if you can't be open and honest with yourself, how in the hell are you going to be open and honest with somebody else?

can i get an amen?

don’t you miss the days of internet anonymity, before everyone tried to be somebody? back then, we all just wanted to be seen and heard. we had some avatar of a movie character or celebrity we loved, a cartoon, or a pretty picture. this still exists, but it feels more niche these days.

because these days you better have a following and be verified to be worth something. to have something to say. the irony is that most of those people no longer have anything to say—they’re content with their status and dopamine hits in the forms of likes, comments, views—you get it.

it’s a sad thing to chase, but i am not hopeless. i know there are countless of us still seeking meaning and growth, healthy relationships, and true happiness amidst it all. there have been plenty of times when i felt ashamed for being a “deep” person. nowadays, it sounds narcissistic to consider oneself deep. back then, it was just uncool. it was cool not to care. but in the words of one of my favorite rappers:

i made this, so please don’t steal it!

take that shit to the mall! i love it.

i just want to remind you to care. to find meaning in a world that continues to seek emptiness, like watching the Kardashians. i’m not saying there isn’t a place for mind-numbing things to consume, but can at least not be the mf Kardashians?

the reason i thought about this little rant anyway is that i was thinking about all of the things i’d like to say that i won’t nowadays because i’m not an anonymous 16-year-old on LiveJournal with a lot of emotions and no outlet.

i’ve had a lot on my mind, a lot in my journal, on my heart. i have a lot to say and i often stop myself. especially from writing, because i don’t feel it’s good enough. as if one newsletter or one first draft has to be amazing. i’m going to practice allowing things to be shitty by sending this out without even editing it. just going to share it because it’s what’s present with me right now.

i’ll write more about this in a better way, but i was fortunate enough to go on a writing retreat recently. and one of the instructors (i’ll get into details in another post, so going to keep it simple here) said, “make it less precious.” i had spent the first few workshops hating what i wrote, agonizing over every word, wanting it to be some prolific thing. it kept me from creating, producing, putting anything really on paper at all. it halted my flow. and it apparently doesn’t matter that i’ve read the chapter on perfectionism in Bird by Bird (tattoo it to my eyelids), i still let perfectionism take the front seat. but something about that phrase, “make it less precious,” took the pressure right off. allowed me to feel the okayness of failing. because it is. because failing means you did something. you attempted. you tried. we could argue that because you tried, you didn’t fail at all. it’s okay to be okay. it’s okay to not be okay.

just keep writing, or doing whatever creative thing you do. whatever hobby you enjoy. whatever pulls at you. just do it. make it less precious. for your own sanity.

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what’s in my ears this week (well, until the new Janelle Monáe album comes out, but that will be after i’ve already scheduled this)

it’s one thing and one thing only that i am blasting on repeat:

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tell me in the comments: what do you need to “make less precious” so that you’ll do it?

liking this post on substack, sharing on socials if you resonated, and commenting is always appreciated. i love to hear from you.

‘til next sunday. x

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