I was talking to someone yesterday about how sometimes I let my crazies get the best of me. For example, I said, sometimes I won’t sing inside my apartment because I get afraid someone will hear and not like what they hear.
So the suggestion I got was, naturally, to sing.
“No,” I said. “I don’t want to.”
And it was true, I didn’t want to. Being put on the spot like that is terrifying.
“Why not?” they said. “Sing.”
“Uh. I’m not going to.”
After much similar debate, we somehow got to the conclusion that I like to put myself in boxes. I try not to push limitations (even though, yeah… I do).
I… like boxes. They’re neat and even. And they can fit a lot of stuff.
It’s not that I don’t long for change. I do. All the time. I’m “yes’ing I can” all over the place, and then I’m sitting on my couch. But I also enjoy my baby steps (zygote steps, if you will) – and sometimes that means that things take me a little longer.
I was thinking about this today and then started thinking about my past. About how I tend to be a past-dweller. About how nothing in the past can change, because it stays there but life… life moves forward. About how sometimes you want to bring the past with you, but all it really does is harm.
I am not the person I was 20 years ago and I am not the person I was 2 years ago. The past may help to define some of who you are, but it doesn’t control who you’ll be or what you can be. If you bring the past with you, you’ll never be able to find out.
So this doesn’t mean that I’ll burst out into song at any random moment in public. But maybe I’ll start recording a bit at a time and ease into it.
Have a good night, everyone.