Shia LaBeouf Frightens Me
Shia LaBeouf frightens me. I’m not a boot camp kind of girl. I heard enough screaming and yelling in childhood to last me seven lifetimes.
Mostly, the military style coach makes me crawl under my spectacularly thick, hypoallergenic comforter and claim my bed as a refuge. I might risk poking my hand out just far enough to grab my cup of tea from the bedside table.
But…one thing he says grabs me before I can run for cover: stop giving up.
I have given up. A lot.
I say it’s because I get bored easily, which is true. Or that I’m terrified of commitment, which is also true. Or that I get distracted, which is incredibly true.
But my truest truth is that I don’t think I deserve it. That feeling undoubtedly goes back to all that screaming I mentioned earlier. But why am I still listening to voices that can no longer be heard outside the confines of my mind where they loop ad nauseam?
The bigger question is, how do I stop the automatic loop and be here now?
Perhaps it is just as simple as reminding myself to return to the here and now when I realize that I’ve slipped away, or that I’m having conversations with people who aren’t in the room?
CC 2.0 by Tim Sheerman-Chasehttps://www.flickr.com/photos/tim_uk/
How strange it is that Shia LeBeouf scares me, when the voice in my head is far worse, far more often. Perhaps he is my mirror. If that is the case, then I let go of the notion that breaking a mirror is bad luck. Breaking this mirror, just might be the path to the discipline, passion, thoughtfulness, and emotion that is the art I feel and wish to share.
And with that, I’m off to work on my book. I hope you are off to work on whatever project is begging you to help it be born. This Internet is only good in moderation. Now go, go work on your art!
Tonight’s mantra: Stop giving up on my art or myself.