Day 352: Whatever I Feel Like
- ZJC
- Oct 7, 2020
- 5 min read
The days are winding down rapidly on this year-long experiment of writing. Each day, I think about the topic and each day I stare at the list that I have kept for at least eleven months and still wondering when I am going to write about those things. They will come. But for eleven months I have been staring at them, thinking to myself, "Oh, that's going to be a good one. I better save that one." And now there is no more saving. Yet, even now I am not choosing one of those preconceived topics. Every day, I sit down a little too late with a little less energy to hash out what I foresee is going to be meaningful or epic in my own head. Afterall, this experiment was intended to benefit my writing habit. And so it has. But I look back on my first post, The Fear, and think about how far I have come since that day.
That person one year ago was so worried about even pressing Post on one little rant because he was worried about what people would think or if he would fail in his quest and THEN WHAT WOULD PEOPLE THINK. There is definitely a lot of pride and ego in these bones, and those human qualities certainly haven't gone away completely over the past year. Insecurity is still rapid, which is what all the fear boils down to anyway. I think that I have grown to a point where I am more aware of my insecurities and try to poke fun at them (at least to myself), and I am also at a place where I don't worry about what other people are going to think of my thoughts.
For the most part, I have about eleven fans. (And I just actually laughed out loud) So, there isn't much pressure there. My close friends and family (that read this) just seem to enjoy hearing what I have to say. And that is definitely a nice feeling. The goal of this experiment was never to work hard to build a large fan base outside of my circle, but it felt really, really good when people would share one of these posts and strangers would be reading my words. The most notable of posts was Day 225: Privilege and Protest with 145 views. That was the peak of my traffic. I was happy that my voice could reach that many people and I hope they enjoyed reading my thoughts.
The attention of public posts can either motivate or discourage a writer. That is more than a double-edged sword — that is a sword with twenty edges, all sharp as talons. A lot of attention and it could go to a writer's head and too little attention they could decide to quit. Somehow, I think I found a healthy balance of hope and I just don't care. There were so many late nights, staring at a blank screen and just waiting for lightning to come down and snap my fingers into place. Whether or not it felt that way on a large scale (because I did have several themes going), I wrote something new each day. Whether or not it was long or short, I wanted it to be something new. That was the biggest struggle. Beyond that, I was not too worried about how it was received.
I definitely censored myself for professional reasons. That probably helped my writing because having certain parameters helps the creative and scattered mind find a form and an audience. Being a teacher and posting opinions online is a fine rope to walk, especially when I put the links up on Facebook. If I didn't put them up on social media (which happened a few times) then my site would get 0 views. That was comforting in a way, but it also revealed how and why people choose to read things on the internet. Knowing that, I wasn't too worried that the wrong person might be monitoring the site every day, waiting for me to say the wrong thing, and be able to use it against me at some later date. Because that will probably happen if my professional goals progress in the way I want them to. But if I ever run for an office, there is plenty of time to unpublish everything.
Insecurities don't magically disappear through one session of therapy or one hit of acid. The deep fears of the human are like fat on the body: it doesn't go away unless we decide to do something about it. Eating fresh food and exercising will cause the body to consume fat at a faster rate. Just like writing every day has nearly consumed my insecurities for letting other people see my work. I think the most likely of reasons that I have very little written work published is because I have not submitted enough pieces of writing. Hard work and perseverance, I believe, will get you everything. And I tell my students that often. They are probably sick of hearing about it. But I have not fully lived up to my own advice. But that is the thing about advice: we tend to say the things to other people we wished we would have said to ourselves.
This experiment did not make me any money or bring me any fame, but it was damn well worth it and a damn fine accomplishment. I don't care what anyone says about it. Okay, I do. But let me just have this one. I care a lot less than I used to. For the most part, I am just so relieved to have a post done so that I can go to bed.
If people enjoy reading my thoughts or creative writing, then I am happy I wrote what I did. If people don't care, that's cool too. If people thought what I wrote sucked, then that must be valid. I probably wrote a lot of sucky posts. But I know that I had a few gems in there. (I will copy and paste my favorite poem below.) One of the best outcomes of writing every day is just being okay with whatever comes out. That may be the mentality of every confident writer. But I can imagine that once a writer gets enough acknowledgment that they are going to worry again about their audience and overthink what they are writing. I wouldn't mind if that happened to me down the road, but I would also be okay with just having this.
Preface: This is my favorite poem that I wrote this past year because, ironically, writing it made me cry, reading it made me cry, and it made my most loyal fan cry. So, I think it's pretty good. If I decide to submit it, I will do some tweaking with the words. I personally enjoy it because I wrote it without having the direct perspective of the main character. And the story is too common and tragic in American life. Being relatable is a hallmark of many popular works of writing art.
Day 58: Leaving
Before the door shuts I turn back to see the hallway Pictures falling off the wall, Piles of clothes disintegrating into boxes, The children playing with gifts that were meant for Christmas The rented van is already rumbling in the driveway Unsigned papers on the passenger side seat I remember the last time she touched my cheek Like magic, tears fell off And landed on suitcases In the hallway, I want to run away from the pain But hold onto the moment Sunlight stillness illuminates The dry skin cells that flake and float, Covering the carpet in pieces of my past The look in her eyes tells me to leave Leave before they understand Walking through that doorway will never be the same I’ll be someone else Picking up the pieces, every other weekend
Author's Note #1: I wrote the title of that poem before writing the poem, thinking I was going to write about leaving Alaska. I'm glad it surprised me.
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