Words I Held

Card Catalog My Heart

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I refuse to die with my daydreams stuck in my head. To leave them to rot in pristine, untouched condition. They will know the page, shelf, blog, audience, my loved ones’ hands, to the air & earth we all share. Sullied, misshapen, ill at ease, prototypes & fourth drafts. I will press the pen too hard, smudge oil prints all over. It will be rough & well-loved by a novice who cares too much. But my keen eye & passion will see each concept through, no matter what doubts and concerns crowd my vision—the regret will harm far more.

It has happened time and time again. Most recently it was missing out on submitting my perzines for a zine exhibition at the other side of the continent. I know I’d be such a great fit but I did not realize I had missed the deadline. This will definitely not be the last opportunity—zines are becoming more prevalent and popular than ever. Still I wish I tried.

But I try not to let failures linger as I’ve done for far too many years. There was a time I was too scared to take a chance. I allowed life to pass me by in my early twenties. In some hard ways, I still do, but I have stronger confidence & wherewithal & a deeper necessity to discover just what I can do with my passion and creativity and my small hands.

/E\ says I have a lust for life which is true. What’s also honest is I used to hate my life and my own being even more so. I never warranted such maltreatment, most likely never will. But I don’t quite see that era as a waste anymore. I appreciate and adore my present and self so much more deeply than the depths of my self-loathing ever reached. In a way I’m grateful for how I once felt because it heightens how much goodness I see in myself now. The potential I view in my abilities, storytelling, and love is at a high. And the synchroncities surely match.

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My latest is this wonderful vessel—a vintage four drawer wooden card catalog I came across on shopgoodwill.com. A site I fairly recently discovered. On a whim I searched for card catalog and this was on auction with a few days to go! I bided and won at 55.00 including shipping. When similar card catalogs with even less drawers could run $300.00 - 400.00 on ebay and etsy! I got extremely lucky, this fantasy I’ve held since I was a nerdy kid in Catholic school utterly fascinated by those drawers I had to go on my tiptoes to reach the top.

There’s an incredible amount of possibilities within this old wood, solo and with others:

And absolutely none of it have to be permanent! It can and SHOULD evolve as I age and move with the world. The problem is I don’t know where to start. I know I want to use my PO Box to collect index cards which the 3 x 5 inch kind fit perfectly: a mail art call which I always wanted to host. I’d like to share the submissions & progress online—leaflet would be great. It’d be cool to create a zine of a selection and host a reading and launch party where folks can rummage through the drawers themselves. This process will probably take 3 years or so, and not something I can prioritize right now with my more pressing projects. But I want to diligently work on it each week, finetuning and drafting and daydreaming.

I just don’t want this to collect dust. I want to respect and value it highly. I want to prove to myself again & again that my vision and whims and heart are well worth striving for. I want to create for my younger self as I’ve always done. I want to so badly to see just what I can do if I just loved myself enough to really try. I don’t want anxiety & fear & self-doubt get in the way anymore. To move out of my own way finally. To get over myself and find out how I’m not as hopeless as I believe.

It’s tired to think lowly of yourself when you’re abundantly loved and so gifted. My old lies and false beliefs don’t work as they used to. It’s unsettling to see how ill-fitting each one is. Especially with my boyfriend in the picture. I can’t regress to past self-hatred with all the sweet love he gives me each day. He adores me. I cannot deny that. And I’ve really taken to adoring myself too hehe.

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I’m leaning towards an open call of tears of joy documentation call for submissions. In the moment selfies are utmost welcome, but also self-portraits, aftermath, attached souvenirs, descriptions, the line that made you cry, any and all context. There’s more than one way to be happy and free and I want this collection to reflect that. This has legs and resonance and I think healing to know there’s so much joy happening around us unknowingly. An archive of heartbursts that do not have to be recent. They can be cherished memories from ages ago. As long as you hold it close, it deserves to be shared.

I am fearful that none of this will occur. The drawers remaining barren and unfulfilled. I don’t want to let myself down any further. I can’t afford to. It makes /E\ really sad when I told him these great projects that never came to life, long ago praised by authors I love. I fully believed in their merit and it makes me tear now which means there is hope yet. If they move me still, then I can grant movement to them. I’m only 36, I can see them ALL through. I just need to be gentle with myself while pushing the pen forward. I get intimidated by the grand scope and vulnerability of my ideas. But I believe if it doesn’t stir you at all, it’s not worth it. Nervousness means you care and carries true meaning. I wouldn’t do this at all if I saw it as throwaway. It wouldn’t haunt me like this very moment. And long after since I wrote the first word years and years ago.

I am hopeful. I am excited. I know I will pursue storytelling and art for the rest of my life so there is no real end date except for my deathbed. But urgency and the moment matters. My heart and this world is so much more different since I first blueprinted those endeavors. I’m less afraid of myself now, less mired. The daydreams are realer now and my Possibilities so much larger.

May it never escape me how fortunate I am.