REST IN PEACE, ORIGINAL WEEKLY POST-ED #55
Here lies a Weekly Post-Ed that died too young. It was full of great ideas and whimsy, full of great experiences and bits that were sure to delight. However, its life was cut tragically short when draft after draft turned into absolute nostril cancer that would soon tumor the internet with more unnecessary badness. So, in honor of this most recent three-week gap in Weekly Post-Eds, let us now take a moment of silence and honor that which never was.
*Clears throat*
*A polite nod at someone across from you who accidentally made eye contact, too*
*A graceful glance at a wristwatch for how much time has gone by*
Thank you. Let us now proceed…
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BREAKING THE ICE, AGAIN
What I had not anticipated with writing Weekly Post-Eds again were all the setbacks. Low self-confidence, a lack of material, schedule constraints, performance pressure, fatigue—one thing after the other. The past three weeks were a crude reminder that just because we envision a successful result doesn’t mean that is how things will turn out.
I’ve written four completely different drafts for this entry. The first draft was about an opera I attended for the first, the second about Mother’s Day, and this most recent draft I spent harpooning my own ability to write this damned weekly offering—which, in hindsight, makes sense, linearly, with the fallout of the first two drafts.
What you are currently reading is the fourth complete rewrite.
Yup.
I think the problems began once I set an expectation for how this Weekly Post-Ed should read like. I was expecting a plethora of new experiences to magically sprinkle into a Weekly Post-Ed stew—a dash sharp satire here, a sprinkle of autobiographical whimsy there…And by Wednesday afternoon, I could copy/paste my charming thoughts and opinions into Wordpress and bask in the majesty of another dish well served to the internet.
Is anyone actually inspired by cooking shows where all the ingredients are pre-measured in bowls and all the charming host has to do is toss it all into an even bigger bowl to cook to perfection? The heartbreaking part is understanding that, no, the special organic paprika blend that was used in the all-so-delicious recipe is tucked away in an obscure aisle at the grocery store, and that the checkout line is twenty miles long, and the sun is about to go down, which begs the question of how much time there is to cook anyway, and—
There’s a terrible miscalculation going on—what we think is easy and effortless takes a lot more than we think.
And it sucks.
It is now three weeks after I pictured myself triumphantly posting on my website. At this point, I’m publishing this draft not because it is better than the others that came before it, but out of a necessity to publish something instead of nothing.
Sometimes when we get stuck, it’s hard to recognize the path to get unstuck is to stop running circles. In this case, circles of indecisiveness (which raises questions about the shape of the running in a circle if the issue is insecurity—but perhaps I’m overthinking that one). Yes, I’m afraid of this draft being bad. It’s also a bit late in the process to develop an aversity to attempting new things. It’s concerning that the lessons we often learn in life are ones that come around frequently.
I had forgotten that the point of all this was to experiment and try things. And, as a regressing learner of worldly matters, I have to ask: What is the point in avoiding looking like an idiot, exactly?
I can’t think of a reason. I’ve run out of people to actively seek impressing.
Until that list gains new names, I’ll have to settle for the truth.
Which, I think, is the nature of writing autobiographically—it isn’t important to be anything other than honest about your story.
Even the foibles of trying to put together a measly piece of website content.
So, here it is. Finally. Out the door, being read (hopefully). Next week, there will be new things to tell.
Hang in there with me. We’ll get there together.
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Wishing everyone as well as you can be. You’re not alone out there,
