Okay, so this post is about two separate but TOTALLY RELATED things. Yeah, you’re welcome.
Going through a time of life where I’m not sure what I’m doing and doing it anyway. Had an amazing first term of the last year of my MFA and then BAM… (that’s not another acronym, I literally/figuratively mean BAM!)… I woke up with the realisation that I didn’t care about… anything.
Having grown up with anxiety with lashings of depression and being what would commonly be referred to in the olden days as a high strung woman and am now, as I believe the kids are commonly calling cray-cray, I knew that the stress of moving to an entirely different country to live for two years was reaching its breaking point. I also knew that this could actually be my sickly-twisted life humour rearing its ill timed head to tell me that I am, yet again, average. Average grades, average life, above average personality.
And when you grew up in the gifted and talented generation you really do believe that your strange, artistically inclined genius will render average living moot. You will do many amazing wonders like cure the world of unicorn baldness (a real problem). So the stress of being average brought about a renewal of panic and tears. I’ve wanted to be more than I am my whole life and to lower my expectations for myself feels like settling.
A while back – in the great history of time that is my blog of an entire two and a half months – I wrote a post about my blog crush. And today, when I was at both my highest and my lowest and feeling… average… I turn to my blog.
Me: One new comment! Yay!
Also Me: …
My little relatively unknown blog was read by none other than The Blogess herself. I properly began to nerd out. Hard. And promptly burst into tears. Because that little bit of validation from halfway across the world made my day a little brighter, a little less average, and re-affirmed my quest of the remedy for balding unicorns.