Bubbling to the Surface
It's a given. I'm goal directed. Well, I guess I am. Sort of. When I put my mind to it. Like when I was a freshman in college, I decided that one day I would be introduced as the #1 player on my home courts. I worked hard and I made it happen. I got into grad school three times (I went twice and graduated once). I got a highly coveted Intelligence Officer billet with the United States Navy (I turned it down because I didn't want to go back in the closet). I wrote and published a novel. I bought a Nissan Juke, my dream car. I wanted to run a sub 1:40 half marathon before I turned fifty and I did (1:37:08 at 49 years, 9 months, and 16 days old ). I traveled. I moved away from Austin.
Oh, the list of things I haven't accomplished is long and illustrious (The word "Legion" comes to mind), but I refuse to see them as "failures;" they are merely steps in the process. They are what will lead to my fourth novel, a running tour business in Las Vegas, Nevada, a sub 1:40 half after the age of 50, fluency in Swedish, and a trans-Atlantic move and an expat life in Europe. Everything I've done helps - it boosts my confidence if nothing else - but it's the stuff that I've failed at, epically on occasion, that drives me relentlessly forward.
It's a matter of desire. The more I want something, the better the chance of it happening. I think that's true for most of us. I'm not talking about dandelions or eyelashes or pennies in a fountain. Wishes are truly a dime a dozen. I could sit here in this odd little coffeehouse drinking my Rwandan coffee squeeze my eyes shut, and wish until I passed out from the effort and it wouldn't move me one inch closer to anything I desire. Pray? Sure. I could do that. And if whatever god that heard me - what? - felt I was worthy, I might get what I asked for? Color me skeptical. Success - that fantastic moment when all we have ever dreamed of comes true - has nothing to do with wishes or prayers or picking the right tarot cards. Success is exclusively the result of hard work and perseverance.
And a little luck. I won't deny that one. If the weather on the morning the of my PB half marathon been in the 70s instead of upper 30s, I never would have run sub-1:40. I'm a cold weather runner. That day, the stars aligned BUT if I hadn't put in the work, if I hadn't pushed myself to train, if I hadn't persevered when I wanted to quit (My right hamstring cramped at the 10K mark; everything in me wanted to stop over and over), if..................... If all that I am hadn't bubbled to the surface in the days, weeks, and months before the race, I'd be sitting here writing about how I shoulda, coulda, woulda done so much different.
I know who I am. I know what I can bring. When I really want something. The question is always how bad do I want it, I mean really want it? I honestly never know the answer until I get going. It takes being scope-locked on the goal, never wavering (at least not for long), and working constantly toward success.
I want to move to a country that doesn't let a whole lot of people emigrate. It means I need to have something, be something, be someone, that adds value. I'm not a magician. I can't suddenly become a physicist or a world-renown physician. Who I am is not in demand. Anywhere, not even in the US. I am a retail worker. And let's be honest, we are excruciatingly common, even those of us with advanced degrees and above average writing skill. I'm going to need something that makes me special, different, something that makes me stand out.
At least a little. There are seriously a ba-zillion variables I can't control. I mean, ok... I could win the lottery or put a buck in a slot machine and win a bunch of money. That would be A LOT of luck and I've never really been able to muster more than an eye roll out of Lady Luck. As with everything I've ever accomplished, I have to control what I can control and let the rest go. So, what can I control that will make me different than the standard American wanting residency in Sweden (Other than refraining from being an asshole)? I can become fluent in the language (which would probably garner me a couple dozen non-asshole points from the jump).
How does one become fluent in a Scandinavian language while living a desert oasis in the Southwestern US? The honest answer is that I don't really have a clue.....yet. I'll figure it out. Trust me on that one. It might mean a Swedish-English dictionary and Pippi Longstocking in its original language or endless streaming of Swedish films and TV shows with the subtitles off. It probably means all that and much, much more. An additional wrinkle? I suck at language acquisition. I managed four years of French and a 5 on the AP test (I test well, apparently) and squeezed a B out of my Russian 101 professor my freshman year of college, but I don't currently speak a lick of French and the only thing I can say in Russian is "I built the bomb at the secret institute" (Glasnost wasn't yet a going concern in Russian textbooks in the fall of 1987).
So, me and Swedish... Don't give up hope. I do have a lot going for me - desire, perseverance, and I'm not afraid of hard work. Plus I am a wee bit afraid to fail. I don't want this to be some crazy pipe dream that people point to when they talk about my "Mid-Life Crisis." Remember that time Stacee tried to learn Swedish? Giggles, guffaws, and knee slaps to follow.
I'll leave you with two final thoughts about my chances for success then I'll let you make up your own mind -
2:1 or 2,000,000:1. My money's on me.
Oh, the list of things I haven't accomplished is long and illustrious (The word "Legion" comes to mind), but I refuse to see them as "failures;" they are merely steps in the process. They are what will lead to my fourth novel, a running tour business in Las Vegas, Nevada, a sub 1:40 half after the age of 50, fluency in Swedish, and a trans-Atlantic move and an expat life in Europe. Everything I've done helps - it boosts my confidence if nothing else - but it's the stuff that I've failed at, epically on occasion, that drives me relentlessly forward.
It's a matter of desire. The more I want something, the better the chance of it happening. I think that's true for most of us. I'm not talking about dandelions or eyelashes or pennies in a fountain. Wishes are truly a dime a dozen. I could sit here in this odd little coffeehouse drinking my Rwandan coffee squeeze my eyes shut, and wish until I passed out from the effort and it wouldn't move me one inch closer to anything I desire. Pray? Sure. I could do that. And if whatever god that heard me - what? - felt I was worthy, I might get what I asked for? Color me skeptical. Success - that fantastic moment when all we have ever dreamed of comes true - has nothing to do with wishes or prayers or picking the right tarot cards. Success is exclusively the result of hard work and perseverance.
And a little luck. I won't deny that one. If the weather on the morning the of my PB half marathon been in the 70s instead of upper 30s, I never would have run sub-1:40. I'm a cold weather runner. That day, the stars aligned BUT if I hadn't put in the work, if I hadn't pushed myself to train, if I hadn't persevered when I wanted to quit (My right hamstring cramped at the 10K mark; everything in me wanted to stop over and over), if..................... If all that I am hadn't bubbled to the surface in the days, weeks, and months before the race, I'd be sitting here writing about how I shoulda, coulda, woulda done so much different.
I know who I am. I know what I can bring. When I really want something. The question is always how bad do I want it, I mean really want it? I honestly never know the answer until I get going. It takes being scope-locked on the goal, never wavering (at least not for long), and working constantly toward success.
I want to move to a country that doesn't let a whole lot of people emigrate. It means I need to have something, be something, be someone, that adds value. I'm not a magician. I can't suddenly become a physicist or a world-renown physician. Who I am is not in demand. Anywhere, not even in the US. I am a retail worker. And let's be honest, we are excruciatingly common, even those of us with advanced degrees and above average writing skill. I'm going to need something that makes me special, different, something that makes me stand out.
At least a little. There are seriously a ba-zillion variables I can't control. I mean, ok... I could win the lottery or put a buck in a slot machine and win a bunch of money. That would be A LOT of luck and I've never really been able to muster more than an eye roll out of Lady Luck. As with everything I've ever accomplished, I have to control what I can control and let the rest go. So, what can I control that will make me different than the standard American wanting residency in Sweden (Other than refraining from being an asshole)? I can become fluent in the language (which would probably garner me a couple dozen non-asshole points from the jump).
How does one become fluent in a Scandinavian language while living a desert oasis in the Southwestern US? The honest answer is that I don't really have a clue.....yet. I'll figure it out. Trust me on that one. It might mean a Swedish-English dictionary and Pippi Longstocking in its original language or endless streaming of Swedish films and TV shows with the subtitles off. It probably means all that and much, much more. An additional wrinkle? I suck at language acquisition. I managed four years of French and a 5 on the AP test (I test well, apparently) and squeezed a B out of my Russian 101 professor my freshman year of college, but I don't currently speak a lick of French and the only thing I can say in Russian is "I built the bomb at the secret institute" (Glasnost wasn't yet a going concern in Russian textbooks in the fall of 1987).
So, me and Swedish... Don't give up hope. I do have a lot going for me - desire, perseverance, and I'm not afraid of hard work. Plus I am a wee bit afraid to fail. I don't want this to be some crazy pipe dream that people point to when they talk about my "Mid-Life Crisis." Remember that time Stacee tried to learn Swedish? Giggles, guffaws, and knee slaps to follow.
I'll leave you with two final thoughts about my chances for success then I'll let you make up your own mind -
- I once said that Swedish was like a song I didn't yet know the lyrics to. Right now I'm just humming along and singing the wrong lyrics...but I won't forever.
- Being bilingual is on my Bucket List...and we know what I do with things on my Bucket List. [Imagine a giant green check mark emoji here]
2:1 or 2,000,000:1. My money's on me.
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