Mile High

I'm at the airport, thinking the best thing I ever did was commit to a smart phone. I swear, I don't know how I lived without it! Okay, I do know. I was constantly strung out and waiting for my next fix of the internet. Now I get whatever I want, when I want it...It's a heady feeling.

I love flying. I hate airplanes. I build airplanes. I love building things, and I love my job. This is something of an awkward situation, but one made so much more awkward recently, when the following conversation took place in my living room:

Spiderman: /picks up Aviation For Women magazine off my coffee table
S: /flips through it
Lacey:/comes back from kitchen with wine. Sees what is transpiring and decides to nip that conversation in the bud
L: Oh, that. Right. I hate flying. Love the articles, but...shudder
S: Oh, I was just checking out the article on such and such thing that sounds really cool
L: /has no idea what Spiderman is talking about, as likes to pretend said magazine does not exist
L: So.../changes the subject...What are you up to this weekend?
S: Not much. Just flying some friends over the San Juans [in a Cessna]
L: /realizes now will never, ever be invited on an outing she didn't even know was *possible*
L: Crap.

And so goes my attempt to overpower my nemesis. He's a wily one, to be sure, and completely unpredictable. Who could've guessed he was secretly a small aircraft pilot? C'mon. Guys should come with decoder rings.

The best part is, I would totally go flying. I fly all the time. I am a 'fraidy cat, but if I stayed away from everything I'm afraid of, I'd never go anywhere! I'm a Travelocity VIP member, for goodness sakes. So why can't I keep my mouth shut? Or better yet, be able to predict the future?

Which ties in nicely to the point of this blog, actually. See, I'm a pretty determined person, and one day, I will be published in romantic fiction. But that time is not now, because right now, I'm focusing on losing 50 pounds. I think I got tired of working on problems I have no control over and needed a break.

In publishing, there's no guarantees. I can work my butt off for one year and get a six fig contract, or work for a dozen years and be grateful for $500. I can't control what happens to me, to a certain extent.

But if I work out consistently, I can predict the outcome. I will lose weight. I will look hot. And I will feel great about my hard work and accomplishment.

Spiderman? There's no telling what will happen there. It's just interesting enough to hold my attention without distracting me from my two primary goals: losing the author spread and kicking butt at work. So, with that in mind, I'll take my business class seat and raise you an aisle hike. And Spiderman? Well, we'll just have to find something a little less vertical to do :-)

YOUR TURN: What are you afraid of? When did you say something you really regretted? Do you ever choose projects based on potential for success? Have any advice for me and my friend Spiderman?