teslac0ils

So... there have been some developments in my life. I don't feel like going into the details, but it suffices to say that my mental gears have had to shift very quickly from "some big things would have to change for me to be able to buy a house" to "my wife and I are looking to buy a house THIS YEAR". It's a lot! It's exciting, and it's stressful because this could very likely be my once-in-a-lifetime chance to buy literally anything this expensive, ever. I want to make it count. And... I find myself getting hung up on this very silly desire. That is getting a property, with a bit of land without strict rules about what I'm allowed to do with it, and local laws that will allow me to have a few backyard hens. Pretty much nothing else about the houses I'm looking at is giving me any kind of emotional reaction, except for the kitchen space, but even that makes me go "eh, I can change this or that, or expand a prep area into the next room if it isn't enough".

I like to think I'm a very adaptable person. I can figure out how to live wherever you put me. I've been living in drafty ass apartments through cold and windy Chicagoland winters for over the past decade. My last apartment was so inhospitable that my windowsill plants froze and died whent he polar vortex came through, but I bundled up and dealt with it. I'm not picky. I shouldn't be picky. I should be grateful that I suddenly have the means to get a house at all, and the rest should be immaterial. I should be 100% on board with anything my wife likes the look of. But... every time I even think about the idea of pulling the trigger on a house somewhere that DOESN'T allow chickens, I feel really bummed out that this would effectively kill the chicken dream in my lifetime. It's bothering me that I'm so hung up on this one detail.

I don't know. As stupid as I feel for being so hung up on chickens, maybe I can justify the gut feeling. It feels like the one possibility left out of all those nice things I wanted in my future when I was young. I dealt with it and didn't get too bummed out when the pandemic and lockdown hit, and my wife and I had to scale our wedding down to a 7 people present + zoom callers affair. I haven't gotten too hung up on how even after that time, subsequent financial difficulties have kept us from going on the honeymoon vacation we wanted. I've been sad about it, but dealt with it and kept working hard when my college degree ended up being useless and my career prospects have stalled, because the job market says "fuck you, we're moving the goalposts again" every time I try to make a move forward. Like a whole lot of fellow millennials I've had to downsize my expectations my whole adult life. I've always hoped, though, that maybe if things improve for me, in some nebulous future, maybe one day I could have a nice little house with an herb and flower garden in the front and 3 or 4 laying hens in the back. Nothing too huge, nothing too fancy. Nothing more than I could tend myself while also working full-time. There's one dream that reality hasn't kicked out of my brain yet.

Still, it's so frivolous. It's so unimportant. Some part of my mind doesn't want to give up on the dream. Another part is so annoyed that it doesn't. I wish I could genuinely feel happy at the idea of moving into any single one of the other houses my wife likes in No Chickens Allowed towns- they're still so much more than I thought we could have in the near future! That should be enough for me!

I've spent most of my adult life struggling to actually DO most creative hobbies that interest me. Drawing, writing, even just reading substantially. I joined a book club a few years ago and I struggled to even finish the 1 book a month and form thoughts on it- and there wasn't really that much going on in my life otherwise. Just basic life stuff. I went to work, I made dinner, I went for walks and worked out, scrolled shit on the internet, and slept. Working out, at least, was a habit I didn't struggle with ever since I heard some great workout advice attributed to Terry Crews: just show up at the gym, and if you build that habit of just BEING there, you will eventually work out. Set a low bar with basically no obstacle to clear, and it will never kill your motivation: it's a great little trick that works even with no gym membership and a more diverse workout routine. Just sit down on the yoga mat, just drive to the archery range, etc. It was the one good habit I was great at being consistent about, but I was still unable to carry that over to spending the rest of my free time how I'd like.

Then, last year I took on a little project of reading Chuck Tingle stories. Low commitment every day, just read a short story that will take me 15 minutes, tops, to read, and make a little post about it. It was something deliberately easy and enjoyable, but I surprised myself by just committing to that little thing as hard as I did. I noticed connections and themes in the stories. Literature was always one of my worst subjects in school, but I found myself just... tackling some literary analysis by virtue of just needing to think of things to say about the stories, and reading them with the knowledge that I would want to say something about them. Months into the project, I thought of the workout advice that had unlocked my ability to keep that habit so consistently. I had figured out how to "just show up" to active, engaged reading. I struggled less in my book club, I had an easier time thinking about what I would say about the books we read.

Could I make myself draw? I used to draw a lot, when I was younger, and I missed it but couldn't just make myself. (Several times over the years, I tried opening request threads on forums. I tried signing up for Artfight a few years. I always spent a day or two REALLY INTO IT with the intention to work hard on whatever I had started, then fizzling out.) Last year gave me new knowledge about myself, though. I decided to commit to something small. Draw one bug every day. Give it a minimum of commitment similar to what I gave the Chuck Tingle stories. At the start, I thought it would amount to a lot of small simple drawings, but it would be something just to form the habit. I've surprised myself again. I thought a majority of what I drew would be the most minimal pencil and pen sketches, but I've surprised myself again. About a quarter of what I've drawn has been minimal pencil/pen sketches, not the 70% I was expecting. Once I arrive at drawing... I want to spend more time there.

I feel like I've unlocked something. I wish I had figured it out sooner. I don't need to set a high bar for myself. If I set one that's easy to clear, then it will motivate me instead of blocking my path. If I'm not doing something I want to, I just need to figure out the basic step of showing up. I can just trust myself to do things incrementally from there. I can stick with it- I have proven that to myself now. I don't have to commit to knocking out something grand all at once.