a sloppy hand.

I have never known if I am ambitious enough to be an artist. Actually, I don’t know what artist means in the context of my life. I am less interested in giving myself over to an art form. I am more interested in giving myself over to life and letting the art-making-process permeate my life.

This is the reason that sometimes I struggle to say, I am a writer. I feel a little more comfortable with, I am a person who writes. The distinctions and minutiae that make sense in my head usually exist only in my head. I need someone to break the spell.

A side-effect of writing less is that everything seems less legitimate and less interesting. If I don’t write much, it seems like I probably don’t have claims to write anything. Writing regularly doesn’t necessarily mean you’re better, it just means you have dulled the nerves that cringe at the ego-centrism of writing. These may be cringing nerves that are mine alone, because I’ve never really liked much attention.

Coasting is easier, it is always easier. It is a good way to lose yourself and to lose the things that anchor you to life, your life, the life that is and will always be yours alone. The one.

In every part of my life, I order things. I tidy up. I make lists. But sometimes I want to write with a sloppy hand. I don’t care very much if it makes sense. This is a practice in...in what? In release of control. In feeling the wildness of the world under my skin. It is a break from myself and my own instincts. Perhaps it doesn’t make for an interesting read. But maybe you know the feeling?

In a city, you see so many people that you stop expecting to see a familiar face. While I was riding the bus this afternoon, on my way to an appointment, Jacob zipped by my bus on his bicycle. It caught me so by surprise, I exclaimed and waved like a kid waving to her mom from the school bus. He didn't see me and I made an excuse to the person beside me. Oh, that was my boyfriend.

Sometimes I'm talking to someone, catching up, and I ask what's new. They reply that not much is new and that life is a bit boring right now. For good or for bad, my life never feels boring to me. Even the most ridiculously insignificant moments, even my grinning and waving like a fool from a city bus on 8th Street, seem interesting.

There is one motto I live by and it is this: only boring people are bored. There's a lot to be seen and each one of us gets to assign our own meaning and value and interest. Anyway, that's the kind of artist I want to be. That's the kind of writer I am.