Rebel Rebel

Some weeks, ideas pile up against each other like enthusiastic puppies in their haste to get out. Other weeks, their ebb seems devastatingly final. I may never really come to terms with this cyclic nature of creativity, this manic-depressive supply of words. The puppy weeks are amazing, of course. I am able! My life has meaning! I will never run out of things worth saying! But then the next week swoops in like a Dementor and I am incapable and my life is meaningless and I never had anything worth saying in the first place and I should probably just go eat some worms. Extra slimy ones.

I sometimes blame the dry spell on my muse’s jetting off to the tropics and shrug it off, but more often, I accept the sense of inadequacy my mind presses on me as being the truest truth. I learned this resignation a long time ago from a culture that believed in beating out children’s wills, and as far as I’ve removed myself from that context, its repercussions still catch me off guard. I have big ideas but very little confidence, plenty of frustration without any fight, and a perspective that rides on the weather. I’d classify this brain of mine up there with stink badgers in terms of affability.

So you should know that this, just showing up to the page with reluctant fingers and worms on my breath, is counted unto me as the rebellion I never had the courage to stage. Even though I feel certain right now that my artistic life is meaningless, over, etc., etc., I am ditching the appropriate misery in favor of a totally punk determination to blog (Anti-establishmentarianism FTW!) and finding out that insubordination is just the kind of thing that can change the weather.

(Lapis lazuli nails help too.)

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  1. “I have big ideas but very little confidence, plenty of frustration without any fight, and a perspective that rides on the weather.”

    wow, i can relate to that. totally get it. recently my husband and i had a bit of a spat, and he was so proud of me for ‘fighting’ for myself. he said when he first met me almost four years ago i would never have done that. but he gives me the freedom to discover who i am and the safety to try that out. i recoil into my shell more often than not … baby steps.

  2. Keep REBELLING! I have been thinking a lot about Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott lately, mostly because I haven’t written a post since January (!) and I am feeling so guilty, but now it has been soooooo loooonnnnnnggggg that I have made it a BIG thing to write a post. When I think about it…however fleeting…I also think, “I can’t write THAT now…it has to be something more meaningful/bigger/better/smarter…insert another “er” here. I am so happy whenever you write! I am a bit behind right now (finals are looming!) but I am here to catch up tonight. xoxo

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