Even on here I lie to myself. I don’t admit the things I don’t want to admit, even to you, gentle strangers. Today I am going to admit the hard stuff.
Let’s start simple.
The post I put on reddit about my build that got torn to shreds. I played it off, but it really bothered me. It made me feel so stupid. I do like my computer, I think it looks great, but now I feel unsatisfied. I could do what they suggest, try and return the parts, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to go through that hassle of trying to return them, maybe not being able to, then being stuck and feeling really frustrated, and even if I can return them having to wait for the refund to order new ones, which refunds can take weeks.
The stuff I said in response is true, I don’t play enough games to notice the limitations of the build, or at least I don’t right now. But now I feel like if I want to get some new game I won’t be able to. It really doesn’t matter, I doubt I will. I’ll play ESO: Morrowwind when it comes out, and I downloaded Diablo 3 to play that some, and I have Fallout. I kind of want to try The Witcher games, and I’ve been following Chronicles of Elyria during it’s development. I kind of want to play games now that I’ve got a better computer, but now I feel like my computer is shit, maybe even worse than my old one.
I’m not going to do anything about it. Maybe after I pay off my credit card, or maybe after I get my land, maybe I’ll drop a few hundred on a new motherboard, cpu and ram. Maybe I wont. But I feel defeated.
Okay, that wasn’t so hard. Let’s step it up.
I want to be a better artist, but I am too lazy to put in the work. I don’t draw because I know that nothing I draw will be as good as the image in my head I want to create. So I don’t bother. I know that practice is the only way to get better, but I just don’t want to practice. I don’t want to sit and draw faces for an hour, I want instant gratification. So I watch videos of talented artists and get jealous of their skills and envious wishing I had such skills, but too lazy and stubborn to actually put the effort in.
I don’t need to “decide which I want more” to be a better artist (and thus practice) or not. I always say shit like that, making it sound like I need to figure something out. I don’t. I know that the only way to get better is to practice, but I am lazy and don’t want to practice. And the reason I am not making myself practice, is that my desire to be a better artist is not as strong as my desire to not spend my time practicing. The truth I didn’t want to admit: my desire to be an artist is outweighed by my laziness and desire to just sit and watch TV.
Now let’s tackle the harder one: writing.
Why don’t I write? Well that is simple, I don’t have a good idea. Uh, wrong! I’ve got ideas.
Here’s one: It’s a story about a woman that gets kidnapped and is held in the basement of this huge house with several other men and women while a deranged man named Lucas does experiments on them, tortures them, it’s horrible. The book documents the woman’s time there, she goes from being overweight and unskilled to toned, muscled, and trained in martial arts, with many scientific enhancements that make her stronger, faster. I’ve even thought of giving it stronger sci-fi fantasy vibe and having the experiments give her things like wings and claws and horns like a demon. The first book would end with her being rescued, and now having to face a life of trying to return to society when she is so different.
Here’s another one: Freidha the dwarven bard goes on an adventure to save the world from the oppressive regime of the elves who have taken over the other races due to a strong belief that they will honestly benefit from elvish rule. All knowledge and history is banned, meted out in bits to those who need it for their assigned jobs/careers, but stories of the past, religions, songs, history is all banned, hidden away in a massive library protected and guarded by the elves. But a secret library exists, hidden deep underground (in the figurative sense) with what amounts to an underground railroad for knowledge and knowledge seekers/guardians to get to it. It exists beyond the reach of the elves, in a dessert where the races that used to be hated and massacred by the humans, dwarves, gnomes and such of the world have thrived without the “good” races oppression. Orcs, goblins, ogres and gnolls have built a society of art and literature and knowledge and trade, a thriving metropolis almost equal to the elves, but more vibrant in their freedom. And there Freidha finds herself, seeking aid from goblins to save dwarves.
So why don’t I write them? Why don’t I work on them?
Because I fear they are cliche. I fear they are bad. I fear people wont like them, that they will suck, that people will tear my books apart just as quickly and ruthlessly as they tore my computer build apart. Because as much as I hate to admit it, I care far too much about what other people think! I expect to write a perfect book and be blasted into fame and fortune like J.K. Fucking Rowling.
This one at least I feel I can surpass. Just writing both of those ideas made me burn with a desire to write them both. But I let that desire be stomped out the second someone says something like “Oh, that reminds me of such-and-such book/movie/tv/game.” Because I also expect, apparently, to write something completely amazing and original that has never once been done before.
Gandalf said to me earlier to write for me, not for anyone else. He was right, and realizing that is why I feel that at least as far as writing goes I can overcome this one. I can write these two books, even if it’s just for me. I could self-publish on Amazon if I really want to. The writing podcast I listened to with Brandon Sanderson, one of my all-time favorite authors, said that he write THIRTEEN books before he got one published. A girl in his class who recently got a book published wrote NINE before she got published. NINE. And some of those wont ever get published, but she wrote them. I haven’t even written ONE.
Because I hold myself back.
Here is another truth.
I chose to eat junk food and cheat on my diet. I berate myself for it after, but I do it anyway. There isn’t some force controlling me, making me go to the fridge and grab a snack. It’s my own two legs. And whining about it, and complaining about it, and saying its so HARD and trying to make stupid challenges are not helping me at all. Because there is no answer. I just have to stop doing it. And if I keep doing it then apparently I care more about that pint of ice cream than I do about dying of a heart attack in ten years. But that one I knew already, I’ve said as much on the blog before.
I care about what people think. I want people to like me. I want to be their favorite person. I want them to say “That Carrie, she’s so great! She’s so talented, she’s so smart!” I was wiccan and gothic and I think even part of the appeal of possibly being trans was because I wanted to be different, to stand out, to get attention, to be special. One of my first blogs talked about my obsession with personas, with how people are viewed. With how I view people. My current favorite Youtube artist, she could post videos showing me her work space, spending an hour going through her room and showing off her tools and her art supplies, and all the knicknacks she collects and the books she reads, and I would watch and be enthralled. Because to me she is awesome. She is pretty, she has a cute voice, she is an amazing artist. People follow her, buy her artwork, watch her videos. My other favorite artist, Jazza, recently did a fundraiser to raise money to turn his old shed into a new studio for his youtube channel and artwork. He didn’t expect to get anything, his goal was set to like $20k. He didn’t expect to even get that. He raised almost $100k within the first weekend! He is loved.
I don’t want that kind of attention. But I do want the few people I do know to remember me, to like me, I want to be like the people I admire. But who doesn’t?
The truth is I don’t ever do anything for me. I mean I do and I don’t. Take my room for example. I recently re-did it sort of. I painted the walls, got new curtains, re-arranged the furniture. But I wasn’t thinking “what would I like?” I wasn’t thinking what would work best for me functionality wise. I was thinking what would look good, and what people would say when they walk in. I enjoyed that for a while, when people would come over and my mother would show off my room and they would say “Oh wow this looks great!” but now I am left with a room I don’t particularly like.
I care so much about what other people think that I can’t do anything just for myself.
For example, what led to my depression today was a conversation with a friend about whether or not I should get a new monitor. Why did I want a monitor? It wasn’t because the resolution on my current screen (which is a TV, a fact that people on reddit seemed particularly insulted by) is bad, or that I notice it isn’t good. It was because people on reddit were disgusted that I had a VISIO TV instead of a monitor. It was because aesthetically my computer isn’t done.
Aesthetically speaking I would get a new desk. Mine is old, it’s black and silver metal with a glass top. I would get a new monitor, its big and black and bulky and doesn’t match my PC. I found one online that is nice, with a white body and silver stand and a 27″ curved display. It would look very nice next to my computer. But I don’t NEED it. And every dollar I spend on stuff I don’t need, is a dollar not going to my future.
My friend posed a question that maybe I don’t want to move out. I didn’t comment on it to him, I just let it slip past. But I know 100% that I WANT to move out. It’s almost torture waiting, but I’ll be happier in the long run. IF I CAN STOP SPENDING MONEY ON SHIT I DON’T NEED AND EVER ACTUALLY GET A HOUSE!
Sorry. I am a mix of anger and sadness right now, as you can probably tell.
I’ve said it before but it never sinks in.
The truth is the only one holding me back is me.
If I want to write then I need to write. And I can whine all I want about being scared of this truth, but if I don’t write, if after all this, if after accepting this truth I still just go home and plop in front of the computer, well… then it means I just don’t want to write. At least not more than I want to sit and do nothing and waste my life.
I want to be an artist, but I don’t want to put in the work. So I accept that I’ll probably never be better than I am now, and drawing will just be a hobby I do when I feel like it. But I am not going to continue trying to pressure myself into drawing or feeling bad about it when I don’t. Drawing and sculpting and other art-related things are being relegated to potential pastimes to enjoy when and if I feel like it at my leisure. I intend to have a crafting/drawing area on my new house, but I won’t attempt to make it any more than something I do occasionally when I am bored or to pass the time.
I need to stop caring so much what people think of me. I need to stop caring so much about aesthetics and how I am perceived and how other people view me. Aesthetics is something that’s been important to me for a long time. I remember throwing away toys as a kid because they had imperfections. Its why I don’t like paperback books because I can’t stand to look at creased spines. Why despite my love of the aesthetic of bookshelves, I prefer my e-reader because books can get damaged, you can spill food on them and stain the pages with your fingerprints, and I can’t stand to see that, it’s a distraction. Imperfections in things distract me. Maybe it’s a mild form of OCD.
I can’t think of any other hard truths right now.
But a couple things are for sure
- I wont force myself to draw anymore. It’s just a hobby, just a casual pastime, and I will treat it as such. I actually felt an almost physical weight rise off my shoulders when I accepted that fact.
- I need to stop cheating on my fucking diet. Tonight is the test. D&D, a table full of snacks. I need to say no.
- I need to just fucking write. I’m going to start brainstorming the Freidha story. I’m going to start gathering information on the different races oppressed by the elves, and the different races that have gathered in the dessert. I’ll make an outline, and I’ll start writing. Freidha the dwarvish bard will live! Then I will start writing. And perhaps even make a campaign using D&D ruleset for this world.
- I need to stop caring about what people think about me and just be myself. I need to stop torturing myself about all the things I don’t like about myself. I need to either just change them and move on and stop whining about it, or accept them as part of myself. But I need to stop agonizing over it. I need to accept myself. I can’t ever love myself, too much bad blood there, but I can at least accept myself (mentally anyway, I do not accept myself physically, that shit is gonna change!).
- I need to put my dreams first. Loosing Weight is #1, Building a house is #2, Writing a Novel is #3. Everything I do I need to ask myself, “does this help me accomplish either of those dreams?” If it doesn’t then I need to ask myself “Does this hinder me accomplishing either of those dreams” if the answer to that is yes then I need to just NOT FUCKING DO IT.
So that’s it. My new world view. Stop worrying so much, stop caring so much, stop agonizing so much. Do shit for myself, don’t care about how anyone else views me. Worry about myself. My future. What I really want.
I’m not sure what this means for this blog.
I think coming here and whining and stuff isn’t doing me any good. I’m thinking that I would like to try focusing more on sharing my writing brainstorming, or sharing stuff about my D&D campaign, and when the time comes sharing stuff about building a house. But I want to stop all this introspective bullshit. So my posts might get less numerous. (Though at the same time I still get really fucking bored at work).
Thanks for listening.