So I have been bumming a bit lately because of various areas of life: poetry submission rejections (check that out here), feeling a little lackluster creatively-speaking, and various other blah things.
Let me backtrack a bit to say that I used to LOVE Domino magazine (a fabulous and hip decorating magazine with a few lifestyle things thrown in) and I had a subscription last year sometime. And then Domino was no more, and the magazine publisher, in its infinite wisdom, replaced my funky, sorta indie interior design subscription with one to. . . Glamour. I was less than pleased. That magazine is fluff. Or at least it always has been. I prefer Elle personally--better fashion, more intellectual articles--but Glamour seems to be turning over a new leaf, trying to feature models of all sizes (and not just in weight-specific features--most of the time not even mentioning size, which is refreshing) and they seem to have more articles that mean something.
This month there was a little one-page piece called "Quick: What Do You Want to Do With Your Life?" written by author Kelly Corrigan. The whole little essay is good and got to me. But here's the part that really stuck:
"Aren't we all secretly aware that there are things we'd like to try--and might actually be able to do--if we weren't so damn embarrassed to be seen trying?" . . . "That old self-consciousness that kicks in around kindergarten and holds us hostage until we're finally old enough to wear purple, as the famous poem reads, impacts more than just our fashion choices. It snuffs out dreams."
It made me think of all the things that I haven't done because I was afraid. Afraid of failing privately, afraid of failing publicly and being laughed at--a short list is team sports (I ran track and XC--I felt coordinated enough to run), auditioning for plays, and taking dance classes. There are other things that intimidate me, but I still do them. Like submitting my poems, despite the fact that they get rejected. Repeatedly. Because I have this goal to have my poetry read and heard by other people, I'll keep putting myself out there, just like I did last week at an open mike after a poetry reading. I'll blow up a big bubble and suspend my disbelief and keep trying to get there. I think this has been the problem for me lately: life has no purpose if you're not putting yourself out there and trying to get somewhere.