That feeling where you’re never going to move on from where you are - pretty much there right now.
At least I’ve read some good books lately.
I’ve always thought I’ve been fairly good at conveying confidence. Whether it’s during an interview, in new, random situations, I at least put up a good facade. Which is what is essential anyway. If you can convince yourself of being able to overcome any obstacle, you’re halfway there.
But when it comes to writing free-form, I don’t know what happens. I, sometimes, find the angle I know is absolutely going to work, find the tale that can capture the reader’s imagination. But most of the time, if it’s not on deadline, I scrap it. I start and never finish. It’s not that I do not know how to rewrite material, I do that all the time. It happens for nearly every story I write.
But, usually, it’s because I have zero confidence that what I have written is anywhere near some form of quality.
I love playing video games. I’ve played hundreds, but can honestly only think of a few I’ve completely finished. Is it because my attention span reflects the notorious sputtering of our generation’s mindset? Or is it because I’m afraid of seeing something come to an end without it being perfect? I start characters over and over, trying new strategies, methods and it is satisfying. But I can’t shake the notion at some point, I’ve been careless in how I’ve developed.
I’m terrified of failure.
And I think that failure widens its borders to the point where anything less than excellence isn’t something I want to be associated with. I only take pride and joy in small pieces of my writing, of my life. Whenever I broaden the scope, I instantly find flaws with what I’ve done. Conditioning myself to believe everything is possible - artificially psyching myself up for any challenge - always brings me to a point where I don’t believe anymore. The effects wear off.
It’s why I’ve started hundreds of posts on here, intent on writing thousands on words on topics I feel incredibly strongly about. It’s why I scrapped 800 passionate words on what my father means to me and the relationship we’ve developed through sports on Father’s Day. Because once I got into it, I hated how I constructed the piece. It wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t going to capture how things truly are.
Which is maybe why it’s easier for me to write about others. I sit down with those I interview, 30 minutes, maybe sometimes a couple of hours. I can’t expect to discover who someone is in that time span, be able to write a thorough narrative of who they are. I can only hope to capture one angle. And while I still am rarely confident in how I’ve constructed who they are, I have the comfort of telling myself, ‘It wasn’t possible anyway.’
I don’t understand how so many people pour themselves out online. To complete strangers no less, and in ways I can tell are far from perfect. Or maybe that’s the idea, the frame our generation has constructed. We want to be something, just not the 1950s sitcom that shows the unrealism. But people take it too far, they throw words and ideas out like dandelion seeds, hoping something lands and finds a place to grow.
I can’t do that. I can’t put myself out there. And honestly, I think most other people my age - I’m 23 - are like that too. Which is why the whole dicotomy of baring yourself online and closing out others in real life is so perplexing.
I don’t where this post is going, and frankly do not care. I think I’ve stunted my growth in deleting pages of copy. I need something to look back and learn from. And maybe that’s why blogs are so popular, they remind us of our identity, or at least what we have fabricated.
where you have no plan after a certain point. It’s awesome not knowing what’s coming next. Although what could be more fun? It’s boring knowing where it’s all going. Or at least thinking you do. That may be the scariest thing of all - having it all planned out just to have it all crashing down.
Better just to fly by the seat of your pants.
About how I feel right now. Except there isn’t any Good Vibrations in the background.
It’s Monday. And I have several papers to write. What in the world could I possibly acheive by being up on tumblr instead. I have no ide.a
90+ percent of their population wiped out.
And they’re treated as childish, incompetent cartoons to our children.
SighÂ
(via dielikeasamurai)
