Wednesday, January 31, 2007
my husband has a myspace page.
there he is, in all his earnest, sincere, musical, endearingly misspelled glory. Ta-Daa!
He just started actively using it about two or three weeks ago, maybe. But he's reconnected with a lot of old friends and musical pals, which seems to be good for the soul. The whole Myspace universe seems to be particularly well suited to networking for musical purposes.
His blog entry of yesterday is really kind of touching and personal and insightful and stuff.
does it really take more effort to fail than to succeed? any thoughts?
there he is, in all his earnest, sincere, musical, endearingly misspelled glory. Ta-Daa!
He just started actively using it about two or three weeks ago, maybe. But he's reconnected with a lot of old friends and musical pals, which seems to be good for the soul. The whole Myspace universe seems to be particularly well suited to networking for musical purposes.
His blog entry of yesterday is really kind of touching and personal and insightful and stuff.
does it really take more effort to fail than to succeed? any thoughts?
# posted by antiprincess @ 5:51 AM 
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DESPITE knowing exactly what to do,and how to do it...i find that SUCEEDING in my efforts causes me to become VERY uncomfy.Its very hard to put into words...but the bottom line is i seem to be FORCING myself to fail....
I thought LONG and hard about this and realized i think i expend more effort in making sure i fail then taking the easier path and suceeding....
see, I find this kind of relevant in my own life, that allergy to success.
I don't know. any thoughts?
I thought LONG and hard about this and realized i think i expend more effort in making sure i fail then taking the easier path and suceeding....
see, I find this kind of relevant in my own life, that allergy to success.
I don't know. any thoughts?
Success attracts attention. I am exceedingly uncomfortable with attention, and therefore I keep my successes a secret. Maybe that's part of it?
btw- is that you with the glasses and the incredible head of gorgeous hair?
btw- is that you with the glasses and the incredible head of gorgeous hair?
oh, that's very relevant in my life, as well.
i'd certainly say that there's a lot more energy expended when one is hiding. for me, all the talking myself out of things, all the convincing myself that people didn't want me, all the disappointment that comes from feeling that i didn't do my best - it all takes up a lot of SPACE. and causes a lot of unhappiness.
when i'm allowing myself to do what i love, i work really hard, i'm still expending energy, but i'm borne along on the positive waves of it. i'm energized by it.
i'd certainly say that there's a lot more energy expended when one is hiding. for me, all the talking myself out of things, all the convincing myself that people didn't want me, all the disappointment that comes from feeling that i didn't do my best - it all takes up a lot of SPACE. and causes a lot of unhappiness.
when i'm allowing myself to do what i love, i work really hard, i'm still expending energy, but i'm borne along on the positive waves of it. i'm energized by it.
btw- is that you with the glasses and the incredible head of gorgeous hair?
no, that's his wife.
and when I find her I'm-a kick her ass into next tuesday.
yes. that is me. (blush) my hair covers my whole head.
no, that's his wife.
and when I find her I'm-a kick her ass into next tuesday.
yes. that is me. (blush) my hair covers my whole head.
2 things
1. your hair is gorgeous. I said that already, but it is. Not frizzy. Like something Rubens would have painted.
2. You're not fat. No you aren't. Be quiet. You are not fat. I can't speak for the short or hairy legged, but I know fat when I see it and you are not. Refer to the Rubens reference above.
1. your hair is gorgeous. I said that already, but it is. Not frizzy. Like something Rubens would have painted.
2. You're not fat. No you aren't. Be quiet. You are not fat. I can't speak for the short or hairy legged, but I know fat when I see it and you are not. Refer to the Rubens reference above.
i'd certainly say that there's a lot more energy expended when one is hiding. for me, all the talking myself out of things, all the convincing myself that people didn't want me, all the disappointment that comes from feeling that i didn't do my best - it all takes up a lot of SPACE. and causes a lot of unhappiness.
well phrased. at home we call it "listening to the inner critic". and it's soooo hard not to.
well phrased. at home we call it "listening to the inner critic". and it's soooo hard not to.
shit rootie. I can't take it. (blush, stammer.)
I'm good. I feel good. I dig my shape. Rubens would totally have been my boyfriend.
I just hate getting dressed is all. of course, I spend more effort complaining about getting dressed than I do actually getting dressed.
I'm good. I feel good. I dig my shape. Rubens would totally have been my boyfriend.
I just hate getting dressed is all. of course, I spend more effort complaining about getting dressed than I do actually getting dressed.
he really should get some kind of spell check in there! not that my spelling is perfect...ap e-mail me and tell me whats up with you guys over there.
i've been thinking more about this, antip, and i wonder if it has something to do with the way that we construct our sense of self, that letting our lil' lights shine requires reshaping our ideas of who we are.
it reminds me of a friend who suffers from severe depression. calling her "angry" is a massive understatement: the woman is filled with rage. we were talking once about her anger and she said, "my therapist keeps talking about letting my anger go, but i don't want to let it go. i don't know who i am without it."
i recently returned to singing in a major way and it has forced me to reevaluate what kind of performer i am, where i should be putting my energy. turns out i'm a singer as well as an actor, which people have been telling me for *years*, but which i never quite believed. my voice always felt like something that wasn't quite attached, wasn't quite mine, and when i was young my dad criticized it a lot.
so i became the person who was never sang well enough. there was so much emotion and fear wrapped up in singing for me that i just quit.
but then i found a voice teacher who kept telling me simple things like, "you have more space to breathe into than you think you do," (which is a big thing to hear when you have asthma and have spent your life believing that there's not enough air) and "you *are* a singer, you're just learning to use your instrument effectively."
basically, this voice teacher's amazing. but, more relevant to the post is that i'm beginning to let go of the idea that i'm Really Not a Singer, Just an Actor, and Anyway It's All Too Much Trouble. i have to become someone else now, have to reconstruct my image of myself. that's a little scary.
it reminds me of a friend who suffers from severe depression. calling her "angry" is a massive understatement: the woman is filled with rage. we were talking once about her anger and she said, "my therapist keeps talking about letting my anger go, but i don't want to let it go. i don't know who i am without it."
i recently returned to singing in a major way and it has forced me to reevaluate what kind of performer i am, where i should be putting my energy. turns out i'm a singer as well as an actor, which people have been telling me for *years*, but which i never quite believed. my voice always felt like something that wasn't quite attached, wasn't quite mine, and when i was young my dad criticized it a lot.
so i became the person who was never sang well enough. there was so much emotion and fear wrapped up in singing for me that i just quit.
but then i found a voice teacher who kept telling me simple things like, "you have more space to breathe into than you think you do," (which is a big thing to hear when you have asthma and have spent your life believing that there's not enough air) and "you *are* a singer, you're just learning to use your instrument effectively."
basically, this voice teacher's amazing. but, more relevant to the post is that i'm beginning to let go of the idea that i'm Really Not a Singer, Just an Actor, and Anyway It's All Too Much Trouble. i have to become someone else now, have to reconstruct my image of myself. that's a little scary.
*and* (and i'll shut after this post, i swear) approaching projects that you love, like your man learning these new songs, means facing the possibility that you might fuck it up.
there's a play that i've been talking about producing and doing for over seven years, but i haven't done it yet because i don't wanna ruin it. the production that i've created in my head is fucking beautiful - actually *performing* it, getting other people involved, hiring a director, all that crap, would mean embracing the natural imperfection of live theatre. we might hire the wrong actor or the wrong director or the space might not be big enough or blah blah blah.
who wants to fuck up a great work?
there's a play that i've been talking about producing and doing for over seven years, but i haven't done it yet because i don't wanna ruin it. the production that i've created in my head is fucking beautiful - actually *performing* it, getting other people involved, hiring a director, all that crap, would mean embracing the natural imperfection of live theatre. we might hire the wrong actor or the wrong director or the space might not be big enough or blah blah blah.
who wants to fuck up a great work?
i've been thinking more about this, antip, and i wonder if it has something to do with the way that we construct our sense of self, that letting our lil' lights shine requires reshaping our ideas of who we are.
it reminds me of a friend who suffers from severe depression. calling her "angry" is a massive understatement: the woman is filled with rage. we were talking once about her anger and she said, "my therapist keeps talking about letting my anger go, but i don't want to let it go. i don't know who i am without it."
yes, that's astute.
"Oh dearie dearie me, but this is none of I..." very disconcerting, that. ambiguity is very upsetting, sometimes worse than actual, if familiar, pain and disappointment.
also, sometimes there are verrrrrry old tapes, usually presents from loving Moms & Dads, stuff along the lines of,
"Don't go too high or we won't love you anymore. You'll be abandoned. You will be Bad, and you will have hurt us, and you will be all alone. Stay here where it's safe; where you can at least have the shreds or illusion that everything is okay, sometimes."
it reminds me of a friend who suffers from severe depression. calling her "angry" is a massive understatement: the woman is filled with rage. we were talking once about her anger and she said, "my therapist keeps talking about letting my anger go, but i don't want to let it go. i don't know who i am without it."
yes, that's astute.
"Oh dearie dearie me, but this is none of I..." very disconcerting, that. ambiguity is very upsetting, sometimes worse than actual, if familiar, pain and disappointment.
also, sometimes there are verrrrrry old tapes, usually presents from loving Moms & Dads, stuff along the lines of,
"Don't go too high or we won't love you anymore. You'll be abandoned. You will be Bad, and you will have hurt us, and you will be all alone. Stay here where it's safe; where you can at least have the shreds or illusion that everything is okay, sometimes."
(and i'll shut after this post, i swear)
no! no shutting! only talking for you.
you're obviously on a tear. go with it.
no! no shutting! only talking for you.
you're obviously on a tear. go with it.
or moms and dads that said "so, you dig that guitar/paint set/dance class/thing you dig? that's the first thing to go when you fuck up."
and away it went, never to return, no matter how good you were.
a little discipline makes sense. the penalty phase of any trial is character building. I get that.
but for some crazy reason, that "take away thing you love" strategy rather backfired, for the both of us.
we spent a lot of time as adolescents, in our own separate adolescent worlds of angst, going "oh, well then. never mind, I'm not going to really get into anything because that thing I love? it won't last. Fuck it."
and then hearing our parents say "what's wrong with you? why aren't you into anything? why do you not participate in anything?"
and away it went, never to return, no matter how good you were.
a little discipline makes sense. the penalty phase of any trial is character building. I get that.
but for some crazy reason, that "take away thing you love" strategy rather backfired, for the both of us.
we spent a lot of time as adolescents, in our own separate adolescent worlds of angst, going "oh, well then. never mind, I'm not going to really get into anything because that thing I love? it won't last. Fuck it."
and then hearing our parents say "what's wrong with you? why aren't you into anything? why do you not participate in anything?"
*and* (and i'll shut after this post, i swear) approaching projects that you love, like your man learning these new songs, means facing the possibility that you might fuck it up.
there is that, too, yes.
and, more esoterically, but: also, it'll be -finished.- if you make, it i mean, whatever it is, and particularly something ephemeral like a performance or a play or a meal or a party. there is the illusion of timelessness in anticipation, in unfulfilled potential. by actually bringing something into being, we exercise power, which is scary in its own right; we allow for the possibility of "failure," which is -also- scary in its own right; but also, we become aware of our own mortality. Unlike the fantasy in the head, the real-life project has a beginning, and a middle, and an end. Just like all of us.
...or, maybe that's just me.
there is that, too, yes.
and, more esoterically, but: also, it'll be -finished.- if you make, it i mean, whatever it is, and particularly something ephemeral like a performance or a play or a meal or a party. there is the illusion of timelessness in anticipation, in unfulfilled potential. by actually bringing something into being, we exercise power, which is scary in its own right; we allow for the possibility of "failure," which is -also- scary in its own right; but also, we become aware of our own mortality. Unlike the fantasy in the head, the real-life project has a beginning, and a middle, and an end. Just like all of us.
...or, maybe that's just me.
or moms and dads that said "so, you dig that guitar/paint set/dance class/thing you dig? that's the first thing to go when you fuck up."
and away it went, never to return, no matter how good you were.
...and then hearing our parents say "what's wrong with you? why aren't you into anything? why do you not participate in anything?"
fuck. that's horrible.
that is some serious crazy-making behavior right there. and yeah, it's agonizing not to be able to figure out -why- people, especially who're supposed to be a source of security and love, are acting like this. in some ways it's safer to blame oneself. at least that makes some -sense.- it allows for some measure of control: maybe -this- time...
old habits. die hard. but no longer serve, i think, perhaps.
and away it went, never to return, no matter how good you were.
...and then hearing our parents say "what's wrong with you? why aren't you into anything? why do you not participate in anything?"
fuck. that's horrible.
that is some serious crazy-making behavior right there. and yeah, it's agonizing not to be able to figure out -why- people, especially who're supposed to be a source of security and love, are acting like this. in some ways it's safer to blame oneself. at least that makes some -sense.- it allows for some measure of control: maybe -this- time...
old habits. die hard. but no longer serve, i think, perhaps.
Heh. Husband's MySpaces are fun. I have one, too. He's not earnest, though. More like an attempt at 'aloof.' He's fond of aloof. Which probably explains why he thinks my overwrought ass is so interesting.
I don't find success hard. A little embarrassing, or even surprising, maybe. (Own worst critic and all that.) But it doesn't make me uncomfortable, not as I see your husband describing it.
I find that failure is easier in terms of DOING... because, after all, you don't have to do anything to fail. That's sort of the point.
My problem is that have had many failures come AFTER doing... and so I've gotten into a mentality of, "well, what the fuck. I shouldn't even bother with the heartache that is 'doing'."
Because for me, it is very difficult to put myself out there, at least in terms of things like 'talent' or 'skill'. I'm perfectly fine doing something I know I can do if it is quantifiable. "Yes, I can drive you somewhere." "Yes, I can balance your budget."
As SOON as it moves into the realm of opinion or artistry, there's so much room to be "wrong" (disliked) that it's almost paralytic. Which is fantastic when you plan on being a writer, let me tell you...
But the odd thing about it is... my family has always been very supportive of me and my choices. Everyone was thrilled when I went to university. My mother's always said that she "knew" I was going to be a writer (though maybe that's it - "no pressure or anything there, mom"). But they've also always been proponents of the "no matter what you do, we'll always love and support you" line (even if it may not be 100% true).
To some extent I guess I suffer from a fear of not living up to expectations. Which paralyzes me. Which means I won't live up to expectations...
I have very little self-motivation, too. I really need deadlines and external sources of pressure to do anything at all, which I'm working on.
I find that failure is easier in terms of DOING... because, after all, you don't have to do anything to fail. That's sort of the point.
My problem is that have had many failures come AFTER doing... and so I've gotten into a mentality of, "well, what the fuck. I shouldn't even bother with the heartache that is 'doing'."
Because for me, it is very difficult to put myself out there, at least in terms of things like 'talent' or 'skill'. I'm perfectly fine doing something I know I can do if it is quantifiable. "Yes, I can drive you somewhere." "Yes, I can balance your budget."
As SOON as it moves into the realm of opinion or artistry, there's so much room to be "wrong" (disliked) that it's almost paralytic. Which is fantastic when you plan on being a writer, let me tell you...
But the odd thing about it is... my family has always been very supportive of me and my choices. Everyone was thrilled when I went to university. My mother's always said that she "knew" I was going to be a writer (though maybe that's it - "no pressure or anything there, mom"). But they've also always been proponents of the "no matter what you do, we'll always love and support you" line (even if it may not be 100% true).
To some extent I guess I suffer from a fear of not living up to expectations. Which paralyzes me. Which means I won't live up to expectations...
I have very little self-motivation, too. I really need deadlines and external sources of pressure to do anything at all, which I'm working on.
To some extent I guess I suffer from a fear of not living up to expectations. Which paralyzes me. Which means I won't live up to expectations...
woah. vicious cycle...
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woah. vicious cycle...
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