Wax On, Fuck Off

To steal a title from a friend's great Fringe show: The Honeymoon Period Is Officially Over. This is the part where I want to quit. Let's say I try something new like, oh I don't know, roller derby. And let's say that when I try this new thing, I am moderately good at it from the start. This is good. This is encouraging. Then let's say someone else is impressed and points out that I am "really" good for someone who's never done said thing before. That's usually the point where my Ego jumps in and starts telling me that yeah, I am really good for someone who's never done this before. Maybe I've just discovered my life's purpose? Maybe I'm some kind of prodigy who will soon be wowing the world with her circus-like acrobatics in her one-woman reinterpretation of Starlight Express... you know, hypothetically speaking.

So the early ease with which something came to me, pushes me to try harder, but then that's when the real work begins and  my Ego jumps back in going "Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa. What the fuck is this? Why can't you just get it right away? What is wrong with you? Wow, you suck!"

Then I get more and more frustrated with myself, cursing my weak inner thighs that keep trying to close my knees in on each other, instead of staying open - because dammit, there goes my dream of being the James Bond villain who breaks men's next with her powerful abductors - and I just want to quit.

Because if I can't get it perfect on the first go then what's the point of trying, right?

Well, at least I'm self-aware enough to realize that's what I'm doing.