insecurity

i hate to dedicate a whole post to this topic, but i figure, if i just get it out of my system, maybe it will subside. insecurity. all i can say is, "what is that about?" i managed to avoid this miserable feeling in high school. i was always fairly oblivious to what other people thought. i'm sure that i indulged insecuriy now and then, but for the most part, i maintained a confident existance.

but the past month has been one wave after another. it started when my most recent story was workshopped in class. throughout my life, i've always loved critiques, be it in theater, speech, creative writing, art, and so on. my mantra: never take criticism personally because it isn't personal.

ha!

sounds good when you are feeling confident and secure (or completely oblivious to the world around you). but when that bumbling little voice ("you are so far from perfect...in fact, you are so imperfect that you shouldn't be trying that, doing that, wearing that or seen in public") becomes deafening. generally, i can give that little voice a karate chop in the groin and send it back to hell where it came from. but lately, my defenses are weak. it screams louder than reason. that little fucker.

of course, my wonderful writing compatriots remind me that if i'm feeling insecure about writing, it must mean that i'm a real writer. all writers are insecure. and i watch adaptation and realize, yes, this might be true. or not. either way, i'd like to beat that damn little voice into submission. who ever said perfect was a good ideal anyway?