I’m going to be in an art show on September 19th. That may seem like plenty of time to get ready,but like anything you feel is really important, there’s never enough time. I’m washing gourds and sanding and cutting and burning and coloring and…trying not to panic.
I always get this creepy feeling as I get closer to any show that somewhere along the way they put a check by my name when they meant to check someone else…and they are going to be horrified when I set up…and people are going to walk by my tent and not even notice me….and I’m not going to sell anything…and everyone is going to know I shouldn’t be there with REAL artists.
I feel the same way about my writing. Deep down inside, I think it’s good. But when it comes time to submit…I either do semething stupid (like not edit properly) or pansy out at the last minute. If people tell me something I’ve written is good, I feel validated for a minute or two. The I wonder when they are going to realize I am shit.
OK, so the point of this is to say that I am struggling with the demons in my head who have been trying to convince me all my life that I am worthless…and they succeeded for most of it. I decided, after my last relationship failed so spectacularly that I had to act, that I would make my life worth something to ME. I love to make art, I love to write, I love to hike and spend time in the woods. I will never have a relationship with man again, but I will have a relationshiup with myself. FINALLY.
So, this post is about self actualization, friends. If you aren’t as old as I am (and I’m not telling) then don’t wait. If you are lucky enough to have a great relationship good for you-but what are you doing for yourself? And if you aren’t in a great relationship, why not build the one with yourself?
And BRADY! You have taken time to comment on this lame little blog even when you are obviously having a much worse time getting through the days than I can ever lay claim to. I hope that didnt sound too pitying or anything-I’m not like that. I think you are battling demons with the best you’ve got and I salute you.
Keep writing and stay in touch with me. I miss you and your bad boy wit.
That’s it. No prose or poetry today-I must get back to washing and sanding and burning and coloring!
I have to say, I feel that way a lot of the time myself. That I’m just faking it, that nobody really wants to read or listen to my stories, that it’s all a big mistake, and sometimes no amount of praise can counteract it.
But I’ve learned the answer to that feeling, and any other thing that seems to want to make me stop: