I know this is dumb, but sometimes I just feel like I am unsuccessful. Maybe I hear about a friend who is going to be travelling; maybe I hear about this great job that just fits in with everything some other friend wants to do. I see other people socializing and having fun in other places...and I'm just back in my old neighborhood. Working on short stories I've barely even tried to publish. (I know, I need to work on that.)
OK. I know I shouldn't whine. I have many reasons to feel successful, and many reasons to feel lucky. Here are a few:
*I work in a museum (which is totally awesome, by the way).
*I am not traveling currently, but that doesn't mean I can't travel in the future.
*I have some wonderful friends, who are very supportive of me--even if they aren't right by.
*I have awesome friends who support my writing.
*I have been able to do some part time writing and editing, both of which are my passions.
When I graduated from high school, a friend of our family gave me a plaque with that whole bit entitled "Success." It's less of a poem and more of a guideline; but then, it's attributed to Emerson, but doesn't seem to necessarily have been written by him. Here's another site. (Is that irony, rearing its twisted head?) In any case--for those who may be feeling the unsuccessful blues--this is for you.
To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded.