For the Sake of Trying by Crosslyn Lusk

My First (official) Article

Thank you to my wonderful English-savant grandmother for editing my work. It, and I, am a work in progress.

Social media has spawned many conversations about its ongoing effects on society from the good to the bad and all that’s in between. I am not here to make a declaration about it one way or the other. That’s a far larger topic than what can be covered in one article. Frankly, I’m not even here to talk about social media alone, but rather as one contributing factor that is worth considering when it comes to how we express ourselves and what we are willing to share.

I am taking the phrase “write what you know” quite literally here, because I am no stranger to the idea that something is not fit for eyes, ears, minds beyond my own until it is “perfect.” Yet, I rest easier when I allow a voice to cut through the noise with utter clarity and remind me that the state of being human means, or rather should mean, being in a state of perpetual growth and imperfection, should we choose to define it as such. Recently one of those voices was that of Eli Rallo, via a video I saw (on social media), where she was reflecting on her own realization that beneath the impressive exterior of someone she admired who “has it all together” is likely the picture of someone who just kept trying. Her words, specifically, “stop being afraid to be seen trying,” stopped me dead in my tracks. 

I think I always knew “being seen trying” was a struggle for me, but it became painfully obvious  in my undergrad years. I was studying subjects such as creative writing and art, so it only made sense that there would be studio days and writing workshops where the whole point is to sit in a space as a group of students and work on your respective projects. I guarantee that no one was thinking about me or paying any attention to what I was doing, but I could not think of a worse environment at the time to be expected to create anything in. I wanted to disappear into seclusion and arrive weeks later on critique/peer review day with a polished final product shrouded in mystery on how it arrived to that point. 

Ultimately, this led to my skipping studio days or simply staring at a blank sheet or canvas and making little marks here and there to feign progress. It naturally followed that I had to morph into a nocturnal creature because any remaining time between dusk and dawn had to be devoted to completing these projects when others had taken advantage of hours dedicated to working among their peers. Depending on the day, I might have told you a different reason why I insisted on tormenting myself in this manner. Sometimes I genuinely felt I was incapable of any creative flow when I was exactly where I was told to be, in a time arbitrarily chosen for “art”, all while other 18-22-year-olds and a wildly talented but judgemental art professor peered over my shoulder. Other times, I told myself I did my best work alone and in the spur of the moment (sometimes the last moment). 

I can barely stomach the hypocrisy now, because I’ll be the first to admit I loved listening to and seeing others’ works in progress and it was a true avenue of learning for me as others allowed me to share in their mistakes as well as their triumphs. I tend to be my harshest critic and am probably painting my college self in an unfair light, as I did not always get in my own way and did actively participate in plenty of studio and workshop days. Admittedly, I often participated because it was grade-dependent and I did not do well with receiving poor marks, but I was there, nonetheless. I suppose being able to look back and call myself out for such ridiculous behavior must demonstrate some kind of growth, but howI wish it had not taken me so long to reach such a simple conclusion.

If you relate to any of what I just said, I’m sorry, but obviously, I know your frustration. So if nothing else, know you’re not alone or crazy for feeling or having ever felt this way. If no one does, then maybe I’m the crazy one for feeling it and even more so for talking about it. I know what you might be thinking: none of what you just spilled about your experience at university has anything to do with social media. Correct, kind of. In an effort to connect the dots, I urge you to think about the type of content you usually see on your feed. Would you categorize it more as a “highlight reel” or “behind the scenes”? And even the behind the scenes, the messy, the struggles, the candid, the authenticity (we love that word, don’t we?), is a conscious choice on behalf of the poster, to create a certain narrative that is controlled by them alone, for the public eye. This is what often sends me reeling and something I wish I were able to neatly pack words around and make sense of. I’m not sure anyone can. But for the sake of this message and for the sake of healing the damage I did to myself through years of perfectionist tendencies, I’m far less interested in the act of posting or the reality or lack thereof in the social media landscape and far more invested in grounding myself in the idea that trying, being earnest, is a way to live. A good one at that. 

In theory, most of us know perfection is not something to strive for, unless we have a penchant for disappointment. Yet, it is a term still used quite regularly and flippantly, so how could it not maintain its grip on our idea of the standard for what should be shared with others? Picture perfect. Practice makes perfect. The perfect woman. Pitch perfect. Perfect fit. Perfect strangers. The end of a perfect day. And hey, what’s wrong with striving for perfection, one might ask? We don’t go to art museums to look at paintings and sculptures that are just alright. No one has ever been brought to tears by an orchestra that missed a bunch of notes of Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique or had their life changed by a book that was filled with typos and shoddy syntax. 

Make no mistake. We are hardwired to want to experience excellent, life-altering, mind-blowing, perspective-shifting, top-tier work. And for those with the desire to create it, that’s exactly what you should want a finished product to be. The answer to the question about striving for perfection is that there’s nothing wrong with it, as long as this elusive idea of perfection is defined by you and not something that keeps you from experiencing the ups and downs along the way. Take time with your art, with your thoughts, with yourself. But don’t let the “highlight reel” machine of modern times keep you from inspiring someone with your desire to keep trying. Even more importantly, don’t let it stifle you or your ability to create and think, uninhibited by the questions of what is worthy of doing or sharing. You see, the former is a direct result of the latter. 

I know I’m not alone in wishing there was much more “trying” content to balance out the perfectly curated feeds, this has less to do with what we post and more to do with the journey of shedding any fears we have around being seen trying, whether that’s online (url) or offline (irl, as they say). The understanding I have come to is that if I am not afraid to be seen trying and I am not afraid to be seen failing, what excuses do I have?

If you’ve managed to stay with me, I thank you. I have been playing around with the idea of writing for a good while, but usually talk myself out of it because I am prone to think that there are enough voices in the ether, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn't terrified of talking with nothing to say. But then I remind myself of the immense value that has been brought to my life because someone got over themselves and their fears to share their stories, their experiences, and their thoughts with the likes of me. 

One of my favorite pastimes is listening to interviews, old and new, of artists and intellectuals. It was in a recent Zane Lowe episode with Hozier where the artist touched on the risk of not making the work, saying, “To look forward 20 years or 30 or 40 years and see a picture of a man who didn't do that, who had all of this noise in his head and didn't find a way to exercise it… that's a very unhappy picture.” He goes on to quote a poem that I’ll just leave here:

“The only true madness is loneliness,

the monotonous voice in the skull

that never stops

Because never heard.”

‘The Wild Dog Rose’ ~ John Montague

So, this is me trying. Whether it’s trying to start an independent publication to explore art and culture, learn a new language, improve my writing, or something else I’ll inevitably decide to dive into, I’m committed to taking it all on as someone who is okay with, maybe even excited to be uncomfortable and willing to explore and enjoy those moments along the way to where I want to be. If this is you reading, my encouragement to you is not to change your social media habits, but rather to become a version of yourself who is truly unafraid to be seen trying. I’m convinced it can change things for the better. 

Something extra

“The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.”

― Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar