According to AI Self-confidence refers to an individualโs trust in their abilities and judgment, allowing them to face daily challenges with resilience and optimism. Unlike self-efficacy, which is task-specific, self-confidence is a broader and more stable trait that reflects overall perceptions of capability. It is closely linked to self-esteem and self-worth, but while self-esteem focuses on how much you value yourself, self-confidence emphasizes your belief in your ability to succeed in various situations.
Raise your hand if have it. Speak out if you have some of it, keep reading if you’re like me, missing it now, but once you had it.
So where, why and what happened? I’ll go first: My last accomplishment was saving my home from foreclosure and selling it in 2025. What have I done lately? Packed up a home, moved to Southern California, found an apartment, and began searching for employment.
Full stop. After seventy-five resume submissions in six different categories, and recruiting websites, I listened to my nagging annoyance and said enough. I’ve been validated by articles about AI interfering with companies even seeing my resume, outdated job postings, and fraudsters.
Without a project, or employment, I can’t find my confidence. Rejection letters, unanswered emails, or no response at all is about as harmful as I can tolerate.
I took the next approach. I met a gentleman with a gallery. I looked up his gallery, and was impressed. The next time I met him, I said I was looking for a gallery I’m passionate about, and I would like to work for you, in sales and marketing.
He said, “Okay, you bring me buyers, I pay high commissions.”
In the last few weeks, adventures in livingness were spent troubleshooting a new laptop. The fourteen-year-old HP frame separated from the screen, the keyboard frame had a crack, copy and paste didn’t work, and something else I can’t recall.
As a born stubborn ( I think it thickened like my midriff) I continued to manage working and watching films with a screen at a 30 degree angle. I was in the middle of a film when the screen suddenly mutated into abstract forms with Chinese text scrawled, moving along.
The next day I chose an HP with a smaller screen (rationing dollars). When it arrived, I discovered the screen was too small, the speakers were muffled, and the text was overlapping when searching.
Back to browsing for a replacement. You’ve figured out that I am not an alpha beast, more like a bee buzzing around all the choices, reading reviews comparing Ram and something new called Razen.
The replacement arrived the next day. Yes, big screen for a writer, and sensitive eyeballs.
Four hours setting up 2-step verification, passwords, scanning codes, and formatting. I called my tech helper, and he walked me through a few steps,
” I can’t find my docs on the desktop.”
” What are the other choices in the drop-down?”
” Personal folder, home, gallery, and PC.”
” Look in personal folder,”
” There they are, all of them! How does that even happen?”
” Technology, now, if you want, I can email a link and get into your laptop, and we can go through the programs you’re not familiar with.”
” Evan, my eyes are bleeding. I need a break.”
” Of course, there is a lot to manage, that’s fine. Why don’t you navigate some on your own, and when you hit a wall, make a list of your questions. How does that sound?”
” Perfect. We also have to delete everything
from the HP I bought and am returning.”
“I can do that.”
“You’re better than the HP!”
Tech Tranquillity
248-429-9144
After a recess, I sat down and spent another four hours pushing through all the windows to see what was behind. What threw me is it did not come with MS Word! A writer without Word is like a musician without an instrument.
Obstacles seem to follow me from one task to another. The last few weeks were with PODS. My furniture, and all that other stuff, is in NY waiting for an address. Now I have one, so I started the process to transport. PODS added $850.00 to my originally agreed price because the drop-off point is eight miles from the original, and without prior notification, they charged my account. Over the past two weeks, I sent four emails. Then I recieved a response that they would honor the original agreed price. Another week passed, no credit. I sent a message to Corporate Headquarters, and today, I received an email that PODs would credit my account for the overage.
I remembered what I learned and took legal action against the mortgage servicer on my home in NY for mortgage misconduct. After three years of legal research, consulting every NY financial agency and mortgage consultants, I retained an expensive attorney, and two years later, it paid off.
Trickery is sneaking into every window in our lives. Put up your defensive drapes and fight it out.
After spending several summers at Saratoga Race Track, I discovered I loved thoroughbred horseracing. All my life, Iโve been a spectator of the performing arts. I never watch any sports on television, and I only attend baseball games when my father needs a companion. The art of performance is what led me to experience the racetrack as live theatre.
ย ย ย ย ย ย The racetrack is the stage, the jockeys’ are the actors, and the men and women who fill the bleachers, picnic grounds, Turf Club, and private boxes are the audience. The racehorse is the star celebrity.
The admission tickets, like any show, are based on your seating. You can walk through the gates for $3.00, or you can buy a Box for $100,000 a year. The collage of human emotions, drama, suspense, and danger, are key components to good theater.
Gambling personifies the Shakespearean twist of the racetrack. High rollers and drugstore cowboys wager to win. Some men walk out with a grocery cart of recycled cans, some walk out with enough money to buy a racehorse. They leave by the same gate, and the next day, they come back for more. But why, I ask, is thoroughbred racing not considered an all-around American sport? Why donโt jockeys get athletic respect? These two spheres of lightning truth struck me while I trampled through the mud, one rainy August day at Saratoga Racetrack.
I asked around for opinions. The Governorโs bodyguard remarked that it was a good question. He did not think gambling was the reason, because people bet on sports all the time. He thought maybe that it was because as kids we donโt learn to race horses, like baseball and football. “The public is naรฏve about Jockeys, because they have never raced.” Another answer I heard was that 200,000 fans fill a ballgame on any given day, and that those numbers donโt compare with horseracing.
ย Iโm not a bettor, and I donโt ride very well, but I am a drama whore. I took my notebook to the Jockeys’ room to ask the Jockeys’ what they thought about this irregularity in sports. Jose Santos had a few minutes to spare.
โJose, do you feel like America thinks of you as an athlete?โ
โWe donโt get the respect that we should. I think itโs the gambling. This is the greatest racetrack in America, and there is gambling in every sport, but when you come to the track, you see it right there, and people cannot avoid it. Pound for pound, we are more fit than most athletes.โ
I asked Jose what he does aside from riding. He jogs three miles every day, and walks for a mile. He reminded me that if he goes down with the horse, his strength is what gets him back up again. Another misconception is that jockeys only ride for 2 minutes. Well, the race is 2 minutes, but they ride every day of the year. They do not take breaks.
“How does the public perceive you?โ I asked.
โIn Europe they are treated like movie stars, over here the Jockey is just another person, and in sports, the Jockey is low. I wish we had more respect, but we donโt get the publicity.โ
This feels like the guts of the truth; our little minds like to align with other like minds. The leaders of the pack go to football and baseball, and the media follows behind.
Jose remarked that the only time he felt real enthusiasm and support was when he won the Triple Crown. Otherwise, they get a little column in the paper with the results. โThe Racing Form is 100 pages, and nothing is written about us.โ
โWhat if there was a Jockey Magazine?โ
โWell, that would be great, then the companies would be interested, and weโd get sponsors. When I go out to the park and run, I wear Nikes.โ He chuckled, and I lowered my head in shame. My bet is that this can, should, and will change.
There are reasons to quit and more reasons not to. The one reason that hovers above all is that everything we do in life needs revision. We are never through evolving into more thoughtful, loving, or wise human beings. Every day, there is an opportunity torevise your valor and conviction.
Revising the position you walk, talk, judge, form opinions, contribute to your home, friends, and partners. Discovering what you’ve learned, dreamed, and mastered is your novel. Just as writing a new chapter when the knot tightens, and you are trapped by decisions that are outdated. Antiquities of a former persona.
Changes in life are like undeveloped photographic images, blurred. Mentally, the angles donโt fit, like schedules, routines, and commitments. Returning to former lifestyles and looking at old photographs, what I see is someone else.
This week, I walked into Scripps Clinic for laboratory testing. The last time was 2012, when I was with a former boyfriend. J was all encompassing, all consuming, generous, intelligent, outgoing, and he had to be near me like a new pet. ย I lasted a year, the obsession of closeness suffocated my spirit and my writing.
After the appointment, I looked across the street at Torrey Pines Science & Research Park, where I was appointed Marketing and Leasing Director in 1986 over 150,000 square feet of vacant space. I visualized myself taking clients, Qualcomm, and the Jonas Salk Institute through the newly built office buildings. My confidence was slightly off when scientists asked questions about the mechanics and cable routes, but I loved that job. My boss was the most intelligent developer Iโd met; he carved me into a broad thinker, allowed my off-the-chart ideas and proposals to progress. ย Tears welled because the memory was enflamed by my long-distance running days up Torrey Pines hillside. I doubt Iโd be running today, maybe scuffling. ย Life is a runway that we have to steer for ourselves. If we allow others to take the wheel, we are not authentic. No one is steering my wheel, and I have hit a lot of potholes and assholes along the way.
The puzzle is how to live, where to live, and for whom. ย It is the same with manuscripts; they improve with each revision.
ADVENTURERS IN LIVINGNESS 