In Transit

I am not going to shame myself for not writing in four months.

I know I am not particularly good at keeping commitments that are not obligatory. I get swept up in the current state of things, get lazy, become curious or interested about something new and become absorbed in it only to drop it a month later, forgetting that the month before I had made myself a solemn promise to keep at it. And then I feel bad about myself.

But sitting around and feeling bad doesn’t change anything. So here I am, writing.

I have thought about deleting this blog, because 1) it kept reminding me that I was not writing, and 2) it catalogs so many of my insecurities. The whole point was to document small moments to be thankful about, but sometimes that involves microanalyzing myself, which inevitably leads to more self-criticism. But I know getting rid of the evidence of flaws doesn’t get rid of the flaws themselves. And I want to be better than yesterday, you know? I don’t want to be static. I think I should start celebrating steps I take to become better, rather than focusing so intently on the outcome (congrats, self, you’ve earned some snaps for the day).

Since I have last written, I have moved continents. I am still jet lagged though it’s been ten whole days. I am now 21. I am going back to college for my senior year in less than two weeks. I am worried about post-graduate plan and my current lack of action about it. Self-love is still difficult. My hair still pink (But should I keep the pink? Or will that mark me unemployable?).

I have come to the conclusion that I am afraid of starting my job applications because I am already afraid of rejection. I know Oprah was fired from her first reporting job, Van Gogh started art school at age 27, and Louise Bourgeois didn’t become a famous artist until she was 78. I think I am so afraid because I don’t have much experience with rejection, given my privileged and rather sheltered life. I also think a part of it is because I want to preserve the polished exterior I present to everyone else. I want to feel valuable and wanted (though I suppose everyone does). Hello, quarter life crisis.

In any case, I was sitting on my bed at 4pm with my pajamas and decided ten days were long enough to recuperate, so I turned on some music, sang a couple songs in the style of a dying cow at an unreasonable volume for a Sunday afternoon, and sat down to fix my resume and wound up here. I know that in ten years time I will look back at my naïveté and chuckle about how young I was and how things have worked out okay and not all things need to be worried about. Even now, I feel silly worrying about things that haven’t even happened yet (though, that is me always). I think I just need to practice wiping my head clean of incessant self doubt. Also, how will I even get rejected if there is nothing to be rejected from???

Yeah, ok. I think I am ready to do things now.