My thoughts are a little all over the place since coming back from vacation – tiny boats bobbing up and down in a turbulent ocean. I can’t seem to reel them in.
What’s the difference between being special and feeling special?
Or rather – who deems that?
Saying everyone is special seems like bullshit. Everyone has worth, certainly. Has meaning, purpose. But not everyone is special. Not everyone is Alexander Hamilton, or Lorde, Barack Obama.
Maybe I feel I’m special, but I’m not.
Or maybe what is special is that I’m not, but feel it so deeply, and want to share, to express and be heard, to find a commonality with anyone or everyone who has ever felt like everything and nothing at the same time.
How do I write? How do I encourage that aspect of myself? Take a leap? I feel like I can’t breathe at my current job, but I don’t know what would suit me better.
What do I want?
I want to feel passionate about the work I do. I want to feel excited. I want to feel like I’m contributing to something meaningful, worthwhile. I want more opportunities for women in film. I want that for myself, and for other women. I want to not be the token women in a production room. I want to create. I want people to see and appreciate what I do, to feel it’s true, to resonate with the common thread of human experience. I want to create for myself, or at the very least, for people (women) who I support and feel inspired by. I want to have time to let the threads of creativity waving around my mind tether together – to not feel like creativity is excessive or unrealistic or not mature enough. I want to travel and get lost and walk through meadows and be known and be anonymous.
There’s a tree I can see on the other side of this Corner Bakery window – it’s got small white lights surrounding the trunk, and the quaking leaves make the lights twinkle and dance. How can it feel like autumn right now when it’s 90 degrees outside, the middle of July?
Running normally helps when I feel like this, but it’s so warm, and I’m so out of practice. I meant to run a million times last week but I didn’t – my back hurt, I wanted to sleep, I couldn’t muster the energy.
My family and I went camping this weekend and I wanted to run around the lake, to do something different. I’ve known it my whole life, walked around it every year since my legs could support themselves. I wanted to run, to feel the symbolic justice of growth, to show myself that I’ve changed, gotten stronger, become better.
That didn’t happen. And it was just poetry, but now it’s jarred my whole mind – because who am I if I haven’t changed?
I’m supposed to blog right now, but I’m minds cloudy and I can’t focus, so here’s this instead.
Enjoy some pictures from my vacation, and a recording of Moon River I made on the mountain.
This has been a post.