Fear is the mindkiller

(yes, I read sci-fi)

This is it. This is my year.

I've always felt fear, loneliness, never fitted in, been defensive, been negative, been too smart, not pretty enough, not likeable, too sarcastic, too sharp.

I can't do anything about how other people percieve me. I can do something about myself.

I'm not going to turn over a new leaf and suddenly become soft. That's not me and I made myself tremendously unhappy by trying to conform to someone else's image of how I should be (Protip: if your partner says you are emasculating them by making decisions, tell them that unless your decisions actually involve their gonads, you're not emasculating them. Also tell them that they're dumped and run far, FAR away) But I will try to stop being defensive. Before making a sharp remark, I'll think "Is this kind?"

I will stop letting fear prevent me from committing to movement. I am a force of nature and nothing can stop me except for me. And I won't let myself do that anymore.

Fear is the mindkiller.

The yearning void inside

Nothing is ever enough. I always want more. From myself, from other people, from everything. I don't know how to stop this ravenous hunger inside. And yet, at the same time, I don't want to burden other people with being needy.

I can see why people drink and take drugs. Because maybe, somewhere, there's something that will stop me from feeling this.

It should be noted:

This is the place where I come to explore emotions. It's not me: you will never know my job, my location or other details of my life.

On the other hand, this is me. Naked, unadorned except for my own pretentiousness. Self-doubt, anxiety and insecurity, we have a triple special special on today.

It started out as what I call my "emo blog of emo woe". But sometimes I'm up and sometimes I'm down. I struggle with depression, get irritated and am ecstatically happy for no reason.

I'm human.

I don't think before I post but I refuse to delete, either.

Welcome

There's this disconnect

Between the emotions that I can show and the scorching rage that's inside of me. We live in a disposable society that pays lip service to the idea of equality while demonstrating that you better not actually be different.

You have to be: interested in boys, interested in sex, interested in fashion, the right sex for your gender, fitting an externally imposed idea of feminity where you shave your legs, accept that your body is wrong because it doesn't match with an unrealistic ideal, accept that other people have more right to your body than you have to say no, chin up, smile, nice tits, sit with your knees together, ladies don't, be happy, be nice.

Be nice.

This is the bullshit you put on me and you want me to be nice.

I telll you what: you don't hurt me and I won't hurt you. When you tell me that I'm wrong for being myself, that hurts me. I'm going to tell you that you're a moron.

Be NICE

Dedication to a creative life

As evidenced by the long silence here, it's hard. My fickle heart constantly shifts my priorities and the banks that I thought were so stable that I could build on them turn out to be shifting sand underneath my feet.

The worst thing is that I do this to myself.

I don't know how to be otherwise. If this is me, would not doing this, even if I hate it, be not-me? I am driven by a constant need to reach out and yet I am absurdly, paranoidly protective of my innermost self.

Hence the exposing of my deepest inadequacies in public on a completely anonymous blog. *rueful handwave* I like self-excoriation, obviously.

Growing up is hard

There are three bits of wisdom that I've worked all my life to realise. Do you want to know what they are?

1. Life is random. While this is awe-inspiring and wonderful, this occasionally means that it isn't fair.

2. Actions have consequences.

3. It's not always about me. Not even most of the time.

I always have to fight against my inner two-year old. I want to stamp my feet and say that "It's not fair!"

I'd also like an army of people rushing after me to clear up my mistakes, but that aint going to happen. What does happen is that I learn.

Slowly and painfully. I don't want to. I want to be rescued. I want the prince/ss to swoop in on a white horse and take me away so that I never have to deal. I never have to clean up after myself and face the consequences of my failure.

And then I thought--"but what if I didn't?" What if I just dropped things that I'd broken, went further into debt, abandoned relationships where I'd hurt people and moved through the world like a bulldozer, leaving wreckage in my wake?

Then I realised--To hurt is human. So is to be hurt. Eventually, even in this world of limitless resources, if I stopped at the first sign of wear I'd run out of shiny new things and people to play with.

I believe that cracks can accentuate the beauty. That we're not born unique, but we become so through experience. That nothing and no one is entirely disposable.

I still want my prince or princess on a white horse. But that's mostly because white (sorry--grey!) horses are awesome.

I'm thinking about the concepts of real life. Versus what--imaginary life? Our thoughts are formed by our imaginations. Our thoughts are formed by our identities. I am female. I am queer. I am special. I am a musician. I don't know how others think--it's part of the separateness I've talked about before that we can never really connect, only try.

By imaginary lives, I don't mean fantasy lives although that is informed by our imaginations. It's also formed by our real lives as well: largely by the frustrations thereof. I've had to deal with a moronic client who just doesn't get it today? Tonight I'm going to dream about rehearsing with my band and actually getting the songs right.

It's possibly sad that I'm so prosaic that my mind goes to the nitty-gritty of my dreams rather than the big "moments". But doesn't that make me more likely to achieve if I go after things? I really, really don't mind the hours of practice, it's just finding the time to do them.

The question is not whether androids dream of electric sheep, but whether the practical and down-to-earth can be satisfied with dreaming large dreams. I'm finding that the answer is no. Others may dream of bright lights and wild cheers but I keep on breaking it down to lighting designs and venue capacities. My large dreams are made up of small increments.