This week is eight shades of crazy, so I'm going to keep it light and not discuss the insanity that's happening a few states north of us. Personally, I though it was common knowledge that you don't mess with people from Boston, let alone the city as a whole, but I find myself oddly proud and thoroughly comforted to know that our country not only knows how to band together but efficiently get shit done when it comes to accomplishing a common goal. I have no more to add to this, except for that I hope people up in Beantown are safe and will remain that way.
That being said, I've had some other stuff on my mind, most which do not quite fit into this time and place. A rant about how intolerable women in exercise classes can be or one focused squarely on this inane proposal I stumbled upon feels off base, so i'm going to stick with something i've had in the back pocket for a while: Fear.
For the past two weeks, I've had fear on the brain. Which, considering I live a rather vanilla bean kinda life is odd but unequivocally true. I knew I was living with it as the ceiling of my purview, but not until I transitioned back to full-time freelancies after a month in an office did I realize its full extent and grasp. I've missed events due to fear of arriving alone and remaining that way, I've stayed home watching The Jeselnik Offensive instead of meeting new people, I've frozen in conversations in concern over that dull post-sentence silence without realizing I'm actually the one causing it. Could it partly be a runoff from my career as a societal recluse? Absolutely, but I can tell it's not just that. It's a deep-seated fear of putting myself out there that's standing in my way across every intersecting avenue of life. I hate having to admit it, but it's almost like I don't want to above-and-beyond succeed; like I want to stay a B student forever, comfortable but still successful. Essentially, I keep finding that instead of playing the cards I was dealt, I pull from the deck and cross my fingers something brilliant comes my way.
But not anymore.
I enrolled in a class that began last week that is all of my fears, realized. It's my own little secret, as I'm not ready to tell people about it, but it's an exercise in failure, simply put. If I succeed, it will be proof that comfort zones are merely games our brains play on our bodies; if I don't, it'll be a noteworthy moment in my life for having treaded water and known I'm going to drown, but refusing to sink to the bottom regardless.
Next week is my one-year anniversary of the ye olde freelancing experiment, and looking back on it, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I feel like I know myself better than ever before by holing up in solitary creative confinement and trying to make shit happen, but I'm more aware of my downfalls as well. In a way, I've recognized my strengths — and see how many cards away I am from a straight flush — but in that same process, have gone from acquaintances to close personal friends my difficult-to-overcome behaviors and self-constructed pitfalls that stand in the way. (Example: focusing and getting these posts done in advance. Oops.)
I'm not going to connect any of this back to the mindblowing events of this terrible, no good very bad week, but do find those age old quotes and ruminations ringing in my ears louder than even the insane gut renovation going on across the hall. Now or never. Do or die. Make it happen for yourself. And while I'm still not sure what I'm making, or what the final product will be — I'm nonetheless in process.
And, of course, peeking at what the person next to me was dealt.