Weekly Thoughts 12/2/23

I remember as a kid, things felt more exciting and warm. It’s part of what I mean when I think that “emotions don’t feel like anything.” I’ve been reading Anonymous Noise again, and today (as of writing) I read the chapter where An says, “Do you believe in the power of words?” And now it’s occurring to be that I don’t speak as much or as freely as I used to. When I feel something or think something, I don’t say it to anyone. I don’t say it at all. Why would I be surprised about how my emotions feel? I’m not giving them a chance.

I know on this blog, I tend to talk about insecurities and fears. I talk a lot about how I don’t think I’m good at anything and that I’m a failure. My art isn’t where I want it to be, and I feel guilty for not having the “drive” people tell you to have to work yourself to death in pursuit of skill. I’m out of shape and generally not in great health. My social skills, or at least my ability to apply them, are lackluster at best. So it may come as a surprise for me to say I actually have a lot of confidence in basically every other part of my life. I spent my childhood being “good at everything.” I sailed through school with ease. I genuinely enjoy learning and haven’t come across a subject I didn’t find interesting, and I like environments where I’m given a task with set rules and guidelines that I can accomplish. I’m the intuitive type, too, so new topics are often easy for me to get into. I hear myself sounding smarter over the course of conversations, and I can encounter a problem I think is impossible and work out a path forward as I’m putting my complaint to words. Even the things I think I’m bad at, I’m often pretty good at, because I don’t see them clearly.

The things I decided to pursue throughout my life were the things I actually think are hard. Drawing and martial arts don’t come naturally to me. Even writing doesn’t, in the larger skills of story structure and planning themes and stuff. I had things I loved that I could learn to do myself, and it felt good to tackle problems and overcome challenges. But I didn’t pursue everything I thought was hard. I don’t have any sense of rhythm and probably can’t keep a beat, and I do like music. My dad plays drums and is learning guitar, and I like talking to him about music. Music, working with sound, it just never clicked for me. And it’s never bothered me that I don’t seem the musical type. Knowing basic dancing would save me some social embarrassment, but that’s it.

There are two things I’m seeing from this. First, I clearly hit a wall somewhere. I was always doing hard things, so it’s not simply that drawing became hard. I think the idea of being able to do it professionally is a challenge, the idea that my art has to be “perfect” or “masterful” like the best artists out there. All or nothing thinking, right? It has to be the absolute best, or it doesn’t matter. I can’t write a fun story just because, it has to be “important” if I’m going to be a “serious writer and artist.” Combined with impatience, I made myself a wall that I can’t overcome with effort. I’m simply never going to be as good as I want to be. If the pressure doesn’t come from my ambitions, it comes from the thought of disappointing people’s expectations of me.

Second, I never learned how to ask for help. I didn’t have to. I needed so little help in school that I never learned how to study and did all my homework before I got home. For a long time, no matter what I did, I would find the answer if I kept trying. The activities I picked weren’t group based, either. You draw and write stories on your own. Martial arts was easier in that way, because I had a class and teacher; I could see other people practicing, and I had someone helping me learn and correct mistakes. I didn’t have to ask for help. It never even occurred to me to find art friends, or find a mentor. In my life right now, I’m constantly feeling overwhelmed and wishing someone would save me, would see that I’m struggling and reach out. But one thing that comes from not learning how to ask for help is learning how to hide vulnerability. I don’t want to look like I’m struggling, and from what I gather, I don’t look it. People still think I’m good at things, and I can’t bring myself to talk about feeling the opposite. I also have indoor hobbies that don’t require others, because I always have to have a way to keep myself occupied and there won’t always be people around.

I wanted to say more about this, but I think that might be it. I’d like to figure out a way to get past a mindset of having to do everything alone and having to meet impossible, made-up standards so I can just do what I want. On another note, I have tickets to see Godzilla Minus One tonight, and I’m very excited! I’ve been a huge fan of Godzilla and giant monsters my whole life. It’s going to be great to see a serious Godzilla movie with the tech and budget to give it the impact it needs. There’s this effect giant monsters have, or would have in real life, that’s like the opposite of experiencing the sublime. If something like that is real, then everything in life is up for debate, right? Nothing can be taken for granted, everything is an image, your physical and psychological worlds are both destroyed and replaced by infinite possibility. And Godzilla has the impact of real weapons in our world backing his metaphor. If this is what humans are capable of, then everything you think you know is out the window.