Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Thinking in Circles


Disclaimer:
A) There is a healthy smattering of profanity in the following entry. I'm fucking warning you.
B) The following is fairly self-deprecating and ends on a seemingly pessimistic note. Really, this is just my process and I promise it has been cathartic for me.
C) I wobbled back and forth between posting this for only a few seconds. I invited you to this blog because I trust you and I'm not going to censor myself because you might read it. That would be contradictory.

Fuck, reading Tanis's blog is so goddamn frustrating. On the dominant right hand, I am fired and inspired by his thoughts, wanting to match and even eclipse his brilliance with observations of my own--on an anthropological high. On the oh-wait-guess-I'm-ambidextrous left hand, I feel so inept. I don't know theory. I don't remember what I was supposed to have learned. Sure, I filter life through a vaguely anthropological screen, but where is the theoretical foundation I'm supposed to be fashioning? I don't have the grounding to be able to contribute anything valid or worthwhile. Of course, what little anthropology I have retained must now remind me that nothing can be truly invalid; I do have things to say and observations to make.

...

I closed this, put it away, moved on. In truth, I've been sitting here, intently staring at nothing and fighting tooth and nail to convince myself that it's not my fault I haven't experienced more, haven't read more, haven't retained more. Bullshit. Am I a fraud? Have I convinced everyone around me that I'm brilliant when really I am what I fear most: mediocre?

Fuck. How many times have I circled this same issue, convinced of its increasing distance because of my movement when, in reality, remaining as close as ever--stuck on the same revolving track? I may look at it (when I allow myself/am forced to see it) from different angles each time, but it's the same problem. I haven't solved it. Mooning about it in a journal or on a blog or even to a friend does not make it better. It only alleviates the pressure of the moment, tricks my psyche into thinking I'm better for the harping.

I appease my conscience.

How fucking pathetic.

Jesus, MacKenzie. Learn!
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1 comment:

Lending Myself To Life said...

MacKenize,
I, too, feel a sense of incompetence being an English major. Just this semester I've been exposed to the monster know as literary theory and JESUS has my mind been scattered all over the shop. The curse of being an academic but we know what must be done and what it takes (labor intensive reading, even when we don't want to.)
And to answer your question, I was browsing and deleting myspace pages the other day, found my way onto yours and there was a link, which I'm delighted I found. There's nothing like sharing naked truths. The possibilities also excite me.
Happy Halloween.

October 31, 2009 at 2:42 PM

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