Dodge Blog

I'm frustrated with myself. And I'm enraged with myself. And I'm disgusted with myself. This blog is becoming just another place to ... duck, dance, act, pose, throw a curtain over myself while pretending to be productive. Post a picture of a journal page and call it expression. I'm pretending! Pretending! Posturing! And the whole thing with these journal pages is a dodge of actually writing any damn thing, too. Make pretty pages, leave only enough room for 6 sentences, write sentences I can't really ever read when I go back to them.

WHAT AM I AFRAID OF???

Still. After 32 years of writing a journal? After 2 years (not quite, on the 20th this month) of visual journaling? Discovery? Honesty? Being revealed? Judgment? Criticism? Fuck, I know it's a little of all of that and probably more. I'm ready to throw all the art shit into boxes and donate them to a homeless shelter for their kids to use, and make myself just pick up a pen and write a journal.

This blog is for ME. I've already forgotten that. I'm already using it like a little god damned stage, which means not really saying anything, and then saying what I do say politely, carefully, with kid gloves and political correctness.

TONI THIS BLOG IS FOR YOU. THIS BLOG IS FOR ME. If you want to write, art, dance, pose, clown around for an audience, publish a novel, submit your damn canvases, go to a club, join a theater group. If you want to be real, do it. GET IT DONE. You're 46 years old and still cowering.

Jesus God Almighty, will I ever grow up and CLAIM MYSELF? My thoughts, my anger, my happiness, my sources within and without, my fantasies, my rages, my contentments, my ideas, my guilts, my history, my future, my depression, my yearnings, my words, my silence, my reality? The reality of me?