Day 42

I was up for a job that I didn’t get. This feeling of rejection kind of sucks, but I’m using it to fuel my creativity. I’ve had two conversations in the past 24 hours about who I am, why I write, how I express myself, etc. I hate these kinds of discussions, because I feel like I have to defend myself, which really isn’t fair.

I am honest, sometimes blatantly so. This can unnerve people. I don’t believe in censorship. I’m not a buffet where you can pick and choose what you like; I’m not an edited-for-TV version of Scarface. I don’t fucking care if you like it. For the first time in my life, I’m being honest with myself. I tend to be a doormat. I let people walk all over me and get their way and I refuse to let it happen anymore. I’m a person, not something you wipe your feet on.

The person who said, “honesty is the best policy” is probably kind of full of shit. Honesty can get you in a lot of trouble. The truth isn’t always pretty. I think I get a bad rep for speaking my mind. We live in a pretty bleak world, how am I not supposed to have some serious point of views? I’m real and that means taking the good and the bad. I don’t fucking care if you like it.

As for why I write about my life and my thoughts… I wrote a graphic novel in college and I got the same question in a critique. It was difficult to answer because it’s kind of like having some asshole heckle you, “Why is your life so great? Why should people care?” I’m sure they phrased it more politely, but that’s kind of the heart of the question. Why the fuck are you so great? Why are you worth the millisecond of attention our ADD generation will spend on you? Here’s the thing: I don’t really know. I’m trying to figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to be writing about, but people always say “write what you know.” Not that I know myself all that much, but I know what I experience. I think that I have an interesting point of view and because I write about my life doesn’t mean that I think your life isn’t worth writing about. It’s not a competition; it’s a means of expression. It’s not a social status; it’s a creative calling. I’m sure that this questioning of why I write comes from my middle- class upbringing and my father constantly telling my not to waste time on my creative endeavors. However, having to deal with these questions and criticisms have made me realize my true passion is creating; it’s telling stories, making movies, painting, drawing, sewing, dancing… It’s thickened my skin and made me impervious to the haters. I don’t fucking care if you like it. Do you ask a bird why it flies? Do you ask a fish why it swims? They do it to survive; it’s how they get by. For me, writing is no different. Making movies, painting, drawing, sewing, and dancing are no different. I need them to survive; I need them to get by.

I don’t have delusions of grandeur. I don’t think I’m Charles Dickens, Judy Blume, or Chuck Klosterman. I’m not Lenny Bruce or Stephen King. Will my ramblings ever be published? Bastardized into a movie or TV show? I don’t know, and I kind of don’t care. I am creative because if I don’t let the beast out, I’m pretty sure it will cause me to implode. Not pretty.

Before I started this blog, I was just going to write it as a book. I thought, “Why give away my content for free?” Okay, that was my delusional-self referring to my writing as “content.” Fuck me. I realized that it’s not as if I have some finite amount of thoughts. It’s not like I’m going to run out of shit to inspire me. My mind is a wellspring of constant inspiration. It’s a fucking natural resource. Not that all of my ideas are golden nuggets, but they exist. I had an idea to add corn to this pasta dish I made… that was a TERRIBLE idea. I once tried to screen-print a Che Guevara pattern on to some shoes… but you can’t really screen-print on 3-dimensional objects without royally screwing it up. HORRIFIC IDEA.

So, in conclusion, thanks for reading this far. I appreciate your interest, support, encouragement, criticism, and hatred. But most of all, I don’t fucking care if you like it. I'M BLONDE.

Today gets 4 Barbie Warhols: