It’s 79 degrees outside, and it smells wonderful. After months of blizzards, it’s certainly a welcome change. If I wasn’t such an hermit, I’d go for a walk downtown or even around the block – but I’m content sitting in my house, sneezing my head off, and enjoying the scent of spring. Even if it makes my face stuffy.
I was off this past week from school, and I spent most of that time working on the distro. I’ve also had bursts of creative energy, but I’ve been too tired from the time change to channel that energy into any writing projects. I really want to make a fifth issue of my zine Driving Blind – I just need to find the strength. Writing takes a lot out of me, mentally. Words don’t flow like they used to, and that is partially why I have this blog. They say the more you write, the more you want to write and the easier it is. I think that’s true, and it has helped me, ever so slightly. Also, I’ve had to write a lot for school, so that’s good.
I want to go back for my Masters in English, but I fear that my anxiety will get the best of me. I am so completely introverted, and I’ve noticed how it’s gotten worse over the years. This isn’t to say that being introverted is a bad thing – millions of people are – but coupled with anxiety, it’s not a fun thing. I know that I am very nervous around large groups of people, I don’t like talking in front of people, I am nervous about not being able to write well enough, I am nervous about not getting good enough grades…the list goes on and on. And I know how difficult it can be for me to write, so being forced to write all.the.time, long papers – I don’t know if I can. But I always believe it’s important for me to try and push through my anxiety. I can’t let that be an extra barrier.
I’ve actually just started being more open with myself about my anxiety. I know I get panic attacks sometimes, especially in the middle of the night. I’ve learned to deal with them myself, so they are definitely not as bad as they used to be. But I worry to much about things. I have a perfectionist’s mind, and if it isn’t just right, I obsess over it until it is. And then I worry it isn’t good enough, and I never think it is. I don’t really want to get too deep into my anxiety here, but I think being honest with myself about it helps too.
Well, that was certainly a random post.
She's a Bibliophile 