Crisis of faith

[fictional]

I cannot write. Or rather I can, it's just crap, pure and simple.
What am I doing? For $.02 I'd hang it all up and go put on a skirt and some heels and get an office job.

What's the point of all this if nothing I write is any good?! I gave up something I had really really really wanted to do on Sunday, to sit here and slug away, and I just read over the result and it tastes like ashes in my mouth. It's like sex when sex is dead: just wet slimy foreign objects working away at each other. Blood, sweat and tears, + agonizing indecision, and I just feel like a talent-less hack.

And this was it - my last chance. It's even a compromise - if not art, then study. They used to say wizardry was an inborne art, but alchemy is learnt. And I was hoping, really hoping to at least have that.

Comments

[kalichan.livejournal.com]

But, but...what if I look bad next to all my classmates and they kick me out and laugh at me?!

Intellectually, I know you're right, of course. And it's always hard to not think of where you are as the end of your existence, instead of a step towards where you want to be. So thank you for that, and the reassurance. I had forgotten, temporarily, that this is not forever.

Also, Yoda! Yay!

Love you Megling & miss you - any chance of an intersection anytime soon?

[prosicated.livejournal.com]

I'll be in NYC for a few days around Christmas, and am dying to see you at the patashoqua. Separately, together, and for as much time as humanly possible. =)