What would happen if you just didn't give a fuck? If you said what you wanted to say, did what you wanted to do, kissed who you wanted to kiss? I'm betting life would feel a lot more like you were living it instead of whatever you're doing now. Whatever I'm doing now, is probably actually more the point.
I shouldn't be this fired up- I just got out of a 2-hr long free class for writers about studio vs. indie blah, blah. The information wasn't groundbreaking, and the outlook the Hollywood-Insider-Guy painted was dismal.
Meh. I'm not even fazed by grim Hollywood Chicken Little bullshit anymore. But I got to thinking on the way home of some of the break-into-the-biz options HIG mentioned and I wondered why I hadn't tried any of them. My best reason - and it sucks - is because my shyness is arresting and I'm scared of my own shadow. How's that for Chicken Little bullshit?
It's the worst excuse, and it's a topic that's been on my mind more than the usual all-the-time-constantly that I examine myself. The WHAT-IFS. What if I suck, what if they hate it, what if he hates me, what if they don't get it...
What if I don't give a fuck? What if I tell people what I really think? I have a reputation for being honest, and I am, unless I'm lying to your face. What if I tell you I'm not interested instead of taking an hour to explain the reasons why you and I aren't such a good idea right now? What if I RSVP "No" to Evites without a benign explanation why I can't make it? What if I tell you, you're wrong, when you are?
What if I don't give a fuck? What if I do what I want to do? People think I already do that. I pole dance, and I write about blood-tinged semen and sociopathic teenage girls. My secret is, that's the tip of the glacier. I can fill reams of paper with the things I want to do and be. What if I tried more? What if I wrote and directed the short that haunts me, even though I have no money, even though I don't know how? Who gives a fuck?
Who would give a fuck if I kissed whoever I wanted? "Who haven't you kissed?" snears Igor from behind a fold in my frontal lobe. I've had make-out dreams about a friend, and I could dismiss my dreams as sweaty manifestations of the day's particular stresses but... I'm curious. So what if...?
Having given my blog addresses to family members recently, I guess I'm putting my money where my mouth is - they don't get a lot of fuck this and fuck that from me. And I guess if I don't give a fuck, it really doesn't matter. (Sorry anyway, Mama and Daddy. Don't stop loving me! xo!)
But think about it: What if you didn't give a fuck? What would you do? What would you say? Who would you kiss?
I shouldn't be this fired up- I just got out of a 2-hr long free class for writers about studio vs. indie blah, blah. The information wasn't groundbreaking, and the outlook the Hollywood-Insider-Guy painted was dismal.
Meh. I'm not even fazed by grim Hollywood Chicken Little bullshit anymore. But I got to thinking on the way home of some of the break-into-the-biz options HIG mentioned and I wondered why I hadn't tried any of them. My best reason - and it sucks - is because my shyness is arresting and I'm scared of my own shadow. How's that for Chicken Little bullshit?
It's the worst excuse, and it's a topic that's been on my mind more than the usual all-the-time-constantly that I examine myself. The WHAT-IFS. What if I suck, what if they hate it, what if he hates me, what if they don't get it...
What if I don't give a fuck? What if I tell people what I really think? I have a reputation for being honest, and I am, unless I'm lying to your face. What if I tell you I'm not interested instead of taking an hour to explain the reasons why you and I aren't such a good idea right now? What if I RSVP "No" to Evites without a benign explanation why I can't make it? What if I tell you, you're wrong, when you are?
What if I don't give a fuck? What if I do what I want to do? People think I already do that. I pole dance, and I write about blood-tinged semen and sociopathic teenage girls. My secret is, that's the tip of the glacier. I can fill reams of paper with the things I want to do and be. What if I tried more? What if I wrote and directed the short that haunts me, even though I have no money, even though I don't know how? Who gives a fuck?
Who would give a fuck if I kissed whoever I wanted? "Who haven't you kissed?" snears Igor from behind a fold in my frontal lobe. I've had make-out dreams about a friend, and I could dismiss my dreams as sweaty manifestations of the day's particular stresses but... I'm curious. So what if...?
Having given my blog addresses to family members recently, I guess I'm putting my money where my mouth is - they don't get a lot of fuck this and fuck that from me. And I guess if I don't give a fuck, it really doesn't matter. (Sorry anyway, Mama and Daddy. Don't stop loving me! xo!)
But think about it: What if you didn't give a fuck? What would you do? What would you say? Who would you kiss?
I think we should say "fuck you" to shy and perfect. These are the two demons at work here. Shy is a sneaky bitch because you think "look at me kicking she's ass pole dancing!" Then you get I a new situation and what is that clammy "holy shit" feeling? SHY. Perfect is an even sneakier bitch. With perfect, you won't even end up somewhere and be overcome. Oh no, you won't go at all. You won't even try unless you think you can do it, and complete it PERFECTLY. You don't even realize that's what's holding you back because it's so ninja stealthy. I had to go to my therapist because cleaning was causing me so much anxiety. She said, "you know, you don't have to clean it all up to perfection...you can just do a little at a time." OH YA! That's freakin' brilliant, and I would have thought of it if perfection hadn't been walking around in my brain decorating the place. Ironically, my amazing friend, you have been the biggest influence on me to abandon shy and perfect and throw caution to the wind! I hope this energy come back to you! I wise woman once told me, "I spent my whole life over achieving, I'm giving myself permission to under achieve and pursue MY dreams for awhile." It stuck to my ribs like bananas! You go be you B. Fuck it.
ReplyDeletePardon spelling issues above. FU iPhone autocorrect.
ReplyDeleteI think we should say "fuck you" to shy and perfect. These are the two demons at work here. Shy is a sneaky bitch because you think "look at me kicking shy's ass pole dancing!" Then you get I a new situation and what is that clammy "holy shit" feeling? SHY. Perfect is an even sneakier bitch. With perfect, you won't even end up somewhere and be overcome. Oh no, you won't go at all. You won't even try unless you think you can do it, and complete it PERFECTLY. You don't even realize that's what's holding you back because it's so ninja stealthy. I had to go to my therapist because cleaning was causing me so much anxiety. She said, "you know, you don't have to clean it all up to perfection...you can just do a little at a time." OH YA! That's freakin' brilliant, and I would have thought of it if perfection hadn't been walking around in my brain decorating the place. Ironically, my amazing friend, you have been the biggest influence on me to abandon shy and perfect and throw caution to the wind! I hope this energy comes back to you! A wise woman once told me, "I spent my whole life over achieving, I'm giving myself permission to under achieve and pursue MY dreams for awhile." It stuck to my ribs like bananas! You go be you B. Fuck it.
ReplyDeleteYa, um, I'm still working on abandoning perfect. (I couldn't let it go.) Curse you perfect! People, nothing to see here. Pay no mind to the woman with fifty proofreading posts. Geezuz.
ReplyDelete