Who cares what you have to say? comes the voice from within every time I begin to write. You’re nobody important. Why bother, when there’s already a million people clamouring for attention, with both far more, and far less, important things to say? and so I pepper my blogging platform with half-written entries, this voice quelling my initial excitement at the thought of publishing something – anything – that might garner me an audience, folding the desire back into itself, slowly stemming the passion to put my fingers to the keys and tell people what I’ve been up to with my own observations, in my own voice. Why would anyone bother to read that stuff anyway?
This is probably why I turned to design. So I can still create works to be seen, published, even more – interacted with, without having to come up against possible failure at my greater passion for writing (have no doubt, I do love design). Without having to hear words of discourging criticism of my limited, mostly squandered, once-potential for talent that just never blossomed and probably never will.
This way, I can slowly turtle on, writing in bursts, when my need to express myself genuinely becomes too great and I can no longer hold in my voice, when I can finally take my vocal croak and turn it into eloquent hieroglyphs perhaps destined to be digitally burned eternally into the minds of humankind as the Internet Archive and biotechnology evolve, morph together into some new species that will overcome all environmental disaster, oxygen depletion and animal extinction.
Well, it’s nice to have a less scary dream amidst all the constant prophecies of our self-induced, imminent doom, anyway.