It’s been a wild month, and not in a good way. I’m lost, and I’m trying to find my way. Again.
I’ve been at this for about a year, and it’s been fun. Twice I’ve deleted this blog, once more at blogspot. I’d do it again, except the powers that be won’t let me. [Thank you kindly, you’re irreplaceable ((you))] Doesn’t mean I should be here, or have anything to say here, just means they won’t let me leave.
Writing isn’t usually very hard for me. It’s a part of who I am, like breathing or steelwool hair. But lately, it’s been hard. Really hard. And I finally admitted that I don’t like hard. I’m lazy. Nothing i’m proud of, just a fact. I like to take the easy way out. The cheapest, shortest, quickest route. The one that needs least effort.
But I’m also a pretty driven person, so I have to justify my shortcuts. I have to be convinced that it’s philosophically and cosmically right, that my easy way out has some predestined place in the order of the universe, otherwise I can’t do it.
I have to be 100% sure that there is a divine reason for me to be in that chochoro, otherwise I’ll take the long way round, or sit on the spot if I’m too tired to walk. It helps that I always have a notebook, novel, music, or a daydream to keep me busy while I sit idly at the shortcut.
I was reading the Friday Nation, and Kamau Mutunga was writing about how hard it is to get words on paper. That made me feel silly. Coz most days I get the blank paper and the words flow out. And if they don’t, then I find some excuse to get away from the paper. My most popular excuse is ‘when i force stuff, it doesn’t work. It has to come naturally’. That’s served me well so far.
But lately I’ve been in a pseudo-depression. Lost interest in everything from rock music to ice cream – apparently, I’m lactose intolerant. I’m even losing weight [yay, the silver lining!!] But I refuse to give up dairy, even if it kills me.
I know that I really need to snap out of it. My usual remedy is to just keep myself distracted, binge on vanilla, and wait for it to tire and go. Not working too good this time, so I figure I need to go proactive. I want to start with writing, my grace.
I read in a Dean Koontz that every human being has a certain grace, a thing that God gave them to make the world better. For some people it’s a smile, you know, those people who smile at you, even if you’ve never met them, and suddenly you feel warm all over? Some people’s grace is genius, or music, or in Brother Odd’s case, light fluffy pancakes. My grace is my writing, so it’s as good a place to start snapping as any.
But now I need to [cliche alert!] decolonize my mind. I need to find that place inside that is about grace, not profit. That place where passion exists for passion’s sake. Right now, i have no idea where that is.
I keep telling myself that I don’t struggle at stuff because I want it to flow, to come naturally. But I finally accept it’s a hoax. I’ve been refusing to try because I’m afraid to fail. I’ve found a million legitimate reasons to stop myself, when all along it’s just old fashioned cowardice.
They say you can’t win if you don’t try, but the thing is, if you don’t try, you can’t lose either. The world asks why not, but mostly, I just ask why. They say ‘what if’, and I respond, ‘if’. And I need to stop, for the sake of my own sanity.
A bunch of times I’ve started to post in my head and got stuck at the third word. Then i’ve stopped, coz nobody will read it. Coz I don’t want my name on something substandard, so I’d rather have my name on nothing at all.
Money makes the world go round. It drives everybody. I’m not really a money person, but I enjoy the things it can buy. And there’s an awful lot of things that I want to buy. So I want to work to make money, but that’s shallow, and when I’m shallow, my mind freezes up. So I have to somehow work for money without thinking that I’m working for money.
Somebody made me a brilliant offer, an amazing offer. Then somebody else took it away. And that showed me what matters, what I want, what I need. I just didn’t know how to get there, coz it needs that one thing I don’t want to need – cash.
It’s pretty frustrating to know what you want but not know how to get it. It’s more frustrating to know what you need, know how to get it, but not want to try. i need to want to try.
My whole life i have resisted trying. I’ve never done anything unless it felt right or came to me effortlessly. I never studied for exams. I figured if I couldn’t pass it on my own knowledge then it wasn’t worth doing. I almost laughed at people who chopped, I convinced myself I was better than them and smarter than them coz I could do it effortlessly. And so I disappointed a lot of people for not doing as well as I should.
I never wrote unless I was inspired, unless the words flowed out. i never talked to anyone unless I felt like it, I never did anything unless the mood was right. A voice in my head is saying that the way it should, be, that I shouldn’t conform, that shouldn’t be like everyone else. And I don’t want to be. I don’t want to fit the mould. After all, eccentricity is all the rage, even if it’s just hyper-selfishness with a weird haircut.
But some things are important to me, some things are worth doing, whether i feel like it or not. Things like earning a living, or feeding my passion. Those are things worth struggling for, worth fighting for, and I think it’s about time I snapped out of it and found the fight in me. I know it’s in here, somewhere.