I had been meaning to write a blog post pretty much all week. Some thoughts have been stewing in my head over the past few days (big shocker, I know), but I just hadn\u2019t set aside the time to articulate them in any particular way.<\/p>\n
Earlier this week some maintenance guys came to my place to assess some damage done to the\u00a0ceiling of the condo I rent. One of the guys come into my house, and looks at the red accent wall I have at the back of my living room. His expression sours a bit as he looks at the dark maroon before looking to me and asking, \u201cWho painted that? I wouldn\u2019t want them painting my wall.\u201d<\/p>\n
I painted that wall. A few years back. It was something I had been wanting to do for a long time, but like that dead TV I would just keep putting off until I was just like, \u201cScrew it. This is happening.\u201d<\/p>\n
My sister and a friend that\u2019s more like a brother to me helped me get the supplies and ladder and what not to paint it. It took an entire afternoon, but I think it turned out pretty neat.<\/p>\n
It is imperfect.<\/p>\n
One side of the wall has more layers of paint than the other. The center section in particular has a once over or two too many, to the point the texture of the paint itself runs a bit coarse. At best, it\u2019s the work of an amateur and it would raise the brow of anyone that holds interior design in any sort of regard.<\/p>\n
But I did it.<\/p>\n
It feels like my soul laid bare on a wall, in a lot of ways. Someone walks into my house and upon a slight inspection you think, \u201cOkay. That wall is red.\u201d If you take a closer look, you can see how awe inspiring the actual work is not. And that\u2019s okay.<\/p>\n
And it was okay when this maintenance guy frowned at my accent wall. A year or so ago his comment would have stung. I might have felt some measure of embarrassment or shame. The perfectionist in me would roaring out of the gates, chiding me for failing to paint the wall perfectly.<\/p>\n
Instead, I just smiled at the guy and said, \u201cI painted it, and I like it how it is.\u201d He just kinda shrugged at me and went on about his business, but there was something in that moment for me. Where I felt comfortable showing imperfections, that was pretty cool for me.<\/p>\n
Maybe I\u2019ll start to feel more comfortable in my skin yet someday.<\/p>\n
I had been meaning to write about this for a few days now. While I was streaming this weekend, someone who visits my channel with some form of regularity mentioned that they read my blog post about my trip to BlizzCon; him and his wife both. He said they found what I wrote to be relatable, and that they even read a few other posts. When he asked if that was some infringement on my personal privacy, I said that it wasn\u2019t at all.<\/p>\n
An interesting side effect of this blog is that people actually do read it, and to my surprise they can find some common ground over my random musings. So when I hear a thing like that it makes my day, because it takes a lot for me to express my feelings or thoughts regardless of the medium. It\u2019s a big deal for me.<\/p>\n
I mentioned the story about my accent wall in the stream. That I had planned to write about it, and that I just hadn\u2019t gotten around to it yet. Granted I was busy playing a computer game at the time, but it felt very difficult for me to try to explain what that story about the accent wall meant to me. When I write, I can pause, collect my thoughts, and lay them out in a very specific manner. I don\u2019t have that kind of poise when it comes to speaking.<\/p>\n
I would imagine a lot of the message\u2019s gravity was lost in my loose-hand attempt at talking about my feelings as opposed to writing them.\u00a0It\u2019s a muscle that needs a lot of exercise.<\/p>\n
This post has gotten a little meta, I suppose. Topic about writing a topic. Writing out thoughts and feelings about writing out a\u00a0subset of thoughts and feelings. But there was just something about realizing how ill-equipped I was at vocalizing my feelings that has sat with me all weekend.<\/p>\n
What stops me from processing this unending stream of\u00a0thought and turning it into something I actually say. I\u2019d comfortably say for every word I say when\u00a0talking about my feelings there are six to nine floating around in my head.<\/p>\n
A brisk swell of wind shook the balding branches of trees who have started to shed their orange and brown for the oncoming winter. Like a herald, this gust announced the promise of colder days ahead.<\/p>\n
Versus.<\/p>\n
The wind was cold.<\/p>\n
What is my apprehension? Is it that I think what I have to say isn\u2019t really worth listening to? So I pass my thoughts through a filter of self-deprecation and limit my speech to spare people? What holds me back?<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know.<\/p>\n
I hope to find out someday, though.<\/p>\n
My feelings are worth expressing. While this blog has come to mean a lot to me, it\u2019s not the endgame.\u00a0It\u2019s a stepping stone towards my being more in touch with my feelings and developing an ability to express them.<\/p>\n
I can do this.<\/p>\n<\/body>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I had been meaning to write a blog post pretty much all week. Some thoughts have been stewing in my head over the past few days (big shocker, I know), but I just hadn\u2019t set aside the time to articulate them in any particular way. Earlier this week some maintenance guys came to my place … Continue reading Better Read Than Spoken<\/span>