Everything is inert. The sodden ground soaks up every sound, and there is no-one. Not the breath of a breeze, no clouds across the sun, just this subdued glow. There was a serious storm last night and the power, TV, phone and radio went on the fritz. Now there is this oppressive calm after the storm.
I have noticed that in the last blog, although thorough, it did not actually get to the point of the big reason being found to be seventeen upsets me.
I don’t think that I will be taken seriously anymore.
If you are 33, what does someone half your age have left to tell you? How can something that person says be new, interesting or profound? I know it’s not quite the same thing, but if an eight year old approached me, I’m sure I would be open to the possibility, but I would be doubtful that their blog would be insightful. There may only be four years between me and you dear readers, but as my (can’t believe I’m actually printing this now) mother says, it’s a BIG four years. It’s the difference between thinking you’re close to grown up and being a young adult. I’m the one who’s learning here, I’m not making you think. At best it’s a little poignant, but I’m not being inspiring and perceptive like I find Amanda’s blog to be. It’s the half age thing. It doesn’t work both ways.
As Paul McDermott would say “I’ve lost control of the show again!”
The previous attempt at a reply to the recent events has been relegated to a new sort of file – “Bad Archival Blogs” where all of it will stay apart from some borrowed introduction and a revised note to The Shadow Box Book thread.
I should have known that it was going nowhere, how could something that I decided to call “Life Is A Beige Fish” be any good? I went straight from the comments to the blog and the result was just as scrambled as I felt. I should have spent more time calmly looking at the fish tank than trying to sort out this stuff.
I shall make this short; clean it all up in a few unimaginative phrases:
- Yes, I acknowledge that I am angsty. I am especially angst-ridden about the fact that I am becoming the average teenager. And I can’t believe I am seventeen, and I can’t believe that not wanting to be, or believing that I am, is so seventeen.
- Yes, I know I will let go of my dreams. I am at peace with the idea that my dreams will die somewhat subconsciously. If that day comes I will welcome the time when I accept something that I am better at as my true calling. I wish I could now, I have enough whatever it is that allows me to step back and see it happen, I’m not that caught up in it that I’m blind. Sometimes I think it might be a lot happier and things might be a lot simpler if I were. But I wouldn’t trade the insights for ignorant bliss.
- The reason I can’t sing as well as I would like to, if the logic holds true, is because of the pressure. I never really though about it before but my year 12 result is riding on those lessons, because then I can pass the audition into my course, so then we can sell the house and move closer to the institution.
- No, I don’t think I will be posting any song poem things here. Ages ago I put some of them on a band fan forum (not the Dolls) and I got some good feedback. But the site got revamped and all the old posts got deleted, and I think I was glad. For two reasons: one, I didn’t like the idea of the loose copyright on the internet and thought of all the people hitting Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V and plagiarising it at will; and two, you may have heard I was disgusted that not only have these things that were intended as songs, to be sung to and audience by me, been relegated to poems – but they appear to work well as poems. And in true schizophrenic artist fashion that sickens me. Maybe this is a manifestation of the dream compromise I said I was completely fine with. But I deserve that. If I wrote something good that worked as a poem, which was made as a poem and not a concession, then I’d consider posting it.
- And lastly; I will be taking a temporary hiatus (to quote Blink 182) from blogging. I think it’s for the best. Put the energy into song poem things and my voice instead. They certainly need the attention.
Maybe I shall return. Six months after giving up on last year’s blog I returned to create this one, so I am attached to it.
Farewell for now.
☆Anika☆
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Anika,
ReplyDeleteI've been trying to decide whether to address you here or on Shadowbox. I've decided here, because I can be more honest with you, although I may repost some of this stuff there.
Forgive me for being a little angry. I was. Partially because what you said on Shadowbox used to be true for me; partially because I feel like you missed the point of what I've gotten from Shadowbox, and more importantly the point of my last message.
I have wanted a connection with Amanda. I respond to her blogs not only because I always have something in response to say but also because I know she will read it. I have sent her PMs on shadowbox on various topics. I wonder if she reads my posts, my poetry. I joined Shadowbox to post a poem, and stayed when I once wanted to leave because she answered one of my questions directly.
But then, something changed. Amanda Palmer is a fantastic person, but also fantastic is the Shadowbox community. If anything, because they allow me to know them in ways she cannot, I have gotten more amazed at the creativity, humor, and kindness in these people.
So, I began by getting into this book because yes, I am a joiner and organizer -- I always have been -- and yes, I wanted to both appreciate Amanda and gain her approval -- but mostly, and the reason that I stay now when it is difficult and we are trying to negotiate among 3 continents and the main organizer is nowhere to be found -- because I believe that the Shadowbox community is one of beauty and one that produces beauty, and I wanted to help tie that together in some way that Amanda can show other people and say: these are my fans. Because I am proud of us.
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It is certainly your choice to stop blogging, if you wish. Your choice to feel four years between us as a burden. My last post was not about you being young, but that any age and any person has its value and its perspective. Your perspective is different from mine simply because you are a 17 year old living in a part of the world that I have never been too, experiencing things that I have never experienced. All human experience is precious.
Every time I read your blog and think something out to respond to you, I am learning about myself and my own feelings as well. I will be sad not to have this dialogue in my life, but I will certainly understand, and I wish you well.
Hey. Do you like my impressive music collection? I Do. I love myself for it. ;)
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