Start taking your dreams very, very seriously

I've decided to buy myself a really freakin' nice camera for Valentine's Day.

Why? Because I've also decided to start taking my dreams very, very seriously.

I've realized that dreams I never act on will always remain dreams. If I let obstacles — real or imagined — stand in the way of my dreams, I'll end up staying right where I am, wondering what would have happened if I'd acted.

Once I decide to act, a dream becomes a goal. A goal, when reached, becomes a reality.

Ben Davis once weighed 360 pounds and was deeply unhappy with his life. Check out his new reality — please watch the whole thing, get really emotional and then vow to take your dreams seriously:



A very good thing to remember: "If you want to do it, all you have to do is do it."

The obstacles I face in acting on my dream to take up photography as a serious hobby are mostly imagined. I wrote that I feel paralyzing self-doubt when I think that I might not be good at it, that other people will always be better and that it's too late for me to master a new skill.

The funny thing is that real obstacles, like not having enough money to buy a nice camera or enough time to practice taking photos, aren't the issue here. I have enough money. I have plenty of free time on the weekends. The fact that the biggest obstacles exist only in my head is an interesting realization.

I find that when I dream of something, whether it's running a marathon or traveling around the world, I almost immediately start thinking, "But... [I'll never have enough endurance] [I'll never have enough time/money/bravery]." I can be too practical and too realistic. The "But..." comes all too quickly for me.

Henry Ford said, "Whether you think you can or think you can't, you're right." If I accept my self-doubts as reality, they'll become reality. If I choose to overcome them, I will.

It all starts with taking my dreams seriously. Instead of thinking about all the reasons why I can't do something and letting them stop me from accomplishing anything, I can look for ways to conquer them. In the case of learning photography, I can simply believe in myself. Having other people believe in me, like the people who left nice comments on Facebook about my previous post and who emailed words of encouragement, also helps.

I also do really well with having set goals. My goal to buy a nice camera for Valentine's Day has nothing to do with the issue of money, but more with the idea of making it really special for myself. I don't want to just decide to take up photography, immediately spend a bunch of money on a camera and then take it for granted. I want to plan for it, look forward to it and really appreciate it when the time comes.

In The Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin writes, "Because money permits a constant stream of luxuries and indulgences, it can take away their savor, and by permitting instant gratification, money shortcuts the happiness of anticipation. Scrimping, saving, imagining, planning, hoping — these stages enlarge the happiness we feel."

Also, I've decided to forgo a new laptop for a while. When I got my laptop "fixed" (it was never really broken...), a new laptop went from being a "need" to a "want." I want a nice camera more than I want or need a new laptop. I could have both, I suppose, but that just seems excessive. It's fun to have smarter, better, faster and stronger things, but the satisfaction of getting use out of something that's still useful is fun for me, too (see: periwinkle minivan, 17 years old and going strong).

As for the Valentine's Day timeline, that's just so I can have something to look forward to on Valentine's Day (sounds sad when I type it, but I assure you, it's not). I'm on an open-ended, self-imposed dating hiatus, which will have to be explained in a different post, since the long-story-short version is still a long story. I'm quite happy with the single life, so I won't mind spending V-Day alone, but it'll be even sweeter with a new, badass camera in my hands.

And what better day to start pursuing a "passion" than Valentine's Day? : )

Talent, passion and love, love, love

This morning I awoke to a very nice and unexpected email from Jesse Tarnoff, the extraordinarily talented filmmaker behind Sandbox Love. He had read my August post about weddings and wrote to thank me for the praise that I heaped upon his very praiseworthy wedding films.

Specifically, I had summed up the work of Sandbox Love in three words: "Gorgeous. Romantic. Stunning."

So then I thought, "Hey, not only is this guy crazy-talented, but he's also nice enough to send a thank-you email to some random girl who watches his videos! Awesome."

But there's another reason that I admire Jesse and the other folks at Sandbox Love: They are clearly doing what they love. They are doing meaningful work that will be treasured forever by these newlyweds and their families. And they are doing an amazing job.

I've been struggling a bit with figuring out what I'm passionate about and what I'm good at. After all, wise people say that the best career route you can take is to find something that you love to do and then find a way to get paid for it.

Chris Guillebeau says this about pursuing meaningful work: "The world is waiting for you to figure out what only you can contribute. Take as much time as you need to find the answer, and then get started on it."

I'm still working on figuring out what I can contribute. I find myself thinking of things I might like to do, whether for a future career or just a fun hobby, and then I feel paralyzed by self-doubt.

For instance, I've always liked photography. I enjoy whipping out my camera to capture bits of life that I'd like to keep around a little longer. But I worry that if I tried to take photography more seriously, perhaps by buying a more sophisticated camera and really learning how to use it well, I might find that I'm no good at it. And I have this odd feeling that since I've never taken a photography class, I'm somehow behind (but behind who?). And because I focused on writing in college, I feel like that skill defines me, and that you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

I know that no matter what I do, there will always be someone who is better at it than me. But I have to remember that just because someone is better at something doesn't mean that I can't be good at it, too. And as soon as I refer to myself as an "old dog" at 23, I know I'm being ridiculous, but I'm just being honest here.

Just yesterday, I read this encouraging piece of wisdom in Gretchen Rubin's book The Happiness Project: "Enthusiasm is more important to mastery than innate ability, it turns out, because the single most important element in developing an expertise is your willingness to practice."

It's obvious that Jesse and the other filmmakers of Sandbox Love have incredible raw talent, but on top of that, they must have spent years studying, practicing, observing others' work and developing a vision for the kind of films they want to produce. Being passionate and putting in the work is what really brings that initial talent alive.

Talent without passion is a dormant quality. It's like Play-Doh that forever stays shut inside the container. It has the potential to be so many things — anything, really — yet it will be none of those things if no one puts time and effort into shaping it.

Having potential is one thing; living up to it is another.

I may or may not have a natural talent for photography — I don't know — but if I can start pursuing it with passion, maybe that's just as good. It's certainly better than just thinking about it and doing nothing.

Back to Jesse Tarnoff, my inspiration for this post. He writes on his blog, "I have the best job in the world. I get to tell love stories." He's certainly found what only he can contribute to the world, and he does it so well. Check out a few of my favorite wedding films from Sandbox Love:


Dan + Danielle's Wedding Highlights from Sandbox Love on Vimeo.

Ahh, my current favorite. The Dashboard Confessional song is perfect. The best parts, in my opinion: All the shots that "peek" around corners; when Danielle rounds the corner of the stairs and her family cheers; the incredible dome of the church; the look in Dan's eyes as he watches Danielle walk down the aisle; her father telling them to keep each other safe and make each other laugh. (The fathers always kill me in these.)


Allison + Craig from Sandbox Love on Vimeo.

This one's probably my all-time favorite. Again, the songs are spot-on and perfect for the pre-wedding and post-wedding moods. Best parts: The entire thing. It looks like it was such a fun wedding! (Plus, the father's speech — again, it kills me!)

Check out the Sandbox Love Web site for more. And big thanks to Jesse for being awesome and giving me an inspirational boost without even knowing it. (And I was serious when I told you I'll be hiring you someday!)

The death and rebirth of a laptop

My laptop died in February while I was using it to refer to a recipe for lemon-thyme cakes. The good news was that I was able to complete the lemon-thyme cakes even after my laptop died, and they were delicious.

Then I stashed the laptop in the hall closet for eight months and pulled it out for the first time this morning.

I took it to the Apple Store to see if a Genius could figure out what was wrong with it. I had already paid several hundred dollars to get this laptop fixed in college — don't fall asleep with your laptop open on your lap, kids — and I really didn't want to pay to fix it again.

Plus, the laptop was filled to capacity and slooow as all heck. I just wanted to see if I could somehow get my photos, music and other files off of it so I could transfer them to the new laptop I'll be purchasing soon.

This is a friendly reminder to back up your files on an external hard drive, kids.

Can I just say here that the University Village Apple Store is kind of scary? It's giant, first of all, and there are approximately a million people in there at all times. There are employees running around with their eyes glued to iPhones and iPads. There are children bouncing around on beanbags. There are dogs. Why are there dogs?

I took my seat at the Genius Bar with trepidation. My Genius did not offer me a vodka-soda with lime, which is when I decided that this was the lamest bar I'd ever been to. But he seemed friendly and didn't scoff at my dirty white laptop that had clearly seen better days (2005 — a good year), so I settled in for a nice, long computer chat that I probably wouldn't understand.

First, the Genius plugged his own power adapter into my laptop. Then he turned it on. Wait, he turned it on?

"So... what's the problem with your laptop again?"

The problem was that my power adapter was bent a teeny, tiny bit out of shape and wouldn't charge the laptop enough to turn it on. This was clearly evident by simply looking at the adapter and remembering the time that I fell asleep with the laptop in my lap and it fell to the ground and broke and also bent the adapter out of shape. (Don't do this! Don't do this!) The bent adapter had worked for a while — if you turned it juuust right, which I became an expert at doing — but it had finally had enough in February.

It shouldn't take a genius to figure this out. In this case, it did.

My Genius tweaked my adapter for about five seconds and got it to work again. He was a gentleman and didn't even call me a big freakin' idiot for not realizing how simple the solution was. Then he assured me that no matter which Apple laptop I choose to buy next, it will be a million, trillion, gazillion times better than this gangster one that I'm typing on right now, even if I buy it stock, because this one may as well have been cobbled together by cavemen shortly after the wheel.

(I'm still going to buy a new laptop. In February, my net worth was thousands of dollars in the negative zone, and I didn't have a spare penny to toss into a well and wish for a new laptop. Since then I've waited and saved and waited to be able to afford a new laptop, one that's smarter, better, faster, stronger, one that has enough memory to hold the musical stylings of Daft Punk and Kanye West. I'm excited.)

I love my Genius. I want to marry him, or any one of those other Geniuses I spotted at that bar. My mom has always told me that any guy I meet at a bar is sure to be trouble, and she's actually been completely right, up until today.

Geniuses make miracles happen. Geniuses save lives.

Tequila shots that don't kill you will only make you stronger

What I failed to mention in my skydiving post was the violent ear-popping I experienced while hurtling through the air toward certain death. It didn't occur to me that this would happen, but in hindsight it makes perfect sense.

It didn't detract too much from the amazing overall experience, but I had a headache for the rest of the night. I was also completely exhausted — all the heart-racing anticipation, last-minute adrenaline pumping and insane flipping through the air while free-falling can do that to you. So I went to bed around 9:00 that night, content to sleep in and take it easy the following day.

Just kidding! I did go to bed early, but got up at 7 a.m. on Sunday to the sound of buckets of rain pounding the skylights above my bed. We had a 5K to run, people!

Don and I dressed for a theme we thought appropriate for the Fremont Oktoberfest Brew HA-HA 5K: partying! His subtle-yet-effective shirt is from the 70s; my "This Girl Can Party" shirt was purchased at the mall shortly before my 21st birthday specifically to make my mom cringe.

It totally worked.

It rained so violently the entire way to Fremont that we thought the 5K run/walk might morph into a swim/paddle. Luckily the storm subsided right as Don, my mom and I parked the car. God smiled on Fremont that day, and the sun even started shining later on as the beer garden festivities kicked off.

Don had been training for this 5K for months and left my mom and I behind right away, as expected (he finished in 28:15). I stuck with my mom until about two-thirds of the way through the race; then, at her vehement encouragement, I pulled ahead to finish on my own. She came in a mere two minutes (35:34) behind me.

There were several people dressed up in Oktoberfest outfits, plus a trio of true American patriots (crazy wigs, shorty American-flag shorts, cropped tops with beer bellies on full display). Then there was the very talented guy who dribbled two basketballs while running the entire 3.1 miles; the group of guys dressed like Ghostbusters; the guy who ran in a full polar-bear suit to raise awareness for... something; and the guy who ran only wearing a sheer, pink thong.

The front view of the latter was beyond horrifying. Watch this video and check him out 25 seconds in.

I was definitely not one of the top finishers, but I thought I had a decent time (33:32) for my first 5K and for sticking with my mom most of the way when I probably could have gone faster. I have not always liked to run, and in fact have hated it more often than I've enjoyed it, but this was a lot of fun. I'm already working on running faster for the next 5K (or two) that I'm planning to do near the end of October.

It ain't where you start, but where you end up! Which brings me to the tequila story.

Over the summer, I played on a softball team. I was also working out more than I ever had before and building up unprecedented strength and endurance (for me). I could do — get this! — an all-time personal best of four consecutive push-ups. I was pretty darn proud of that.

One evening, during a post-win celebration with the team at the Ravenna Alehouse, I was gifted with a few shots of tequila by a creepy nice man as a thank-you for getting out of his way as he played pool (I was sitting directly in the way of most of his shots). My enablers teammates encouraged me to accept these gifts, and I did.

I can get a bit competitive after a few drinks, and, in the great tradition of Festivus-style Feats of Strength, I have been known to challenge people to arm wrestling matches. Usually I challenge someone who is much, much stronger than me, with the full knowledge that I will lose. But everyone likes to pull for the underdog, right?

This evening in particular, I decided to challenge a much-stronger (i.e. male) teammate to a push-up competition. After all, I had four solid push-ups in my arsenal! How could I go wrong?

I shocked everyone, including myself, by knocking out 12 push-ups before I collapsed. My opponent not only kept going, but started doing one-handed push-ups just to rub it in.

Defeat aside, I've interpreted this event as irrefutable scientific evidence that tequila makes me 3X stronger. Obviously.

However, tequila is inherently evil, and I now refuse to drink it (or shots of any kind, actually). The stench alone is repulsive, and only bad things (or really fun things — but mostly bad) come of its consumption. Leo Babauta of Zen Habits even includes this fact on his list of 20 Things I Wish I Had Known When Starting Out in Life (item #18).

Instead, I've turned to a different method to improve my upper-body strength and my ability to do push-ups. Enter the One Hundred Push-ups training program. I found out about it — where else? — via the Art of Non-Conformity, where I read that Chris Guillebeau had managed to do 100 consecutive push-ups "by doing the final exercises in the Ulaan Bataar airport in Mongolia this summer, waiting to fly back to Korea."

Naturally.

My living room is a little less exotic than Ulaan Bataar, but it works just as well for doing push-ups. Before starting the program, I could only do three (with great, great effort). Now, at the end of week two, I can do eight solid push-ups. No tequila required!

I've got a long way to go until I reach 100 push-ups, but where you end up is much more important than where you start. And starting something is always much more effective than just thinking about it and doing nothing.

I don't want to be able to do 100 push-ups just for the bragging rights. I want to be able to 100 push-ups because it seems, to me, to be impossible.

I know from experience — from paying off my debt, for example — that once you accomplish something that you previously thought was impossible, the world becomes a much less scary, much more fun place to live.