Here are just a few of the musings that have been running through my head recently, excerpted from my paper journal.
June 6, 2010
There’s no way out of this place I find myself but through it. Whether I stay or go, my mother will never be entirely happy with me. If I stayed, I would still not be living the life she wants me to. If I stay, it’s very likely that…I will not have come even close to living up to my potential. There’s nothing I can do to make her be at ease with my leaving. She will feel what she feels. That is her problem; that is something she will have to deal with. I cant’ change her feelings. The only person’s feelings, ultimately, that I can even begin to determine are my own.
June 7, 2010
…Oddly for me, I chose to check my horoscope on Beliefnet this morning. This stuck out in today’s horoscope: “…You cannot stop the wheels of progress. Sooner or later, you’ll need to take your foot off the brake and accustom yourself to the faster pace of your life.” Timely, much? Things are speeding up around here in the vein of moving on from this job and this place, whether I like, whether it’s comfortable or not, whether others like it or not.
Why am I so other-centric anyway? Why do I care so much about trying to make sure my family, my boss, and my friends are “okay” with everything? What is wrong with me that I’ve spent so much time trying to gain external validation? Of course, validation is something we all seem to crave, though I suppose I’ve taken it too far [at times]…
…Have I lost my creative self so completely that I don’t remember how to collage, paint or draw? Have I really lost anything in my ability to write, or is it willingness? I’m beginning to think it’s mostly a combination of two things: 1.) I don’t “show up” for art or writing, don’t take or make time; and 2.) I am afraid said art or writing won’t be “good” compared to others. Both of those are ridiculous, and nothing more than convenient excuses and crutches.
I can feel creative urges bubbling up. It’s summer. I’m facing some big, scary, life-altering decisions which, ironically, tend to shake loose all kinds of creative endeavors. I suppose it’s because the writing and the art become anchors and touchstones and release valves. They become means of escape from the planning and the worry. So, I suppose I’d better start showing up and stop worrying how my efforts’ products are compared to others.
To make space for the art and writing, I’m going back to taking one [post-work] weeknight and at least 8 hours of Sunday off the Internet.