“A" for Effort

On the importance of doing things that aren't easy or immediate

Apr 14, 2025

For months now, I’ve had “hang office collage wall” on my to do list.

Sometime last summer, my partner and I decided to forego our guest room in order to separate our then-combined office and give ourselves each a room to call our own.

After going through the tetris-ing of moving furniture in and out of our rooms, finding a storage unit for our extra bed set, and rearranging the furniture in my new-to-me office a couple times, I settled in.

Hanging frames on the walls would be the near final piece of my office decor project. Months ago, I lay out my various artwork on the floor, shapeshifting the collection back and forth until it looked right to me. This is something I love about interior design—arranging things, be it furniture, art, a coffee table—has always felt both intuitive and enjoyable to me.

I had pretty much decided on my collage wall design, using existing frames that had been collecting dust on the floor of the closet for longer than I’d like to admit. But it didn’t feel quite right, my Iceland print drowning in a too-big frame my mom had given me as a hand-me-down.

So I left it to sit on my new office floor, slowly collecting more dust while our whiteboard scribbled with house projects continued to stare at me day after day, the stark black letters noting “office collage wall,” as if I’d forget about it!

When we gifted Pete’s parents a framing service for their artwork for Christmas, it was the motivation I needed to reframe two of my art prints into something more fitting (literally and figuratively) so I could finish the wall once and for all.

For someone who takes a while to make decisions, especially with purchases, I surprised myself at the speed with which I ordered two frames—it only took a weekend!

Once my newly framed prints arrived, I laid my collage out on my floor again, arranging them this way and that, even going so far as to take pictures of my walls and various art layouts and using Canva to scrappily “photoshop” them together so I could better visualize my different options. After some deliberation I landed on “the one” with the intention to hang them before my brother and his girlfriend came to visit a couple weeks later.

But alas, that didn’t happen and yet again I neatly tucked my frames into a little corner, where they would collect more dust for another month or so. This time I’d gone so far as to pile up the measuring tape, toolbox, and painter’s tape in anticipation of tools I’d need for my little project.

(I’m telling you, reader, I will do anything to make it feel like I’m making progress and to trick my mind into getting the damn thing done!)

The thing is, I'd been putting off this final step because I knew it wouldn’t be a quick task. Having hung a small collage wall in my living room when I first moved into my place a few years ago, I knew I was entirely capable of doing it myself. (I even recorded a time-lapse video in anticipation of my efforts to send to my dad, who was quite proud.)

But I also knew it would take time and energy.

Well that day FINALLY came yesterday, the rejuvenating feeling of spring and a free Saturday kicking me into gear.

The hardest part, as is often the case with many things in life, was getting started.

I threw on some tunes, rolled up my sleeves, and got to work. I’m nothing but methodical though, first taking a Magic Eraser to the wall to remove all the old scuff marks the previous owner had left there that I’d never before bothered with. Then measuring and taping out the rectangular area of my collage, followed by measuring and hanging each frame one at a time since they all varied in their hanging hardware.

I could see it coming together as I hung each piece, one by one, but it wasn’t until I emerged a couple hours later (somehow with a paper cut and tense trap to prove it), that the parts became a whole.

I stood back, admiring my handiwork like an artist would their canvas, and felt damn proud. The joy I feel when I walk into my office now, gazing at my wall, is immeasurable. I think, I did that!, and feel giddy with satisfaction.

It’s the feeling I get, that rush of dopamine, whenever I finish a project that takes physical labor. For as much as I love The Conscious Consumer, finishing a post doesn’t deliver that same satisfaction. It’s rewarding in its own right, don’t get me wrong, but not the same as doing something with my own two hands. Add to the fact that this one required problem solving (i.e. doing math and using logic to measure out the space accurately on my wall) and that’s why it feels so incredibly rewarding.

While I know from experience that this dopamine doesn’t last forever—we acclimate to our environment after all—I know it will keep delivering for a while.

This was a good reminder of the importance of doing things that require patience, persistence, and problem solving, or some combination of the three.

In this era of constant comfort and convenience, so rarely do we exert the effort to learn something new, use our brains to solve a problem, or use our hands to create something from start to finish.

The other weekend I took my boyfriend to a pinball museum for his birthday. The draw was that for the price of admission, you get unlimited free play on their 600+ pinball machines and arcade games.

I was surprised at how easily I got frustrated at not being able to get past the first level of Frogger or Donkey Kong, considering how much I’d played them both as a child. It felt like I should just be able to do it right away, relying on that muscle memory from my youth.

After a handful of failed tries, I’d get annoyed and walk away, finding something else that would be easier.

It’s only upon recalling this now that I realized I was in pursuit of that dopamine rush, that satisfaction of solving something. And with so many other games to distract, much like our device-filled daily lives, I simply wasn’t willing to put in the effort.

I took for granted how much time I put into getting good at those games as a kid. This wasn’t muscle memory you store like riding a bike; I earned those levels through hours of practice, fine-tuning Mario’s movements after each mistake I made.

That effort illusion is why I got so frustrated in the ceramics classes I took last year—that desire to be instantly good, to have it come naturally, to not have to work at it. Especially when those around me seemed to have it come easier to them.

But the fact of the matter is, good things take time and effort is rewarded.

That is why this writing practice feels good. While it may not entail physical effort or problem solving, it requires a heck of a lot of persistence. It is a craft that I am honing and practicing each time I do it, much like the video games of my youth.

I grew up in the "trophy kid” generation, the quintessential participation trophy a characteristic that some think made us millennials “soft.” But if there’s one thing our elders got right, it’s the intention behind that trophy, the importance of putting in the effort.

Something we could all benefit from reminding ourselves of when something feels harder than we’d like it to.

What’s something you’ve put effort into, maybe with your bare hands, that felt rewarding?

Or, what’s something you’ve thought about trying but are afraid of the effort it may take? (Consider this your sign to go try it! 🙃)

“A" for Effort

On the importance of doing things that aren't easy or immediate

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