Me On Blogging

I’ve avoided this for some time. But I know that blogging is a necessary evil. Through the years, I’ve started blogs and then deleted them several times. The midwesterner in me felt that I never needed that sort of spotlight. That I am no expert on cooking, the latest on runways or relationships. What if I run out of content? I would think. Other people already do this and do it better, was my other thought. 

Me trapped in my own mind jail.

Me trapped in my own mind jail.

Last year, I decided to hide behind a fiction blog using characters to tell a story. It died because it was too time consuming. Read it here. 

I never wanted to blog  about my creative process because so much of my process is “I just made it because I liked the color/texture/shape.” I feel like creating narratives for my work is disingenuous. It’s for people who don’t know anything about art to comment that my idea is “so PRO-found! Wow, I would have never thought of that.” I’ve been to art school and I know the bullshit sells the work. 

I am still haunted by not blogging. I want to become a brand and in this day and age, you must be visible on media to do just that. Every book, blog or course on growing your business includes advice on being your authentic self on a variety of media. 

I think I found my issue with blogging or an even bigger scare, vlogging; I don’t think my authentic self is awesome enough for someone to read about. I am critical, a bit sarcastic without snark and sometimes just silly. I was never popular. Or unpopular either. I coasted in the middle of life. I’m the nameless partygoer with a funny line in the teen flick about the unpopular girl finally dating the big man on campus.

My mother used to ask “Are you average?” when I brought home a B on my report card. She would say “B’s are average. Are you average? I didn’t raise any average kids.” I warred my entirely life with making sure I’m not average. I tried to be my original self. To stay away from “basicness.” Yet, the world fights you when you are original. 

In the high school hallways of the 90s, that means wearing clothes with logos (FUBU, Abercrombie etc) on them. I did it to fit in even though I hated it. (I realize there are people who read this and say “I did what I wanted in high school.” Good for you but the rest of us were all too chicken shit to do it.) But I still rocked my rings, triple earrings, and any other funky jewelry I found in my travels in Ohio. I had a few panja bracelets (ring attached to bracelet to those who don’t know). I actually got some love for them from people. That was my authentic self compromise of high school. Of course, the rest my life has been compromising my authenticity with what everyone else is doing.

I’m free, bitches! By the way check out that awesome leather cuff I’m wearing.

I’m free, bitches! By the way check out that awesome leather cuff I’m wearing.

Being an INFP, I want to be authentic but fear bringing attention to myself. I don’t want the spotlight. But I realize that my ideas are good and deserve to be out in the world. For my superstar ideas to be out there, I need to be okay with being a superstar myself. (Even writing that line caused butterflies in my stomach). 

Well, I am doing this my way I guess.