Anger

I was angry before in the dorm- with my clothes and warm sheets piled on top of the springy bed cushion. I had dreams that were dynamic, disorienting, recollections of the day placed in settings that were real but amplified. I paced in the small space, one sock on one sock off, the sound of my room mate’s Chinese action films to the right of the room. When I sat down to draft the messages I felt some boiling heat that existed around my body’s peripheral space, an outline of red. Looking in-to the screen, I felt anger, not the obfuscating logical oblivion of temperamental rage, but a clarity in anger that felt objective-pure even (?). So I rode on this strange feeling for a while, not identifying it until now, just experiencing the strangeness, and taking the time to reveal to myself some of the similar feelings I’ve had in the past during this circumstance.

So I’ve already mentioned clarity. Next, merciless direct self-criticism. Imaginary ~If I was a government~ the bureaucracy of this brain allocates continuous and copious amounts of funding to confusing the heck out of its internal structures of moderation. The effect: a painfully detracting habit of avoiding sticky things. I’ll have to end the analogy here because I don’t know the governmental equivalent of it- a self-perpetuating cycle of incompetence! That might just be Peter’s Principle then. Avoiding having to deal with weaknesses exacerbates the habit of avoidance. It’s like I have giant mental cavities and I never ever brush or floss.

And then realizing the clarity and un-withholding state of mind, I sought to capitalize and write! The main barriers to writing, for me, are the two that were just ameliorated or mollified by the angry man in my dorm chair. I wasn’t taking time to clarify, or be “OCD” about every single selection. With writing being composed of several minute decisions one after another, being indecisive is tantamount to paralysis. Not that one should launch into your writing without a moment’s thought, but that sometimes it can be more important to get the thought down with un-choice selections then not get it down at all.

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So I’m still dealing with having to rewrite. Rewriting is against the “fragile perfect” grain I’ve been used to as a model for excellence. If you’d prepare beforehand, you wouldn’t have to do it again. I’ve got the before the scenes obsession down, and it takes me forever to put ink down, but not the rewriting part. Together they will take the worry of mistakes in the initial writing process, and strengthen research and revision. Help! *

 

*No final revision was given to this overall blog post.

was this the easy part?

A couple days back I laid down on my sister’s bed and showed a cheesy life-organizing tip I’d seen on Youtube. You can see the same video here. It’s just a silly map of the areas in your life you prioritize and want to improve on. They start off very basic and general (e.g. health) so it’s unequivocally agreed upon as an area in need of improvement- incredibly helpful for the indecisive/unsure of life passions person. Then the process is simply breaking down the area into smaller areas and then those areas into even smaller areas, until the action is suitable enough for a step-by-step to-do. So the point of the method is to transform complex, nebulous life goals into a singular and (hopefully) simplistic action. So I showed this to Susan with sheer jubilance- I had been on a motivational binge. Tangential info: I say I like self-help without the part where I actually help myself. Half goofy statement?  wp-1471241254228.jpegUnder the bubble labeled “Art” I had broken it down to a list of areas I wanted expertise in: painting, drawing, writing. With the first action under the general “Art” I wrote about spending 30 minutes a day blogging. After considering the other steps/areas in the sphere of art I noted to the side of this first step: “EASY!!” and wrote “difficult :(” next to improving my painting skills.

A lot of the times spending time thinking and planning a task ends up misplacing proper attention towards the accoutrements that might accompany the task. Instead of being optional aids to the task itself, they become surrogates for the initial purpose. It’s kind of like Instagram creating Stories, a secondary medium screwing over the first. I’ve realized these are some kind of comfort for me, a bracing mechanism for the torrent that is simple action-since my nature state seems to lodge itself in the murky realm of passivity in uncertainty. In a way I must create these barriers myself, brick walls that could otherwise just be open blue. And a breeze shakes through the cracks! That’s me right now, at 2:31 am in my university’s 24/7 computer lab. It’s a way to stave off my discomfort at being in another strange place in another week.

So I’m moving the stone. There are enough of me’s in this weird brain to me myself out of me enough to maybe me me into this-another me. And then the wind stops to open space still-on the edge of simple eruption. *

 

 

 

*I love dashes.