Introspection. Is it a lost art?
Technically I'm being introspective when I type up these posts, yet a part of me recognize the voyeuristic qualities of a blog, where your words aren't just a practice in narcissism and there's a larger audience in mind. In my case, I suppose the audience is anyone who care to read my writing. It feeds to my vanity as a unrealized novelist. Perhaps one day. When I have a good story to tell.
I'm in the midst of a meandering Summer, the beginning of which started off fortuitously, only to quickly flame out when my curmudgeo-ness caught up. I was in a situation where rather than stay in and try to talk it out and to justify my reasoning, I decided to gracefully bow out before I rained my 32-year-old insight all over someone else's parade.
Yesterday my dear friend +My-An Le shared with me a blurb written by the stupendous Olivia Wilde in Glamour, where she touted the turning of age when one becomes 30, or as Ms. Wilde dubbed, the "Cut the Bullsh-t and Go Be Awesome" stage. I couldn't help but chuckle at the "truthiness" of it all... perhaps with the exception of the "Don't cut your face," which applies to a vastly smaller percentage of women I would imagine than the rest.
Over the past 6 months I'd noticed that I was becoming increasingly aggravated by what I loved the most in this world, and that is simply, People. Ever since I made my way back to school, I find myself surrounded by peers who were not my age, or where I was "in my head." When this is reflected in conversation, it finally dawned on me that it was like trying to have a conversation with myself in my early 20's. Sure I was introspective and thoughtful then, but my responses would not be what they are today. I don't carry myself the same way, nor do I have the same tendencies, expectations, or motivations. I finally realized that I had to leave it alone... to let them experience time as I did. To not force them to see things from my perspective, which is more universal than even I might wish to think... just universal for those who are also of my age.
On the flip side, it's gratifying to be in a position to say what I want to say, and rather than experience the panic of "I don't think they understood let me try and explain myself..." I'm okay with leaving it there, having the assurance that what I said was what I meant, and that was enough. Misinterpretation may occur, but it's not for me to fix. If what I said was in good faith, it ought to be enough. It's also okay to not be the first person to say something. Or the last.
If anything, this vacation has been a welcomed break from the rigors of academia and the routine of work. It's giving me a chance to clear out the intricate cobwebs that have been woven in the dark corners of my mind where creativity has taken to hibernation. A deep, deep, slumber that I hope to awaken this Fall when I take "Introduction to Apparel Construction." That's right, I'm 32 but to this date I've not learned how to sew a button. And now that all of my core coursework for my Master's have been completed... time to take on new challenges! One. Button. At. A. Time.
Tim Gunn, I'm coming for you...!
