My Nipples Don't Need Your Help

So I had another "I totally feel 40" moment earlier. I woke up this morning to an Instagram message from some chick. She was apparently one of the many women you run into on social media these days that claim to be feminists fighting for social justice and all that. Her account was one of those "free the nipple" deals. She was actually messaging me to request a submission. You know, so I can do my part to fight for women's equality.

Why she approached me of all people, I don't know. I have a profile picture up on Instagram and I will very, very occasionally post a selfie or something. But none of the photos I post are the type of thing that should lead anyone to believe I wouldn't mind showing a bunch of perfect strangers my tits. I use Instagram primarily to post pictures of the foods Seth and I cook. All I can figure is that this person took one look at me, saw that I was "alternative" looking (unnatural hair color with black clothes), and mistook me for someone a lot younger or more progressive than I actually am. It sure wouldn't be the first time. Whatever the reasons, I was honestly kind of offended, but not for the reasons most people would probably think. 

The Death and Taxes of It All

I feel like I'm going though another one of my phases -- the ones that are becoming more and more frequent these days. I already voluntarily avoid offline friendships, but I'm swiftly approaching the point where I don't care to have many online ones to speak of either. The vast majority of the people I used to think of as friends just bother me now. They all seem so ignorant, and silly, and stunted. They're all stuck in a place I managed to break free from years ago at this point... and I've always been something of a late bloomer, so that's really saying something.

None of them show the slightest little bit of interest in growing or evolving either and something about that honestly disgusts me. I've always wanted to be better than I was. All that's ever changed was my definition of what "better" meant. Somewhere along the line, it stopped meaning "be someone my parents like and approve of" and started meaning "be someone I like and approve of". Even now, I still want to be so much better and so much more. And I want to be surrounded by people like myself -- thinkers, artists. People that are more focused on improving themselves and less concerned with how they stack up to others around them.

Writing Lab: On Energy and Its Sources

Prompt: "Where do you draw your energy from?"

I've never been what you'd call an energetic person. Even when I was a child, my brand of energy was a very quiet, subdued one, if such a thing can ever be said to exist. My mind would be going a mile a minute on any given day, but I was never much into being physically active. I've also always had a hard time mustering energy for doing things I don't feel personally invested in.

That part of who I am hasn't changed one little bit now that I'm an adult. I only feel what most people would call energetic when I'm legitimately on fire about something. Truth be told, I don't feel much enthusiasm when it comes to life in general. However, there are a few sources from which I seem to be able to pull energy if and when I need to.

Writing Lab: The Church of Passion

Prompt: "Do you think passion is enough to reach your goals or can passion only take a person so far?"

Saying that I used to believe passion was "enough" when it comes to meeting one's goals is the understatement of the century. At one point, I firmly believed that passion was quite literally the only thing that matters. I most certainly saw it as what separated the real artists from the people that only wished they were artists. That belief was as deep-seated as a religion and as is typical of me, I would not be told that my thinking was flawed. Even by those that had been there and knew first hand what it actually takes to succeed in any kind of creative art field.

There's a long buried, very idealistic part of me that wishes I could say I still attend the Church of Passion and worship at the altars. However, the passage of time combined with hard experience has taught me to do otherwise. I still believe passion is very important, especially when you're in the arts. But it's not enough by itself if you're serious about meeting your goals. Passion is like gasoline. It might be the fuel that makes it possible for the car to keep moving forward, but you still need the fucking car. You need the wheels, and the seats, and the steering wheel, and the engine just as desperately as you need the gasoline if you actually want to get anywhere.

Writing Lab: Head Versus Heart

Prompt: "What do you think is more important for getting things done: passion or steadfastness?" 

For me personally, it all depends on what I'm trying to accomplish. I draw upon completely different personal resources when I'm pursuing something practical than I do when I'm expressing myself or working toward a personal goal.

When it comes to the personal stuff, it's all about passion. Passion is the only thing in those cases that really keeps me going. I have to feel excited about what I'm doing in my heart. I have to be so into it that I find it hard to go to sleep at night because my brain can't stop chewing on ideas and looking forward to the next step.

I'm a creative person through and through, so the whole "make yourself work on your art" approach doesn't really do it for me. When I'm not in the zone as far as something creative I'm working on, the quality of the work just isn't there. Literally every single time I've generated something truly artful and inspired, it came from passion and passion alone. I don't care if we're talking about a painting I did, a blog post I wrote, or an especially inspired dinner menu I came up with.