I can do what I have to do, mostly, but not what I want to do. Hello, Humanity, the supreme social race.
Causes: the usual Fear of Failure or Embarrassment, but also executive dysfunction (or is it malfunction?), and the Dread Cloud Of Not Knowing How Stuff Is Done, and day-to-day overwhelm. The Daily Stress would be my newspaper if I ever started one, and then a mag entitled OverWhelm Monthly.
What do I want to do? The fact that even this isn’t clear doesn’t help. Not because I don’t know what to do, but because choosing is torture. I could do so many things, even if I only stuck my hand into the lucky dip box of musical activities.
I read Austin Kleon’s newsletter (you should too) and a while back (an uncertain number of weeks past) he wrote about writing short blogs: no need to wait to write chunky five-thousand-worders, but think it, write it, and post it. Simples. That and ‘crappy first drafts’ draw me closer to posting this awkward collection of lines on the internet for other people to read.
Upon the receipt of critisicm (always a tricky word) I will remember that someone’s reaction to anything I create is their reaction. I might choose to listen in case it affects me productively or positively. Or perhaps I won’t leave any room for comments. “anon1543” will have to call me to deliver his hate mail. At least in this medium it is reasonable not to reply immediately… I think I need a physical ‘comments’ board to carry around with me, allowing words to sink in so that when I finally produce a response two weeks later I can (within the rules of the interaction) return it by return.
I’m going out for a walk now, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.
[Editor: he was right, but stopped he was… by himself]