Wednesday, November 17, 2010

The Burning

Things stop me, and they always have. Not in every way, but in some ways. My love for wanting to write has come to a point of surpassing my love for writing itself. Whether it be the idea that every word must be golden, and therefore measured and chucked if unfitting, or the fear that my first dive must be that of top quality... I have found myself unmoved from the starting block when it comes to my pen and paper. Or, more aptly, my fingers and tiny laptop's keyboard. After talking with somebody today, we unravelled what my dreams where, and what I wanted to be and also the gifting I thought I had to be that. Ever since I was a child, I have grown up with the idea that people voicing their ambitions make them further from actually achieving it than when they first said something.

My choice to write is simple. I want to. I don't fully know what I want to write about, but there is a kind of burning under my skin telling me to write. When that is combined with my incessant need to be perfect (of which I am not, but have trained myself to hide my flaws in my creative ventures), I find myself stumped. Constantly looking out of the window and waiting for the perfect material to talk about.

Right now, I use way too many commas. I use way too many words. And to be frank, I write in a way that I find is comfortable, but seems strong on my character. I am finding my voice, but to do that you must speak without the feeling that your current tone doesn't suit you. I write different from how I speak, or I speak differently to how I write... But I just ask that you let that pass, as I keep typing.

I was thinking about something this afternoon. There seems to be a fear in me that whenever I truly do something I want to do, that others will see it as an attempt to be somebody that I am not. I want to be a writer, or a pastor; but I feel that saying that to people will raise the question of motive. I am unsure why, but I feel the question of "are you doing this to prove something?" breathing down my neck. Why is this there? Either way, I find that it stops me from writing, and therefore I have decided today to just go with the strong urge to write, and just ignore the chance that people will judge. Do what you want.

In fact, it might ironically be something that nobody has ever thought of... And people will ask me why I think people will ask me why I write. Therefore, raising a problem and judgement all of its own. But, I say now, if I want to write... I will write. About whatever I want to write about. I find that I brain-fudge in any way just to stop me from doing what I want to do, and right now that is writing and studying. I will continue this, and I will try hard to stay focused.

Oh, a squirrel!

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