Thursday, February 18, 2010

i can't afford to climb aboard you- no one's got that much ego to spend.

A multitude-- that's my Irish literature professor's favorite word-- of thoughts are at the front of my mind at this moment, but first and foremost I am tired again. I'm wondering if there's something up with my health; I seem to get tired so easily now, like an old person. It's been a long time since I've been to any kind of a doctor or dentist or anything of the sort, and I feel as though I should but I can't. I really don't have the money nor the insurance to do so, nor do I have the willingness. I am that person who is just too afraid to know what might be wrong with them. I can't take it, no matter what it is, and usually I have this weird intuition about things that's almost always right. I've realized that lately... so often I fear a certain outcome, and usually that is just the outcome that occurs. Of course we could argue for me being a self-fulfilling negative prophecy, but I don't think I'm all that negative, not really. Maybe when left to my own devices, as with about 80 percent of the entries made in this blog, but when I'm in the world, no. My friend told me once that she thought I was especially good at "rallying" myself when I just don't feel fit to handle something, but really I don't think that's true. I like that she thinks so, but I know it isn't true-- I don't have to rally when I'm "on" and out there, when I'm talking about something I care about which is most of the time I open my mouth, when I'm talking to someone. I see people taken aback when they talk to me, as if they could see the light turn on behind my eyes, even when there are black circles beneath the glow. Or maybe I imagine that too. Anyway, I will admit that I'm cynical sometimes-- not in the strictly sarcastic, Enid-from-Ghost-World or hardboiled, noirish way (i wish) but more in the typical, irritating way that is just in the way of my progress. As cheesy and stupid as it sounds, what Conan O'Brien said, simply and beautifully in his last show about cynicism (don't be cynical. no one in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get, but if you work hard and you're kind, good things will happen) really affected me and made me look at myself. I hate on people so much and look at the world through disappointed eyes-- and furthermore, expect the continuation of my disappointment. I am making a conscious effort, then, to focus more on the things I love and am impressed by or encouraged by in life rather than the things that have broken my perception or my heart. These are good things to think about.

Right now I am disgruntled. I suddenly feel very insecure about my writing and my purpose as a writer. I flip through my ideas, my writing, the comments from my teachers and, finally, script magazine, and I see so many, TOO many opportunities and avenues to take and pursue, and none that look cut out for me. I tend to blame that on my depression or anxiety, but the fact is that no one, including me, really cares about that and in the end I'll have a pile of wasted time and tears and words, enough to fuel a bonfire for weeks, and not a single thing worth going into the world. I've been praying over my current writing project, that I might be used to shape it into something of importance given its themes (why write about darkness if something important cannot be properly expressed through it, like No Country or There Will Be Blood or Magnolia or The Proposition????). I'm months from graduating but I don't know what's going to cut it out there and that's my fault (just like being young, Cat Stevens tells me). How strange. I've been told I'm lucky because unlike many people my age, I know what I want to do (write) specifically (write screenplays. and short stories. and novels maybe maybe). But I don't know how to do it, still, and now every test is less of an encouragement than a giant pointing finger illuminating the weakness of the bridge that I'm standing on. I'm scared.

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