self-conscious

Today I am feeling insecure about my writing. I feel nervous and uninspired. I believe the reason is because of the counter on my blog. I know it is something interesting to look at, but it is also making me feel self-conscious. My mom has over 100 more views that I do and it makes me want to just quit, and give up. I am jealous and I don’t know why. This blog feels like it is becoming food for my ego, when people write comments about how they like the post, I get booted up. I need to continue to do this for me, and to provide people with an understanding of Jordan, and the Bedouin people. I have lost this. I feel as if I am floating in a fake High School world, where I need to know if my outfit is cute enough to let me climb the social ladder. I need to stop this because it is ruining my days here and instead of being inspired by things, I feel as if I have been searching for them. My friend James wrote me a comment on how one of my posts inspired him to read the Middle Eastern section of the newspaper and gave him strength. I need to read and re-read this because it is inspiration that fuels me. Sometimes, I wish that I had a little secretary inside of my brain that could write down poems, thoughts, or whatever came to my mind, when I got inspired.
I was discussing the other day with my mother, how the arts affect people. We will take writing for instance. When you read, you are in a personal space, weather you be reading out loud or along with someone, it’s in you. Writing is powerful. It persuades, inspires, makes you sick, gives you nightmares, educates you on bed bugs, tells of distant lands, it does everything! Sometimes, I wish that I could just be put in a room with a laptop for a day, and just write everything that came to my mind. Writing is the way that I can be an artist (and it is why I need to stop searching for peoples approval). I don’t know how to paint, make a sculpture, balance ISO in a photo, but I can write. It is simple, but it is the brush with which I paint. Or if you have seen Juno, “The cheese of my macaroni.” I don’t think like a scientist, even though I love science, I don’t live in numbers but in my imagination. I feel bad for people who have stashed away their imagination, in an attempt to grow up. I love to observe human ways and I look at adults and pity them is some ways. Growing up is something entirely different and in an attempt to “grow up,” some have lost their imagination to their jobs, pushed away their dreams because of others, or some that wish to explore the world, but are bound by their own minds. I want to keep my imagination and try to use it everyday, weather it be looking at rocks and finding a funny face, playing a story through my head all day long, or writing. I must keep my fire alive. I can’t have my creativeness and my imagination get smoldered by this counter. This is my creative outlet and I have to remind myself of this or the breeze will snuff my rawness and honesty. Take my writing however way you want it, it is in your personal space. You may exaggerate my feelings; find inspiration in my words, or just curse at my views. Do it! I encourage you to access that special place inside of you. We admire children because of their creativity and their ability to love (and many more reasons), but they also don’t have a tainted imagination. They don’t laugh at each other’s imagination, if they want to imagine an underwater city in their tree house, or see a dog in the way the clouds billow, they are free. Keep this in mind, because you are your imagination and don’t let that light get extinguished. Burn baby burn!
Bisous,
Bailey