Yesterday took a tough turn. I hit a bump I know exists but usually avoid. But my e-course homework had me placing my step stool next to that inevitable bump cum mountain. I stepped up, took a look, agreed it was the same mountain I have assumed I can not climb, stepped down and walked away crying.
Everyone has their pockets of mental puss stored away which they pray to avoid. My puss is of the technological variety. I am an artist and I like arting. However, when my art mandates the use of technology, especially that which I don’t know how to use, I feel helpless. This in turn makes me angry which then may or may not lead me to tears. And I assure you, pregnancy has not produced any storm clouds greater than an average emotional moment for PMS.
So, helplessness makes me angry and vulnerable. Why? I dunno. Maybe I don’t want to have to ask for help. Maybe when I have, I was ignored or turned down. All I know is that I avoid things that take me there. And guess what creating a blog is full of having to know how to do? Technological stuff.
Sure I forget to credit myself for all the things I can do that others are bewildered by. Like making biscuits and gravy from scratch. Or visually filling up a storefront window with a budget of $5. Or writing in my journal .
This morning, I returned to the computer this morning. Did I mention the mountain episode took place on the computer? Don’t act surprised. I spent at least an hour and a half on Pinterest pinning as I therapized my visual brain. And then I headed back to the technological hell place. I am ashamed to admit all I needed was to print out a couple of words in a chosen font.
The special font manipulation program I downloaded first needed some sort of framework installed too. Gave up on that tack and barely acknowledged another precious hour wasted. I would not give up today. Did I mention there’s a deadline? I went back into Microsoft’s plebian publishing program and poked and poked and finally, there it was. Now hurry up and press print before it disappears.
It wasn’t really about the font you know. The font represented the greater picture of what I want to do with my blog, my writing, and my life. And I feared failure just as I did for anything else I’ve ever feared to fail; because it meant more to me than I was admitting. And I expect I should do it well or not to attempt it at all. Today, I practiced don’t panic and do it anyway.
You’ll understand a little better when you see the product of all of this effort. I will explain the rest of the story then. Thanks for putting up with my humanity.