.

I started off feeling very optimistic: I was doing something I loved (that is, working with horses), with people that I liked, and was having a great time doing it. I really fell in love with the horses on my string, which probably wasn't the greatest idea but there you have it. I also came to know the horses in the guest string so well that I could tell who was who at just a glance; I knew their temperaments and little quirks and what set them off and what calmed them down. I was learning an immense amount about riding and training and absolutely reveled in it.

I had also become friends with everyone in our wrangler group—some better than others, of course—and had struck up what seemed to be a great friendship with one of the guys. And that, so I thought, would be that.

About a month into all this, I realized that I was developing slightly more than friendly feelings towards this guy. And I hated it, because (a) there's a 'no-purple' rule (i.e., no dating) and (b) I really wasn't sure if this guy was a good person to feel that way towards. So I tried not to worry too much about it.

A couple of weeks later—well, a long story short, we had something of a falling out. I recovered from the incident and thought it was all okay. But one thing led to another and my interactions with this guy for the rest of the summer turned into one misunderstanding after another. I let it affect how I felt, and spent several weeks feeling like a dark cloud was hanging over me. I tried not to let it affect how I interacted with guests, but I started withdrawing more and more from staff: when work was done I would retreat to make phone calls or write in my journal or draw, and end up not going to supper or to the extra-curricular events most nights.

In short, I allowed the summer to become rather isolated and hellish. There's no other way to put it. I found out slowly that it wasn't just me feeling that way—some of the other girls, who I had withdrawn from partly because we weren't around each other much and partly because I didn't try to see them in my time off, said that the tendency to isolate was same for a lot of people. By the middle to the latter half of the summer, most of the people who were staying all the way through were feeling burnt out and beaten down, like they couldn't wait to go home. This was a huge change from last year, where I felt like I didn't want to leave.

There was a lot of good stuff that happened, a lot of funny things, a lot of sad things, and a lot of bad stuff. Last summer was simultaneously the best, most difficult, most stretching, most strengthening time of my life. I made some great friends, and turned down some potentially great friendships. I made a lot of mistakes, and learned a lot about how people work. I learned a LOT about horses and discovered how badly I miss them when I can't be around them for twelve hours a day. All these lessons were dearly bought.

But at the end of the summer, it was easy to leave. I don't say that like it's a good thing—but I was so ready to move on and have my own space again and to not be living out of the contents of a suitcase.

Oh yes, and before I forget: in September, I cut all of my hair off.

I had been thinking about it for a long time, so it wasn't exactly a spur-of-the-moment thing. I used to say that I would never cut all my hair off, and then I started thinking about it, and mused, and made a secret Pinterest board, and thought some more, for well over a year. In retrospect, considering how the summer had gone, there was something a little symbolic about getting rid of the hair. It was almost as if I was tossing away all of the issues and stupidity of the year with it.

I've ended up LOVING it. Ease of management aside, I think it makes me look older. It seemed that the majority of the time people assumed that I was 18 or 19, and when one is almost 23 that's a little depressing. Now people ask if I'm still in college, so I guess that's an improvement. 

Tada.....

For most of the summer, I had been working out negotiations with my aunt for deciding whether or not I would be moving to northern Arkansas to work with her. That brings us to the month of October…

(stay tuned for part 3!)

Twenty-Fourteen: A Recap (part 1)

The last time I updated this blog, it was April. In the 8 months that have passed since then, it's something of an understatement to say that a lot has happened.

Nevertheless…a LOT has happened.

With that in mind, I'm going to break this down into somewhat chronological order. There will be some criss-crossing back and forth across timelines, but it shouldn't get too confusing.

April-May: ranch preparation

I had applied to work at Wind River Ranch again for the entire summer as a wrangler. Since getting the job, and deciding that I would drive there myself instead of flying/taking a train, I spent most of the time beforehand working and getting my car ready for such a journey. At this point I was still working at the gym 6 afternoons a week and cleaning houses in the AM. (I finished up a 6-month weight-lifting regimen and a Couch-to-5K program around the end of April as well—something I really miss is true weightlifting. But oh well.)

On May 3^rd, my little brother got married. It was a very, very small occasion—originally only the parents were invited, but I managed to finagle my way in under the pretense that they needed a photographer. (The finagling was only just.)

Look at the happy couple!

After the wedding—the day of, if one wants to be particular about it—I drove to my aunt and uncle's house in northern Arkansas. The plan was to stay at her house for about a week, then drive down to Texas to see some friends that I hadn't seen for 4 years, and then drive from Texas to Colorado. I had been on road trips before, but never by myself. I remember being pretty excited at the prospect—unfortunately it seems to have awoken a strange desire to see the United States in its entirety by car. We'll see what happens with that.

While in Arkansas, my aunt and I went to Crystal Bridges (this fantastic museum comprising just of American art), the Bluebird Factory, I shadowed her to work a couple of days…the week ended up stretching to almost 10 days just because we were having so much fun. During this time I was offered a job (jokingly, I thought) by my aunt's boss. It turns out he wasn't joking…but I didn't realize this until some time later.

Then I drove to northern Texas to see Christa and Ashlee!

I've known these two for quite a long time—back in 2010 we had 'The Great Illinois-Texas Transfer' where they flew up to stay with me for a week, and then I flew to Texas to stay with them for the following week. I was only able to stay for a couple of days this time, but it was wonderful. 

Also, here's a picture of me on a longhorn bull. (Or maybe it was a steer.)

I got up very early on a Tuesday (or maybe a Wednesday? The days blurred together) and made the 15-hour drive from Christa and Ashlee's to a town outside of Denver, Colorado. My Google maps sent me up through Amarillo, across the panhandle of Oklahoma, and through the southern deserty-bits of Colorado. It was one of those things that, at the time, seemed terribly exciting (except for the bits across the desert—that got a little boring) but in retrospect was kind of crazy.

I think that doing something like that on my own, with no one else to rely on in the moment (sure, I could call people if I needed something, but I was the one who had to do the actual driving and keep myself awake through the long hours of flat desert) had an interesting effect on me. It increased my confidence in myself as a navigator (much of the trip I had to use a map because my phone didn't have service) and made me realize that I could actually do these things by myself. I mean, I knew in my mind that I could do it. But until I had actually done it, there was nothing to confirm that mental knowledge.

So it was, one very long day later, that I ended up at Kas' house outside of Denver. From her house to the ranch is about 1 ½ hours, and having a place to recoup before going to said ranch was indescribable. I also knew that she wouldn't be going back that summer except for visits, and it was really nice to be able to catch up before plunging into the ranch activity.

(Part 2 will be loaded with pictures, fret not!)

Five-Minute Friday: Choose

From Lisa-Jo Baker, the Gypsy Mama: "On Fridays around these parts we like to write. Not for comments or traffic or anyone else's agenda. But for fun, for practice, for joy at the sound of syllables, sentences and paragraphs all strung together by the voice of the speaker. We love to just write without worrying if it's just right or not. For five minutes flat."

GO

Choose. It's a word that's been haunting me for weeks and months now. I have so many directions that I could potentially go with my life in the next few months: go to Honduras, move out, get a real job that actually pays something, buy a horse (just kidding on the last one...maybe)--the possibilities are, while not endless, numerous. 

And paralyzing.

For fear of not 'choosing the right thing' I've been sitting back, waiting, working 6 hours a day 6 days a week, occasionally making things to occupy my restless hands, avoiding making any solid decisions because I'm afraid that by choosing one item out of many that would cancel out the remaining options. That it would cement my course and make it impossible to re-orient myself should I decide to do something else.

Other people have told me 'you don't have to worry about being stuck'. Or that I can 'always change my mind'. But how is one to learn fidelity if one is always changing their mind?

STOP

(Wow. I kinda stink at this sort of thing. XD)