Batik—the art of drawing on cloth with hot wax, filling in color, and melting the wax away.
It’s funny how we define our lives in this same manner. We draw out our lines, setting boundaries where things don’t mix, can’t cross. We spend our lives filling in those spots. Adding our own experiences as we see them. Sometimes the dye saturates the cloth, beads up at the edges, and we brush it away, staining our hands with vivid color.
It’s only toward the end when we desire to melt those barriers—regrets of a life with fixed boundaries, unbending will, stubborn resistance to change. We talk about altering ourselves, but the wax remains imbedded within us, rejecting the new no matter how hard we try to integrate it.
We are creatures of habit, out barriers forming our lives, enclosing our experiences. Sometimes I wish to melt that wax away, to let blue bleed into green into red, to recolor my life on a different canvas before the wax has time to cool.
I'm having trouble writing lately. Every time I sit down at the computer, I get distracted, and I can't gain the focus to actually create. Even this blog has suffered from my lack of drive. My only way of posting seems to be dredging up old musings and slapping them onto the page. Maybe I'm just taking myself too seriously. I'll admit that I'm a bit afraid of my writing. In my mind, I have prepared myself for four rejection letters to come in the next few months. In retrospect, I really should have applied to more schools, but I'm having trouble setting my goals lower than ideal.
I settled on my undergraduate study, and I really regret doing that. I should have changed my major and stuck around longer, but I had my eyes trained on the exit sign. Now I feel like I'm standing outside of some immensely popular nightclub just hoping the bouncer will let me sneak in and mingle with the writers I want to become.In the meantime, I really need to work on my story. One of the final scenes always plays itself out while I listen to one song. I really want to write it now, but I'm not even close to an ending, and I don't want to set a finish line that my story might not cross. Patience, my friend, is something I'm short on these days. Patience is the one thing I really need to practice.