December 2010
Just sent out 5 more queries. I sent out 4 at the beginning of the school year and got three no’s and one without a response (read: NO). They say you need to get used to rejection if you want to go into the writing business. Hopefully though, I’ll get a bite this time.
I think it’s the perfect time. It’s the beginning of a new month, a new year, and a new decade. If there’s any time to be ambitious, it’s now, right? I’ll keep my fingers crossed somebody reads my query and thinks,”I gotta read this now.“
I can dream, right?
Happy New Year! Hope everyone has some badass celebrations planned.
In the beginning, be a weird kid. You’ve always known you were different, anyway. When the shoe fits, wear it. You start eating bits of newspaper at age seven so that by age eight you can start dining secretly on Reader’s Digest. Let a picture of a makeshift graveyard in a war issue stick in your…
Pretty much follows the progression. I don’t think I’m as…snarky? But definitely went through the occult phase in middle school (God, I was awesome). Sometimes you just have to accept what it is you want. Someone sent me a quote one time that started with “What calls to you?” and that’s when I had my answer.
My brother’s alarm has been going off for an hour ever since I woke up. How do you sleep through that??
I opened the fridge and my mother put a glass of wine in there. Which means she fell asleep drinking it last night, woke up, and put it in the fridge to save it for later. Who does that?! Who saves wine from last night?
Also my dad just butt dialed me…
How we dream and fantasize about finishing exams, braving the cold, and making it back to see our childhood home decorated with christmas presents beneath the tree as christmas music softly plays…only to realize within minutes that the reason we left in the first place is because it’s so fucking BORING.
God, I’m bored already and my mother is vacuuming my room, which was as clean as a hotel to begin with. Sigh.
In the words of Mike “The Situation”, you are a dirty hamster.
Enough said
So, my writing has always been cathartic, therapeutic, what keeps me sane, etc. However, I normally keep my personal writing to myself. The other night I had a bit of a revelation though (at least one for me because I’m pretty sure no one who will read this actually has any clue I feel this way), and obviously keeping everything in isn’t exactly working for me. So, I’m not asking for kind words or anything like that, just a forum to let my thoughts be out there and not bottled up inside.
I’m almost afraid to write this, let alone post it. I’ve always been the one to avoid confrontation, even when I’m confronting my own feelings. I feel that acknowledging them will only open the flood gates, and there’s an entire ocean waiting to crash down on me from the other side. However, this past semester I’m been trying to realize my feelings as a way to work through some anxiety issues, and this is where it’s brought me.
I’ve always felt a hollowness around the holidays, a sucking loneliness that smarts like a mouth sore. The only way I can think to describe it is like standing out on the street in the snow and watching a party going on through the window. Outside, cold, alone. I’ve always felt that. It’s only now I realize the overwhelming silence that comes with it. It is a burden, a white static burden sitting on my chest and crushing the breath out of me.
It’s silent doubt, the creeping suspicion that this lonely feeling of being left out in the cold is not some fleeting emotion I conjured a year or even two years ago. It has been an ever constant companion like a white shadow waiting to smother me with the blankness it makes me feel. It is a terrifying idea to think the moments of happiness I now look back upon with nostalgia were only smears of color in a sea of gray monotony.
Believe me, I don’t feel this way for a lack of friends’ interventions. My friends are wonderful, and I greatly appreciate their time and patience with me. It only frustrates me because no matter how I try or push through, I still cannot find the connection or the satisfaction or the feeling of inclusion or whatever the fuck it is that’s keeping me outside.