My current fun-employed state has afforded me lots of time for reflecting and since NYU basically gave me a degree in being a reflective practitioner (I have definitely reflected on my reflecting and then analyzed and reflected on that reflection. I wish I was joking), I seem to come by it pretty naturally these days. And this reflecting (why, yes! I am trying to see how many times I use that word in one post. How did you guess?) covers all aspects of my life, including this blogy blog, and so I was struck recently by this question--Why do you write? Certainly in my family we already have writers, two of them in fact, who are gifted wordsmiths, far superior to me. And yes, when I talk about my family, I refer specifically to my immediate family, in which there are only 5 members...
(some belong to more than one category)
-2 of whom are writers
-3 of whom are visual artists (though I'm not exactly sure I should put myself in the same category as my supremely gifted mother and brother)
-1 of whom is a performance artist (hey, that's me!),
-and 1 of whom is a dentist whose work is so good it should be considered art.
We are a motely crew to say the least. And despite not really needing more writers in the family, I still find myself writing this blog and I still find myself wondering why I do it. There are certainly lots of reasons I can come up with as to why I should just quit while I'm ahead. Let's look at the evidence:
a. My life is just not that interesting. I'm an unemployed college grad living at home with her parents. I am the textbook definition of boring (or loser, or whatever).
b. I don't write that often, so obviously there aren't a plethora of things going on in my life, as exhibit a already explained.
c. This thing is pretty much an extention of Facebook, except here when I write long, ranting paragraphs it isn't as weird as when I do it on Facebook, which always seems vaguely narcisistic. Then again, so is this.
d. The purpose of this? To inspire me to action, originally. To remind me to be bold and unafraid and try new things. Has it worked? Survey says: not so much.
f. I'm pretty sure the only person who reads this regularly is my mother, who is biologically obligated to be interested in my life.
I could go on and on, coming up with more and more snarky comments, but that just isn't good for company morale. Certainly there are an equal number of reasons to do it, right?
a. It's fun and gets the creative juices flowing.
b. It gives me a hobby to fill my many empty hours.
c. I work and think better when I talk stuff out, so this affords me the ability to do that and the ability to reflect on it later (cha-ching! that's 8 times I've used that word in this one little post. Score!) because it is in print on the internet, and we all know that the internet is forever.
d. Did I mention it's fun?
Ok ok, so most of my reasons are because I enjoy it, but that is a good enough reason to do most things, right? I absolutely think so. In reflecting (yes!) on what I've written, I've come to the realization that for now, writing this thing, attempting to make some art, taking small steps forward (hell yes, substitute certification!), is the way to go for me. For now.
Final "reflection" count in this one thing (and yes I am counting the one in this sentence): 10
Not too bad.