[all Lindseys in unison] So… hey
I still regularly compulsively mostly accidentally think of an anonymous comment someone left on my LiveJournal in college that my writing was actually nothing but navel gazing. I actually don’t remember the exact words except that I had to look up “navel gazing” and then sit with the cold ice water dump of feelings that resulted. I’ve wrestled with it ever since. What’s the value of self assessment, self study, where does it veer into self obsession, at what point does it become Dangerous or Bad? When it obscures others, becomes a barrier to empathy or care, transforms into blinders? Certainly not just when it annoys someone else who’s dealing with their own expanse of to-dos emotions worries et cetera. I feel sad when I think of how many jokes I’ve made at my own expense.
Anyway, ever drawn a whole sea of self portraits while yr hands are shaking from early caffeine guzzling on a foggy Monday morning in late October??
I love you,
Lindsey