PFL Update and upcoming posts!

I have SO MANY THINGS to write about!  Here's the news, first: there is now a page dedicated to this project!  Click on the tab up at the top entitled "Project Fear Less" to see all the posts made so far, along with summaries of what happened.  This will be updated regularly, as well as helping me keep track of how many I've done so I can plan big ones for the major numbers.

And the upcoming posts:

1. (Design And) Build A Couch
2. Throw A Party
3. Go On A Date (it happened a while ago but I still need to write about it!)
4. (Keep) Get(ting) Back To People (this one's never really done because then they write back and I have to reply again!  which is not a bad thing!  but it might get removed)
5. Pose Nude For An Artist

Yep.  You read that last one right.  It was definitely the scariest one on the list.  And...short version: it's awesome.

Comments: give me suggestions for more things to do!

-N

Project Fear Less: Artes Marciales, part 2

Alternate title: "I Was Told There Would Be Shovels"

So as I mentioned in the last post, I found a place that teaches ninjitsu (and also Brazilian jiu-jitsu) and loved it to death.  Oddly enough, I've since found out that this was the same place frequented by Colin's bestie Sean, who inadvertently inspired me to start this whole project way back when and is now gallivanting around Switzerland Europe in its entirety, eating all of its food and jumping on random things.  Small, small world.

But.  This same place is also the home to a group of friendly but insane shaven-headed men in BDUs and boots who are said to wield shovels with utter abandon.  In less cryptic terms, there is a Systema class that meets in the space, and I tried it out.  That's the first official scary thing in this post: Try A New (And Entirely Unfamiliar) Martial Art.

Project Fear Less: Artes Marciales, part 1

When you start coming into work with a lot (and I do mean a LOT) of random bruises, the sweet little Mexican grill cook ladies will worry about you very much, and ask who hurt you so they can hurt them.  And so you will have to find out how to say "martial arts" in Spanish, so they stop worrying, but then they will shake their heads and roll their eyes and cluck at you for being so loca.  Until the butcher makes a stupid joke to his wife and they all shriek and grab you to show them interesting ways to make him apologize.  (Don't worry, various senseis who might be reading this blog...or whatever the correct plural form of "sensei" is.  I didn't show them anything that'll leave lasting damage.  Just some bruises on the sternum at worst).

Project Fear Less: Flirt Back, i.e. The Origami Whale Story

So as you might have noticed if you keep up with this blog, I'm fairly recently single. I'm not about to get into the shitstorm that is discussing exactly why that happened, but it suffices to say for now that I've got a lot of reconfiguration to do in the manner that I interact with people. Specifically, I need to retrain myself to know that it's ok to engage people (especially attractive people) in conversation without a specific work- or school-based reason to do so. And it's ok to smile at people who smile at me, and laugh at their jokes and make jokes of my own. And, basically, it's ok to FLIRT.

Flirting always used to scare the crap out of me. Before I was in the two serious relationships that took up the past 5-and-a-bit years of my life (whiskey tango foxtrot), I'd always resort to the tomboy-joking-with-the-guys style of flirting. Which is to say, I swaggered and made dirty jokes and displayed my apparently uncommon interest in watching other people play video games (I honestly like it, I swear!) to the max. And also sometimes wore tight shirts. Sorry, Mama. But yeah. I never seemed to get the hang of the giggling and the cuteness and the outright flirtation that other girls had all perfected in high school, when I was busy making A-pluses on everything and running around in the woods lighting fires and not having any friends. But I digress.

Project Fear Less: Talk To My Neighbors

This is kind of a mini-deal (which is part of the reason it's getting put up quickly on a Friday night.  Got something a little more interesting for tomorrow).  I'm not completely terrified of talking to new people as I was in my teen years, but especially when I have to initiate it, the butterflies can come out.  It's really an exercise in how quickly my internal and initial nervousness can catch up with the outward projection of being cheerful and confident.  And the more I practice, the better my reaction time gets.

SIDE NOTE: It's a damn shame that there does not seem to be a single video on Youtube with the clip of "I Whistle A Happy Tune" from the movie of The King And I, because it's totally apt and I was intending to put it here.  Oh, well.  Just imagine it.

But anyways.  So I moved into my new apartment, which (thank god) already had all the utilities running...except for internet.  For a few days, I tried to make it work by solely using my phone for all interwubby stuff, but there's just something about the tackita-tackita of the keyboard when writing anything longer than a few sentences that make all the difference.  That, and the fact that I fail at learning how to successfully use the Blogger app with just my right thumb.

But when I turn on the wireless capability on my laptop, a whole new world appears in the form of a forest of wifis.  There are the normal incomprehensible strings of letters and numbers; some slightly more recognizable names and common words, and then...oh, and then.  "Pretty Fly, For A Wifi" pops out.  And also "Narnia."  And...be still my heart..."GrrArg" (major supremo bonus points of you get that one).  It suffices to say that my neighbors (or at least several of them) seem pretty damn awesome.

So I get back one night.  Everyone seems to be home, including my most immediate neighbor in the complex.  I need to do homework and the coffeeshop around the corner is closing soon.  It's time.

My next door neighbor's name is Brett.  He has an enormous and adorable dog named Indie and likes Ohio sports teams because both of his parents are from there.  He changes his wifi password just to let me use it (sadly, his is not GrrArg).  I don't know if we'll become superbestestfriendsever, but we smile and chat with each other every time we're both outside.  It's not too bad.

Next step: invite my neighbors to the Housewarming And Soup Party I'm holding in a few weeks.  It's going to be just about as epic as soup can be.

-N

Project Fear Less: Go Dancing Alone

There's a lot going on in my gritty little town.  It's a bit of a shame that I've grown up here, but never really developed a healthy night life, because there are so many interesting events and locales to visit.  Not among the least of these are the amazing hullaballoos organized by the Triangle Swing Dance Society.  Basically, it's literally tons of people of all levels of swing dance ability who congregate to have absolutely ridiculous amounts of fun dancing and learning and meeting people.  Problem is, when it's 6pm on a Saturday night and the dance starts at 7 and you can't really think of anyone to call who would actually come with you...it's a little bit of a stretch to work up the nerves to just freaking go already, and damn the torpedoes.  So...that's what I did.  Minus the torpedoes.

More pics after the jump!

Project Fear Less: To-Do List

So...yeah.  This blogging deal tends to lose preference when placed next to midterms, moving, dealing with bleargh and generally pretty much all other types of taking care of bidness.  So when I disappear from the interwubs for a while, it's probably because I have other life too, and it's getting in the way.  But hhhhhanyways...

via

There have been a lot, and I mean a LOT, of things that have happened to me since I wrote last that definitely fall under the project criteria.  And for some reason I just keep on forgetting to putting off writing about them.  So, without further ado, here's a semi-comprehensive list of all the things in recent memory that I really, really need to glue my ass to the chair and write about in detail, because they are making me more awesome.