it is now 6:30 in the evening. i did my work, my calls. and then i tried to cycle through my routine. and now, it is the evening, and my wife and daughter are not home yet.
for some reason, i feel anxious. anxious sounds so innocuous. anxiety sounds more substantive. i feel anxiety. i feel the comparison game impinging upon me. the views of others. i suppose that's part of the switch too, the inevitable comparison game when it comes to others, the presence/absence game... and then the inevitable artistic turn that i gave myself, to pretend no one was there, to, as they say, "dance like no one is watching." it is all a game. you're dancing "like" no one is watching. but someone is always watching. whether it's you, or whether it is someone else. you can never be completely blind. you can never disappear completely...
why is it like that? why not, "dance like someone is watching." or "dance like someone you love is watching." it is because there is shame, and there is anxiety... as though we cannot show something of ourselves, because it won't measure up. it won't measure past their eyelids. they won't see us. they won't see us "as we truly are." ironic, to put it that way, because if we really were interested in the truth of it, then we wouldn't be concerned with the appearance...
i always imagined a zen master bypassed all of this appearance/reality bullshit. but my way of accomplishing it was not authentic. i still carry all of my psychoses with me. i still want to be better than anyone. i still want people to fall in love with me, to respect me, to acknowledge me. and failing that, i still want to disappear, and pretend that people miss me.
it's all such a stupid game.
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billy collins said something counter to what i am doing now. he said that "finding your voice" does NOT involve looking within. rather, he said that it is continually determined by the context. it is continually created by finding influences, perhaps the voices of other poets. and the grown up side of me agrees. i mean, heck, i wrote a response to my daughter's questionnaire in which i basically said somewhat of the same thing, that art is always within a context, and the challenge of art is always to be revolutionary, to be "seen" when the eyes have seen everything before.
nevertheless, i think... there's a way to find the authentic voice. there's a way to find the authentic issues within you... and if you don't struggle for it, if you don't examine yourself thoroughly, then maybe what you produce isn't really worth it, because it isn't- well, it isn't coming from- i don't know...
well, in truth, i have to say some parts of what billy said was right... my most insightful thoughts have usually sprung up from a "discussion" or "conversation" with myself... if i didn't "talk" to myself, then i would likely never have come upon certain insights.
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i've thought about recording myself just talking. but i guess it would be pretty weird (as though what i write here isn't already weird). especially with my kids and people around me.
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i despair at times. like i'm always wasting my time. spinning my wheels. there's always been this anxiety within me about that. as though there were maybe some more authentic life that i was supposed to be living. as though i am wasting my opportunity. but why? why is there always always always this better life? why can't i just be content? as it is, this obsessive routine i have is meant to offset the
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