I failed today internet. I failed. I failed at my job. At being a person. At taking care of my house. I failed my diet. I have failed to blog on a regular basis. I failed in so many big and small ways. This isn't new for me. I have failed before. I know I will fail again. I also know somehow that this failure is just a piece of me. That it doesn't define the whole of me. It is just a piece of who I am.
I know all that. Its just that sometimes the failure is so palpable that I can't see through this dense fog of failure to the knowledge of who I am. Sometimes I just want to get on my hands and knees and try and crawl through the fog to a place where I can hide. Run away. I want to run away from my failure. If I were 6, I might hide myself in my closet with all my favorite things. If I were 16, I might pack a bag and head for a friend's house or more likely, just a place I could be by myself. If I were still 25, I might just get in my car and drive until I ran out of gas.
But I am 36. I can't run away. I have too much responsibility. And furthermore, I am old enough to know that running away won't help anything. No, the only way to get through the fog is to put my head down and lean my shoulder into it and just get through it.
I failed today. But I will do better tomorrow. And I will fail again. The failure doesn't define the whole of who I am. It is just a piece of me.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Thursday, May 8, 2008
by way of introduction
"Sometimes the words are so close I am more who I am when I am down on paper than anywhere else"...
When I first read those words written by Julia Alavarez, it felt like someone had finally verbalized that thing I had been trying to say for 30 years. Have you ever had a conversation with someone and just not been able to think of the name of a person or a book or a movie and then it sort of follows you around for the rest of the day as a sort of aching gnaw at the back of your grey matter? You aren't even aware you are still puzzling over it, pondering it but your mind is still chewing on it until three days latter in the middle of a completely unrelated conversation you suddenly shout out 'Ally Sheedy' or 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' or whatever it was. That sense of release and accomplishment and satisfaction and discovery - that is what I felt when I first read those words.
And I feel it still to some degree. I still believe it is true. I am better defined, better presented, better in general when I put my thoughts on paper. But with the sageness of a few advanced years, I see that the root of the question now is not who I am on paper. The real question is "who am I?"
When I first read those words written by Julia Alavarez, it felt like someone had finally verbalized that thing I had been trying to say for 30 years. Have you ever had a conversation with someone and just not been able to think of the name of a person or a book or a movie and then it sort of follows you around for the rest of the day as a sort of aching gnaw at the back of your grey matter? You aren't even aware you are still puzzling over it, pondering it but your mind is still chewing on it until three days latter in the middle of a completely unrelated conversation you suddenly shout out 'Ally Sheedy' or 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' or whatever it was. That sense of release and accomplishment and satisfaction and discovery - that is what I felt when I first read those words.
And I feel it still to some degree. I still believe it is true. I am better defined, better presented, better in general when I put my thoughts on paper. But with the sageness of a few advanced years, I see that the root of the question now is not who I am on paper. The real question is "who am I?"
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