Fail better.
This Samuel Beckett quote jumped right at me and led me to question the circumstances of my departure and quick return to a city that is defining the end of my 20s.
Some friends had recently asked me how I am finding it back in a city of bright lights and hedonistic distractions. My replies have been a mixture of nonchalance (when I can't be bothered to explain) and philosophical self assessment (when I DO ask myself the same question). The short-term conclusion is that I've tried. Failed to make things happen, so I try again.
2nd time round, I have less to prove to others and more to prove to myself. A payrise and promotion are 1 year professional targets that I have defined and determined to achieve. A healthier and meaningful life, that I owe myself. A relationship that will finally work? That's on an all-time wish list.
If I do a scorecard at the end of 1 month, items 1 and 2 are right on track. I have re-found my motivation in work, despite the early hiccups. Established a rapport with the boss, improved on some processes and embracing more responsibilities.
Working out 3 times a week, eating more sensibly (I do retain some indulgence once a week though). I feel leaner and healthier, even the knee and ankle pain is diminishing.
Item 3 as always, seems depth apparent.
After all, you can only fail better. C'est la vie.
