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Day 8
In your own space, make a list of at least 3 things that you like about yourself. Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so.
One
I do not collapse. I can indulge in self-pity and wallow in it, but at the end of the day, the only solution to whatever problem I have is to soldier on, put one foot in front of the other, and continue. I can do that. I can pick myself up and do whatever it is that must be done. At the end of the day, of all the coping methods for dealing with having to do a thing, the only one that actually works is "just fucking do it already".
Two
I dance. I embody the music. I improvise. I act. (Communicating with people is nothing but an improv play. There are scripts one can start with, but eventually it all goes off the rails. Choose the most useful role available when you start.) I can perform. What is the point of stage fright – if onstage, I know what I'm supposed to do. Unlike the rest of the time. The dancing is but a very public meditation.
Three
I create. Solutions to problems, connections between neurons, stories, art, connections. I desire to become. I am driven. I long, yearn, want. Long for the feeling of things finally locking into place, yearn for making order out of chaos, want nothing but to achieve. Leave others to their small lives – let my name be sung through the ages. Let my creations hallow my names, and be recalled for as long as civilization exists. Give me my immortality.
Perhaps I live only for the applause. What is fic-writing but a performance of a different kind, no? – Well, then so be it. Watch me reach for the stars from the sky, and even if you cannot bring yourself to clap: do not stop me.
In your own space, make a list of at least 3 things that you like about yourself. Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so.
One
I do not collapse. I can indulge in self-pity and wallow in it, but at the end of the day, the only solution to whatever problem I have is to soldier on, put one foot in front of the other, and continue. I can do that. I can pick myself up and do whatever it is that must be done. At the end of the day, of all the coping methods for dealing with having to do a thing, the only one that actually works is "just fucking do it already".
Two
I dance. I embody the music. I improvise. I act. (Communicating with people is nothing but an improv play. There are scripts one can start with, but eventually it all goes off the rails. Choose the most useful role available when you start.) I can perform. What is the point of stage fright – if onstage, I know what I'm supposed to do. Unlike the rest of the time. The dancing is but a very public meditation.
Three
I create. Solutions to problems, connections between neurons, stories, art, connections. I desire to become. I am driven. I long, yearn, want. Long for the feeling of things finally locking into place, yearn for making order out of chaos, want nothing but to achieve. Leave others to their small lives – let my name be sung through the ages. Let my creations hallow my names, and be recalled for as long as civilization exists. Give me my immortality.
Perhaps I live only for the applause. What is fic-writing but a performance of a different kind, no? – Well, then so be it. Watch me reach for the stars from the sky, and even if you cannot bring yourself to clap: do not stop me.