I do not know how to write, and yet I can tell you that is certainly my passion. The thing I would find myself doing if I were the only person on this planet. I would probably paint as well, but I have never felt truly at war with painting. I just buy a canvas and do it. It becomes something that I like every time. The next time I paint I like it better than the last one. It is magical.
When I write I over think. It is possible that dealing greatly with words produces so many words in my head at once that I cannot get all of what I wanted out fast enough and some of the words, perhaps the best words, just disappear. Lost in my brain to possibly resurface or stay hidden forever. I read a part of Hamlet when I was 12ish years old, and my teacher said something like "see, he over thinks everything and that is his fatal/tragic flaw" and 12ish year old me said "I do that too," and then I thought about that and felt guilty for comparing myself to a Shakespearean character. I told one of my friends, and she looked at me like Yeah Right. I literally thought and thought about how she looked at me.
I realized later that I thought a lot and talked a lot and it was possible that I did not always express myself in a way that made me look super intellectually. I speak and think from a place of emotion, and so when people disagree with me (whether they are aware of it or not) my feelings get hurt. I doubt myself.
I am 23 now, and I am sick of doubting myself. I still over think and talk uncontrollably about things that I myself do not always truly care about, BUT when I write it matters to me. And the loss of words due to the speed at which I think is probably a good thing. Garbage is naturally dumped. I will write and want to throw away plenty of my stuff, but I have learned to keep even the things that I think are crap. Also I have learned that sometimes I need to draw write in the middle of a writing session. I used to get angry at myself for doing this. I no longer do. I love to draw and doodle and write and doodle some more. I am creating something that requires both.
I recently posted 2 resolutions, and have already failed both. I have only applied for one job in the new year and I had my husband cut my the back of my hair on New Year's Day. Why? Well just before the New Year I had an interview with US bank. I had applied over two months before, and had done it out of fear. I had/ have no interest in working at a bank. It sounds dull and painful. I don't even like dealing with my own money let alone yours or anybody else's. I sat and participated in the most fake setting lying to these two haunchos about how I would love to do this job and take these crappy hours. I had interviewed previously with a hole in the wall coffee shop in the tiny town of Jacksonville and been told that the job was mine if I still wanted it but the position would not be mine until mid-January which is yet to arrive. I was afraid this Pony Espresso job would fall through. So when I got the interview with US bank I said Yes, I am interested, even though I wasn't at all.
I have worked in the coffee industry for about three years and never saw it as a career option. I still do not see it as a career. It is not my calling nor is banking. Writing is. If it wasn't I wouldn't feel so irritated when I wasn't writing. I sat in a Starbucks for a couple hours and got out maybe three pages, and I read too. I can't tell you the satisfaction I got from this little part of my day. Maybe I should buy a license plate frame that says "I'd rather be writing." I could own that.
I get my writing done in coffee shops a lot of the time. Not at a desk, in my bedroom, living room, kitchen, etc. In a coffee shop! I suddenly understand that maybe being a barista is not my calling. In fact, I got my younger brother a job with a coffee shop I used to work for, and he has already surpassed me in a lot of ways. He can put a rosetta on top of a latte and is better with cranky customers. But sometimes I just need to bang out some pages in a coffee shop. It's my writing home.
I forgive myself for making a resolution that I couldn't stick to. At the beginning of the New Year, my hair started looking mullet-esque so Matt chopped the back of it off. I don't care what my old hair dresser thinks about it. I don't want to apply for a bunch crappy jobs that I would be miserable working. I want to care about what I do. I will apply for jobs that call to my heart and I will cut my hair when it feels like a mullet. Most importantly I am going to Write and write for me, my heart, my passion, and my truth.
I won't put my writing into a category. I am just going to let it flow from my head to paper or computer screen and hope that, out of all of my many scrambled thoughts, the things that are important to me get put down somewhere!
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