I spent nearly an hour last night gazing at my computer screen, unable even to come up with a title for my blog, let alone a posting. Created at the suggestion of my boyfriend, who imagines, probably correctly, that a blog would probably be a good outlet for me to unload my swiftly spinning thoughts, I was immediately embroiled in an old sort of stage fright. As a child I used to spend hours writing stories in small notebooks with cartoons on the cover. I never really had writer's block, but I always resisted allowing anyone to read what I had written. Instead, I hid short stories, and character sketches, dramatic teen poetry, and endless journal entries in books in the back of my closet: For my eyes only. To this day I only very rarely let people read my writing, unless it is a purely academic venture.
A blog seems entirely contrary to such a habit. On blogs people can spill all details of their most recent exploits, to be commented upon by the readers. Even more numbing to me is the idea of posting a piece of poetry, or heartfelt commentary on a particular issue, or story that hits painfully close to home. Somehow, the idea of this creative venture, in which both one's soul and one's talent are up for public commentary feels wrenching. Perhaps it's the last component, the talent, that I fear criticism of. As a counseling student I am consistently examining my own personal flaws, and I can handle negative feedback about them relatively well. For in my neuroses, I am probably my roughest critic. On the other hand, my talent, my raw intelligence, my creativity- throwing these out for judgment feels infinitely harder.
Yet in one of my finals last semester, an oral exam, my professor told us we could make a choice: Choose to answer the question we struggled with the most, the one we dreaded, and receive full credit, or choose an easier question, possibly not for the full credit. The lesson seemed clear: Meet your demons head on, or as we liked to say in my meditation class, invite them to tea. Make friends with your demons, for they are a part of you.
So in a way, this blog is inviting my demons to tea. I can grapple with the concept of allowing my words to be public domain, and along the way perhaps come to know myself, my work, and my world more deeply.
A blog seems entirely contrary to such a habit. On blogs people can spill all details of their most recent exploits, to be commented upon by the readers. Even more numbing to me is the idea of posting a piece of poetry, or heartfelt commentary on a particular issue, or story that hits painfully close to home. Somehow, the idea of this creative venture, in which both one's soul and one's talent are up for public commentary feels wrenching. Perhaps it's the last component, the talent, that I fear criticism of. As a counseling student I am consistently examining my own personal flaws, and I can handle negative feedback about them relatively well. For in my neuroses, I am probably my roughest critic. On the other hand, my talent, my raw intelligence, my creativity- throwing these out for judgment feels infinitely harder.
Yet in one of my finals last semester, an oral exam, my professor told us we could make a choice: Choose to answer the question we struggled with the most, the one we dreaded, and receive full credit, or choose an easier question, possibly not for the full credit. The lesson seemed clear: Meet your demons head on, or as we liked to say in my meditation class, invite them to tea. Make friends with your demons, for they are a part of you.
So in a way, this blog is inviting my demons to tea. I can grapple with the concept of allowing my words to be public domain, and along the way perhaps come to know myself, my work, and my world more deeply.
Congratulations, love, on inviting your demons to tea. Already you've been an inspiration to me and you've only just gotten started. Once you get over the vulnerability of blogging, I think you'll find yourself liberated. Love- Court
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