Oh yes, I have returned to the keyboard again because I have nothing going on today, and I’m tired of sitting around scrolling through Instagram.
I’m always thinking, all the time, incessantly. I’m hardly ever criticized by anyone, yet I imagine all the things that I perceive I should be criticized for, like this blog. How self-involved does someone have to be to broadcast their feelings and experiences across the internet, nearly every day, and then post the link wherever it can be seen? It’s like, “Awwww, my feelings.”
Although I have no clue where this post is going, and I had no intention of where I was going with it when I sat down, I must ask: Why do I imagine all of these negative things about what I do when no one has ever said anything to the effect of what I imagine? That’s so counterproductive. Luckily, it’s not enough to stop me from doing it. So here I am with my self-involved meditations on self. What else is there? Of course, I’m self-involved. Not only am I an American, I’m a millennial American. I’m a millennial American who has been in therapy and self-help programs for most of my adult life. It’s not just me; it’s culture. I have no idea how I could avoid being a product of that formula. It’s the perfect storm of self-involved navel-gazing, and the fact that I do it where social media can see it is just more on-brand with millennial American culture.
“I can do nothing for you but work on myself…you can do nothing for me but work on yourself!” ― Ram Dass, Be Here Now
That’s what art is; it’s a way to come to terms with what it’s like to be a human being in this world. I didn’t sit down with any idea what I was going to type, and that does a lot for me because it slows down the incessant thinking. If I were to imagine the desired outcome of all of it (the blog), it would be someone reading it and relating to something I said about my experience and thinking, “Hey, I know what that feels like.”
Someone responded to my last post with a positive comment about it being one of my best. And I’m sitting here with imaginary voices calling me self-involved. That is insane. This is another reason why I write: because my thinking is deeply problematic, but I can call it for what it is when I see it in front of me. The person encouraged me to return to AA so that I can use my experiences to be of service to others… That I’m still on the fence about. Not the being of service to others, the doing it in AA part.
I could tell you 100 people who have been of service to me, whom I have never met, and all they did was express themselves and their experience. My life has been saved by music more times than I could even consider. I don’t have any musical talent or ability, though. This is where my talents and abilities are, and the more I practice at it, the better it gets (for me, anyway).
Come on, you don’t think I take myself seriously enough to act like I blog about huffing air duster and Street Fighter to save lives and for anyone but myself? That’s not what I’m saying, but I do recognize the potential for the written word to be helpful to others. It’s a blog; it isn’t literature… But there wasn’t a free path to write literature from my web browser when I decided it was time to get writing again. Medium.com was there at that moment, and that’s what I’ve got. It’s like some of the best music that has enriched my life not being made by musical prodigies who were classically trained on the most expensive equipment available, with record labels backing them. It was people who worked with what they had at their disposal. It’s almost more meaningful that way, not that I don’t appreciate a musical genius with the best gear there is. Look at how much I love this new Peter Gabriel record, but also consider how much I love Minor Threat.
And now, I wonder if anything I’ve written this afternoon makes any sense at all. That’s up to the reader. These posts come in little bursts and tend to be 3 to 5-minute reads. Do I want to write a book? Yes, that’s the ultimate dream, but I operate in these little bursts. I suppose one could chain bursts together, and I did start a project like that, but I haven’t touched it in months.
I’ve never really known what I wanted out of life. I remember being jealous of people that figured something out. I think I have an idea now, though. I definitely know what I don’t want, just from living so many experiences that no one would want. I am going to take the risk of saying what I want, and maybe someone who believes all of that manifestation/vision board rubbish can tell me that I’m manifesting the personal reality I want for myself. I want to write. That’s what I want. I need to figure out ways that I can keep doing that. I’m going to move into an apartment in Queens that is going to have a little place where I can write, and I’m going to figure out a way to sustain the practice of writing. I am manifesting it.
OH, IT’S THAT TIME AGAIN:
for every blog reader’s favorite link, the one that helps with the fact that i’ve got about 7 dollars to my name. maybe you’d like to help with that:
pretty, please, i’m trying to manifest some snacks and a new vape.
