Anonymous Me

I just read a nice post on a blog who belongs to a friend of a friend. This girl, who I just met once, is a journalist. She’s very smart, terribly funny, and discusses important stuff.

Seems like everyone has a blog these days. And why shouldn’t we? It’s a great medium, and one can reach people all over the world.

The difference between my blog and this girls blog is that she signs with her own name. I don’t. I wouldn’t. The mere idea of it freaks me out. I don’t want my friends to know about it. I don’t want people I know reading about how I really feel.

I don’t discuss politics and high art. I’m not trying to save the world. But the stuff I write about is important to me, and I believe it’s important to everyone who wants to be an artist. To create is easy to some people, but there are people who struggle with insecurities all their lives.

I’ve heard a lot of people diss women of fifty who change their lives completely to become artists. I don’t se why. Can nothing of value be made by people who have already lived through half their lives? I think I may become one of those women of fifty, who feels like something is missing in their lives, who feels like they haven’t lived their lives to the fullest and used all their potential. I also think that most of these women haven’t dared to be creative earlier in their lives because of fear.

Fear is my middle name. I was afraid of continuing my academic career. I became afraid to sing in front of people. I’m afraid to write. I’m afraid of so many things, I could go on with my list for weeks. Most of all I’m afraid of being rediculous. I’m afraid of pouring my heart out, and having people laugh in my face and tell me what I’m saying is stupid and uninteresting.

That’s why I choose to be anonymous. I don’t have the confidence of this friend of a friend, who has an interesting job and write in a street wise manner about important stuff. I’m just me. All I have is this passion for art, and this very strong need to create. I want to share this, and I hope someone is listening out there.

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