Re-fresh. Re-fresh.

blog-let-go.jpg

Well, where do I begin? 


As long as I have known about blogs, I wanted to create one that made me proud, bared my soul, and could inspire others to do the same... Scrolling down on mine as of now (it doesn't take long to get to the bottom...), it brings me a load of disappointment. When it came time to update, which most of the time I ignored any signals, I scramble to find words and throw something together quickly. I never allowed myself to sit with the post's substance and importance to have it attain a sense of vulnerability before I hit the dreaded publish trigger.

Looking at my blog as of now, I see nothing but rust and dust.

Anxiety rushes to me with the thought of actually pursuing this: something so personal, vulnerable, constant, daunting, yet hopefully inspiring... Truly, it fills my bones with fear. What if what appears doesn't hit the expectations of you, nor anyone else? What if it is good as something only my parents would read, like my first drawing that would last on a refrigerator for a week or so? Fear has shriveled me from even attempting to put together something I want to create so badly.

I have scrolled through blogs for most of my life. I began to fill sketchbooks with what mine would contain, it's design and values, sketches and poetry, letters and questions for myself to dig deeper. When Pinterest came to creation, I reacted to a constant Pin this, Pin that, hoping for a perfect miracle: for my blog to create itself from the abundance of half assed ideas I collected. Instead of sharing and revealing my heart and soul in this space I declare mine, I snug it under my coffee table until the next time I'm alone to let my heart bleed it's glory.

When bills became tough, I declared I would only create for someone if it were to help me pay my bills, or reduce my debt. With such statements, I have found myself faced towards a wall. Instead of continuing to create personal work while doing what I need to keep a roof over my head, I have found myself constantly browsing through freelance websites and Craigslist. Jumping from desk to desk, I find myself at my third job since I've been in New York. From this, I don't think I ever letting myself settle to smell the fresh air, or be grateful that I have found work in one of the hardest cities... In my field! Luckily, my jobs have let me create and use a camera everyday - yet I still find myself itching to find another job. I am starting to think I will never be happy with my job - no matter what the pay or description is. As I look at the common denominator, I find myself.

 I always used to tell everyone that it didn't matter how much money I had, as long as I was creating and taking care of myself - I would be happy and filled. Now, I spend my funds carelessly on sites that let me bid on weddings and other freelance jobs. Instead of belonging to a gym, buying art supplies, or figuring out how to make another killer soup, I buy coffee and food for convenience, that isn't entirely tasty. I have stopped creating for myself on all mediums, paint is rarely spread, things haven't been rearranged in my apartment and rarely any additions to my collection of trinkets appear. I find myself dressing a bit sloppily, no longer dressing in my funky and alternative way, nor wearing any make up or a collection of my accessories. I am not cooking and experimenting with healthier and tasty foods, or even taking the time to use my French press instead of the quick and easy instant coffee. My sketchbooks lay empty and collect dust, and I do not flip through my collections of books for inspiration. My camera doesn't turn on unless I'm hired to do so, and I feel as if I don't know what I would photograph if I wasn't told what to focus on. Most importantly, I find myself not questioning myself, my values, nor my visions as to what i want to do or grow in.

When looking at myself as of now, I see nothing but rust and dust

This is me, declaring where I am as of now. Looks like I have some dusting to do.

Please stick around. I can only promise that I will get out of my head, and dip into my heart.

 

With Sparks O' Light