He told me “Nike, just do it” […] I tell him lay the pipe and he blew it
I knew this would happen. I knew, as soon as I’d come here, open up my laptop and start to actually WRITE it would happen. Or rather: not happen. Today I decided to go to a class I haven’t been to in ages. In my arrogant ways of thinking, I’m too good for it anyways, even though I don’t even understand anything if I don’t put all my energy into paying ATTENTION. Thing is though… I haven’t been anywhere much lately, besides my stupid fucking studio apartment. It’s actually so cool, I have a whole terrace for myself which I imagined I’d use for reading and yoga. Well obviously, I just make a pilgrimage up here when want/need to smoke. But now I’m here, again. Because it happened again, in class. It was actually quite interesting, cause some woman came around, we were supposed to read two chapters of her book and talk about it but we ended up not doing that at all, but rather she just talked a little bit about her work which is doing something creative.
That hurt but it also made me want to explode, which I think is good. I started taking notes on my iPad – in german so no one could spy on me – and I knew: if I go home AGAIN after this and surrender immediately to my desire to lay in bed, watch YouTube and play the fucking NYT crossword puzzle again, sooner or later it will ALLLLLL come crashing down on me. I’ve written this text already in my head so doing it now is annoying because SO far it has nothing to do with what I’ve come up with. I’m starting to think I can only work or create when I’m actually supposed to do something else, especially when I’m in class. Like two years back I was in a film criticism class and we were supposed to write a small review impromptu but the sounds of the students keyboards clacking pissed me off so bad I just started writing about that instead, not thinking it would go anywhere or something like that.
Just focusfocusfocusfocusfocusfocusfocusfocusfocusfocus
It's like. Ugh. I feel like everything’s already been said and that does NOT go well with my own need or desire or conviction that indeed I am something special and if ONLY I weren’t 24 but 20, if ONLY I had applied to a different school, if ONLY I had started teaching myself how to DJ at 15 now EVERYTHING else would be different. Silence. Okay. I’ve heard it twice now: you MUST create or else. You won’t. At all. Then you won’t get better and you’re stuck with your fucking dopamine addiction, sneering at other people putting themselves out there and another year goes by where you haven’t written in your diary and think to yourself oh FUCK now I have to go back and document everything of the past three four five years before I can write about what’s happening now or else it’ll be lost in time FOR EVER.
It's like. How do I come to terms with that other people do things and I don’t? I do maybe once in a full moon. Like today. And it’s fucking scary because I tried the other week when the lights went off and I read Dubliners and Infinite Jest trying so harddddddddddddd to not miss my phone, to view it as an opportunity. To do what I always want to do TOMORROW. The funnnnniest thing is I’m not even in competition with anyone else because no one is in competition with me (I came up with that in class). Well, I never end up ACTUALLY doing it.
And isn’t that so pathetic? Cigarette break. I can’t believe I started writing this without having lit up one already. I’ll be back.
Okay I’ve relocated in my favorite position: lying down. I loveeeee lying down in bed and covering myself up, it’s so reassuring. But it’s also a bad habit, an addiction… maybe? I definitely am an addict. I’ve beaten some of my addictions and others I haven’t and am not even sure if I want to. Something I definitely feel right now is that it’s hard to continue writing when that primal urge I had just an hour ago in class wanes. All this nonsense hasn’t even amounted up to what has gone through my head. Seeing the word count at 726 already makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something but the truth is: I haven’t even reached the edge of where I want to be yet. I started this stupid blog 2 years ago to “keep myself accountable and continue on writing or whatever” HA HA HA. And it’s like I always fucking do this I start something and for a split second it feels like I’m on the verge of establishing myself as a CREATOR before *POOF* I vanish and lay down in bed again. It’s hard not to think too much about this text as well. When I thought about it, it definitely was more of a rant. Because I am so angry and I always have something to say. But do I really? But do you really know?
IT's like. It hasn’t been born yet. It’s scary because my head works so fast and it spins, and it spins and I can only ever rescue so much and I don’t know how other people do it? Let me take a look at my notes. I know I want to say something about platitudes. Maybe now or later.
I think I know where it came from. It’s this thinggggggg this perception I have of myself: Actually – I don’t really have anything to say but regardless I’m special so I deserve everything. But see – now that I’ve typed it it doesn’t resonate as much anymore… Because maybe I do have something to say? ALL I know is: I consume. I consume so much media every day and although most of it is benign, every now and then I’ll find something that I’m realllyyyyyy inspired by or that I really admire. I feel like I can spot when something is GOOD even if I’m too unequipped to explain it. And then… I see something I absolutely HATE. And. It’s like. Why? Why do YOU get to do it and not me? Why do you get a bookdeal, become Spiegel Bestseller author and I don’t? You’re fucking 3 years younger than me, 21 year olds are supposed to be losers just like me.
And it’s like………………. There’s observations about the “culture” we live in. Like how social media has made everyone turn into narcissists. And I agree, it’s true! But who gives a fuck???? It’s true that you have to do “it” today and not tomorrow other wise you’ll never do it. Okay. But we knew that. WHO gives a fuck???????? And well I can’t think of anything more. But it’s the platitudes that piss me off. But they also piss me off because they’re true most of the time and I’ve spent years and years justifying why I don’t write why I don’t teach myself Photoshop or Ableton why why why not this not that. And the truth is it really isn’t capitalism or meritocracy it’s littttterally just me.
Is there any merit to this? At all? Does anybody besides me care, because I want them to care? I know it’s no. I wish it weren’t and I try to convince myself that maybe within all this nonsense there’s something revolutionary hidden that other people will see. I know it’s not but it would be so cool. I guess I’m on my way. At least I want to be. And I just got to push through it. I imagine it like a cycle like eventually something good will come of it.
I have these two stories I want to write. I should write them but it scares me.
I wrote in my notes that I don’t want to be corny, I don’t wanna make a substack post just to come up with some useless platitudes everyone knows already anyways. I want to be earnest but not self centered. I want to make something genuinely good. I just need to start aspiring to fucking DO it.