on being a pushover.


at bumbershoot a few weeks ago, i ran into this girl from a writing class i once had. she asked if i was still writing. i wanted to say no, but i'm a terrible liar; i wanted to mention the blog, but i didn't think it was important enough. i went with what was safe: "kind of," i told her, or maybe it was "a little bit." ambiguous enough to come across as though i was too cool and levelheaded to be pursuing something so childless, so pointless, but also mysterious enough to state the obvious: "duh. what do you think i went to college for? writing is the only reason i wake up anymore."

my answer didn't satisfy her curiosity, so she told me about a writing group she planned on starting, and would i like to join? the invitation caught me completely off guard, as i remember this girl once told me in class: "you don't know what you're talking about." we were paired together twice, which really upset me, since i wanted to see what other people were writing about, and because this girl obviously didn't give two shits about anything i had to say. ever. but of course i couldn't be a dick and outright refuse her invitation. i'm the worst kind of people, you see. i will say yes to anything, bend over backward for you, and then take it all back. i will resent you, and i will write about you during work hours.

i regretted even then writing my email address for her, since i knew that it would be something i would never do. i could've used a fake; i could've just never replied, or even went so far as to delete my entire email account. i am that dramatic, if you haven't already figured out by now (so don't be surprised if one day, you visit this site, and you come across an error message as opposed to yet another manic-depressive daily rant). i'm such a pushover that i even bothered replying to her follow-up email, requesting a time and place to meet this weekend. i wrote back: name the time, name the place, i'll be there. even though i knew i'd never show.

and i thought about it, and i thought about it. maybe it wouldn't be so bad. maybe it would actually help me. i can't just decide to be a writer now, can i? i need to make connections, need people to look over my work and critique it, analyze it, to no end. i need to get out there and meet people, even if it's just to talk about something as silly as writing, right? i weighed the pros and cons. i thought about my cousin who admitted he didn't care much for family gatherings adding, "life's too short. you should get to choose who you want to spend time with."

i told a lie. i replied just twenty minutes ago, saying that i needed to prep for the gre with a friend of mine. in truth, emily wants me to study for the gre with her, but i doubt i will be ready by november. i still don't even know what to go to school for, what school i want to attend, how i'm going to pay for it, or if i even want to go, or anything. in any case, i don't feel like i need a writing group right now. looking back, i can say that most of them were barely helpful. because all that time, i was writing with the belief that something would come of it: a publication, a portfolio, a completed work.

now i write only because i'm certain that nothing ever will.

1 comment:

Lizzie said...

if the writing group is free give it a shot. just think of it as another line item to add to the bottom of your "things to do in my new life" list. I joined a volleyball team. New Yorkers aren't as mean as they say...