Showing posts with label Ira Glass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ira Glass. Show all posts

Monday, July 16, 2012

sunbeams.











breakfast remnants and deep thoughts from sunny, Saturday morning

I've been so inspired lately by this desperate english teacher...whose words and photos evoke the same magical feelings I felt as a teenager as I got lost in the world of Anne Shirley...and the gray, dreary autumn evenings in her little upstairs room at Kingsport Ladies College where she sipped tea and put pen to paper as willow branches swayed outside her window. Ms. Banks writes with such abandon...which is how I like to write, but struggle to do so. I go to write and when pain wants to come out, I'm afraid of looking like an over-sharer or like I'm feeling sorry for myself. I'm ashamed to say, surprise surprise, that my lack of writing has less to do with time and more self-doubt. One minute I'll reread something I've written and think it's good and before I know it, I'm waking at 3am wanting to delete my blog.  Because like Ira Glass says, I like to think I have good taste and I want it to be really good, even though I know no one really cares but me..."Shyness has a strange element of narcissism, a belief that how we look, how we perform, is truly important to other people." Andre Dubus

Here's another good quote I read recently, "Vera said, 'Why do you feel you have to turn everything into a story?’ So, I told her why: Because if I tell the story I control the version. Because if I tell the story, I can make you laugh, and I would rather have you laugh at me than feel sorry for me. Because if I tell the story, it doesn’t hurt as much. Because if I tell the story, I can get on with it.” Nora Ephron, Heartburn

When I'm writing, I do feel like it gives me some sense of control. And, I would rather someone laugh than feel sorry for me - like the speech on
The Sat.  And, yes, when I'm recording stuff, it does help my obsessive brain release it and let go.

After all that, you're probably waiting for me to delve into some sob story I've been dying to tell. But, there isn't one. Just been thinking about this and now I can get on with it.

Or, perhaps delete it at 3am.