Letter ~ "I Forgot to Name This: A Letter to My Friends" ~LbtS ~ 9

July 2, 2017 

5:00pm   
                                        Dear Naomi Lee and Acacia Faye,  
  
     I should be writing three things I am proud of about my personality, but instead I'm watching Bendandsnap Commonweath's reading of Sol LeWitt's 1965 letter to Eve Hess. Eve was struggling with writers block and Sol gave Eve a real talking to about work. As I listen to this fantastic letter, I confess that I'm sitting here wondering how the hell I'm supposed to do anything unafraid. I'm a mess of anxiety with a huge heap of deep seated insecurities I can't seem to fix or ignore no matter how hard I try, and I'm sitting here struggling to write a simple blog post about myself. Should be the easiest thing in the world to write about ones own self. I can't seem to do it yet. 
     I keep thinking about how these words I string together will be read by someone I will probably never meet in person, and could potentially be read by many more people, which is overwhelming.  I chose to be anonymous, thinking it would take the pressure off of this fact, but I've somehow found more pressure in my anonymity. All people will know of me are my words and my username. They won't know who I am in person, and if they are anything like me, they could be curious. I don't have any second thoughts about my choice, I'm keeping it. What it is- it's this: Someone will eventually stumble upon these 26 English letters I arrange and rearrange under the corybantic grammar and spelling rules of this Frankenstein language which gets so frustrating- even though its my native language. God, English is weird...and beautiful when its used by someone who can direct it. I don't want to mess up. I have ridiculously high standards for myself and my work. I want to write. I want to write well. I love this language (warts and all) and I want to learn how to use it. To make it sing and resonate and hit people like a ton of bricks with the feels. Aww the feels, but so far, like Eve, I'm bothered by my writing. I read it and I hate it. I mean, I can look in the mirror everyday and see the beauty others see in my appearance, but I look at my words or my art, I want to burn it. I see all the flaws in my work and hate them, whereas I celebrate my flaws in my appearance. I have this red blood vein that sticks out of my right nostril right on the base of the septum wall like a small hook, and I love it. My students at work point it out all the time and I tell them what it is and they love it and I get to introduce them to some simple human biology, which is great for young minds. Even when I wear make up I don't cover it. I enjoy the unique things in my appearance and the unique things in others and their work. Just the other day I was reading your work Naomi Lea, your "Guilt" essay. It had so much information, insight, wisdom, and I agree with you that convictional (is that even a word? Idk you get my drift) guilt can lead us to/back to Jesus. You explained it all with clear descriptive metaphors and language, yet when we talked about it you mentioned a few grammar things and there being too much passive voice and I'm like "What's passive voice?" I don't even know what passive voice was at the moment. I'm thankful you filled me in on that by the way. And when I read your work Acacia Faye, it's alive with meaning, honesty, and emotions that touch the heart. I aspire to write as wonderfully as both of you do.
      I want to be able to do my work without a care in the world. To say "fudge you" to my insecurities and anxiety, to write without crying and using baked goods as swear words. I want to write as confidently as I walk in my favorite 70s styled 5 inch platform heels, to be as free with information as I am with my students, friends, and family. I want to see the unique beauty in my work as I see in others and my outward appearance. I want to be proud of my work, to love it, and I hope one day I will be able to celebrate what I've worked so hard to create. 
    It's now 11:21pm, so I'm going to call it a night. I'll probably edit this more throughout the week before sending it to you guys, then posting it on July 10th.
  
 July 4, 2017 
1:29pm - 3:07pm
       Happy Fourth guys! I thank both of you for including me in this new challenging endeavor of blog writing and maintenance. I haven't thanked either of you, I think. I might have, I don't know I can't seem to recall. I'm in much higher spirits than I was on the 2nd, and I hope both of you are having a wonderful Fourth. I also want to say thank you for reading this letter too. I feel lighter now, having confessed everything, and for once I don't hate what I've written. I might one of these days, but for now I'm going to celebrate I've written something. I still plan on posting this on the 10th, and I'll be sending it off to you guys shortly. While this letter is still between me and God, I must confess one more thing: I'm not sure what others will think. But it's okay. I don't know what people think of me when I go out, I can only know what I think, and I like it. I'm excited now. 
        Please, celebrate what you guys have done too. Both of you have done so much, especially in my mind. Yes, none of us are novelist (yet) and none of us have been published in any major mainstream things, but both of you have been published at your Alma mater, which is more that I could say since I didn't do much of anything at mine. I am sure one day we will be published somewhere and we'll be able to go to the bookstore and see our books. Just remember not to sign them cause then the book/books will be marked as damaged and yeah that's not good. Could leave a note in it though. That would be fun.
        We're still starting out, still young, and still learning what it is we want to write about and how we want to write it. I'm confident all three of us will figure it all out, and accomplish everything we dream of accomplishing. I'm proud of us. 
                  
                                               Your friend, 
                                             LadybytheSea

P.S. here is the direct link to Sol LeWitt's letter to her friend Eva Hesse as read by Benedict Cumberbatch : https://youtu.be/VnSMIgsPj5M

              

Essay ~ Being Wrong ~ NL ~ 2

Being Wrong

By: Naomi Lea

     Personality quizzes always ask how you take criticism. "Do you take criticism well, or do you tend to take correction personally as if your worth as a human is based on your performance?" I believe those questions should be reworded. "How well can you mask the embarrassment of being wrong in front of others? Do you allow your emotions to affect your further performance, or can you compartmentalize them to be processed later?" Nobody likes to be wrong. Regardless of how you answer those questions on the personality quizzes, I think that no one in the world is perfect enough to be sincerely good at taking criticism. One might be pretty good at deadening the senses of shame to keep going, but the memory of making a mistake does not leave the mind so easily.

     But, perhaps I'm speaking too much for others. Maybe there really are some folks who like being criticized or take correction with an open heart and mind. Maybe there are some Christians who, when in a frustrating situation, instinctively drop to their knees in prayer and say, "O gracious heavenly Father, please reveal to me your good and perfect will which requires me to undergo this period of trial and tribulation. I count it all joy!" Is that what people expect Christians to do? If it is, I fall far from that expectation. In fact, I feel quite saintly if I just don't break something in a rage or binge eat my emotions.

     So why is being wrong so life-shattering for me? Why does it make me so frustrated? I am human, therefor I am imperfect and bound to make mistakes. However, this knowledge does not help in the slightest when experiencing these feelings of shame and embarrassment. When I'm in the moment feeling extremely abashed or mortified, it feels like absolutely nothing can quell my internal churning and writhing. I feel incapable of help and don't want any either. I want to stay mad and try to get out of my mess on my own. I got myself here, so I can pull myself out, too. I can research and read and figure things out on my own. I'm quite capable by myself. Who needs God when he outfitted me with a working brain and body to solve my own problems. I'll get back to God and check in with Him once I get past this obstacle on my own.

     And I wonder why being wrong bothers me so much? I get so confident in my abilities, I forget about Him who gave the abilities to me. I forget that I am only creation and still learning how to use my gifted functions. I forget what I did as a child; whenever I made a mistake or was confused about something, I always asked my parents. They almost always made me feel better or helped me with whatever was bothering me. I forget that I can still do that. I have a heavenly Father who is always available and ready to take any questions and comfort any hurts. I forget that He is with me always and that the first thing I should do in times of trouble is to drop down to my knees and pray.

     Being wrong is so frustrating because the only way to recover from the pain is to shift my attention from myself and what I did to God and what He can do for me through this experience. It is difficult to do. I am not good at it by any means, but that is what I am called to do as a Christian. I am called to confess where I am wrong and go through that grieving process of denying the part of me that wants to stay self-centered. I am also called to help and encourage others who also struggle with being wrong and taking criticism (everyone). As Christians, we are called to love. Though it is not easy in the slightest, it is so necessary. I encourage us all (myself included) to confess our wrongs and our negative feelings regarding our mistakes. I challenge us all to take the Lord's criticism and let it change and transform us. Being wrong is hard, but it is inevitable. We must recover from the blows of being incorrect, take God's hand, and keep living in Him.