The One Where I Make Goals

The fact that it is already this far into the new year astounds me. You fill your days with projects, work, people, and before you know it there’s a winding path left behind you and you’ve done many things and seen many people and you wish you could gather it all up again and hold it in your arms to admire it.  But, you can’t. You can’t have everything at once, all the time. That’s a hard reality. One step at a time, sister Susie.

I came into this year with a goal of doing less and a goal of letting go. I also had a goal of not writing down goals. Because, honestly? That shit stresses me out. I do, in fact, use one of those intense day planners because if I don’t I wouldn’t remember a dang thing. I also LOVE making lists. Like, love it. I didn’t want to write down goals though, but rather retain them. What I mean by that, is if it’s something I truly and deeply want to pursue, there’s absolutely no need to write it down. I will manifest it because I’m being called to. Or driven to...whichever you jive with more.

1. Drinking more water. Being onstage a little under 300 days of the week for 5 years will do something to you. It will keep you hydrated as heck. Thinking about drinking water doesn’t really happen, because you come offstage and guzzle down H2O like you’ve been lost in the desert. It keeps you healthy because you have to be healthy. Being on stage requires peak physical and mental conditions, and though the physical is a little harder to maintain, you’re driven to make healthier choices because it directly affects your work. Health and how it affects the brain of an anxious person is an entirely different blog, but I’ll say this. She’s important, y’all.

2. Aerial Silks. I took my first aerial silks class almost three years ago when our theatre was prepping for Chicago the Musical. Two illustrious members of our cast took on the impossible task of learning and executing silks routines for the hanging scene and “Razzle Dazzle”. They exceeded expectations, and with warrior attitudes and strength, awed audiences for fifty performances. It was incredible. I only attended the first few classes with them, and after my hands hurt, my feet hurt, and my pride hurt, I decided to step back until a later date. Our schedule was certainly a major factor, but in earnest, I wasn’t “good” at it, and that bruised my ego. I hated not being good at things. I still strongly dislike it, but I’m a lot more open to the idea. I realized late last year that I wanted to try again. I had purchased classes remaining, and what a fun new “thing” to add to my resume? Right?! (just poured my second cup ‘o’ joe, y’all, and the excitement is abounding) Here’s the thing. I have fallen in love with it. I wasn’t ready three years ago for the pain or the discipline. I am now, and I am just jazzed to see where it goes. There’s a truth about being ready for growth. It’s taken me most of my twenties to be ready to grow. And that leads me into my next goal...

3. Accepting the time and struggle it takes to improve. The society of here and now, instant gratification, is upon us. We demand streamlined efficiency. I cram eleven tasks onto my planner’s daily writing space and think that eight hours is a sufficient amount of time to feel complete about all eleven, like, “I have grown and I have now arrived in the land of the grown!” My friend, Annie, once gave me a quote about how the real work is in the struggle of a dark studio, the in between moments of insecurity. We never arrive. I’ll say it again. We never arrive because we are always growing and that doesn't look like a pristine, well-lit workspace #mondaymotivation, or a coffee shop #hustle. It comes from tiny steps and investment, touching the items on your list over and over, feeling the uncomfortable insecurities over whether this practice is doing anything, the frustration that comes with canceling out the world and focusing in on one thing at time. Growing pains. That’s what improvement feels like. It feels like growing pains, and the hardest thing I have set out to do each day is accept that I constantly feel lost at sea with my work, and that that’s how I know I’m doing this right. I’m not holding on to the edge of the pool anymore and I’m accepting and trusting that each tiny investment will...create dividends? Is that how money works? Is that a real phrase? I don’t know, I art.

4. Hold myself to a higher standard and let go of the work that doesn’t reflect that. “We settle for a lesser version of ourselves simply because we don’t know another version exists”. My friend and mentor, John Hardy, speaks this yearly at an acting lecture he gives. This one doesn’t need much explaining. It’s as simple as “I want…” and filling in the blanks as specifically as possible. In my photography, in my singing, in my dancing, in my relationships. I want specifics in all of these and I am done with the notion that I’m not capable of them. I say to that notion, you are dead wrong. I am capable and I will not settle for a lesser version of myself anymore. I don’t need to post every video of myself to my website, or every photo I take on my instagram. I shall share with the world only what follows the path of my vision. And per the bullet point, I will invest the time to make them happen.

5. Becoming more technically savvy. Guys, I am NOT good at putting things together, I am NOT good at working electronics, and computer editing software makes me feel like my mother trying to work her iPad for the first time. Love you mom, but it was hilarious. Once I know it, I’m grand at it, but I run from learning about it like the plague. I will repeat it again, for myself and those in the back, that spending the time watching videos and becoming acquainted with equipment and online programs is worth every second.

6. Saying NO to FOMO. At any given moment, there are 7 billion things you could be doing, because that’s how many people exist. Granted, a good portion of them would be sleeping, pooping, and surviving (too real? oops.). Gratitude practice has been helping me accept the dizzying choices presented and find peace with the solitude of my own. The underlying cause is a lack of confidence in myself and my choices. Attack that beast and you’re looking at joy sightings no matter the weather.

Ha! You know what I just did? I just wrote down my goals. I got myself there. But, to be fair, they were already fully formed babes in my mind. What are your goals for the new year? Or lack thereof?

(Cue random photos of dogs I've spent time with this winter)