(In my last post that was written about 3 months ago, I really should have noted that consistency with projects such as this has never really been one of my strong suits.)
Hello, dear reader, it is I once again! A lot has happened since the last time I wrote to you. Fall semester came to a close, the holidays came and went and the new semester was here quicker than I was able to comprehend (and, y’know, a virus started spreading across the world and nobody can seem to buy toilet paper).
As of writing this to you, it’s almost my freaking birthday! This birthday is a rather large one. If you haven’t guessed by the title of this post; 2020 is the birthday in which I turn 21.
This is exciting, don’t get me wrong. But a birthday like this causes me a lot of fear and long moments in the middle of the night of pure existentialism. For every single major milestone birthday, from around the time I turned 13 and entered my dreaded teenage years, I would deal with this panic for the few months leading up to my birthday.
The multiple subjects of this panic would always be over the same things. I’d spend those months before my birthday lying in bed at night wondering if I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing with my life, worried that I would not be able to accomplish these things. You have one life and everything about it I feel like I have to be extra careful about.
Of course, 21 isn’t any different from these other instances. I’m in college and still struggling with the possible career paths that I could take but hesitate to take. I love it all and want to do it all. Of course, that isn’t to say that I haven’t made strides since the last milestone birthday of 18, I have. I still have the same things that I freak out about before. It is, on top of that, a number that has always had that connotation of big things.
I’ve been thinking about my impending graduation. What’s going to happen after I graduate is an extreme blur to me. This is the point where the big things happen and the big things are, y’know, big.
Someone’s ’20s are often cemented as a time in life to make mistakes and I believe the biggest thing for me is that I’ve always been seriously afraid of making mistakes and trying new things to build a foundation forward.
Take this blog, for example, it’s a project that I’ve planned out multiple times in the past and have always had trouble starting. I wanted to do a good job at writing posts and gathering readers. I opened up resources all over Pinterest and Youtube for guidance. There was the talk of deciding your ‘niche’ and your topics beforehand and how to look like a professional blog even when you’re starting.
Now, more than ever, I feel the urge to dive into the things I create and want to create and just do. I don’t have a large collection of finished poetry that I could put into a collection. I have no major short stories that are finished and ready for the grueling submission process and the rejection letters that are sure to follow. There are things that I have always wanted to do, big projects, but I never do because the feat is so massive I never know where to start.
My boyfriend commented a few weeks ago about how I have the equipment to make short films and other projects but I haven’t, he asks why and I don’t have a good reason. I just don’t know how to do it.
Even the smallest things I make and see through to the end will provide another step in getting better for the next story, poem or video. In the end, there will be stacks upon stacks of things that I have done. No one thing is too small, it is all apart of that collection.