050911 -- Can't Wait
May. 9th, 2011 01:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
memorialrainbowI just discovered something. No, this cannot wait. This has to be documented at 1:09 in the morning. Has to be.
Right now, I'm sitting here with about half of a battery. I need sleep. I know I need sleep. But I promised you all an entry, and you're going to get it.
I'm sure you've all heard me talk about fame before. When I was growing up, fame was no longer something that was a fleeting idea. Sure, everybody wishes that they can be the next J-Lo or what not, but I was always told that I could make it. I could make it! I had the talent, the know-how, the whole package. (Keep in mind that I was also told this in suburban Indianapolis, so this isn't some small-town whoo-hah.)
It got to the point where I started to hold myself accountable. If I was as good as they said I was, I could certainly make it, all on my own, even at a young age. I expected myself to make a name for myself before I was out of high school, maybe bypass college, be famous. When that didn't happen, I gave myself until I got out of college to get a plan together. Clearly, none of that has happened, as I am still in my hometown. By my 'famous' guidelines, I am a horrible failure, destined to be forever ugly next to the Justin Biebers and Selena Gomezes of this world.
But am I them? No. My parents did not have all their time and resources to devote to me. I'm not saying this as an offense to my parents, but they had three kids to raise, not one. They couldn't sacrifice Stephanie to make me perfect. I'm glad they didn't. My parents either would or could not help me, and so I figured I'd have to make it all by myself. But the pressure was on from them, as well. I reasoned that if I wasn't perfect, then I would be a disgrace to their name. But do I want to be perfect? Clearly not. I gave up a long time ago, holding myself to a standard that I stopped fighting for.
Yet I still, in many ways, continue to hold myself to this standard. If only my books will sell enough, if only my music will sell... (By the way, I finally got the record from the copyright office for RMN today. After all that drama, this is a major YAY.) If I don't sell, I am a disgrace. And I won't promote myself, because I'm too shy to.
I know my job can eat me alive. I know I lose myself. But I've lost more than just myself. I've lost my life. When I stepped onto International Street for the first time this season, I felt the life literally get breathed back into me. It was a feeling that I hadn't known for so long, like I'd finally returned home after searching for so long. I never wanted to leave. I feel like Dylan had to drag me out of those gates. Some might not understand. That's okay with me. But I need it. I need it like people need drugs, and not the abusive kind. I could continue to work wherever full time, and as long as I have that, I will not lose myself. I don't need fame if I can have speed. (For those of you really confused, I'm talking about this. Yes, NOW you get it.)
Dylan and I went through an interesting exercise yesterday morning, in which we shot the B scene for the Midnight Rave video. I learned that kneeling is a PAIN IN THE ASS to do. Seriously. My legs were numb after five minutes, and Dylan was in director mode and I felt like screaming. My legs still hurt from last night. But he said something to me, and I got from it that I should embrace pain. Now, I know that's wrong. That seems like I'm intentionally beating myself up. But it made me think about how I do tend to write really kickass music right after a huge breakup. If you can accept pain for what it is, then there's nothing to be afraid of. Pain is just something that comes with it.
Now I understand why Dylan shoots from the hip like he does. Nobody ever taught him how to fear. What kind of kid is this?
I was walking on the treadmill earlier, trying to walk off all the food I ate in Oxford (part 2 will be tomorrow, in the sunshine), thinking about this. Over the weekend, a good few people in Oxford were trying to convince me to move to Jersey with Dylan. Live nearby, work in New York City. There will be plenty of opportunities for me to do so. Yet, my heart is still stuck in Charlotte, and I wasn't figuring out why. Why does God want me to go to Charlotte, if my reasoning tells me I should just jump and go for Jersey? Wouldn't Charlotte be the safe alternative, then?
And then I realized that the stakes were higher for me than they were, say, my sophomore year. My sophomore year, when I went to NYC, I was younger. I had dreams. I had time to become famous. I could go and expect myself to be there two years later, famous and earning six figures for my wonderful fine arts. If I go now, New York City will only be a reminder of who I'm not. I'm not the perfect girl that I expect myself to be, and if I go, I will only punish myself. I will work in NYC, most certainly -- they bleed TWC like Charlotte does. But I won't push myself. I will still be scared. I won't want to do anything that has anything to do with anything...because I will still be holding myself to my invisible famous standard. If I do not work at it, I won't become famous, which I don't really want to. And there will always be this cloud over my head that reads "FAILURE."
If I go to New York City now, the only me who will exist will be a shadow of who the old me wants me to be. I will either do nothing at all, or throw myself into everything, hoping that something gets me a lead when I really don't want to be famous at all. There. I said it. I don't want to chase that fleeting dream. If I have speed, that is enough. Yes, I want to create. But God changed the rules of my creation long ago. (TTR readers know the story, and if you don't by now, find me in person. Too long and winding, no pun intended, to write here.)
If it were up to me, I would use my creativity to try and make myself famous, forsaking God and probably ruining myself in the process. God has taken my creativity from me. He has taken Studio LRPLI and turned it into SOSI/Cap-Sid. There is a clear and distinct difference, and if I go to New York City, if I strive for that perfection, it will be like this past year all over again. I will only be living for my selfish self.
Don't get me wrong. I firmly believe that God will have me heading to NYC eventually. It will just be on his terms, when He feels that I am ready for the city where I left a piece of myself behind. It's not something I can control, or even something I fully get right now. And I know I will only be disappointing Dylan by writing this.
When I said I had to find something in Charlotte...
I think God means ME.
Right now, I'm sitting here with about half of a battery. I need sleep. I know I need sleep. But I promised you all an entry, and you're going to get it.
I'm sure you've all heard me talk about fame before. When I was growing up, fame was no longer something that was a fleeting idea. Sure, everybody wishes that they can be the next J-Lo or what not, but I was always told that I could make it. I could make it! I had the talent, the know-how, the whole package. (Keep in mind that I was also told this in suburban Indianapolis, so this isn't some small-town whoo-hah.)
It got to the point where I started to hold myself accountable. If I was as good as they said I was, I could certainly make it, all on my own, even at a young age. I expected myself to make a name for myself before I was out of high school, maybe bypass college, be famous. When that didn't happen, I gave myself until I got out of college to get a plan together. Clearly, none of that has happened, as I am still in my hometown. By my 'famous' guidelines, I am a horrible failure, destined to be forever ugly next to the Justin Biebers and Selena Gomezes of this world.
But am I them? No. My parents did not have all their time and resources to devote to me. I'm not saying this as an offense to my parents, but they had three kids to raise, not one. They couldn't sacrifice Stephanie to make me perfect. I'm glad they didn't. My parents either would or could not help me, and so I figured I'd have to make it all by myself. But the pressure was on from them, as well. I reasoned that if I wasn't perfect, then I would be a disgrace to their name. But do I want to be perfect? Clearly not. I gave up a long time ago, holding myself to a standard that I stopped fighting for.
Yet I still, in many ways, continue to hold myself to this standard. If only my books will sell enough, if only my music will sell... (By the way, I finally got the record from the copyright office for RMN today. After all that drama, this is a major YAY.) If I don't sell, I am a disgrace. And I won't promote myself, because I'm too shy to.
I know my job can eat me alive. I know I lose myself. But I've lost more than just myself. I've lost my life. When I stepped onto International Street for the first time this season, I felt the life literally get breathed back into me. It was a feeling that I hadn't known for so long, like I'd finally returned home after searching for so long. I never wanted to leave. I feel like Dylan had to drag me out of those gates. Some might not understand. That's okay with me. But I need it. I need it like people need drugs, and not the abusive kind. I could continue to work wherever full time, and as long as I have that, I will not lose myself. I don't need fame if I can have speed. (For those of you really confused, I'm talking about this. Yes, NOW you get it.)
Dylan and I went through an interesting exercise yesterday morning, in which we shot the B scene for the Midnight Rave video. I learned that kneeling is a PAIN IN THE ASS to do. Seriously. My legs were numb after five minutes, and Dylan was in director mode and I felt like screaming. My legs still hurt from last night. But he said something to me, and I got from it that I should embrace pain. Now, I know that's wrong. That seems like I'm intentionally beating myself up. But it made me think about how I do tend to write really kickass music right after a huge breakup. If you can accept pain for what it is, then there's nothing to be afraid of. Pain is just something that comes with it.
Now I understand why Dylan shoots from the hip like he does. Nobody ever taught him how to fear. What kind of kid is this?
I was walking on the treadmill earlier, trying to walk off all the food I ate in Oxford (part 2 will be tomorrow, in the sunshine), thinking about this. Over the weekend, a good few people in Oxford were trying to convince me to move to Jersey with Dylan. Live nearby, work in New York City. There will be plenty of opportunities for me to do so. Yet, my heart is still stuck in Charlotte, and I wasn't figuring out why. Why does God want me to go to Charlotte, if my reasoning tells me I should just jump and go for Jersey? Wouldn't Charlotte be the safe alternative, then?
And then I realized that the stakes were higher for me than they were, say, my sophomore year. My sophomore year, when I went to NYC, I was younger. I had dreams. I had time to become famous. I could go and expect myself to be there two years later, famous and earning six figures for my wonderful fine arts. If I go now, New York City will only be a reminder of who I'm not. I'm not the perfect girl that I expect myself to be, and if I go, I will only punish myself. I will work in NYC, most certainly -- they bleed TWC like Charlotte does. But I won't push myself. I will still be scared. I won't want to do anything that has anything to do with anything...because I will still be holding myself to my invisible famous standard. If I do not work at it, I won't become famous, which I don't really want to. And there will always be this cloud over my head that reads "FAILURE."
If I go to New York City now, the only me who will exist will be a shadow of who the old me wants me to be. I will either do nothing at all, or throw myself into everything, hoping that something gets me a lead when I really don't want to be famous at all. There. I said it. I don't want to chase that fleeting dream. If I have speed, that is enough. Yes, I want to create. But God changed the rules of my creation long ago. (TTR readers know the story, and if you don't by now, find me in person. Too long and winding, no pun intended, to write here.)
If it were up to me, I would use my creativity to try and make myself famous, forsaking God and probably ruining myself in the process. God has taken my creativity from me. He has taken Studio LRPLI and turned it into SOSI/Cap-Sid. There is a clear and distinct difference, and if I go to New York City, if I strive for that perfection, it will be like this past year all over again. I will only be living for my selfish self.
Don't get me wrong. I firmly believe that God will have me heading to NYC eventually. It will just be on his terms, when He feels that I am ready for the city where I left a piece of myself behind. It's not something I can control, or even something I fully get right now. And I know I will only be disappointing Dylan by writing this.
When I said I had to find something in Charlotte...
I think God means ME.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-09 09:28 pm (UTC)