Sunday, 4 January 2015

The Eternal Crisis

Sometimes I struggle to form one coherent sentence encapsulating how I'm feeling and what I'm thinking. It gets to a maddeningly frustrating stage where I feel my brain overheating and nothing makes sense or sounds eloquent or possesses any originality and that drives me insane because I know I have interesting things in my brain but sometimes I just can't seem to put them down. I understand the importance of keeping a personal diary as a form of therapy but I just can't seem to find my consistency with it. In fact, that seems to be the problem with a whole lot of my endeavours. I'm not a routine person. I like to do what I want, when I want without that much structure. Sure, I'm very Type A when it comes to making to-do lists and ensuring everything is done well before its deadline (except for stupid Tudor essays that I had 2 weeks to do yet put off for the day before our first day back) but when it comes to writing something every night or making sure I do a little art every few weeks or so, that's just not how I roll. And I want to change that. I know that 99% of this problem is my inability to distance myself from the internet sometimes. And I wish I was wasting time so I can at least be justified in yelling at myself but I'm just constantly consuming things. Watching new things. Reading new things. Learning new things. Listening to new things. And that means, by the time it's 10 PM and I still feel like so much is bottled up, I let it out in a frantic blog post that makes approximately no sense. I crave completing the cycle of consumer --> producer and back again because I feel like I am responding to the billions of stimuli I'm harassed by daily and I want to express it in so many ways but everything has been before and there is no way I can do it better. And of course, because I'm a preposterously ludicrous and irrational perfectionist sometimes, I refuse to do the thing altogether because what's the point if it's not going to be brilliant. And that leads to the bottling up and the going crazy because even if what I have to say has been said by every other whiny seventeen year old on the internet, where the s h * t is the reason to not do it again anyways??????????????

I'm extremely impatient when it comes to consistency as well. If I'm not seeing immediate results or feeling immediate relief, then I just lose all motivation to continue which entirely defies the point of any personal change or individual goals I set because everything takes time to manifest into the image I have in my head of the ideal outcome of the regular writing or the regular working out or the regular "no phones before bed". I'm just in such a goddamn rush and I don't want to be. I try to slow things down and just savour every moment for what it's worth. Take in the people around me, the way they speak or the way they touch their hair when they're nervous or the way they bite their lips and you know exactly what's going through their mind because it's what's going through yours. I want to be able to just pace myself because I know I've romanticised the next couple of years to be everything I've ever wanted out of life and I know that I'm 11 months away from 18 and if I keep focusing on that then these days will fly past and I'll get there and think, well wow, time's not going to slow down for me right now. And I know it is far too early for me to be concerned about time running out or life passing me by but that's the scariest part about it, you don't know it's happening. It's silent and it creeps into your life and one day you're not feeling the things you used to and the next you've lost touch with so many significant people in your life and everytime you see their name somewhere or stumble across a memory of them you think about reconciling but that call never gets made and that message never gets sent.

I am incredibly self aware and sometimes it scares me because particularities are enjoyable and sometimes even exquisite but right now there are too many of them running through my thought parade and making everything so loud that I can't even hear myself think over the sound of my own thoughts. Which, granted, makes no sense whatsoever but that's the point. I know that this may not be the best platform to do this on, maybe I should be writing this down elsewhere or whatever but I'm not finding an issue with that. Many say that sometimes one should write or make art simply for the sake of that and that alone, not for a public viewing and that doesn't conflict with me writing here because I'm not working on building a following nor am I even bothered about that. I just want to put things here, in one space, where I can talk about whatever is bothering me and be as vague and elusive as I want to be without the ridiculously condescending moment where I sit down, pen in hand and try to write a 20 line entry in my 2015 agenda that by the 5th line doesn't capture the essence of my vibes on that day at all. It's frustrating to consider yourself to be a pretty decent writer in the sense that even if what you write isn't the ideal perception of Good Writing, at least you can complete a piece of text and not have to think twice about whether that's the one because you've just been honest and raw, when in actuality you find yourself at a loss for words staring at the scrawls on the page that mean nothing to you at a l l. Sometimes I want to scream at myself for somethings I write and just say "I don't care" but other times I think that yet still think, you know what, it's still worth documenting this little bit of thought process. Nothing wrong with sounding like a cliche, which in reference to this post title is what I mean by The Eternal Crisis of Originality and Otherwise. There we go, I should just write a goddamn book about that instead of all this.

Reading through this now, I guess I'm just afraid of failing and never accomplishing the stage of true self-actualisation and self-transcendence. I suppose those are things like learning, for example, that just never ends. One never stops learning long after they leave high school or uni or whatever form of punishment you have chosen for yourself and maybe this is just a long-term goal that never gets checked off the to-do list. Maybe that's why it drives me crazy. I just can't see the finish line with some of my goals and "dreams", if you will. And I need that, almost as a reassurance? I'm not unconfident about my abilities, at least not as much as I could be, but I know for a fact that I struggle when I feel like I'm not doing everything I could be doing. I'm constantly beating my conscience and my brain up for taking some downtime or refusing to function adequately or just thinking things that interfere with the flow of things that could be simple if I didn't have to be so intricate in every thought or emotion or concept I felt manifesting in my Brain Box. The word "brain" is probably used more times in this post than in a goddamn biology text book, I'm sorry. Well that's that, I guess. These are my favorite things to write when by the end I'm understanding things about myself that I didn't know beforehand. I just wish I didn't start writing a couple of decent posts only to delete them a few hours of word vomit later. That's just demoralising because I can imagine writing a few pages by hand of my honest thoughts and then crumpling it up and putting it in the bin but somehow pressing that little delete button on my laptop hurts a little more. Because I had an empty page with the flickering little line staring at me from underneath the other tabs and taunting me for a solid 6 hours only to end it with 1 hour of typing and 2 hours of mental complaint about why I can't seem to wRITE ANYTHING That MaKEs SEeEeEeeeNSE.

Ah 2015 bring me some inspiration, I am begging you.

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