There are times I get excited about something and I act without thought of consequence. For example, I'll get a craving for oreos, and the initial fervor of excitement inevitably leads to despair:
Delirious with brilliant idea of Eating All the Oreos, I'll (1) run out of the apartment like a maniac to the corner store just barely making the time or effort to don publicly non-shaming pants, (2) nearly injure the sweet, soft-spoken, elderly Chinese Harry* of Harry's Fine Foods and Frozen Meats by blinding flinging money at his head like he's a first world problem, (3) tear open the package and wolf down half of it in a flurry of wafers and creme that would make the Cookie Monster blush, and finally, (4) bottom out from the sugar/adrenaline rush and hold myself in fetal position on the couch until the shame and stomachache subside.
This pattern holds throughout nearly every other area to which I've applied it: getting way too excited about a new workout and training so hard, so fast that I pull a muscle and never do it again. Boldly buying a shirt outside of my stylistic comfort zone, wearing it once with uncertainty, then letting it collect dust and mope with old pairs of jeans, forgotten in the back of the closet. The Adkins Diet (a terrible, traumatizing week during which I was denied my beloved fruit). I start strong and invigorated by the promise of - a smokin' body in 2 weeks? A new signature look? Ketosis? - and finish weak, if I even finish at all.
So many bright, shiny prospects leading to unsatisfying, if not downright dismal results. This has taught me patience. I am rarely impulsive; I weigh and measure and methodically examine my choices so that I can do everything in my power to prevent failure when I do make them. But I realized that no matter how much I plan and scheme, no matter how much I try not to let excitement get the best of me, sometimes my choices won't work out. I can't prepare for things beyond my control, and maybe I shouldn't let fear of failure extinguish the excitement. Maybe I should let my heart override my head when the choice is worth it, because the problem with so many exciting Beginnings is that they just weren't the right ones in the first place.
This time, I was impulsive. I was excited. And I still am.
On June 26, I will be starting my first course toward TESOL certification. I registered within 72 hours of discovering the program existed, and I'm still reeling from how quickly I moved to enroll. I chanced upon TESOL in a pivotal moment and something clicked. I didn't let myself get too excited at first, but it wasn't a frenzied, Oreo-score excitement; this was - is - a resonating, steady kind of slow-current excitement that tells me I'm doing the right thing.
So I'm excited. Anxious, a little nervous, and overwhelmed with day-to-day realities, but I'm excited for the right reasons. Plus I get to buy a new spiral-bound notebook, which makes me all giddy with first-day-of-school thrills. It'll be nice to have Adam to keep my head screwed on tight; after much discussion, he enrolled in the same program - apparently this excitement is contagious - and maybe this time next year, we'll be off on some grand adventure, like language-peddling Hobbits.
But for now, this course will be adventure enough.
I can't wait.
*While I can confirm that he is indeed sweet, soft-spoken, elderly, and Chinese, I cannot confirm that his name is in fact Harry. He owns (and lives in the apartment above) our corner store called "Harry's Fine Foods and Frozen Meats," so we just call him Harry and he is polite enough not to correct us if that isn't his actual name. And polite enough not to laugh when I'm buying Red Vines and ginger ale in my pajamas.