Yesterday I had a nice talk with my nemesis, whom I haven't seen in a while. She said that she'd given herself permission to not skate for a month & as soon as she did that, she didn't not want to skate anymore; so she worked some things out, and there she was.
I'm leery of giving myself permission, because I worry about being too permissive with myself. But I remind myself that it's the way of the world that it's the people who possibly don't have anything to worry about who do, and the people who probably do who don't. And if you're worried about having the wisdom to know the difference, it's the same as being the kind of guy who always thinks that girls are into you or who never thinks that girls are into you: you just push yourself a little bit toward being the other kind.
For me, it's not skating but writing that I might need permission from. Maybe even not that I need permission from writing, but that I need permission to do some housekeeping around here. The windows have to be covered with plastic for winter, and the refrigerator could stand to be cleaned. And also, fall is rife with holidays: I have to make my Halloween costume, I'm going to WFTDA Nationals in November and to Michigan for Thanksgiving, and probably having a nervous breakdown for Christmas. Though if I set my permissions correctly, I could maybe have peace on earth instead—
