You’re here! There’s a lot of things out there you could choose to read, so it’s pretty neat that you’re reading the inaugural (and potentially final) edition of Trash Day. Let’s be honest, this series isn’t exactly the high brow, upper crust of society content you’re into. That’s what you’re into, right? You seem like the kind of person with great intellect and great hair.
Every Monday night I drag cans over cracked covered concrete and in the morning, I pass by all the houses on my street, their own green bins hugging the curb. The whole neighborhood joins in this shared ritual and every week it serves a reminder to me that we’re all just full of shit.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that we all have to take out our trash if we want to live cleaner lives. Our negative thoughts, our preconceived notions, our shame, our fear, or our pride. A cleaner life being one that’s less bogged down by all of the aforementioned burdens.
My hope for this series is that it will serve as an accountability partner to my own process of becoming a better, more loving, more courageous person. Or maybe I’m a narcissist who just likes hearing the sound of her own written voice. I’ll let you be the judge of that.
Buckle in for some real trash talk. Sorry, I couldn’t resist.
A Pair of Pears
Happy Trash Day, or as you may call it: Tuesday.
So, what are we tossing out this week?
Two old pears that have been sitting on my kitchen counter, day after day, week after week after week (that’s three, just to really drive the point home). Over the course of those 21 fateful days I watched them turn from underripe, to perfectly ripe, and finally ending at some sort of mush-brown situation. I am not proud of this. Aside from the obvious food waste issue and the fact that my roommate also had to look at rotting fruit and perhaps wondered if I would ever throw them away, my enemy in this moment was my own misconceptions about time and opportunity.
Time is finite. Someone really smart probably would disagree and say sciency words that prove their point but for the sake of my own argument, time is finite–or at least the lifespan of edible fruit is. I wasted that opportunity because I convinced myself I had longer to act. My own indecision on whether or not to eat the pears, to bake them or to blend them into a smoothie (that’s a lie actually, I don’t own a blender) was crippling me from enjoying them at all. Putting something off in the hopes that you will magically wake up one day better equipped to (in this instance) cook with pears just means that I’ll never give myself the opportunity to fail OR succeed. My fear of failure directly correlates to any lack of success I might experience.
The most convenient real life example of this sentiment is the very thing you’re reading. The content you have chosen to consume would never have existed if I hadn’t overcome a fear that I am not good enough. That you will shut your computers or exit out of this blog the moment you read the first sentence. So, how did I pluck up the courage to write and share this with the masses (5 of you)?
It all comes back to pears, time, and opportunity. I have been thinking about starting a series called Trash Day for months, but lacking a sense of urgency and a worry that everyone will hate it, I did nothing.
As I finally said goodbye to the pears forever, I realized what a waste it was. Yes, a waste of a food item I paid for but in a more metaphorical sense, I was wasting my good idea (or what I consider to be a good idea). No one will write Trash Day for me. My own excitement and the joy I find in writing this series will inevitably fade over time. Creative energy needs an outlet, and if I don’t jump on my ideas then my creative energy will move on a fixate on something else. The logical realizations that the pears taught me about time and opportunity were the tools I used to quiet my fear. I will never be a better writer if I don’t write. I will never act without trying to gain others’ approval if I don’t start practicing doing it. I will never enjoy the pears less than if I didn’t eat them at all.
Just like the pears, the lifespan of my fear has come to an end. I am choosing to act. To become someone who jumps into action not because other people will like it, but because I am the only one who can turn my creativity into something tangible.
Here I am, willing myself to listen to the wise reminders of time and opportunity. Sharing this with the world and challenging myself to keep doing it. Weekly? I hope so. Will I beat myself up if I miss a day or run out of things to say? Nope. I’ll just remind myself that good ideas come and go and the goal is to grab them before they pass you by.
What is rotting away in the fruit bowl of your life?
Once you figure it out, let’s tie up our bag, toss it in the can, and drag it to the curb.
You’ve rummaged through my trash, so feel free to comment below what you’re throwing out.
An eye for an eye so to speak.
Your Trashiest Friend,
B
