I open a new notebook, take up a pen – one I do not like, but my options are limited – and quickly begin staining the unlined, clean, white pages. If I do not act fast, this notebook will remain empty – possibly for years. If I do not seize the fear of what to write with a bold willingness to write anything, I will become paralyzed over what to say. The opening pages of most of my notebooks tend to be page after page of utter rubbish — stunning dribble, dashed across formerly pristine paper. At some point, after the anxiety over what to say and the attending doubt about my own abilities has wained, I come to the pages relaxed — ready to work — and on occasion, to surprise myself. I am not the most insightful person, nor the most gifted, but I do have my moments.
I Was Here
I Was Here
I Was Here
I open a new notebook, take up a pen – one I do not like, but my options are limited – and quickly begin staining the unlined, clean, white pages. If I do not act fast, this notebook will remain empty – possibly for years. If I do not seize the fear of what to write with a bold willingness to write anything, I will become paralyzed over what to say. The opening pages of most of my notebooks tend to be page after page of utter rubbish — stunning dribble, dashed across formerly pristine paper. At some point, after the anxiety over what to say and the attending doubt about my own abilities has wained, I come to the pages relaxed — ready to work — and on occasion, to surprise myself. I am not the most insightful person, nor the most gifted, but I do have my moments.