I started having it as background noise, and the way my media player works is that it will loop the same movie if it was double-clicked, and I must have double-clicked. I love this movie. It always makes me feel less alone, comforted somehow. Plus, anytime Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis make out, I’m a fan.
Recently I broke one of my own rules about writing. I read my last blog post. It got commentary that made me wonder, and I was surprised at what I saw….My UK friend Tina was right. It was well written. I didn’t know I’d improved in my writing so much-I haven’t really read anything of mine since college. The last four years seem to have molded me into a somewhat decent voice…but I think I’ll keep an arm’s length from my work, still. I have to get my truth out and onto a page. Then I’ll get some wine and edit. Then I’ll find a friend to edit sober, and I’ll read it sober after that. lol
I’m applying for this gig. It would be fun. Having any sort of audience will help me get published down the road. Another reason to keep blogging. Another reason NOT to read it all, lest I change my mind and take it down.
My last blog post stayed up, though. I considered taking it down, but when I asked a friend for a second opinion, they said they didn’t want to censor me. I don’t want to censor me, either. Allison mentioned recently that she doesn’t read my blog, and really, as long as it doesn’t hurt the kids, fuck the rest. And the kids are adults, and can handle themselves, really. They need me to protect them like a fish needs a bicycle.
The memoir book I’m working with mentions common fears that writers have when penning healing truths, and fear of what family/friends will think is a big one. There’s nothing I say that my family doesn’t already know. They have varying levels of belief in what I say, but nothing should come as a shock anymore. As for my friends, I’ve been a speaker with RAINN for years now. Anyone who knew me through W.E.L.L. is familiar with my past. I don’t think anyone is shocked, save me.
When I first shared Prayer in a workshop class, it was my last piece submitted and only went to the professor. I reworked it for a competition a couple years later, but it was ill-suited for that specific topic. Otherwise, it was shown to a few select friends and romantic partners. Apparently I’m now writing shit like that just freely on the Internet. I must have lost my damn mind…
Still, there’s hope that it might have the effect that stories from Courage to Heal had for me. Maybe someone needs to hear that it happened to someone else; that they weren’t the only one who felt that way. I did, too. I feel like we all are nobodies, and there are pairs and pairs of us. And we don’t have to tolerate banishment any longer.