I had this vision… a picture in my head of something I wanted to make. So I sat down with my laptop… opened my poor excuse for a graphics program and started working. And then I finished. And it looked nothing like my vision. Crap. It was crap. Okay… it was crap to me.
I do this a lot – set out to make something with a picture of the end result already in my head. And when the actual result doesn’t match, I feel that it’s a failure. Maybe it’s still good… but not to me. Maybe I work better without a preconceived vision. Or maybe I’m just not that good.
So much for my vision.
Now let’s talk about beliefs. Or… I’ll talk about beliefs. And why I have none.
I’m not going to get into a whole thing about religion. That’s a touchy subject and I’m not interested in getting into a debate or in someone trying to impose their faith on me. But here’s my thing: Whoever is looking out for me, if anyone, is just mean. I’d rather believe there’s no one than believe someone hates me that much.
I think I’m cursed. Or I’m a terrible person who doesn’t deserve good things. Or I’m the punch line in some horrible other-worldly life-long joke.
Don’t misunderstand… I don’t want to be someone who walks around with a sunshine stick up her ass. That’s not me and I don’t want it to be. Oh, hell no. But damn.
Have you ever watched a tv show (usually a comedy) where there’s one character for whom everything goes wrong? It’s funny, right? We laugh. We usually know what’s going to happen next because we know it’ll be whatever the character doesn’t want. It’ll be the worst-case scenario.
I am that character. And maybe someone is laughing at me. Maybe whatever universal phenomenon is supposed to watch over me needed some comic relief. So glad I could help.
Except… at the end of that sitcom or movie, something usually works out for that character. Maybe even everything. So we feel justified in laughing at the poor guy (or girl) because it all worked out in the end.
When does my show end? When does it all work out for me? Do I literally have to wait until the end? Are things going to suddenly start working out when I’m 80? 90? Is that the end of my show? Because that’s a long fucking show. By then, no one will be watching. Including me.
Final assessment: I feel beaten. Unworthy. Powerless. But… not completely hopeless. So… yay. (Sarcasm.)
©2017 what sandra thinks