The Rule of "Good enough"

I realized yesterday that I mostly live by the rule of "good enough".

My clothes are always in piles on the floor or the bed, according to how dirty they are...
it's not a perfect system, but it's good enough.

There are always dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, but I do put away the perishable food...
it's not a perfect system, but it's good enough.

I always do the readings for class, but don't make the writing portions to my own standards (which are quite high), only to the point where the prof will think I have...
they're never perfect, but they're good enough.

...and so on, and so forth. In Spanish it's called "la ley del mínimo esfuerzo," and teachers and elders used to throw it in our faces all the time: you do just what you need to get by, not an ounce more. It's taken me three years away from that to find a good translation for it, but I finally have (though I didn't realize it 'til I started thinking about what I meant by it):

The rule of "good enough"

It's ok, I think, to live by this rule in some areas of our lives. But there must be areas for which we find it unacceptable, for which "good enough" just is not enough.
What is it for you?

over 'n out.
E.O.


The above is merely one example of the results of me being really, really good at paper-avoidance strategies. xD

You found me a what??

Thanksgiving. My parent's car pulls up at my aunt's house with all four of us in it. We gather our things, step out, get the stuff from the trunk. My sister and I transfer Christmas presents from our trunk to my Grandmother's, who has come out onto the front porch to give directions. We finish, she smiles, gives me a hug, we exchange greetings... and then she drops the bomb.
"Honey, I have something to tell you."
"Oh? What's that, Jojo?"
"I've found you a boyfriend!" She smiles again, friendly, innocent, almost solicitous, as my brain reels with what-did-you-just-say-to-me????? clamoring. "Do I need a boyfriend?" I say, raising my eyebrows. "I don't know." She rejoins, and then proceeds to tell me a long rigmarole about how she met a woman at my great-grandmother's nursing home (as usual) and they were making small talk about their grandchildren ("because you know, we were signing in at the front desk and just started chatting, and..."), and they discovered that this woman's husband and my grandfather used to have lunch together at the hospital where my grandfather worked (how they determined who sat with whom in the hospital cafeteria is still a mystery, but they did) and her husband just died of gobbledygook, and it's terribly sad, and now she has to watch her mother die in a nursinghomebutANYWAY, what she was trying to say, honey, is that this woman has a grandson who just graduated from Blah-blah university and he is into XYZ, and he's outdoorsy, and she told her, you know, that she had a granddaughter who wasn't frilly, wasn't very girly (I must have looked slightly defensive at this point because she started to say that she had never been that way either, and she'd never even had a manicure, she just hated people messing with her) and anyway, I should just meet the young man... and on and on it went.
I just laughed at her, and took her arm and told her she was cute. She continued to try and convince me, and I laughed (I am still laughing, in fact) But I also couldn't help but cringe inside, because my GRANDMOTHER tried to SET ME UP with the grandson of SOMEONE SHE MET IN THE NURSING HOME while taking care of my DYING GREAT-GRANDMOTHER. Does anyone else see the flaw in this reasoning?!
It's kind of scary, because, knowing my grandmother, this is only the beginning. The first inkling of the fact that she now considers me an "adult" who ought to be looking to find "a nice man from a godly family, sweet pea." It's the first indication that I'm moving up in the world, to places that have new and different kinds of small talk that requires new defenses. Hopefully I will be able to acquire them fast enough, and hopefully I will keep laughing throughout.

over 'n out.
E.O.

Prolific

I have looked it up. Every year so far I have written more posts in November than any other month. Go figure. I guess the stress of finals + life-readjustment + being cooped up inside again makes me want the creative outlet? Or maybe it's just the change of the seasons. I love autumn. I also love the word autumn and do not understand why it has gone out of fashion. Bring it back! It's so much prettier than "fall," if a bit less literal.
Anyway, in keeping with this observation of mine, I have decided to write a post to officially note it - and thereby make this the month with most posts EVER on this blog. w00t.

Autumn. Autumn. Autumn. Are there any other words with "mn" in them? Mnemonics. That's all I can think of. Mn?

clearly this is degenerating. I will stop before something truly unfortunate happens.
over 'n out.
E.O.

Writing Whiz?

People keep telling me that if I ever wrote a book, they'd read it. I say, great, I don't have much of anything to say, but if I ever do, you'll be the first to know.
How did I ever learn to write? Sometimes I wonder. My mom asked me yesterday how it was possible that I, growing up as many places and in as many different languages as I did, not learning how to read in English 'til I was 6? 7? - how it was possible that I should have enough mastery of the English language to be able to help other people write academic papers?
At first, I didn't know. I cited my English prof from Spanish HS who offered, out of the blue, to train me for the English lit O-levels. Then I realized - I used to read like crazy. I read so much I got sick of stories - nothing could surprise me anymore. Good stuff, classic stuff, stuff that was too old for me, mystery stuff, fantasy stuff... whatever I could lay my hands on, really. And I wrote. I wrote blogs, as has been previously noted, and journal entries, and not much more. I wrote to please myself. Did I have anything to say beyond things that were happening in my own little life? Hah! Guess. I'll give you a hint- I still don't! I don't know why you're reading this stuff, seriously. But did I learn from these things, or merely develop? (watch out, chicken-and-the-egg-problem at twelve o'clock!) It's possible that I just engaged in those activities because the written word has always spoken to me in ways that other artforms never revealed.

But anyway - *end of pointless introspection* - now, here I sit, waiting for my next pupil to walk through the door. Life is truly strange.


I'm not gonna be an author, y'all. Not unless I seriously have Something to SAY. And if that ever happens, the world better watch out, 'cause come hell or high water, it'll be said, and my intended audience will listen.

list of...

...things I don't want to deal with:

1. the pilot light on my heater being out (with no hint as to how to light the stupid thing again, not to mention where exactly it is located).

2. my dryer being broken (and my landlord's home warranty company being veeery particular about contractors and also conveniently closed-mouthed about it)

3. my project for literacy class (surprise, I don't want to do my work for literacy class. Who'd've thought?)

it may not seem like it, but those three things are pretty, um... large.

yikes!
____________

P.S.: Fortunately my dad loves me and helped me deal with the pilot light. That's one thing off the list? Maybe? - maybe 'cause he told me to call my landlord already and get the thing checked. =(
haha, I thought I had good news to add, but... well, maybe not. :P

Post-movie thoughts

From "The Young Victoria":
In the end credits it says:
"In memory of her husband, Victoria had his clothes
laid out every day until her death at the age of 81"

And that's how I want it: only one. I don't want to try on guys like I try on clothes, to see if they fit.
I want to pick one and go for it, and if it's not perfect, that's ok. Just one, for my entire life. Granted, it prob'ly won't be the fCA - that's pretty much laid to rest. But if I have it my way, there won't be more than 3 tries.

I'm also really intrigued by the portrayal of Queen Victoria, and sort of wish they hadn't focused quite so much on the Albert/Victoria storyline. It would have been interesting if they had made it like... twice as long, with more facets of her life... if they had elaborated on her relationship with her mother, for example, and how she had handled parliament, etc. I kept wondering how she would interact with the cabinet members socially and such.
The whole thing reminds me of a book I read a year or two ago, called something like "The Queen and Essex". It was dull, but I think if they'd mixed this movie with that book, it would have made what I'm imagining. :P Of course, the book was about Queen Elizabeth, not Victoria, but still. You get the gist of my idea, right?
anyways. Good movie. For sure.
over 'n out.
E.O.

fresh from waking

I woke up twice today. You know how it goes. You wake up the first time to your alarm clock (you vaguely remember hearing it) and then decide, what the heck, you'll just sleep out today. You have time. And then you *try* to go back to sleep.
The first time I woke up, I remembered nothing. It rarely happens to me that I'll wake up and not have a few thoughts about either what I was dreaming about or what I have to do that day. But this time... nothing. My first thought went something like "where are all my other thoughts? what day is today?" So that was strange.
Then I realized it was Friday and I could sleep a little longer if I wanted to, so I did...
and proceeded to dream that most frustrating of dreams, the one where you can't quite get your eyes open, even though you really want to because something is happening around you that you need to see.
And I woke up the second time frustrated, determined to keep my eyes open, and see my house as it was, not as I had dreamed it. Ugh. My waking house is much nicer, especially in the morning. But my roommate isn't here (she did have to get up this morning) and so it's kind of eerie... almost as if I were still in a dream. (a dream within a dream! inception style! noooo!)
ahem. so I had to remind myself of what is true about my life & real, by writing it out.
hopefully that is effective. The sunshine streaming in my window is certainly pleasant, and my room is just as messy as it was when I went to sleep. So.
over 'n out.
E.O.