So there I was wanting to write something for the lovely comments section, when it struck me that although I had a tonne of things that were riling me, I was afraid to. I couldn't seem to start, or to commit to a subject/issue.
It's at times like this that one must resort to a higher power. In my head that can only mean one person, Mother Monster. Yes, I commonly think 'What-Would-Lady-Gaga-Do?' Well not so much, but on this occasion I found myself enlightened by something I'd heard her say. She said that when she writes a song, it's like vomitting. Hear me out. She goes on to explain that in this quick 15 minute vomitting period, she gets all her ideas out, and writes most of the song. Why doesn't she have a new album out every ten minutes then? She says it's because she then spends the next months fine tuning that vomit. What is my point? That she says no matter how long you spend agonising over a word or a tune, at the end of the day, you must always honour your vomit, that original idea.
Now, that has me thinking.
Honouring our vomit? Some of you are throwing in a casual WTF? As am I, because
committing to the written word, is so much harder than she makes it sound. It's so much harder than committing to those which haphazardly roll off our tongues and fall out of our mouths. Think about it. Even if you're one of the few capable of a coherent thought before you speak it, we do not agonise over every word that we say. It's arguable that in some cases maybe we should, (I couldn't believe how far the Jeremy Kyle uproar reached.) But there is no extensive editing like there is when we try to blog, write that essay or indeed try to write for Felix.
What are we afraid of?
I for one, cannot bear it when I am quoted, let alone when I can see what I've written in black and white. Does this mean that we lack conviction? Or does it just mean that we're afraid to express our convictions, that we're afraid to open ourselves up to that kind of scrutiny? Is it because the written word always comes across as much more calculated than that thinly veiled insult, which is so innocently uttered? It's not fair to suggest that we lack conviction when we speak. On the contrary, we (or I at least) often find ourselves staunchly defending something we perhaps don't whole-heartedly believe, all because we weren't thinking when we said it. Better to defend than to back down it seems. If we're not insecure about those rapidly made false convictions then why does the written word scare us so? Probably because it is permanent. When we say even something outrageously ridiculous, it will be forgotten, but if we were to write it, it would haunt us forever.
In case you hadn't already noticed, philosophical musings aren't exactly my forte. Not only do I lack conviction, but I lack a point of any kind. In fact the only thing I have served to do is increase my awe and understanding of Lady GaGa. And before you start, the Wise One also says 'It's OK, not everybody gets it.' I seem to be finding myself living by these little ideas more and more. Simple statements that so effectively normalise and rationalise any feeling. From now on I will honour my vomit, and feel ok to go against the grain, because *I* get it.
