Time for Confessions

See, I told you I was going to fail in my quest to post more often.  But I didn't forget about you.  No, I thought about you everyday, thinking, "Maybe I'll post today.  It wouldn't even have to be a new post!  You could just finish up that one about the oatmeal cookies or Japanese class.  Come on!  It will be fun!"

I can't make the "my-class-schedule-is-so-rigorous-oh-woe-is-me" argument either, because when it gets down to it, twelve credit hours just isn't that hard to shoulder.  Especially when I compare it to Alien's schedule, because I'm pretty sure he's taking at least eighteen credit hours and his classes are all way harder than mine.

But I think I've pinned down my source of blog-block, and it is this:

When I do something I have been told I am proficient at, I feel like I'm showing off.

I tried to re-write that sentence several times, and it still doesn't make a lot of sense to me.  So let's give you a scenario.


Cactus is going to worship night with Alien.  This is fine and good, because God calls us to fellowship with other believers, and Cactus REALLY likes to sing.  Problem is, she has been selected for several top notch singing groups in the past, so whenever she sings, she feels like she's bragging.  So Cactus and Alien arrive at the worship night, and a silly-ly (does silly have an adverb?) ridiculously obvious observation is made: Alien is carrying his bass.  Alien plays in the worship band, so he won't be able to hear her sing.  So Cactus stumbles through the first set because she doesn't really know the songs, but she enjoys herself  because she likes singing.

When Alien comes back, he asks her if they sounded alright, and she says yes, because she doesn't want to hurt his feelings, but she wasn't really listening for the bass line, and she's really bad at hearing the bass line even when she's paying attention.  But for now she said yes and Alien smiles, and she smiles back and they listen to the speaker for the next hour.

Once the speaker is finished, Alien goes up for the second set, and Cactus goes back to happy singing mode.  She knows the song this time, so she switches to alto line (because cactus has sung alto for a really long time and alto is even more fun than the melody).  After that song is finished, one of the girls standing next to her leans over and says, "wow, you have a

--PAUSE--

and says, "wow, you have a really pretty voice!" For stranger girl, this was an honest comment by which she meant nothing but to improve my day and the human condition as a whole.  For Cactus, this was a bombshell.  She thinks I have a good voice.  Does she think I'm showing off?  What if I sing terribly now and she wants to retract her statement, but she can't because of the laws of society?  I should stop sing-NO, I LOVE SINGING.  I shall only sing quieter.


So for the rest of the evening, I toned down my be-praised voice.  Because I felt like the compliment meant I was showing off.


Writing is the same way for me.  In third grade (I was like what, ten?) I won third place in a writing contest.  Which wouldn't be much of an accomplishment if the contest wasn't district wide and the other 37 prizes were given to snobs from the same private school.

I write quick, and I just edit as I go.  My friends struggle to make a page for reports and I can whip these off like nobody's business.  But putting it out there makes me feel like a show off.

In fact, the only reason I'm managing to type this now is because no one else is here around me.  The pause up there?  That was because Alien walked in the room and he started playing his music super loud.  And I can't focus when he does that but I didn't want to ask him to turn it down because he was doing homework.  And then Earrings and Italian wanted to play Magic, so Alien and I had to head downstairs to a study room because his room is too messy for company.  And too small.  Because it is a dorm room.

My blogging head space is a very fragile thing indeed.


UPDATE: Cat's out of the bag.  Alien, Earrings, Italian, and Javelina all know i have a blog now.  Italian saw His Real Name - Italian and he kind of lost his marbles.  So I told them all.  And the world didn't collapse in on itself.  So I guess I'll keep writing for now... I do enjoy writing =)