Goddamn Penelope Trunk. Most people know her, and sometimes hate her because she tweeted about her miscarriage in a meeting. Personally, I think good on her, in a fuck-the-establishment-kind-of-way; no, I'm mad at her cause she posted this.
If you're too lazy to click through and read, I'll summarise: the secret to happiness is self-discipline.
I only have one word --shit. Only because I know she's right, and only because I know that I have so little of it. Report cards from every year in grade school and high school sing the same song: lots of potential, not enough application. I've secretly known, or suspected this for years, but never acknowledged it. I could be happier if I just knuckled down and applied myself a bit more.
By now, I should know really, I'm ten years into my teaching career and I've stopped believing in gifted children and potential. The hard reality is that most of the time the kids who stick-to-it and persevere, despite setbacks, are very likely be successful in the long run. If you are lucky enough to have brains and perseverance --well, you are set in life.
Procrastination is pre-cancerous cells to the malignancy that is anxiety and depression. I'll give you an example. Everyday, I've looked at the parking ticket on my desk. If I had paid that ticket 14 days after it had been plonked on my windscreen, I'd have saved myself 30 quid. I finally paid the ticket, after 35 days, but not after a good-old-internal-beat-yourself-up. And really, I should be writing my Christmas cards, but this has preying on my mind for a while. Will the Christmas cards get written? If you go by my track record, not bloody likely.
I've had self-discipline in spurts. In 2005, I quit smoking. I've become proficient enough at dancing to earn money teaching it and that is despite being the most dispraxic, uncoordinated person you'll ever meet.
So, this my goal for 2011. More self-discipline
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