With an Eye on the Prize


Feeling Like a Winner


I occasionally buy lottery tickets, and I am a sucker for a good raffle. But I don’t consider myself a gambler. I have, however, been fascinated with the people who repeatedly enter contests and often win because of that regularity and their attention to detail over the fine print. It’s no fluke they win the boats, the cars, the dream vacations. Entering contests is more like a part-time job or maybe a full-time hobby. Still, they win fair and square. Novice as I am at their game, I decided to try my own luck.
    Several months ago, one of my favorite decorating magazines, House Beautiful, sponsored a contest for a home makeover in which participants wrote a one-page “insightful letter” about why their home should be chosen. Contestants were to include six photos of their home in support. The process sounded pretty simple and the prize rather swell. I was intrigued by the possibility of world-renowned decorators performing a facelift on my house.
    I took my time and came up with what I thought was an original angle, and I embraced the persuasive writing task. The more I wrote, the more excited I became at the prospect of winning. By the time I was done, I was convinced that I was the perfect candidate for their amazing offer.
    Next came the picture-taking—harder than I anticipated. I wanted the photos to be good, but not too good. They needed to convey my personal home decorating sensibilities, but they had to convince the judges the décor required their fresh eye. It was tricky. As I photographed my home, I suddenly realized how much I really liked it, how well it reflects my family and who we are. When I photographed one bathroom with its original pink tile from the 1950s and a swan etched on the frosted shower door, I was swept by a sense of protectiveness and loyalty. I then saw how attached I was to what I had so been willing to give up.
    I hadn’t even entered the contest, much less won, and I was already having a feeling of winner’s remorse. Go figure.
    Is this how others feel when excitement about a big change fades away? While redecorating a house isn’t that serious a life change, and there is no comparison in the emotions involved, one wonders how those who hastily quit a job, impulsively reconstruct their bodies or sell a house too fast must feel. Whether out of boredom, curiosity or the pursuit of some elusive element of happiness, how often do people conclude in retrospect that things weren’t so bad after all? 
    Change can be great and altogether necessary; it fosters personal growth. Even minor change can give a boost and fresh outlook. And yet there is something very attractive to us about the familiar. Making—or not making—changes is a leap of faith. The challenge is to know when to take action and when to sit back and relish the status quo. Contentment vs. progress? An age-old question.
    I decided to mail in the material for the makeover contest. I haven’t heard back yet, but whether I’m chosen or not, I’ll be thrilled either way. 

E-mail Gina Jaber at ginajab@yahoo.com