"I have no use for stupid pride."
A big blue sky dotted with clouds.
After not reading at all in December, I started the new year immersed in Japanese cozy fiction. I spent hours cozied up on the couch, and I later noticed that I highlighted line after line in a sweet little book called What You Are Looking For Is In The Library.
The book is a series of vignettes following five different characters within the same community. Their lives intersect around a central librarian, who gives them a gentle nudge toward their hopes and dreams — through a brief conversation, a few book recommendations, and a tiny felted gift. While the book offers an overly simplistic, almost magical way of overcoming problems, I loved the hope and optimism — two things I want more of in my life.
Most of my highlights were clustered in the 2nd vignette. This story follows 35-year-old Ryo, who dreams of quitting his office job so he can open an antique shop. He comes up with many reasons why he could never do this, so he feels envious and resentful when his 25-year-old girlfriend Hina launches her own online shop.
Near the end of the vignette, one line jumped off the page at me. Ryo is finally starting to take steps toward his dreams but is once again stopping himself with scary what-ifs. Hina says to him, “Say we did have to close the shop, it’s not going to harm anybody, is it? It just doesn’t look good, that’s all. I have no use for stupid pride, Ryo.”
I have no use for stupid pride.
It made me think: How many times have I talked myself out of doing something because of my stupid pride? I was reminded by how long it took me to leave my career in the insurance industry — I was trapped in my indecision for nearly a decade.
Because my pride didn’t want to make less money.
Because my pride didn’t want to start at “the bottom.”
Because my pride didn’t want people to think less of me.
I used to put off the things I wanted to do, in favour of goals that were viewed as “productive” or “impressive” by societal standards. Now I choose more carefully, using my inner compass as my guide. What do I truly want to do, regardless of what I think I should do or other people’s perceptions?
I used to set goals using the SMART criteria, shoving my intuition into a tiny bucket that was specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, and time-bound. Now I use what I’ve dubbed the ETF method to set my goals.
My goals are easy for me to accomplish. This doesn’t mean my goals aren’t a stretch (in 2023, my main goal was to finish my book) — but they are things I know I will be able to accomplish, provided I still want to do them. My goals are things within my control. I’m honest with myself, and I don’t hold myself to an impossible standard of perfection.
My goals are true-to-me — in other words, they are things I truly want to do. I give myself permission to change my mind partway through if my priorities shift. This doesn’t count as a failure. Instead, I view it as a success because I am listening to myself and being true to myself.
My goals are fun. I used to set a lot of goals related to traditional markers of success. I don’t do that anymore. If the main reason for my goal is “I think I should do this,” it’s probably not the right goal for me. I need to feel some energy, excitement, and enthusiasm around my goals.
[Sidenote: ETF also stands for exchange-traded fund, which is my financial investment of choice — so the acronym is a delight for a financial nerd like me to remember!]
This year, no big goals were calling to me. Instead, I set a bunch of ordinary life goals, which are all things I’m eager to do. If you’re curious about what I’ll be working on this year, here are my 2025 theme, goals, and practices.
This month’s reflective questions
If you could do anything at all — because you truly want to, not because you think you should or because of other people’s perceptions — what would you do? When you tune in deeply to yourself, what are some easy, true-to-you, fun goals that you want to work toward?
Wishing you a beautiful year ahead,
