Tomorrow is the two-year anniversary of my thesis defense, and just like last year at this time, I'm bummed. And just like last year, I couldn't figure out why I was bummed, just figuring that it must be a weather-change thing, or an anti-daylight-savings-time issue (I do have many DST issues, but I don't believe this to be one of them). But then it hit me: it's been two years since I really wrote anything.
Other than this blog, of course. But, while I do make myself giggle from time to time while blogging (I'm sorry, but the phrase "I'm Mark Harmon, check out my sweet 'stache" is fucking classic), it doesn't really hold a candle to the actual act of writing an essay, or a story. It's better than writing a poem, at least for me, as my poems always received scathing reviews in college, although many of them were about how I was sad as a youngster growing up with an afro, so logistically it makes sense that they were universally panned.
And I know I should just stop whining about it and start actually writing something, but my greatest fear in college and grad school has come true-- it's really hard for me to write an essay if I know no one is going to see it. I could write one, but then I'd want to make 15 copies of it and pass it around, silently willing everyone: grade me.
Also, as a girl who generally never got to go to Homecoming (except once, with someone who told me my dress reminded him of something he saw in an episode of Star Trek: Voyager) and, until I met Ben, never really got asked to dance at weddings (with the notable exception of Alan, the world's best Platonic Friend Wedding Date), my thesis defense was a really big deal, as you can see from the fact that I wore an insanely expensive dress to it (and a girdle).
So it's weird now, two years later, to still have the exact same portfolio of writing. Did I fail at being a writer? Or am I just taking a really, really long break?
In general, this time of year just bums me out-- I remember my defense, and the defenses of my friends, and the after parties at Fat Tony's and Rim Wang (but it was Cedars, we all knew it was Cedars).
Okay, so I don't have a thesis defense, or new work. But I do have Ben, who is easily worth ten defenses. And I can confidently claim that my arms are much thinner now than they were in that picture (why didn't anyone tell me that putting my arms out like that was a bad look?), and I no longer have to wear a girdle with that dress.
But I still want to write again. And I will. Right?
Please advise.
PS: As a side note, while tomorrow is the two-year anniversary of my thesis defense, today is the two-year anniversary of me eating an entire plate of homemade potato chips at the Azalea Festival, and then wandering around in agony all day until finally throwing up. Sexxy.
5 pipers piping:
Ok, I had a big long comment typed out and then did something stupid and lost it. So, here's the short version that isn't nearly as funny as the last one:
Sorry to hear that you're all funk-i-fied.
Kelly says you are a fabulous writer and I believe her since she wouldn't randomly make that sort of thing up. So, if you feel shut down by the fact that your work won't be xeroxed and read by 15 people around a table, then maybe try sharing it on-line. From the looks of the post-defense picture, everyone was adoring you and your expensive dress, so I'm sure they'd be willing to read your stuff even though they are miles away. If you'd like, I'll be a reader for you.... although since you don't know me very well, that'd be taking a heck of a chance since I'm more of a poet and you'd get all these comments back like "the k sound is really stopping the flow of this stanza, I mean paragraph." We all hit slumps where we don't write for one reason or another, but it seems like you're working on figuring out why you're slumpy funky, and that's already enough to get you half way out of the hole. (Insert really cheesy, but surprisingly uplifting statement written just for you right here!)And just think of the source material you've gathered in the last two years. The E-Bay motorcycle thing alone is a goldmine! I have faith in you even though I've never really met you. I look forward to reading your stuff someday in over-priced literary journals or in too hip for me to really even be reading them e-zines.
Ditto what RFK (Jen) said, she knows her stuff! Anyway, do you not remember the kick ass poems you wrote in college? Do you not remember the one about Dan getting Kung-Foo'ed by the Kung Foo Girls? What about the one about Adam and Rich being all young and daring and leaving the country music blaring?? Yeah, I remember those, you should too.
working full-time at an office and finding time to write is really hard. I suppose you'll have to force yourself at first, and if something clicks, you'll get that high again, will probably lose sleep, feel and look like a zombie, but hey, we're writers...comes with the territory. We all go on hiatus after grad. It'll come back.
xo.
Dude! I maintain, this counts as writing. It just does. (Or at least, that's what I tell myself.) And look -- you're even "sending it out!" People are reading. Nothing is yet lost!!
...sayith the girl in the same place, similar portfolio. Ah well. We'll get there, man. We really will.
As I do not have an MFA, or any other degree for that matter, I feel somewhat underqualified to comment. However, as a painter who runs a retail boutique rather than painting, I feel your pain. It does suck how "life" gets in the way of our passion sometimes. In your defense I must point out that this absolutely qualifies as writing. It may not be the glamorous novelist lifestyle you imagined, but at least you are putting words down and keeping your mind working. That's more than I can say for my art. Also, it entertains and amuses me, and I'm sure many others. That's got to count for something.
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