What's the Worst that Could Happen?

If I don't write, the world won't come to an end.

Will it?

Besides, the laundry needed doing. I'm only finishing the last load this morning because I spent more time on it yesterday than I did on writing. I had the afternoon--and I was planning to write, really--but then I realized I had the whole week's lesson plans to do.

Now that the internet is working on my work computer, I have a mass e-mail to send out. And arts classes to plan. And vendors to e-mail. And I still have to fold the last two loads of laundry. And teach class.

And I'm sure I can think of other things to fill my time with instead of writing. Let's see, there's "take a nap," in case I'm the slightest bit tired. I could also "unload the dishwasher," even though the kids can do that on their own. And "nag kids to do their homework" should take up at least an hour or two. If I don't take the time to nag them, I won't really feel like a mom. I can't write down "paint," though. Too creative. I have to put that at the bottom of the list, along with "sew." Wouldn't want to get any actual MAKING done today. Better to feel the day is a complete scrap.

*sigh*

As long as I put writing at the bottom of the list--along with music, art, and any other creative pursuits--it won't get done. And then I'll never finish a project. And I'll never have to face critics. The pressure will be off.

But I won't be a writer. Or an artist. Or a costume designer.

I guess I better get to work. The REAL work, too. Not sweeping. Not laundry. Writing.

Snarky Voices

Some people have their own cheering section. You know these people. Perhaps you are one of these people, but you'll never admit it. These are the people who go out for American Idol and insist to the world that they are the best singers EVER. And they stink. Absolutely stink. But they have no understanding of singing, or what it takes to sing well, and cannot hear how horrid they are.

These are the ones who don't understand why they don't just "get" grades they want. Why don't people see how smart they are? Why don't people recognize their brilliance, and all rally behind them because they are, simply put, AWESOME? These people are frustrated when others don't simply agree with them. After all, they are ALWAYS RIGHT.

Hubris. Gotta love it.

I think it spreads around a lot more than we are willing to admit.

But then, I wouldn't know. I'm so far from hubris it's amazing I'm still trying. Sure, these self-assured people can get annoying, but it would be nice to BE one of these people, if only for a day.

I got the snarky voices instead. The critical ones who don't stop talking even when I relax at the piano keys. Who grumble even when I actually do make some headway on my novel revisions. I'm wondering more and more whether I am just schizophrenic, if these voices are a manifestation of my own insanity.

All I know is they won't stop talking, and they don't say anything nice.

Where do they come from? Every corner of my life. Every stray negative comment. Sure, I can block them out, but not completely. I can argue with them, or take action despite their derision, but I still hear them. That is why I am ultra cautious about what I tell others. I don't want to contribute to their own voices… at least not the way I contribute to my own.

But I will continue to fight them. I will keep writing, keep painting, keep drawing, and keep writing, despite all they say. I will never give up.

Embracing One's Inner Dork

This post is about my daughter, for a change.

(I know the word "dork" should indicate my son has done something, but that isn't the case. However, be assured that my daughter's involvement in dorkiness is my fault, not hers.)

Anyway, although she is a bit old for it, my daughter volunteered to stick around with the littler children and participate in the Christmas musical at church, which I am directing. Because of casting needs, she was cast as the Beth, the Star of Bethlehem. That was okay to her (she really wanted to be an angel instead), but for months we've wondered what to do about a costume.

I searched, and I searched, but it wasn't until last week that I found one, on the Oriental Trading website, of all places. (I didn't even know they had costumes!) Here it is, in all its illustrious glory:

Glamorous, isn't it? Looks even better on, too.

I was worried. Almost twelve is a great age for worrying what people think. We only had one more rehearsal, too, to get used to it.

So, Sunday morning, I forced her to wear it during practice. She didn't want to. She was hoping to just "forget" to wear it at the last minute, so that everyone would just have to pretend it was there.

No dice. She reluctantly put it on, and then ran through her lines and movements with everyone else. After two scenes, her voice was too quiet to hear, her face down, her body language defeated. She hated the costume. She thought she looked ridiculous. She was a dork.

But then something magical happened, and it was all her doing. She realized, first of all, that her arms didn't have to stick out the slits on the sides. She could shove them deep into the star's points above her shoulders. And the costume was soft, so she could make the star's points move, squish together, wave, curl around other character's ponytails, etc.

Even more, once other people saw what she was doing, and laughed, she realized how immensely entertaining the movements were. Suddenly she wasn't the stupid kid in the even stupider costume. She was the funny kid in the goofy costume--and she was hilarious! And happy. And her voice grew louder and more animated. And her movements were happy, filled with energy, and she was focused on the play with an intensity she had NEVER expressed before.

Yup. She'd done it all by herself, too. She'd embraced her inner dork and realized its worth. She chose acceptance and self-deprecation over stodgy insistence on decorum. Too bad more people can't seem to make this choice. I'm not saying it would make the world a better place, but it would make for a little more entertainment. And they'd be happier, too.

Now the only thing left is to keep my daughter from stealing the show with that costume of hers--that dorky, goofy, funny, scene-stealing star costume.

Are you embracing your inner dork? Funny how embracing it makes it oh-so-much-less dorky.