Room for Error

 I have been guilty of experiencing what one could call a 'dissipating enthusiasm' these days. I come across interesting pieces that churn my creativity cycles and I spend the next few days heavily ideating and compiling thoughts only to let it sneakily slide out into the oblivion from the edges of my consciousness. Initially, I felt that it could have been a case of acute procrastination but the more I thought about it (pun intended), the more I felt that it has more to do with me not being passionate enough about the things I choose to do. 

I always thought I was passionate about writing. When I sit down to write, I mindlessly catharsise and then reading what I wrote makes me all 'hmm it's meh' and I keep reworking on it till the zest of the initial spark fizzles out. I wonder how many people feel this way. The strive to perfect something till you don't feel like doing it anymore. The other day I was going through cheesecake recipes on Youtube, like all independent adults do, and I decided it is time I bake one. I tagged along a very zen father-in-law to buy a cart load of stuff we did and didn't need for cheesecake. Upon reaching, I realised that the recipe needs what they call cream cheese (four blocks) and sour cream and a decent oven. I had one block of cream cheese, no sour cream, and just a microwave that doesn't allow to bake. Left with no choice, I put off baking for almost a week till I came across a similar recipe and behold! the sparks flew yet again. I decided to find substitutes for sour cream, found it, and became determined to bake, only to find myself with a cheesecake as flat as a chapatti (because one block of cream cheese, I didn't know!). My world came crashing down when my first attempt turned out the way it did. So the next time I conjured up the courage to bake again, I came to the conclusion that maybe I am not able to bake because I don't have the right tools and there again I went, caving in to Bezos' brainchild, buying measuring cups, lining papers, oil brush and spatula. I shall not go wrong this time, I thought. The cupcakes I made became cup biscuits basically and my morale went spiralling down yet again. 

As I write this to reflect where I went wrong, I feel that it is not that I didn't have the right tools to do what I wanted to do but it is because I was blaming external factors for my internal dilemma of not having a damn clue about what I wanted to do. I have always taken pride in knowing that I knew what I wanted to accomplish in my life. I have never experienced an identity crisis and neither did I go through a confusion regarding what profession I see myself in. It has always been education and teaching. These last two years of my doctoral study which I spent with me, myself, and my thoughts solely in front of my laptop and phone has been a massive jolt, to say the least. I could blame it on being asked to stick to the topic that I wasn't super keen on or making little progress owing to the pandemic or not having consistent supervision. Although the idea of research still enthrals me, it doesn't keep me on my toes as it has become just one more thing I need to just finish, no matter what, because it adds value and a 'Dr.' to my identity.

The dissipating enthusiasm I have been feeling has a lot to do with me believing that I am not a part of the mad rat race and still being a part of one, unknowingly. It does bother me that I am not able to give my best to what I went out to accomplish but this word 'accomplishment' is loaded with such pressure and expectations that merely the idea of not meeting that makes one feel like a rag doll, limp and meek. Perfection. Excellence. Ideal. All these words hold so much more prominence in our society than, say, 'Improvement', 'Better', or 'Work in Progress'. I want to be a work in progress. Becoming a better person, a better scholar, a better social worker, a better daughter, and a better teacher everyday rather than perfecting each day leaving no room for errors or oopsies. 

Perhaps once I make peace with this margin of error that I am allowed, I will be able to bake a better cheesecake and even write about it someday.