The Art of Being Me: Avoiding Mediocrity

I am a person who strives too much on presentation.

Uploading filler vids on my channel disturbs me. Commentaries, Let’s Plays. That sort of thing. Even now, as I work on my next Skyrim vid, I want to scrap the entire piece because I think the idea is weak.

When uploading a vid, if it’s not a silent Let’s Play (serviced content), I best upload a masterpiece. Or, at the very least (and the more commonly accepted guideline), a piece where I stashed away a part of my soul. Sweat and tears must be had. Polish doesn’t matter when I know I tested fate. Hell, my heart still skips a beat if I make the 301+ view threshold on Day 1.

Tweeting is an additional hassle. What should be an easy 140 characters turns into a consistent plague in my mind, festering upon every word. Do I sound intelligent? Or vapid? Should I settle for an instagram of my food or post an outrageous quote from some archaic author I don’t know about? The art of being me subsists as a constant struggle for internal approval which often ends in me canceling my tweet.

What further kills me is that most of this internal dialogue is not only true, but spinning in my head as I make this post.

Days like this are days where I need to be honest with myself. A self-given reality check. Striving to become an ideal me requires acceptance that I am not currently…her. I want…nay, hope for the day where I can look at my machinima or daily ramblings and say “Well gee, Ashley. You’re kind of clever.” A day where I can think in the back of my mind “Oscar Wilde isn’t clever enough to think of that shit.”

But in the back of my mind, I chuckle at my folly. After all, it was Wilde who said “All art is quite useless”. Years from now, I’ll sit in front of my computer. Reading these lines and thinking what the hell was I thinking? All pompous and shit. Was it worth self-critiquing myself to death? After all, the only one who puts such worth onto what I make dwindles down to little ol’ me.

It’s really lonely in my head. I keep screaming at myself to do better. Yet externally, I look ever so content.