I was on the phone with Christopher well over three hours last night.
"How does it feel? To build something?"
He thoroughly described such a task as being "fulfilling, special, proud.."
I shakily replied "I have never felt such a feeling."
I've turned twenty-two this past September, ask me how many notches I have on my belt.
-I can't tell you.
I can't nearly categorize myself as a Champ, or a Successor. There is no action or task that feels complete to me. Every time I attempt to start something I 1) Fall short 2) Give up entirely 3) In completion regret it and immediately want to destroy it and all the remains.
Example Given:
I spent months working on the model of this home I designed. It was very simplistic, post-modern and well...square. Each day I anticipated what the end result would look like, and in the end it looked exactly what I had imagined it to resemble. Maybe a little rough around the edges, but it still embodied the simplicity that I had drafted.
That was only one little step.
After moving, I looked at the piece despicably. I begged Christopher to take it out of my sight or else I would smash it into pieces. So he took it, away from my disastrous hands and mind. It's funny because I am not a superstitious person, yet I selectively decide to interpret signs at my own convenience. One day his brother had a couple of fireworks to expend, and my model home was the ideal candidate for target.
MY GOD A SIGN! I started crying at the literal and metaphorical meaning. Why did it matter? I gave the model home away, I told Christopher myself that if he did not take it the destroyer would be me. Why was it that at the destruction of someone else's hands it had hit me so harshly?
This is me. Is it not by the laws of nature that everything is constantly moving until it interferes with another moving entity? To be honest, I took the first step of assertion by putting a thought, a mere idea to paper and from paper I made it into a dimensional object that was hundreds of Popsicle sticks closer to becoming the real thing. And what did I do? I flipped out, ran away from it with my tail in between my legs for thinking that from that little model could arise the life-size figure of my dream. It is the risk that I could not stand and the possibility that such an idea could become more real than it was right in front of me. In fear, I wanted to destroy the fear that had already consumed me.
Really, I was weeping out of my own vulnerability. It didn't matter that Christopher's brother blew up my model home (which I might add, survived the blow with minor damage to the front deck). I was upset for letting it go. I am not a superstitious person, but yet I ask for signs everywhere and everyday. While sitting at a Chinese restaurant after finishing my meal, I intently stared at the fortune cookies pleading for something to light a path.
I unraveled the cookie from it's brightly wrapped aluminum red foil and read "Assert yourself, your ideas are worthwhile." And although I know in my mind that possibly at the very moment someone could be reading the same exact fortune, or that there may be barrels of fortune cookies in the basement of the restaurant reading the same thing...this had came to me, of all people.
I am not a superstitious person, but how can you ignore what is written right in front you?
