truth and measure

Mood: tired & cranky (after good food, pre-early night = rest)

It is remarkable how hard it is to get a measure of oneself. I fight with my boyfriend, and then look at words I’ve spoken and they are such strange creatures. So hard to find the truth, as opposed to cherry-picked fragments of it that make me right, that make me look good.

The only saving grace is, he struggles too.

‪#‎BreakingNews‬ : An Unknown Mouse Found, Reported Dead

A mouse was reported dead in the room of Rita S., as police had informed yesterday. Ms S. confirmed that she heard rustling all morning, and then it abruptly stopped. “I peered out and the poor thing was lying on my meditation papers!” – she said. “I thought it was sleeping to begin with. It was upsetting, quite upsetting”. Mouse removal services were subsequently engaged. If anyone knows anything about the identity of the deceased, they are encouraged to contact the authorities.

The Importance of Being (Un) Seen

Mood: thoughtful

Google searches: Maldoror Diplomatic Relations (fav fanfic)

Stress: as close to none as I know.

Today, I ruminate on being seen.

As humans, we place enormous importance on it. Being seen and judged positively against the norms of society is crucially important; even more importantly, we want to connect to one another and be witnessed. Having relationships, being vulnerable with others – all that constructs a realm, beyond which emotional poverty becomes a threat. To not be seen equals loneliness, something that we try to combat at all times, and indeed, we are likely seen at almost all times.

I’ve been re-reading Michael Foley’s Age of Absurdity, which I mentioned in my library note. He argues that our ubiquitous connectedness robs us of ability to be present within ourselves. He therefore champions for nourishment of the Secret Self: alone time, spent without devices, in meditation, rumination, exercise.

So much of it rings true. Time alone isn’t time alone if Facebook is involved. The rush of being connected via social media may turn out to be premature: we’re connected to many people at once, but how many of these connections enable true vulnerability, baring of souls? And of course, we need to cultivate souls – secret selves – to bare, first.

Social media have their place. We have the power to choose how to share ourselves with others. But I firmly believe in occasional holidays from being seen. As an artist, I have a strong need to share myself with others, but to do that, I need that Secret Self, as opposed (or in addition) to a selfie. 🙂

Why I Only Read Books by Women in 2013

I’m a Literature and Media graduate. It is always a discussion – women and books. 5 years of studying, with a lot of men and not a lot of women. `I recommend the article.

Flavorwire

In December 2012, I read Joanna Russ’ How to Suppress Women’s Writing. In the book, Russ identifies the arguments that many people make to discredit female writers — “she only wrote one book,” “this isn’t a serious/important enough topic,” “she wrote it under a pseudonym because she wanted people to think she was a man,” and so on — and coolly dismantles them, one by one.

I’m already what I’d call a card-carrying feminist. Even before reading Russ’ book, I made an effort to seek out and support up-and-coming female writers, who generally get less publicity and support than their male counterparts. But after reading Russ’ book I realized that there was still much more I could do to advocate for female writers. I flashed to the famous Tallulah Bankhead quote about how best to support the theater: “Don’t be an actress, darling, be an audience.”

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Hello world – miz performer is ready for ya!

Google searches: Charlie and Chocolate Factory tickets

Mood: elated

Today, I have performed.

I loved it. My world is a better place.

I sang, I danced, I showed my good sides. I was told I am fearless. I feel innovative and wonderful. And tomorrow….

I’m starting the work on my one-woman show!

World, you will not know what hit you. 😀

Stress Is Sneaky

Google searches: free avi converter; All About That Bass karaoke with backing vocals.

Mood: shaky

Stress levels: 7/10

So I forgot that stress is sneaky.

Your garden variety stress – I can handle. I’m getting better at it. I notice the tension and release, manage and self-manage. I meditate. I exercise. I eat sensibly and get enough sleep.

And then there is the sneaky type.

Sneaky type doesn’t let you just acknowledge its existence and move on with your own. It gets in the way. It stands in the middle of the road and gives you the finger. It makes a general nuisance of itself until there is straightforward consistent targeted action and even then it doesn’t go away, preferring to jeer from the sidelines.

This is the kind of stress that I have for acting. Even more so for acting my own writing. Even more so for acting my own writing in front of my mentor, whose opinion I value very highly, and my peers, whose opinion etc.

It comes to the point when I have to remind my white-faced, tense self that I actually like doing this. It is so terrifying that, if I didn’t trap myself (have a deadline; get friends and family to rehearse with you, so you have no choice), if I didn’t make myself, I would not have rehearsed. I am struggling as is.

You know what? This is wonderful.

All the struggle I go through is wonderful. Every step on that road gets me closer to the time when I don’t fear it as much. Every moment of fear I struggle through towards my goal will help me. Every second of tension carries the promise of future release.

There are things you do, because you’re no good and need to get better. There are things you do, because you’re naturally good and they give you satisfaction. There are things you have to do, regardless. There are things that are necessary.

This is. And so, I struggle on.

Woman on a mission

Today, while I was at work, I suddenly thought: I need a mission statement.

I am an artist. I aspire to being a better, more successful artist. For that, I need to state my mission.

Here goes: I Will Occasionally Suck ( = be unskilled, wrong, mistaken, misguided).

I am so scared of making mistakes, that I struggle making anything at all. It’s changing though – slowly. Even this blog, the simple act of writing every day, this reminder that I Can, and I Will, if I Choose to.

As an artist, I agree to being wrong. I allow messing up. I allow all my wrong notes and confused lyrics. I allow bad diction and weak muscles. I will work on all that, but in the meantime, I allow a learning curve.

The Great Artist I have in mind to be is almost invulnerable…. but I am not. And that’s part of the fun. Being vulnerable. Persevering. Not having all the answers.

I allow uncertainty. I allow awkwardness. I allow fear. Because from therein, inspiration flourishes.

Quick note on fear

Today a thought popped into my mind, uninvited: that I will never amount to anything, because I have too much fear.

After hearing that, loud and clear in my head, I backed up and wondered: do I really think in this way?

I am a heroine of my story. All the greatest heroes are terrified, but they go on. All successful people struggle and persevere.

I must go on. Fear or not. Fear is not a choice: subverting it – is.

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