The other day, Base and I were having a discussion (read argument) about projects, what motivates them and what keeps them going. In case you have forgotten, Base happens to be the one person who has taken it upon himself to whip my behind every now and then should I seem to be getting out of line. A task I fear he seems to enjoy too much and for some reason, I still let him do it. So far, it’s kept me quite in line. Just don’t tell him that as I fear he might assume that he can go hither and yon instilling unnecessary, misplaced discipline.
Back to the discussion at hand. Last year, right about this time, I decided to play insane and sport dreadlocks. I shall not even begin to tell you the intense opposition I encountered. Right from my immediate boss at the time, and funny eyes from my co-workers. I was having non of the evil eyes nor the tongue lashes. I must have been experiencing some sort of yearly teenage stage as I did not even listen to mum when she said it might not be a very good idea. Then again, by now she knows I can be quite big headed. What consoles her is that I have not YET found myself in a jail cell over this fact. I had one great supporter though. Yep! You guessed it! Base. I went ahead and sported my new look, and I can assure you it was a nightmare. You have not seen those things begin to grow. They actually look sickening to begin with. Then comes a stage that most like to call the baby locks stage. To understand this stage, picture a baby, with absolutely no sense of control of anything. They know no style or decency. They just know how to exist. Cutting that long story short, I survived it and I am happy to announce that the locs are doing quite well, so well, so that I already know I want to keep them short styled, as opposed to long. O yeah, and mum has actually breathed a sigh of relief.
See, the beauty about life is that every experience becomes a lesson. All you need to do is look at it as such. While it may be difficult at times to analyse situations as such, you get to realise it, in hindsight. I have analysed quite a number of projects in my life. First, weired as it seems to be, they tend to begin at about the third trimester of the year. This year has not been any different. Most of what I’ve done though, is not start projects, but more of housekeeping. Looking at what is working and what is not, and trashing what is not working. That is what we call resolve. No, no, don’t go all uuuuu-she-has-it-all-figured-out yet. You and I know it doesn’t always work as smoothly as we’d like it to. And me being occasionally scatter brained, I find that I’ve started a number of the said projects and let them fall by the wayside. In my defense however, the ones that fall by the wayside have not been started at the most ideal time. The third trimester 😛
I’ll tell you one thing for sure. The ones that have worked best are those that I have gone in with unwavering resolve. A mindset of there are no two ways about it. Ones that I have no way of back-peddling. Burning bridges along the way, so to speak. I am so sure they are going to work I can taste the end result. Sure, frustrations, just like baby locks come along the way, but since I have so much invested I can’t go back, I keep trudging on. I’m not sorry for the ones that have not worked out. I’m just happy for the lessons learnt. Besides, it is great to have another successful project under my belt. Yes I consider growing of my locs a great achievement. Maybe that’s the trick. Making things in your life projects and upon every success, popping champagne, so to speak, to celebrate. Keeping a journal of lessons, to jot down lessons learnt from unsuccessful projects.
I know what you are asking right about now. How many journals does this woman have? My favorite pass-time is writing. How many do you think?