Angela Tung Oversharing on the internet since 2005.

As part of my experiment to try to be more conscious of my energy (which sounds so incredibly flaky), last week when I was feeling a lag in the afternoon, which I do every afternoon around 2:30 or 3, I took a walk.

My boss had told me about a rose garden just a couple of blocks from our building.  I had no idea such a place existed.  Sure enough, I looked it up and turns out there’s a whole park right near my workplace.

The weather had warmed up – a little too warm for my taste, which means about 80 degrees, which means I’ve become totally spoiled by Bay Area weather – and I tried to take my time walking over instead of speed walking like I usually do.  First I checked out the Japanese Garden, which while lovely was overrun with kids.  Then finally the roses:

Pretty! And they smelled good too.

I had also wanted to sit quietly, but the sun was too strong. So I made a round, then headed back.

Did I feel rejuvenated? Sure, and I’d do it again. But it was also a relief to get into air conditioning.

In other news, I worked out four times in a row this week! I haven’t done that since I started working. Monday I was working from home so I ran four miles in the early half of the morning. Tuesday I went after work for the first time. Seems ridiculous I haven’t done this before since my bus passes my gym. Wednesday ditto. Thursday after a much-needed haircut.

It feels great not to have to worry about working out again for the whole weekend, though I’ll probably do yoga today and something other weight-bearing exercise tomorrow. Hope I can keep this up!

It helps to remind myself there are specific accomplishments that make me happy – working out, eating right, and writing, even if just a little. Work, sleep, and chores take care of themselves. In other words, they are already habits. I still need to work on the first three.

I have a  bit of a phobia about driving.  Although I grew up in the suburbs, I was never eager to get my license.  I didn’t like not being able to see quite where the car ended.  I hated dealing with other drivers.

But then I took some lessons with a great teacher and I was psyched. “I love driving!” I announced to my parents after a particularly successful lesson.

I should have taken the test right after that, but my parents made me wait and practice more.  Practice with them.

A typical driving situation with my mother:

Mom, holding onto her seatbelt for dear life: “Slow down! SLOW DOWN! SLOW DOWN!!!”

Of course I was made even more nervous driving with either of my parents.  Once I got too close to side and ran over a gutter.  It was an accident.  I was inexperienced, but still my mother lost it like I had done it on purpose.

“My car!” she screamed to my father.  “She damaged my car!”

Since I went to college in Manhattan, not having my license wasn’t that big of a deal. In fact, many of my friends didn’t have theirs either, though they had the excuse of having grown up in a city.  I graduated, got a job, and moved to Boston, where I *still* didn’t need a license.  Ha, suckers! But not having one hung over my head, if only because my ex was obsessed about it, and people found it weird.

I went to China (where I *still* didn’t need to drive), and when I returned, I was determined to get my license.  I took lessons again, despite my ex’s insistence that I didn’t need them, and had another awesome teacher.  I gained back some confidence, used the same car I learned on for the test, and finally, FINALLY, got my license.

I was 27.

After that, I still didn’t love driving, and wanted to avoid it as much as possible.  This would have been easy if I had stayed single and lived in the city.  But I moved out to Westchester and married my ex, who expected me to drive much more than I did.  I tried – mostly to the grocery store – but not hard enough.  My non-drivingness was a point of contention to the bitter end.

So when I met MB and found out he also doesn’t like to drive, I was tremendously relieved.  We could be weird non-drivers together!  We could avoid the issue forever!

Till now.

Last week my workplace held a team building event, which involved batting cages, mini-golf, and go-karts.

Yes, go-karts, a smaller version of that thing I hate.

I thought I could get out of it.  “I’ll go play some arcade games,” I said.

No such luck.

I wasn’t nervous about flipping my car or anything like that.  What concerned me was being the slow poke that others got stuck behind. I imagined everyone’s cars lined up behind me, beeping and honking (although we didn’t have horns).

But I had nothing to worry about.  Somehow, luckily, I ended up being last.  Not on purpose.  I was busy getting our tokens and tickets together since I was the one who arranged the event.  Plus they make sure there’s enough of a buffer between drivers so that we wouldn’t catch up with each other.

Still, sitting in the car, I was anxious.  I could barely reach the pedals, but one of the guys noticed and gave me a cushion.  Much better!  I inched up with the others.  Then it was my turn.  Red. . .yellow. . .green. . .GO!

And you know what?  It was fun as hell.  I was pretty slow, especially on the turns, but I didn’t care.  Maybe the others were watching me, but I felt like I was alone.  The sun on my face, the wind in my hair, the roar of the motor in my ears.  Plus it was much easier than real driving – no traffic, no worries about cutting someone off or getting cut off, no pedestrians.

No mom nagging me that I was going too fast.

We did five laps, and I felt myself improving with each one.  Faster! faster! my brain said.  I definitely wasn’t fast, at least compared to the others, but I had no one stuck behind me either.

Now do I want to run out and start driving all the time?  Not necessarily, but I would totally drive go-karts again.

Last night I got an invitation to join some literary folks for dinner.  Not a big deal, right?

Wrong.

For someone as shy and neurotic as I am, just the idea meeting up with a bunch of people I don’t know – at least beyond Facebook profiles and online writings – puts the fear of God in me.  Will I make a fool of myself?  Will I say something stupid?  What about those uncomfortable silences?  What if they think I’m a total idiot? After I got the email, I sat there staring at it for a good minute, trying to decide what to do.

All the usual excuses went through my head.  I’m too tired.  I have to get up early the next day. Ghost Hunters is on.

Then I thought What Would Greg Do?  He’d do the scary thing, that’s what.  Before I could psych myself out, I sent a reply back saying I’d love to join them.

And after that, I felt great!  The uncertainty and indecision were gone.  Having dinner with some strangers wasn’t going to kill me.  In fact, it could only lead to good things.  I’d have some fun and interesting conversation.  I’d meet online colleagues in person.  I’d make some writerly contacts.

And of course all of those things happened.

I wasn’t even nervous beforehand.  It helped that I was totally distracted by being stuck in the WORST TRAFFIC JAM EVER on my bus ride home from the train station.  Obama was in town, in case you didn’t know, meeting with Silicon Valley bigwigs and fucking up my commute.

It took us literally 40 minutes to go from 3rd Street to 7th Street.  At that point, I said, “Fuck this shit,” got out and started walking.  Avoiding the Tenderloin, I walked up to 11th Street then turned onto Van Ness.  I was at McAllister when a bus pulled up just in time.

And guess what?  It was *my* bus.

GAH!!!

At least it could have been a faster bus.

My brother recently took up an experiment: do something scary every day for a year.  These scary things included talking to someone new (we’re both very shy), going to a party by himself, and telling his friends about his blog.

Then he did number 15: post an embarrassing video of himself on YouTube:

And he has become, for at least these 15 minutes, an internet sensation.

Over 100,000 views.  On the front page of Reddit.  Mentioned on The Daily What and Buzz Feed.

Holy crap.

It’s a hilarious video and really well-edited.  At times I thought, Is that my brother? Most of the time I was laughing. But more importantly I was thinking, I want to scare myself too.

I probably won’t be posting any videos of myself, but for the past several days, I’ve sort of been quietly keeping track of the “scary” things I’ve been doing.  When challenged or nervous about something, I’ve thought, Just do it, you can cross off the scary thing you have to do today. Here they are thus far.

3/16: Speak in a meeting. I have to do this three times a week, and every single time, I get nervous.  For some reason this time, thinking, This is my scary thing, made it less scary.

3/17: Be in the front and middle in yoga. I’m not as bad as I used to be, but I still prefer to be near the middle and hugging the wall or a pole.  On this day, it was either squeeze in the back, or head to the very front, smack in the middle.  Scary thing be damned!  Front middle it was.

3/18: Yell at large. Again, at work. We were in a meeting, trying to start, and people were still yakking. I yelled, “We’re starting now!” They didn’t listen, but at least I tried.

3/19: Let myself leave at the last minute. Normally, I’m anally early, but on Saturday, I let myself leave at the very last minute to meet MB at the airport. His flight was delayed, and I could have left sooner, but I waited till he texted me that he had taken off. And when he did, I wasn’t even ready yet, and usually I’m ready waaay beforehand. This time, I purposely waited, got the text, threw on my clothes, and ran out the door. Was still 30 minutes early though.

3/20: Play piano (not scales) at full-volume at a music store. MB and I visited a music store so that he could drool over the electronics. Bored, I fiddled with the synthesizers. I don’t usually play anything, mostly because all I can remember are scales, but that day I played an actual song. Well, part of a song, but at full volume. Then I wished I remembered more.

3/21: Question the boss. This was probably the scariest thing I’ve done so far. It was a small question, but I always worry about coming off as insubordinate or bitchy. Then I thought, Fuck it, the worst he can say is no. But he didn’t! Not entirely. We reached a compromise, which we wouldn’t have if I hadn’t asked.

(Ha, you know, my boss says, “How do you know when you’ve crossed the line? When you cross it.” Then hopefully you’re in good enough standing to reel it back in case you’ve gone too far.)

3/22: Be pushy. Rather than waiting, I went ahead and demanded of my brother, “Blogroll me!” Call me opportunistic. Of course I also linked his site – and wrote an entire post about it!

While I’m glad to have done these things, they’re small scary things.  What about big ones?  Like reading my work in public?  Or taking a cooking class?  Or (gulp!) a dancing class?  I’m not making any promises though.  Just some considerations.

Recently Amelia over at The Frisky wrote about giving up insecurity for Lent.  One of the commenters wrote that shouldn’t a sacrifice for Lent be something you like, such as chocolate, sex, or some other decadent indulgence.  I’d argue that in a sick way for some of us, insecurity is as indulgent as a carton of ice cream.

While insecurity feels terrible, in some ways it’s comforting. It’s that outfit we wear on our “fat” days. Those loose yet unflattering jeans.  That cozy ugly sweatshirt.  I’m fat anyway so I might as dress ugly!

Insecurity for me has been difficult to give up.  It’s easier to be insecure (I call it “shy”) and stay at home rather than put myself out there and meet new people.  I work myself into a tizzy about MB and other women because hey, it’s gonna happen sooner or later!  Who cares if MB loves me to death, wants me to have his babies, and has only been faithful?  Being stupid insecure and jealous is easier than being all OPEN and VULNERABLE and telling him how I feel!  Much safer to stew in the cozy juices of my low self-esteem rather than risk rejection.

And most of the time, that rejection is all in my own head. Or if it’s not, it’s not like I’m gonna DIE from rejection. Men go through it all the time. We women, in general, just aren’t used to it.

Insecurity has been my crutch for ages, and I love the idea of systematically giving it up.  I also love the specific steps Amelia lists, and which I have to remind myself of regularly, especially living in the moment, not stewing about an unhappiness (I’m the worst about that!), and telling myself to STFU when I start to spiral into a negativity nebula.

But chocolate?  No way I’m giving that up.