(no subject)

Via Tucker, who is awesome:

I feel like slacktivisticly saving the US Postal service Canada Post.

First ten people to comment (comments screened) with their address and then repost this meme in their own blogs will get a snail mail letter.

I have envelopes with stamps and everything to use up! Please do not mind that they claim to be originating from Maryland, I do not live there anymore.

~Sor
MOOP!

Start Without Her.

At Dragon*Con, I spent a grand total of five dollars on things for myself. That turned out to be two Nancy Buttons, the first of which I bought simply because it broke me down laughing at the time --I'm going to kill everyone! No jury would ever convict me because they'll all be dead!"

But the second I bought because I needed it. Because I read it and laughed and went "wait" and read it again and just stared for a moment. "Oh. Oh!"

If the muse doesn't show up, start without her.

It's not complicated, or particularly deep. But it's a reminder that waiting for inspiration means I will wait for fucking ever, and I should really just go out and create things.

It's currently hanging on the wall above my "desk", right at the corner of the door that leads into what will someday be my office. And while it's meant to apply to creation, I read it as something entirely more. Something that can apply to just about damn everything.

Because this is what I need. I need motivation. I need to do things. I need to make myself into the person I want to be, because that's how that happens. You don't wake up someday and suddenly you're magically a grown-up, put together, communicative, inspired and inspiring. You have to do it yourself, step by goddamn slow step.

My magic adultself hasn't shown up --I'm just going to have to start without her.

And it's hard. It's so hard, to remember to draw, to write, to dance, to bake, to sew. To do laundry and clean room and wash the dishes and eat something good for me and look for jobs and jobs and jobs. There is the entire internet, after all, and if I'm not going to reblog all these pictures of cake, well, who is?

No.
That's not me.¹

I am a creator. Maybe I'm not strictly a writer anymore (and lords is that scary, to realize that particular identity has slipped behind. I like thinking of myself as a dancer, as a mathematician, an activist, a slut, but I was always always meant to be a writer first, and I am going to return to that.) but that is the core of my being that I make things.

Beautiful.
Terrible.
Complicated.
Things.

I create, and that's who I want to be. And if I'm not a creator yet, if I'm not a writer yet, well...

I'm just going to have to start without that part of myself. I'm sure it can catch up.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: I am given to understand this is stolen from Game of Thrones. I haven't seen or read it, though I've heard nice things. But Ria posted that scene in gif form, and it's been stuck in my head ever since. Because without even hearing it, I know exactly what is saying.

I can only dream of being that strong.