(no subject)
there's a harsh writing truth tips thing going around twitter about ur friends being competition and mostly i was just like, i wish my friends were competition!
bc i have a lot of writer friends who are doing well and i'm just happy to know them. i don't suffer enough impostor syndrome to even place myself amongst them bc they did the hard thing, which was words on paper again and again for years and years and like more than a decade really and it's just now starting to pay off.
did anyone see the trailer for mnuchinwife's movie? it's kind of a great reminder that i'm not a failure, i just didn't marry the right billionaire. or was born to the right billionaire. or failed to become a billionaire. i often wonder about the alternate universe where i spent my 20s and 30s gainfully employed in finance as a sociopath.
if i were my dad, my kid would be 13 yrs old. they'd be in jr high. feeling lonely, hating their face in the mirror. how would i tell them how to balance the self-hate and self-love in the right amounts to be successful and not insufferable. do we want happy insufferable children? miserable modest kids? i really dunno where the middle ground is. i imagine i made it this far bc i was male and grew up at least assuming the world was made for me tempered with the minority thing and being youngest in a family of super aggressively space-taking older brother/dad dynamics.
did we push our mom out of existence?
i dreamt i went back to the lucid dream place where my mom would be. i finished building it somehow, or it had been built since i was there last. it was a multi story building that i think our family owned. and my mom came and joined me on the first floor, to do the accounting. she looked younger and slightly different. but i knew it was her as we quietly counted the 2 million dollars we had made last year and even tho she didn't talk to me i could tell she was proud.
so i guess this is my mom's message to me. make a lot of money and i'll come help you count it and be proud.
(i did not make 2 million dollars last year) maybe won.
bc i have a lot of writer friends who are doing well and i'm just happy to know them. i don't suffer enough impostor syndrome to even place myself amongst them bc they did the hard thing, which was words on paper again and again for years and years and like more than a decade really and it's just now starting to pay off.
did anyone see the trailer for mnuchinwife's movie? it's kind of a great reminder that i'm not a failure, i just didn't marry the right billionaire. or was born to the right billionaire. or failed to become a billionaire. i often wonder about the alternate universe where i spent my 20s and 30s gainfully employed in finance as a sociopath.
if i were my dad, my kid would be 13 yrs old. they'd be in jr high. feeling lonely, hating their face in the mirror. how would i tell them how to balance the self-hate and self-love in the right amounts to be successful and not insufferable. do we want happy insufferable children? miserable modest kids? i really dunno where the middle ground is. i imagine i made it this far bc i was male and grew up at least assuming the world was made for me tempered with the minority thing and being youngest in a family of super aggressively space-taking older brother/dad dynamics.
did we push our mom out of existence?
i dreamt i went back to the lucid dream place where my mom would be. i finished building it somehow, or it had been built since i was there last. it was a multi story building that i think our family owned. and my mom came and joined me on the first floor, to do the accounting. she looked younger and slightly different. but i knew it was her as we quietly counted the 2 million dollars we had made last year and even tho she didn't talk to me i could tell she was proud.
so i guess this is my mom's message to me. make a lot of money and i'll come help you count it and be proud.
(i did not make 2 million dollars last year) maybe won.