Dare me.

Hello again, Dear, Dear World!

Let me start by saying:  I have not been lost and then found.  Lucille (the muse) has not forsaken me.  It is not my career (well, it is a little) that has forced my silence.

This lapse in voice (at least this lapse in my blogging voice) is attributed to the idea that I am going through some type of metamorphosis, am shedding my artistic skin, am examining myself and my motives and my desires and am putting certain fears to rest.

That takes a lot of work, moving from one hermit shell to the next.

(And, by hermit shell, I am not saying that I am bashful or secretive.  But I have, as I imagine all of us do, my social-face, and my personas, and the fears that keep me somewhat shackled. So, I am proud to say that I am moving into a roomier socio-psychological apartment.)

(Am I talking bull shit here, or do I make sense?)

(How do you like the excessive use of parenthesis?)

So…

I have been afraid to write here.  In this public domain.  Afraid, not so much of what you might think, but of what I might think about what I am thinking.  I have spoken of audience and how it is both motivating and intimidating.  I have begged for approval, have been asked to and have tried to forget my audience, and have wallowed in a bit of imagined-audience (meaning the people that I imagine to be my audience)-provoked despair.

Basically, I have lacked self-confidence.

The thing is, this is a public forum.  It is both exposing and instantaneous.  It is a blog, not a diary.  It is an art venue, not a therapy session.  It is not a place to completely ignore one’s audience, but not, necessarily, a place to hide.  (And, I should mention that, yes, art can be therapy.  And, yes, therapy can be art.  But, the sentimental spilling of one’s guts doesn’t necessarily make a good piece of art nor a good blog post. )  It is, c’mon be honest, a wee bit scary to advertise your blog on Facebook when you are speaking from the depths of your conscious psyche.  You are not advertising yourself to the masses; you are sharing your deeper self with people you know.  If it were just strangers, well, ah, fuck ‘em.

Still…

That is not why I have come here.  I haven’t come to discuss audience one more ugly time.

I have, I think, come not only to break the ice, but to begin to share these changes that I am undergoing.

I have decided, almost beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am:

1.)    Attractive

2.)    Talented

3.)    Worth having a basic, if not a deeper, if not an almost you-would-never-actually-admit-it-to-yourself-obsessive interest in

And, I guess, for now, that is it.

(I am also working on shedding the majority of my twisted, self-damning addictions.  But that, of course, is another post.  And, it is a much deeper deal than saying “I am pretty.”)

Still, that “it” that I just mentioned is a pretty big “IT”.

This self-assurance has made all the difference.  And, it started with the cheesiest of spiritual things:  The Secret.

Yes, I mean that self-help film (and book, right?) about projecting your innermost desires outward to the Universe and watching them come right back atchya.  Like a cosmic boomerang.  Oh, the joy!

After watching the opening sequence of the film that I had been urged to watch, I pretty much lost faith in the opinions of those friends (and husbands!) that suggested that I would glean maybe one damn thing from it.  It is appalling in its dramatics.  It has the distinct feel of a money-making scheme.  Perhaps even of a cult phenomenon.  Who could it possibly be appealing to?

Well, me.

There are some valid points in this appalling self-help mish-mash.  You know, God and energy are synonymous and you are what you believe.

And, there was all this business about visualizing what you desire.  Despite its claim that if you really picture the diamond necklace that you want someone will buy it for you, it made sense.

So, I started to visualize myself thin.  (Apparently, that’s the first thing I thought of, oh Genie.  How  self-absorbed.  And, how sick that that is the one wish within my control.  Perhaps, that is what I was really wishing for:  self-control.  Hmmm.)

Well, I am no thinner.  (Here comes in some of those addictions…)

But—and this is new—I really don’t care.

I feel a hell of a lot sexier.  I stand straighter.  Wear work clothes with a little more pizzazz.  (Well, I wear much of the same clothes, but I feel entitled to be in them.) I have no timeline for slipping into my skinny jeans nor do I have an obsession with it.

I am flying high.  Ohhhh, yeah. And, it feels good.

So, I am fulfilling it.  The dream.  The desire.

Next step?

Well, I’m here.  Sexy being that I am.  I’m here.  And, I feel my life unfurling.  My creativity unfurling.  My power unfurling.  I am here.  I am less afraid of what I might say and ready to take you on.

Oh yeah?  You think so?

Dare me.

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3 Comments

  1. Kim said,

    October 22, 2011 at 8:50 am

    I dare you!!!!!!!!!!!

    (YAY!)

  2. Kerry said,

    October 22, 2011 at 10:33 am

    Well – it is about damn time. We have known you are sexy all along! Welcome back Em, you have been missed. Love you.

  3. Andrea said,

    October 23, 2011 at 8:24 pm

    Visualization works!! And yes, you are beautiful and talented:)


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