I always feel like I start these things with the best of intentions. I have so many plans, so many desires…and it always starts with a website or blog. Something that I feel will hold me accountable to my own wishes or dreams.
Then it turns out like this. Every time.
The last post was March of 2018. Over a year ago. Cool, glad I paid money for this URL and site plan. It worked out swimmingly. I mean…it worked out the way all of my other intentions have over the past 10-15 years. So many goals, so many…
You know I’ve been writing the same story for 9 years? No joke, I’ve been working on the same story about the end of the world for about 9 years. I mean, it’s been on and off, but still. I even made a joke at someone else’s expense the other day when they said they’ve been on chapter one of a story they’ve been writing for 7 years…
I haven’t even started putting together a cohesive story line for mine yet. At this rate, the end of the world is going to beat me to itself. Or I mean, whatever…according to science and stuff. I don’t know. Things.
What this all boils down to is this: I purchased this blog and page in order to hold myself accountable to continuously create content. To make myself valuable, in a sense. I get running an unread blog page doesn’t quite do that…but you know what I mean. I mean, I hope you do. If you’re reading this. And by you I mean exactly that: whoever the hell you are.
Which really…who are any of us? That’s another topic altogether, I don’t want to get into it.
What I want to talk about is why I do this in the first place. Why do I start these things? Why do I WANT to start these things? Why do I get so excited to start these things when I know how it’ll always end? I’m very well aware of my own tendencies, of my many faults and lack of motivation. I’m trying – sort of – to rid myself of the lazy work ethic I have. And it’s not even lazy – OK yes it is. It’s super lazy. But like, it’s enough at times? I mean, it’s not enough like ever. At least, it shouldn’t be. And I know it shouldn’t be. Which means, I know I could be so much better than I am right now. Like, exponentially.
But yet, I still fall into this rut of…well, of this. This self loathing, self doubting, overall self harming phase of my short existence. I know that I do these things to seemingly give myself a purpose: an outlet to put my thoughts into text, to place all of my creative machinations in one place, to then create an audience and, in a sense, some sort of validation. My talents lie strictly in this realm. I’m not the biggest people person. In fact, I’m probably the furthest thing from a people person. I mean…I guess not really. I can talk to people. I just don’t let myself care enough about them or their conversation to consider myself an actual people person. And I don’t know if it’s a lack of empathy, or just a lack of knowledge?
Maybe it’s a little bit of both. I feel like I can’t hold conversations with people because sometimes I either refuse to connect with them, and I never really know how to fake small talk enough to sustain conversation, or it’s because I have a lack of information about what they are talking about, and don’t know how to answer their questions or approach a rebuttal. I don’t know, even that came out as nonsense. I think it’s the former. I just don’t care to be interested?
And the thing that doesn’t really make sense is that I long for personal contact and a connection with someone, but I also don’t want to go through the trouble of having to know all about that person. Most of my employment history has been centered around personal contact with people, and it’s made me…I don’t know, less connected with them I think.
What I’m trying to get to is, most of my life, all I’ve ever wanted to do was create things. Stories, music, and in extension, whole worlds, and universes filled with characters, and events that make me feel…I don’t know, apart of something. Of something bigger than myself.
So I start these blogs…or YouTube channels…or…anything. Anything that has to do with putting my brain into something that isn’t as mindless as any of my jobs have been. But it always turns into this. A lack of substance, and a lack of accountability.
And no, this isn’t going to be a blog that turns into me promising to change. Because then, in a month and a half – when I remember I have this page again – I’m going to look back at this post and go – “again…pointless self revelation is pointless.”
That’s how my brain works. Mostly.
It’s a scattered mess of ideas, floating around in an open space of clutter. Yes, that’s an oxymoron, I understand that. That’s what I mean. It’s nonsense. I’m aware that most of what I end up typing is just fragmented thought after fragmented thought, and at the end of this I’ll tie it all together in one cohesive revelation. I sometimes wonder if that’s what therapy is like. If it’s just pointless conversation until the person who is sitting across from me, who is infinitely smarter than me, finally comes to a revelation about my mental health and tells me something I need to hear to help process my thoughts and insecurities in a way that breaks down walls and sets me on a path of healing and productivity…
But then I realize that life has never worked that way. I know plenty about myself, and I can tell you there’s not a lot that can be said to me that I don’t already know is broken. And I know how to fix things, because I know most of my self deprecating thoughts are just masks that help defend myself against other people thinking I’m not good enough.
But the kicker is, none of those people have ever said anything like that to me. Because none of them think that. It’s strictly all me. Literally, just me standing in the way of producing and publishing content. And another kicker is…I KNOW most of my stuff is good. Actually, I’m such a perfectionist in most aspects of creating that I know most of my stuff is GREAT. I mean, yeah, I can always get better at things. Evolution is a part of the process. However, I know I don’t like producing bad things. And because of that, I’m fully aware that when I do put out content, it’s typically pretty damn good.
So…with all of that said…what’s wrong with me? Maybe nothing. Probably, hopefully, nothing. I’m just lazy. Maybe it’s also a self worth thing. Like, I don’t want to do content that won’t be seen, as if it’s a waste of time to write posts and create music or videos that no one will ever see. I mean, that’s pretty much true. Producing content that isn’t viewed is essentially like not producing content at all.
I sit behind a computer daily, and yes…what I do is work, and being a music arranger is definitely fulfilling in that aspect. But, I’m trying to do it all. In my down time, I could still be producing other content worth reading, worth publishing. The question has always been, “well, what then?” Like, what should I be publishing to the world? What kind of person do I want to be when I sit behind this computer?
I enjoy this…just writing to write. Because it helps me find out the person I think I want to be. The problem is I am still searching for that definitive answer, but I don’t give myself the time to search for it. Instead, I start a blog looking to find it, and then revisit a year and a half later, mad that the person writing this current entry has eluded the very purpose they were put here to serve.
When I write, I find pieces of myself laying around the cluttered halls of my mind, and when I start to put those pieces together, I stop looking. So I stand in the middle of the room, still broken…still incomplete.
I have no plan to fix this. No cosmic revelation, or grand promise to hold myself accountable. I’m just going to continue to search for…myself, I guess.
I know I’m better than this, and the person I’ve presented to the world for the first…12 years of adulthood. At least, I think I am. Maybe through more of this, I’ll find out I’m not. I’ll find out that I’m just me, the person who struggles to create the life he so desperately wants because he just simply can’t. And maybe when that revelation comes, I can find peace with it. There is no right or wrong way to play this game, so happiness can be found somewhere, somehow.
And maybe that’s all I’m searching for? Finding a purpose is a pretty big step to finding that answer. The only way to do that is to just keep doing it, I suppose.
I guess that was the revelation? Maybe there was a reason to this post, other than to just post something. Regardless of content, or audience…maybe just doing it works well enough.
I guess we’ll see.