Would you ever want to read a book whose protagonist keeps making the same mistakes over and over and remains in an obliviously unhappy holding pattern until the very.last.page? No, you wouldn't. You'd let the first couple of times slide, and then expect her to learn her lesson. If she didn't, you'd get frustrated and put down the book.
So then why is it so hard to realize when you're that protagonist? I mean, do I really want to experience something DIFFERENT? Then I should change my flippin' methods. Why has it taken so long for that little tidbit to actually sink in?
Case in point:
Case in point:
This morning while the rest of the world lay sleeping, I was wide-eyed and restless. I wandered to the living room couch, where the dog and I watched a French, subtitled film until 4 a.m. (See above) Hours later, I walked around my house in a tired daze until early afternoon, not really accomplishing much.
And then something in me snapped...I did the dishes, vacuumed the floor, made the bed, and made something to eat for my son. (This is the normal stuff.) But then, instead of escaping with a book or a movie or a Parisian blog, I went to my computer and switched it on. I gathered all the information I needed to build a resume. When I'd finished, I submitted it for a job. In another city. Do you understand how very liberating it was to do this--a thing I've put off for years?
If that weren't enough change for one day, I joined a three month weight loss challenge with thirty other women from all over the country. This involved posting a current picture and weight, which was the grown-up equivalent to finally gaining the courage to look under the bed to see if there were any monsters under there. Instead, there were just thirty women who are probably going to very grumpy people in the next few days. :)
It looks like my storyline may be starting to look up.