Hi, I'm A Mess7:00 AM
By some miracle I did not die over the month of August, and I return to you with slightly more structure to my life, a wee bit more sanity, more of a plan for the blog, and thoughts that are gathered in one place instead of scattered on the floor in teeny pieces.
|there is only one acceptable answer.|
So here's the deal:
I'm a mess.
When I say that, I want you to understand that I don't mean it in a cutesy way. I'm not slightly disheveled in an aesthetically pleasing way, with too many books to fit on one fancy bookshelf. I'm not just a procrastinator. (Though I am.) I'm a full-blown mess, full of horrible organization, bad handwriting, unhealthy habits, a brain full of anxiety of all kinds, too much stress, too little care for what I look like most of the time, no sense of aesthetic or style, the whole deal. I'm living my life in a kind of whirlpool of low self-esteem at this point, and it's no fun at all. Here's some reasons why:
- I am not Maggie Stiefvater. I am not a poet. I am not a metaphorical person. My writing is blunt and straightforward and I don't just sit down and write about wanting to live gloriously and being an ethereal creature with wings and all that. I just don't do it. I can't do it. That's not how my writerly brain works. I am too painfully practical and real-life-oriented to be a poet and that's just how it is. I'm a failure of a writer. I don't write beautifully. I won't stand out. My writing is bland.
- I have zero sense of fashion and aesthetics. WHAT LOOKS GOOD I DO NOT KNOW. Every single aesthetic type I see on Pinterest is kind of...ugly to me? I'm not into pastels. I don't know what I'm into. I'm just an awkward person with no beautiful aesthetic to work on. My Instagram feed is a mess.
- I do not/cannot take pretty pictures of books. My iPhone camera makes everything grainy and I don't know why. Again, I don't know how to arrange things. It bores me. But I don't take beautiful pictures. I fail there too.
- my life is not organized. It's not beautiful. I'm a wreck. I sleep in late and eat horribly and exercise only sometimes and I'm not happy with it, but I make lazy look awful, too. I barely study. My lifestyle fits me, but it's not pleasing in any way.
- I'm pathetic and a mess and how I want to approach the world doesn't mesh with any of the aesthetically-pleasing, pastelly, classy blogs and internet peeps out there and I don't even know.
Do you see my problem?
|it is me on a daily basis.|
And you know what?
I don't have any desire to.
Take a second and think about how stupid that is. I'm sitting here beating myself up over not being pretty and sleek and classy and fashionable and poetic and it's exhausting to even try to be because that's not what I want to be. And it wouldn't make me happy.
Feel free to laugh now. That's what I'm doing.
The truth is, I am a mess. An actual mess, full of junk food and crying over characters and too much music and too much anxiety and so much wasting time and so much being insecure and my own unique styles and what is the point in worrying about fitting in with an aesthetic I don't want to do anyway? now seems like a good time to tell you that I hold no ill will against this kind of feel, nor do I dislike it. Keep it up, mah lovely classy pastel-y poet frens. y'all are killing it.
I don't want to try to do that. I don't have time to be a thing that I am not and don't want for myself.
well, I probably have the time, but I don't have the energy. Or something.
|this is a better way to put it.|
I. Am. A. Mess. And I don't want to make that mess cute. I don't want to glorify laziness, or procrastination, or hating myself, or any of it. I just want to be, and try to improve. I want to be honest. (Are you still following me?)
With that in mind:
- I am not Maggie Stiefvater. I am not a poet. Other people are, and other people are amazing at it, and I love reading it. But when it comes to my own writing I write in a more straightforward, blunt, minimalist way, and I use my words sparingly, and that's okay. It can still be beautiful if I keep working on it. Your writing does not have to be "poetic". Different styles of writing exist for a reason. (And the focus should be on my characters and story for me, personally, anyway.)
- My sense of fashion is shorts and fandom t-shirts and black jeans and boots. I don't care to invest in a fancy punk-rock wardrobe, and that's okay. I prefer things that are comfortable. I don't quite know what my "aesthetic" is, but it is what it is, and that's okay. I do what makes me happy. I don't stress about anything else. I'm just not the person I tried to be before with it.
- I do not need to take pretty pictures of books. Other people nail the bookstagram (is that what you call it???) thing and I enjoy looking at those pictures. When I attempt it it's just not fun for me, and why should I feel pressured to do something optional that doesn't bring me joy?
- my life is the way it is. I'm trying to improve my life. There are things I could do better. There are things I could do healthier. But little steps, every day, are the most important thing.
- God made me the way he made me, with all my preferences and my writing style and the way I approach things. Everything. He does not and did not make mistakes. I am the person I am for a reason. I do not need to bend my personality and the way I do things for the sake of "fitting in", whatever that means. Everyone contributes their own unique style. That's good and perfect and okay.
|every. single. one of us. we're all killing it.|
This blog post has gotten long enough and I won't torture you anymore, so the point is: we're all awesome. We're all unique. We all have our own aesthetics and tastes and preferences and styles and we all have something to add to the mix, something to bring to the table, somthing to whatever-other-phrase-you-want-to-add-here-because-i-can't-think-of-one. We are all a mess.
We're all kinda amazing.
LOVE YOU ALL. (hopefully i am back for good now.)