I’m scared. I’m scared that my abilities are gone. I’m scared that I’m going to fuck this up, and I’m scared of you.
I don’t wanna’ start, but I will.
This is an invocation for anyone who hasn’t begun, whose stuck in a terrible place between 0 and 1.
Let me realize that my past failures that follow through are no indication of my future performance, they’re just healthy little fires that are gonna’ warm up my ass.
If my FILDI (fuck it, let’s do it) is strong let me keep him in a velvet box until I really really need him.
If my FILDI is weak let me feed him oranges and not let him gorge himself on ego and arrogance.
Let me not hit up my Facebook like it’s a crack-pipe, keep the browser closed.
If I catch myself wearing a tutu (too); too fat, too late, too old, let me shake it off like a donkey would shake off something it doesn’t like.
When I get that feeling in my stomach, you know that feeling when all the sudden you get a ball of energy and it shoots down into your legs and up into your arms and tells you to stand up and goto the refrigerator and get a cheese sandwich – that’s my cheese monster talking. And my cheese monster will never be satisfied with cheddar, only the cheese of accomplishment.
Let me think about the people that I care about the most. And how, when they fail or disappoint me, I still love them, I still give them chances, and I still see the best in them – let me extend that generosity to myself.
Let me find and use metaphors to help me understand the world around me, and give me the strength to get rid of them when it’s apparent that they no longer work.
Let me thank the parts of me that I don’t understand or are outside of my control, like my creativity and my courage.
Let me remember that my courage is a wild dog, it won’t just come when I call it. I have to chase it down and hold on as tight as I can.
Let me not be so vain to think that I am the sole author of my victories, and a victim of my defeats.
Let me remember that the unintended meaning that people project on what I do is neither my fault, nor something that I can take credit for.
Perfectionism may look good in his shiny shoes, but he’s a little bit of an asshole and nobody invites him to their pool parties.
Let me remember that the impact of criticism is often not the intent of the critic, but when the intent is evil that’s what the block button is for.
And when I eat my critique, let me be able to separate out the good advice from the bitter herbs.
*Can’t understand the over-dub’d speech*
Let me not think of my work only as a stepping stone to something else, and if it is let me become fascinated by the shape of the stone.
Let me take the idea that has gotten me this far, and put it to bed. What I’m about to do will not be that. But it will be something.
There’s no need to sharpen my pencils anymore, my pencils are sharp enough – even the dull ones will make a mark.