and tell myself what I really need and what my motives are, I get this.
And then my brain feels really sheepish about it, like maybe it’s really lame and I’m incapable of mattering or doing things that matter. I think it’s just upset that it kept it hidden and in the shadows for so long, because it feels so scary to say it; and to name the things that drive me and have driven me since I went down that slide in the playground thinking I could be a hero like Balto when I was three.
Every night before I fall asleep (somewhat fitfully) for the last few days I’ve had a running scenario/monologue. This isn’t really new to me, but for some reason it’s been fairly consistent the last few days which is somewhat odd.
I’m a guest on my favorite podcast (nerdist) and we’re talking about something and it always goes back to how I haven’t been to college which leads to me then explaining in detail the scenario of why that is, which leads me to trying to figure out if it’s okay that I don’t have a degree or any formal education after high school. Besides the fact that job odds are ever stacked in the opposite of my favor as far as pay goes – which is for many other reasons than just college, admittedly.
I don’t even know that I think college would make me a better person. I’m basically making myself a job by doing art, web-development stuff, both producing and acting in separate web series(es?), and trying to be healthy/fit. As far as time goes, I constantly need to evaluate how I spend it, and I am doing really cool things with it (in my opinion). I know how to learn, and I’m good at learning.
Honestly, as much as I think about having a steady paying job for myself, I’m not actually looking for one, because I’m enjoying doing “Niche Shoppe job” with my time because of the loveliness of my husband (who enables me to do that, and I don’t take it for granted – I try not to, anyway).
But something in the back of my mind is always there. Things from my past that I haven’t rooted out yet. I feel like college would somehow be a culmination of an inner need to tell myself that I can do it, and I don’t have to be the person I thought I was “supposed” to be, and that I’m not turning into that (obviously, the person I thought I was “supposed” to be would look absolutely nothing like me, and she’d have bad hair).
But I don’t have the money. Or the time, frankly. As much as I would love to someday, and may make that a goal in the future, I have other things calling my name – establishing myself, and my series(es), and my art, and taking care of me, and proving to myself that just because I don’t clock in at 9 and out at 5 and don’t actually get a paycheck (yet?) that what I’m doing is just as relevant; and just because I occasionally work in a bathrobe and do things from the comfort of our apartment doesn’t mean that I’m the definition of a “housewife”.
Because I’m really not.
I’m looking at you, dinner.
And dishes, I hate you.
With a passion.
I wrote a letter a few weeks ago, to myself in the future. It’s not something I do out of habit, but one of my friends – a kindred soul – inspired me to try a few weeks ago. What I thought was going to be something I saved and read to myself 10 years from now, turned out to be something more powerful, and something more….real. As I slowly become brave in myself, and learn who I am {becoming} and who I want to be…I find that deep down, the answers have been there all along, voices just waiting to be heard – beats meant to be danced to.
I feel almost as self conscious writing this, as I did when I wrote the letter.
Dear beautiful champion,Your bravery, heart, and imagination inspire. Your strength, love, and passion help people you don’t even see. Your grace and empathy makes you safe for people to come to and discover that it’s okay to be themselves, as you are yourself. Your journey, your pain, your path, and your discovery are all important, while hard, parts of your journey and your story. You wouldn’t be who you are without the painful and sad pieces, because those enable you to understand what other people are incapable of imagining.
You beautiful, strong, compassionate champion – may feel lost at times, but don’t let that stop you from your journey – your journey to be and become and realize your full potential, you who truly are. Never stop growing, dear one – you are more important than you realize.
I saw this book at work after the fundraiser, and knew I just had to buy it. The title alone completely grabbed my attention and I can’t wait to delve into September’s world.
But the title.
The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making. Just resonates.
I don’t know why, but it just feels empowering, I feel braver, stronger and capable somehow just looking at the name.
Maybe it’s because inside I yearn to be that, and I have occasional moments of feeling it. Lately, for instance, I’ve been feeling a bit more confident and glancing over the last year, I’ve become more brave, more myself, at least on the inside even if I haven’t shown it much publicly. But I want to.
In 2012 I’m going to continue my journey to me. I’m going to try to be more of the person I am and want to be inside myself. I want to reinvent, to be new and real. I want to continue to remove the layers of masks that have been my image and my persona in the past and get to the truth of who I am, the me that I once knew and abandoned . A friend of mine has been writing about words for the year, and how she wants to be unafraid. I’ve sort of stumbled upon mine…Aletheia.
An anonymous card I received recently was signed as that. Which, according to wikipedia…
Aletheia (ἀλήθεια) is a Greek word variously translated as “unclosedness”, “unconcealedness”, “disclosure” or “truth“. The literal meaning of the word ἀ–λήθεια is “the state of not being hidden; the state of being evident” and it also implies sincerity, as well as factuality or reality.
I’ve been thinking about that lately, and how it uncannily describes me right now, what I crave to discover and to become. A journey I’ve started and continue to travel. So in 2012, the year I turn 21 (and no one can make fun of me for not being 21 anymore – score!) I want to become aletheia bravely, and unashamedly me.
I want to be the girl who circumnavigated her world in a ship of her own making, and I think I’m closer to that than I ever have been.
I get lost in my own little world sometimes. Thoughts jump from one topic and phrase to the next in a high speed chase while I keep my hands busy and let my brain work itself out. I did that today, while deep cleaning my kitchen in a race against the two loads of laundry I had going. I let my thoughts fade in and out of reality – sometimes paying complete attention to the music on my phone and others getting lost in the swirls of brown goop from cleaning the stove, so that it was nearly invisible.
Of course, I couldn’t actually tell you what I was thinking about, because I don’t remember more than bits, and not in any way that makes sense. But I enjoyed the process of cleaning and losing myself to whatever world my thoughts took me into. I think that helps me clean sometimes, being able to bounce my attention between music and cleaning and thoughts while still doing the same thing and racing the clock.
When I was driving this weekend I let the oranges of the leaves on the trees through the hills seep into my mind as I created a world (that looked suspiciously like something from Dr. Seuss) full of color and breezes and bubbles. The plant outside the restaurant was swaying to the music from inside.
And I had a really weird brainstorm on a comic, which seemed brilliant in the fog of just waking up…it’s lame now.
I’m getting better at letting myself go and not hold back – at least, inside the confines and safety of my own mind. I accidentally tried a new painting technique as I got lost in the texture and how the paint and the palette knife acted against the canvas.
Getting lost.
has become so much…easier as I’ve learned to let myself just be. By repeating over and over the things my soul needs to hear and keeping words on mirrors. Getting lost makes me come alive.