Failures and Life Lessons (the two are pretty much synonymous)

I've learned.

After a sudden burst of inspiration, I endeavored to write a short story in a time frame of 2-3 weeks...but I failed miserably. The daily going-ons of life made it so that this chunk of work, much like a large object being shoved into an overflowing suitcase, just did not fit. Persevering in an auspicious moment, I managed to write up an idea and the first part of a potential short story; however, there the line was drawn. There came time after time of almost-opportunities in which I hoped to write the story, but in every instance I was plagued by work that sprang from nowhere, school projects that appeared out of the blue, or various other unforeseen obstacles. In short: progress failed to be made. And with this came a bout of stagnation: one look at the "last published on" Blogger message told me everything I needed (and desperately feared) to know. Driven deeper by this inevitable sense of failure, I pushed back the deadline with excuses, farther and farther back. And progress still failed to be made.

But looking back at the successful poem of the first few months, a question sprang immediately into my mind. Where did that time I had found to work on the blog previously go? Had it miraculously disappeared? It is true that several sources of extra time consumption have been introduced since then (on which I tended to blame the stagnation), but it still did not add up. I remained constantly surprised by how much I had accomplished before. What happened? What changed?

And therein lied the issue. I realized, probably like countless others over the course of history, that the problem was in how I organized the work. As an indefinite number of 5-minute poetry lines, the work seemed negligible. For what is a couple of minutes in the day? But as the clump of work I had deemed the short story, it had ceased to be so. It was not short but infinitely long, an enormous project-like goal that I could never find the time for. I had always assumed that I wrote my best in a 2-hour-long typing session, but this was no longer possible or practical. And thus I resolve to break up the work, to divide and deci(or however many days)mate the work, to split up what was a vast unknown into smaller, more manageable fragment. And the funny thing is, this all sounds familiar. Perhaps this is what every teacher or advisor suggests. Amidst the flurry of speech, it is just a suggestion among a million others. But in the reality of the world, brushing past the chaos and the downfalls of daily life, it is the truth.

We've all learned.

In fact, we've learned so many things that it becomes hard to pick out one from the rest. But experience is the best impetus. So go implement it; I've saved you the painful experience. And in the future, as well as now, with the short story looming ahead more accomplishable and irresistible than ever, I shall too. For everything that is old was new, and everything that is new will be old someday. And in pursuit of that day,

I learn.