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| It's Officially Monday. Me: "No, no, I don't want to adult today. You can't make me!" Life: "Yes I can." Me: "I know." *********************************
Prompt: Motivational Monday! Musician David Bowie, born on this day in 1947, once said "All my big mistakes are when I try to second-guess or please an audience. My work is always stronger when I get very selfish about it." How true (or false) is this about your own writing? What's more important: pleasing yourself, or your audience? ********************************* Bowie and blogging on the same day!!! I'm fairly new to blogging. I've started blogs in the past, in which I've always inevitably stopped writing after one or two blog posts. Or else, I think and think, write a lame post, second guess it, ruminate it into the ground. Ultimately, I'd leave it sitting around in the dusty, forgotten ruins of an attempted blog, which would be visited, dusted-off, and abandoned again after once-more rehashing the very same process. And always the problem is this: I second guess myself. And, of course, nothing I do is ever good enough. At least not in my head. (Except sometimes when I find something crumpled up in the corner or shoved into a pile of old notebooks, read it over and go: Whoa... that's actually good.) That's 95% of why I joined this challenge. It gives me a daily aim (the hugest of thanks Fivesixer!) and regardless of whether I feel like it or not... Whether I feel like I have anything relevant to say or not... Whether I feel up to the challenge or not... Whether I feel like I have a right to have an opinion on something (which is crap because everyone has a right to an opinion even if that opinion is shyte) or worth being heard... I've committed to doing it. But, most importantly, I've committed to not necessarily giving a fuck about whether anyone likes my blog posts or not. Every day, I read the prompts, think about what I'd like to write, and get smacked down hard by a wave of self-doubt. Then I get the fuck back up. I think about it some more for a few hours... Then I write. Think about it for a few more hours... Acknowledge the bullshit in my head... Then I hit "publish" anyway. (Like right now, I'm going to stop compulsively editing - because I actually wrote this three hours ago.) Each night it gets easier. Each night I get more used to looking for an interesting angle in the prompt for the day - even if it's not something I'd otherwise consider interesting. Then I write it - whatever it is - in such a way that makes me happy. Then I put my thoughts (and by extension myself) out here (in this group) as they are. I'm really enjoying it. I can remember a time when I used to write like this: "The Fuck do I care what other people think?" Or rather: "Fuck it. That'd be funny." But I stopped (let's not rehash why). And it's nice to remember how that feels again. Not only do I think I've written (outside of academic stuff) more consistently over the past week than I have possibly in at least a year, I think I might actually have written more for myself over the past week than average as well. I actually get up and look forward to writing these posts. I'd probably caution that it may be well to put out one's blog to the right audience - whether it be intended to provoke discussion or just to be a safe place to put out one's thoughts. But I would say that's an "agreed" for my writing. I would print it out and stick it on the wall above my writing desk. Done. *****************************
[Embed For Use By Upgraded+] This is the first Foo Fighters song I can remember hearing... From the first CD I can remember personally owning. Though I may actually have bought it on the same day as Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. I remember going down to the Coconuts on 6th avenue and 8th street, the one that used to be across the street from the Barnes & Noble and Gray's Papaya. This was a year or two before I found the goth scene. Before I started hanging out at The Cube on Astor Pl. and trolling the shops on St. Marks. Before the recession decimated what was left of the already dwindling goth/punk/cyber scenes in the area and everything left got pushed out by fusion noodle bars and gourmet pizzerias cashing in on that East Village charm. I remember walking out of Coconuts - a pre-teen all starry eyed and feeling grown for being out late (like, 8pm or something and with a parent) - peeling off the wrapper, popping it into my god-awful brick of a CD player, and pressing play. I remember melting, drowning the good death, inhaling it, swallowing it ravenously, riding it the whole train ride home. Again and again on repeat. I recently listened to the album again (first time in a whiiiile) and much to my surprise Every. Single. Song. Still spoke to me. Many in different ways, some in the same ways but so much more. Some in ways I was too young and inexperienced to understand. Not every band retains its relevance year after year - even shifting and changing as you grow and experience more of life. With that said: holy shit it's been 17 years! Sucks that I have no one to go to their show with me this summer though  (Save Entry) |
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