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What the heck do I mean?

I’m not quite sure myself to be honest. All I do know is that I am most definitely the former.

I remember sitting in a super uncomfortable chair in the very noisy gymnasium of my high school feeling more than a little awkward. It was that exciting time of year where parent-teacher interviews were conducted and oh joy! My interview was just beginning. 

My school had a special way of organising these torturous meetings and it was by cramming all the teachers from all faculties into the gymnasium, and setting them up on little tables in rows with their names on pieces of paper stuck on the tables. So, aside from it being awkward because I had to hear my Graphics Design teacher tell my parents the good/bad/ugly about me while I was sitting there directly in front of him, I also had to deal with it being stuffy and noisy. Yay.

Anyway, amidst all the vagueness of my stale memories of high school and parent-teacher nights, I remember this particular interview with Mr… Let’s call him Mr. Gregory Peck… Yeah. This interview with Mr. Peck stood out to me because he said that I was a “thinker” as opposed to being as he said: “a do-er”. He went on further to explain that I was a very passionate student, that I was good at contributing in class discussion and that I came up with great ideas for projects and assignments. But. There is always a but. 

But, I had problems doing things with my ideas. My imagination had no problem dreaming up things, but putting pen to paper? Now that was a whole other thing.

This analysis? I guess that’s what it was. This analysis of my personality was so accurate, so close to home, that it never left me.

Ideas are great, but to quote/misquote what another teacher said to me: “Until you write them down, that’s just what they are. Ideas.”

I’ve been slack with my writing, not because I don’t have any ideas, but because I have so many. A million ideas come to me in the form of plots for stories and essay theses and poems. These come to me at night when I’m sleeping, in the morning when I’m rubbing the sleep from my eyes, while I’m on the train, in the car, eating lunch, surfing the net and sometimes when I’m actually, actively searching for ideas.

My problem is with making something more out of my ideas, of committing to one until I complete a whole piece no matter how badly made it is. I’m scared of these beautiful, fanciful, romantically perfect ideas to be cemented down with words making them into something tangibly real. This fear is because I know for a fact that no matter how good the idea is, it’ll never be as good as I imagine it will be.

The old adage ‘practice makes perfect’ is something I need to keep in the back of my mind because as fun and frivolous as it is to be a thinker, nothing ever is accomplished if I never ‘do’.Image

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