I’m exhausted. With the election, with my job, with life. I’m starting to recognize that at this point, even though I’m constantly watching social media, looking through it isn’t going to change anything. I’m applying to college and hoping to start in the spring. This might mean setting back blog updates even more… I hate to say it, but to bring the blog to where I want to be cost money and I don’t know if that would be in my best interest at least until I feel a little more finically stable.
I’m still working on updating it. Little by little I’ve been collecting what I need to make it better.
I’m learning to value the things I have done. For a while, I didn’t really like anything that I did. I thought it would never be good enough. Now, I’m learning to shrug those ideas off. A lot of us have to keeping trying for years to be good at one thing. I have been writing on and off for almost five years now and even though my life has been crazy I still think I’m getting better with every paragraph I write.
It’s so easy to compare ourselves to other people —especially with social media. Sometimes I feel like my art and writing will never be as good as the ones I see online. We tend to forget that what we see is usually the final product that someone has worked on for years to get good at.
I’ve been so hesitant to take the plunge. To show people what I’ve been working towards. I have seen people use, “filler,” artwork or showing people the rough drafts of their work so people can watch them make it better over time. I have thought about doing this, but I was worried that I would just stop at the rough draft. Or maybe this is something I’ve already been doing? I’ve gone from short book reviews to lengthly book discussion in a matter of a few years. I went from only posting posts every once in a while to doing them more consistently. Maybe I’ve told myself I can’t do it, that once I post more everything will start to fall apart. But I’ve made it this far and I have really nothing to lose so what am I so worried about? Money is what I’ve worried about the most, but why do I hold onto it like it’s apart of me? Isn’t it meant to be spent on the things we care about? Isn’t that why we have it?