About The Thing

I often spend much of time stewing about how little time I have for essay writing in earnest. I have an inexhaustible number of essay ideas scattered throughout the Aloha Cloud: scribbled on post-its, in iPhone notes (where I am now hi mom!), in .doc files, in Excel sheets (it happens), in PowerPoints (it happens too but far less often), on the fridge as magnets and my frontal lobe as gibberish. Fear held me back. That I’d never again have any ideas like the ones I was having every day, or that my ideas would become rote, or stale, or unremarkable. That I was a performer and an artist foremost so therefore any time I spent being analytical would take away from my dreams. The branding thing gives me anxiety. Only certain artists can have bodies of work that are essays. But then I realized that while that is totally true, it’s ridiculous to think I couldn’t make a new kind of artist who wrote essays. I was so anxious about who I should be that I forgot about who I am. I decided that time was better spent writing very short essays on bitty ideas instead of getting worked up about how fleshed out they should be. Not sure if this will always look like this, or how it will change. But I decided to worry less about that and worry more about writing regularly again.

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