Snowflake Challenge 2022 #5: The Things Left Undone

[silveradept]

Challenge 5 asks us to consider the things that are not feasible for us right now, or perhaps not at all.

In your own space, talk about an idea you wish you had the time / talent / energy to do.

This is an interesting challenge to work with, because in previous years, before the pandemic and the widespread broadcast of things we knew to be true but could politely pretend didn't happen here, I would have probably lamented about things I wanted to do but felt I didn't (and wouldn't) have the skill to create. Art, for one, possibly also cosplay or podfic (because I might have a face for radio, after all). And while those are still all things that I might like to do, I recognize now that many of them require time investment, commitment to practicing the thing, and being willing to admit that it's going to be bad to start with and get better over time.

And, weirdly enough, having gotten time to think and having had to adjust from programming in person to programming online professionally, I've gotten a lot better about getting over myself and the worries that come with appearing perfect to others. Which itself has helped me get more towards peace at what I can and can't do, or at least toward understanding what I would need to do those things well. So, as they will always tell us, when things stop needing to be perfect, you start making more of them, and I've been doing a lot more drawing, being okay with what it is, rather than wishing it were something else, and letting other people see what I've been drawing, crafting, and creating for the programs that I've been doing. All it took to find my zen was an enforced pause and getting real and actual practice in an environment where the process was more important than the product.

I tried to do a fannish cross-stitch this year, and I couldn't quite wrap my head around how to do it based on the instructions provided, and felt additionally frustrated at the small size of the working space and the needle size. So maybe with a bigger canvas, and a needle threader, and probably a video or three demonstrating how to actually do the thing, I might succeed at the thing, but I wasn't able to do it with what I had, in the environment I was in. I'm not likely going to have the time, focus, or money to be able to draw the kinds of fanart that I see available at the merch tables of conventions, or to come up with some of the detailed and elaborate cosplay that I see at conventions. I could learn and practice at those things, but that would mean having to give up other things that are still currently fun for me.

I would like to have the seemingly legendary amounts of skill that some video game achievements demand of me, for streaks of winning online or defeating bullet hell or perfect play AIs or other people on their most difficult settings. Since I don't have that, and putting in the time to get those skills would be way less fun than I want to spend my time to "git gud," I want game designers to give us the option to opt out of online play and still get a full set of achievements, either by not requiring online play for any achievements or giving us the option to turn them all on at once. Either way, I definitely am not going to ever be that good.

I would like to record a podfic at some point, but I also know how difficult it is to find a quiet space and then to do all the editing required to produce something that sounds good enough to post. It also isn't helping that the thing I'm thinking of is doing, like, museum guide audio for a collection of artifacts associated with Steve Rogers. Like, can't you start with something simpler, self? (Nope.)

Truthfully, though, I'm doing what I can with the time I have. Just today, I'll be doing laundry, making sure I'm fed, going out to take a walk, making sure my open tabs don't try to consume me, possibly make some progress on regular projects and assignments, and do those things that require someone of mostly able body to do. For as much as media types want us to believe that there's a Great Resignation on, or people have made it to remote work, or to pretend that we're not still in the middle of a global public health crisis, the engine of capitalism still demands workers, and it demands workers in places where they can be surveilled, or in places where the public is free to abuse them or flout public health regulations, knowing that the workers who will be most affected by them don't have the backing of their managers and the corporate offices. So there's still no more time to do things than there was before, possibly even less so. To do one thing means not doing other things. And as much as I would love to be able to split myself so I can go to work with one part and stay home and do all the other creative and household things with the other, I can't, and so all the things I'm doing are things I have to or want to. Maybe that's weird, or maybe I'm lucky enough to really understand where my limits are and not try to go past them.

Comments

[vendettadays]

...all the things I'm doing are things I have to or want to — I feel this sentiment so strongly. Often it feels like more of my time is on the things I have to do over the want to do, and when it comes to the things I want to do, time is always the limiting factor until I'm back to doing the things I have to do again.

[silveradept]

I feel that, as well. So much of my time is spent on "have to" that "want to" is always time-limited. And there's always the possibility of some unexpected thing happening that becomes a have to and eats into the want to. I don't resent them, usually, when they stay spread out.