Saturday, September 22, 2012

it appears I'm afraid of bleeding



I'm doing it again.

Yesterday was spent reading through old posts here on afterthought and on my archaic, only two of you read it, not much was said but lots of words were typed blog called soup de jour (spelling mistake was intentional; I think I thought I was clever). Last week, without warning or forethought I dove into a box of old journals; caught myself up on the younger version of me.

I've mentioned before that one of the reasons I love writing is because of the way it serves to remind, console, or show growth. But something happens to a girl when she reads a half-decade of blog posts plus a decade's worth of journaling. She starts to notice patterns. Awkward, silly, obvious, stagnated patterns. As if the younger version of me has been ruling all along and I've failed to notice. As if I haven't changed at all since early adolescence.

So I'm the same as I was. My habits are unreformed. I still don't exercise and have yet to give up sugar. Whenever I go for a manicure the soft-spoken Taiwanese girl still says "Ooo...shaawt!" My heart still chooses flight when things get hard. I often decide my writing is crap and there's no point in continuing. Once a year, I boldly proclaim I am leaving the world behind so I can write books. I have not yet finished a book. I still don't think I'm a good enough writer to write things people will read.

Where was I. Ah yes, the repetition. The "Hey! I've seen this spot before!"

In a little under a month I will be attending a writing conference, one I have been dying to go to for years. Insightful Boyfriend lovingly and fantastically registered me for the conference for my birthday present and I can't believe I get to go. I am so excited I've cried. I am so nervous I've developed a twitch in my left eyelid. To be around all those writers and agents and publishers and authors and people who know good writing... I'm petrified I'll be found out. I have to keep reminding myself there is no "Point and Laugh at the Girl Who Doesn't Belong Here" workshop. I am fighting the urge to put everything I've written into a pile and light it on fire and laugh manically while it burns and discover as a result of my pageless apartment that I am actually quite good at making pots or fixing computers or selling houses and there was really no reason to try that writing thing anyway.






2 comments:

Mama said...

I laughed hysterically at this, just about blew my coffee out my nose. You are much too hard on yourself, but you come by it honestly, so you can just blame it on me. That should take the pressure off. We all have that scared, immature little kid inside us, not everybody admits it, that's all. There will be people at that conference who feel exactly the same as you, they will simply look calm on the outside. And, as usual, I adore your choice of pictures. Awesome.
Just one more thing...hide the matches on yourself.

Natalie said...

Ooh, good gift! Go Brad! And he knew well enough to register you first, and then gift it so you couldn't refuse? Oh, and if you feel people staring at you at the conference remind yourself it has nothing to do with your writing ability and it's actually because you're looking particularly gorgeous that day, and then give them a little smile. It will make them feel good.