La versión en español está después de la versión en inglés.
I BEGAN WRITING A BOOK, a memoir mostly, in 1986. I worked on it for several years until I began to break the memoir into short stories. I submitted a few of the short stories and three were published, one in a bad gay paperback anthology that I actually got paid a pittance for and the other two in a literary review. I decided to work again on the memoir. That was after we moved to Spain. It again got sidelined.
All this talk of San Geraldo’s book, the fact that he’s already got his autobiography in the works, and questions to me like “where’s yours?” have got me thinking again about my own writing. I’ve been doing so much better mentally, but this thinking has found me frustrated with myself and my own shortcomings.
I’ve bought so many different art supplies in recent years. I was an artist in the past — in school and, at times, by profession. But when I’ve put pen or pencil to paper (or clay in my hands), I’ve been disappointed with the scratches I make. I’m rusty. I try too hard. I lose patience with myself. I go to an exhibit or see someone else’s art online and think to myself, “Who do you think you are?” That’s a question my parents asked me as long as they lived.
It might be time to fix my sights on one thing and just do it. Like San Geraldo has done with his books. Focus. That can be a problematic English word for Spaniards. It often comes out sounding like “fuck us.”
Anyway, at the moment, I’m in a bit of a slump — but at least I’m so much better than a few weeks ago. I’ll make a list of the things I’d like to do and make a plan. I’m overwhelming my brain (or maybe my brain is overwhelming me) with what I should or could have done. My father used to say my mother was the queen of the “I Shoulda” Club. He also used to say I couldn’t do anything right, while my mother often said (between her praise of me) that whatever I did was not enough. Not enough for her. Not for Dale. For Chucky. Never enough of a career, of a title, a salary. So, I’m reading and rereading the message Susan sent me, “You are way more than enough. You’re doing an amazing job at life.” and I’m trying to take it to heart. You’re never too old to fight the damage done in your life (and, it seems, you’re never too old to still feel it).
The first two photos (above and below) are from Sunday’s long walk on the beach. Then, there’s the sea glass and shells I picked up, followed by three photos from my walk to and from the gym this morning. I’m grateful for this life, for all I have — the love, the friendships — and for what I see every day.
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COMENZÉ A ESCRIBIR UN LIBRO, en su mayoría memorias, en 1986. Trabajé en él durante varios años hasta que comencé a dividir las memorias en cuentos. Envié algunos de los cuentos y se publicaron tres, uno en una mala antología gay por la que en realidad me pagaron una miseria y los otros dos en una reseña literaria. Decidí trabajar de nuevo en las memorias. Eso fue después de que nos mudamos a España. De nuevo quedó marginado.
Toda esta charla sobre el libro de San Geraldo, el hecho de que ya tiene su autobiografía en proceso, y preguntas para mí como “¿dónde está el tuyo?” me han hecho pensar de nuevo en mi propia escritura. Lo he estado haciendo mucho mejor mentalmente, pero este pensamiento me ha encontrado frustrado conmigo mismo y con mis propias deficiencias.
He comprado tantos materiales de arte diferentes en los últimos años. Fui artista en el pasado, en la escuela y, a veces, de profesión. Pero cuando he puesto bolígrafo, lápiz o pintura en papel, me han decepcionado los arañazos que hago. Estoy oxidado. Me esfuerzo demasiado. Pierdo la paciencia conmigo mismo. Voy a una exhibición o veo el arte de otra persona en línea y pienso: “¿Quién te crees que eres?” Esa es una pregunta que mis padres hacían regularmente.
Podría ser el momento de fijar mi vista en una cosa y simplemente hacerlo. Como ha hecho San Geraldo con sus libros. Enfocar. De todos modos, en este momento, estoy un poco deprimido, pero al menos estoy mucho mejor que hace unas semanas. Quizás haga una lista de las cosas que me gustaría hacer. Estoy abrumando mi cerebro (o tal vez mi cerebro me está abrumando) con lo que debería o podría haber hecho. Mi padre solía decir que mi madre era la reina del Club de “Yo Debería”. También solía decir que no podía hacer nada bien, mientras que mi madre solía decir (entre elogios hacia mí) que cualquier cosa que hiciera no era suficiente. No es suficiente para ella. No para Dale. Para Chucky. Nunca basta de una carrera, de un título, de un salario. Entonces, estoy leyendo y releyendo el mensaje que Susan me envió, “Eres mucho más que suficiente. Estás haciendo un trabajo increíble en la vida”, y estoy tratando de tomármelo en serio. Nunca se es demasiado mayor para luchar contra el daño causado en su vida (y, al parecer, nunca se es demasiado mayor para sentirlo).
Las dos primeras fotos (arriba y abajo) son del largo paseo del domingo por la playa. Luego, están los cristales de mar y las conchas que recogí, seguidos de tres fotos de mi caminata hacia y desde el gimnasio esta mañana. Estoy agradecido por esta vida, por todo lo que tengo, el amor, las amistades, y por lo que veo todos los días.
• Aparte de los vidrios marinos, solo colecciono nácar, que decidí dejar de coleccionar, excepto que estos eran muy bonitos y especialmente grueso y pesado.
• Los cielos matutinos de hoy son realmente tomas interiores de mi mente.
• Dudo piensa que soy mucho más que suficiente.
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Can we make a request to see your collections of beach finds? Take care my friend.
Kathleen:
Sure. It’s just the cut glass bowl of nacre and the vase of sea glass. I try to rein myself in.
Even if you couldn’t focus on a memoir, you could certainly do a book of your stunning photographs. I also enjoy the vibrancy of them. I could never sit and write a memoir myself; I wouldn’t have the attention span to do it first, let alone, who would want to read all the smut? And catty drag spats? Besides…if I wrote one, I need my very own Agnes Gouch to dictate.
*AHEM! * I’d read it that, Mads! You had me at smut 🙂
Deedles:
Exactly. Why write a memoir if it doesn’t include smut?
Mistress G Borghese:
I’ll be your Agnes Gooch. With my wings resolutely spread Mistress Borghese. And my old inhibitions shed Mistress Borghese… I lived. I lived. I LIIIIIIIIVED!
Dudo and Moose know exactly who you are and that is just fine with them! With me, too, btw.
Such dramatic scenic photos. Exceptional nacre requires exceptions to the “no more collecting of nacre” rules. I love the seafoam green piece of glass.
You definitely have gifts for art, writing, and photography. Go for bigger ventures if they would be satisfying to you. Play as the spirit strikes you.
Wilma:
Better day today… so far. The new nacre is unbelievably thick. I might have to share some detail photos of one piece. I, too, love that seafoam green.
Oh, Scootman! I wish I could hug you right now! Maybe you can just relax and write a book of essays. Your blog is very interesting and entertaining. You have talent and a sense of humor. I know all about the effects of negativity from a parent or two (well, one in my case). I’ll be sixty-six come Sunday, and I still hear my mother calling me a cow-eyed heifer (among other things, uselessness being implied). I’ve decided to turn that into a compliment. Heifers are supposed to have cow eyes and now I also have the body to go along with it, heh. I’m going to leave a piece of my then sixteen-year-old self with you. It’s not good, but my creative writing class in high school liked it. I never saved it, but I remember the last verse. Ready or not, here it comes 🙂
I in Levis attending a formal.
I in a bed of roses, a daisy.
I the only one who is normal.
Everyone else in the world is crazy.
Hey, it worked for me. I’m a bit manic right now so I’ll share a part of my love poem also. I was married by the time I wrote this gem. It was long but I remember two lines. I sense a pattern here.
I’m your bowl, you’re my sugar.
You’re my nostril, I’m your booger.
I gave Shakespeare a run for his money, dammit!
Anyway, I love you Scoot (I dropped the man part because I kept picturing you dragging your butt across the carpet). This is all just to make you smile. Did it work?
Deedles:
When one of my uncles turned 70 (I was in my 30s), I was talking to my aunt and she said he still struggled with the damage done by his abusive father. I was shocked. Now I understand. I love your poetry. Can’t wait to hear what SG thinks about the imagery of the nostril and booger! And, yes, it worked.
There’s another genealogy show on one of the cable channels, called, Who do you think you are?… I was imagining that this was what you were referring to with your title, in light of the finishing and printing of SG’s book 🙂 I’m glad you’re feeling better, but self doubts… they are tough on us all, eh?
Judy C:
Oh, yes, I love Who do you think you are? I catch it on YouTube, and I thought of it when I wrote the title. YOU don’t have any self doubts, to you?
OK Mr. Big Stuff get crackin’ on that memoir! But of course NO pressure.
Loved that song back in the day.
Wow, those clouds look very moody indeed. Great photos, Mitch!
Jim:
Different kinds of skies today. Still plenty of drama. I’m doing fine so far today. Stay tuned.
The joy of retirement, for me, is finally having the time to indulge in creative things like writing and art. And I find that the joy of getting older is no longer having anything to prove. Been there, done that, fuck ’em all now. It’s fulfilling to do stuff just for the fun of it. I like to try my best at producing results I like but, you know what? At the end of the day, it really doesn’t matter. What’s important is just doing it. (Oops, now I owe royalties to Nike. Fuck them too.)
Debra:
Retirement is part of the pressure I put on myself. I have all this time and should be using it constructively. However, I DO use it constructively; I just don’t use it to make money or a name for myself. My old training lingers. And I love all the art you’ve produced since I’ve been following you. As for Nike, you only have to pay if you say precisely, Just do it.
You’ve reminded me: I have a piece of sea glass in the pocket of my jeans!
Thank you for visiting my blog and your lovely comments.
Another member of the ‘Not enough’ club, only in my case I’m the one who thinks it of me. We must fight it. YOU ARE ENOUGH.
Get that book written!
I see I’m commenting from my WordPress blog. How odd. I’m more often on liz-and-harvey.blogspot.com
lizhinds or liz-and-harvey:
I found another piece of sea glass in my pocket after I took that picture. Looking forward to reading more from you. Thanks so much for visiting and your kind words.
First, you are and have always been enough. A good friend, a talented artist and a gifted writer.
Also, the photos are gorgeous.
Carole:
Thanks. The skies are giving me great opportunities. And I say I’m not creating art.
You always create art, in many mediums. And it’s okay to just take a break too. I had grand plans for retirement too: learn to play the piano, take cooking classes, travel. Two and a half years into retirement and I have accomplished none of that.
I’m kinda with Dudo … but I think, if you can, try to dismiss those other long gone voices in your head and listen to yourself. i imagine you’d create a pretty fascinating memoir, one that I would line up to buy.
Bob:
You’d be on the VIP list. No waiting in line.
If only we could see ourselves through the eyes of others. You are perfect the way you are. Do what you want to do.
David:
Sadly, I see myself through the wrong “others’” eyes. I’m fine today and am doing what I want to do. Thanks!
I dunno, I think you’ve done very well for yourself indeed. Look at where you are; look at who you’re with. Ain’t too shabby, no? In many cases, the best cure for the past is the present.
wickedhamster:
Decades of telling myself that. When the brain chemistry is working, I believe it!
We tend to believe the negative comments thrown on us not realizing they are that person’s shortcomings, not ours.
sillygirl:
You’re so right. Over my mother’s 89 years, I learned to understand well her history. It didn’t necessarily protect me from the unpredictable cruelty, but at least it made more sense. I learned a bit about my father’s childhood through my mother’s lens, but it also helped me understand. Still the voices linger.
Those voices were her pain really having nothing to do with you. Keep a perspective on that – you can give them all back to her – they aren’t yours. Hope that helps.
sillygirl:
So very true. I knew her well over the years.
I love clouds. Have you seen The Cloud Spotters Guide by Gavin Pretor-Pinney and/or The Cloud book – How to understand the skies by Richard Hamblyn? I think you may well be interested as you certainly have some amazing clouds there.
Karen:
That does sound fascinating. I might have to order myself a copy. Thanks.
I have so many responses to this post, some involving my own parents and messages I heard from them. (Mainly my mother.) “You’re so irresponsible” was one of her favorite stock phrases, despite the fact that I was the most responsible kid for MILES around!
Don’t discount all that you DO produce — the writing and photos here on your blog, for example. Writing a regular blog is quite a commitment and you do yourself a disservice overlooking it. And getting published, even in a small paperback, is pretty impressive! I always wondered how I could get myself into one of those gay anthologies.
When I was a practicing Buddhist I so appreciated (and still do) the message that we are all already enough. We are all complete. This doesn’t mean there’s not room for growth, only that we are not lacking.
Steve:
Thanks. Sorry you got those messages, too. I’m fine today. One of the problems that arises with my brain chemistry is that when it’s not working properly, all the old stuff resurfaces. When it is, I’m fine and am beyond it all. Yesterday, the brain chemistry was clearly off. After I wrote the post, I realized how much I create every day, just not in the conventional ways that had been expected.
Sadly, my upbringing had its effect on so much of what I did or didn’t do during my childhood and early adulthood. Parenting is not for everyone.
I’ve always found Buddhism fascinating for all the positive messages it teaches. Not being a “believer” in general, I couldn’t get beyond my basic respect for some of the teachings. This is another I like. Thanks again.
Parents do say terrible things to their children, I know same thing here, never good enough, always had to give the example to others. Difficult thing to do when you are 6 yrs old. I think that often parents have fears and it comes across in the language used which is wrong. My mother was very nervous as a parent always afraid of what other people would say. My father was very insecure and he also was mortally afraid that people would discover he did not have much education. So he covered up and I got most of it. Unfortunately these things stay with you for the rest of your life. But you have to say to yourself that it’s your life and you do your best and that is just fine. What do you have to prove and to who. I love all your photos, you certainly have the eye for good photography, some are dramatic. We have on one beach sea glass, I am always fascinated by it. I also envy the fact that you can go to a bar or restaurant and the atmosphere is relaxing and elegant and the owners make an effort in presentation, food, service etc. Your weather, though you say is cold, seems springlike to me. I know I use to complain that Cairo was cold in Winter and people thought I was exaggerating. It was the humidity and the wind that was cold but 6C is not really cold. Rome could be cold and Athens also but again no central heating and cold humidity does it. Be well.
larrymuffin:
Many parents do the best they can. Others do not. But it’s surprising how long-lasting some of the worst of it can be. I’m great today. Just brain chemistry yesterday. I would love to find cobalt blue sea glass, but that seems to be a rarity here. I wonder why. There are plenty of cobalt blue glass bottles around. We are so lucky here to have such choices of restaurants and cafes within walking distance. Prices tend to be surprisingly low for exceptional quality. We had business at the post office today and stopped for an exceptional lunch at a restaurant we’d never tried. An absolute pleasure. Very grateful. Our bodies DO adjust to the climate. I went to university in the snowbelt of New York State. I’m now cold if the temperature is below 16C. Thankfully, we haven’t experienced 6C this year. That would be Arctic!
Larrymuffin:
By the way, thanks for sharing openly about some of your childhood. I had no idea. And I know now how well you understand.
If you write that memoir, I’ll be sure to buy a copy.
Kirk:
Thanks! I’ll be sure to autograph it.
Life slows all of us down sometimes; that’s OK, as long as it doesn’t stop us permanently. As cheesy as it is, I find it helps to remind myself I’ve survived everything up until now and I’m still here and still going so why should anything stop me? You have made a great life for yourself. Don’t let anyone, including yourself, stop you from enjoying it.
Sassybear,
When the brain chemistry is in balance, I’m good at appreciating what I’ve got… and what I’ve survived. It’s much better than two days ago. Thanks!