Go Big or Go Bust: Day 212 (on the unlikely path to my Oprah moment of surrender)

I've known for a while that I have to be beaten to a pulp before I give up.  And I have Good News.  In spite of my bull-like ability to dig in my heels and resist surrender, compounded by my oxen-like strength, everything seems to have shifted. 

Was it the no-see-um bugs who invaded my studio and brought me to a new level of gratitude for the little things in life like a bug-free bedroom?  Or was it the almost-nine divine hours of sleep last night which put a less desperate spin on the fact that Plan B seemed to be stalled-out-in-the-starting-gate if not in active implosion.  Whatever.  My forty-eight hour temper tantrum has dissipated like a morning mist.  I worked in a workman-like way all day and then dragged Mr. Green off to the swimming hole. 

After a vigorous swim upstream battling the current

After a vigorous swim upstream battling the current

We returned home to a surprise:  it's possible that, in surrender, I too had my Oprah moment.  No, Spielberg didn't call to offer me a part but I wasn't hoping for that.  Instead, I heard from someone who I'd figured was speaking for everyone in the industry in writing off The Louise Log  (and me) without the courtesy of even a rejection email.  He'd injured his back soon after our first exchange, had been loopy on heavy pain killers ever since and thought he'd emailed. 

I did see a bird near the house, this morning, with a vividly blue tail.  THE BLUEBIRD OF HAPPINESS??  Hmm.  Probably more like the no-see-ums of happiness. 

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 210 (When the multiple adrenaline surges finally wear off...)

I don't know what happened.  It finally hit me this morning.  Here I was all glowy, all OVER not making the final cut.

Maybe the multiple adrenaline surges finally wore off?  First there was seeing:  Episodic Lab!!  blazing in my inbox a full week early.  (without the italics and exclamation points...)  Then, the nicest-ever rejection letter.  And then the tidal wave of love from you.

I'm not generally depressive but woke up this morning in a black mood.  Very Soprano theme song.  Everything was gone.  Fortunately, you sent me links to watch and read, links about how to cope with rejection, about how to deal with an 'upper limit problem' and an Oprah video on surrrender (suggested by Louise Edington) which made me burst into tears and gave me the answer.  I have to let go AGAIN.  (Looking at You, Suzy Soro)  I have to surrender. 

So I hauled out the vacuum cleaner and threw myself into cleaning the house.  At first I was all (mournful) Skeeter Davis: "Don't theyyy know, it's the END of the world..."

This eventually shifted to chanting to a God I don't always believe exists:  "Please show me the way to use my talents."  which changed to:  "Could you just show me how to be happy!"  I felt willing.  I felt truly and totally surrendered.  What am I supposed to do?

Of course nothing happened.  And I didn't even take pleasure in doing a bang-up job of cleaning.  (Not to compare, but Oprah got a call from Spielberg offering her the part in The Color Purple the instant she surrendered.)   

Glum, with heavy feet, I pretended that I wasn't occasionally refreshing the mail on my phone and finished the job (except the bathrooms).  I decided that today is the day: it was almost 90º and I was going swimming.  I NEVER go swimming even though I love to swim.  Last summer I never even went ONCE.

So I put on a bathing suit and my cut-offs, got in the old Volvo and drove to the swimming hole.  I had a delicious swim against the current in a fast-moving river which did exactly NOTHING to change my mood.  I drove home, made a lettuce and tomato sandwich with a ton of Hellman's mayonnaise (protein) and trudged to my studio to write the blog of death. 

Almost immediately, on starting to write, the black mood lifted.  Oh and by the way, look what I found on the way to the studio. 

And look what I found on the way back to the house for a cup of tea.

You may not know that most of my childhood was spent on all-fours, eyes trained on the lawn, looking for 4-leaf clovers.  In decades of looking, I never found two in a day and never even imagined a 5-leaf clover.  Maybe things are looking up.