Lateish Night Schtuffinz...

So...I could do my homework. OR I could realize I'm demented and left it in the Cafe at dinner. Awesome. Never mind the test I have tomorrow. Oh, and we can just ignore the project, excel datasheet, and homework questions I have due tomorrow. It's whatever.

So, what do we do when you're screwed? You stay up as late as you would if you WERE studying and waste time on the internet. That's not true, I did what I could without my notes, but that's severely limited. In case my parents happen to stumble upon this blog, I did study and I AM getting up early tomorrow to get my stuff and finish everything up...ideally.

I suppose now I should talk about something that resembles depth of content, right? Okay, easy enough.

How about we discuss the yearning to speak on an event, to share an experience, to commiserate, to gain comfort from a shared suffering. The Bible calls it sharing the yoke.Unfortunately, as much as we might like to do that, sometimes the wounds is simply still too raw. We had to write a personal essay/memoir for one of my classes. I had a topic, the perfect topic which may just have to be my next post. Heartbreak. And I could see, so clearly, what experience I could shape the piece around to make it really hit home with the reader, and with myself. I knew just how I would want to capture the moment to do it justice, but I knew it would hurt too much to frame my moment of heartbreak and place it on a mantle for others to gaze upon, judge and critique.

Now, some of you may be able to separate yourself from the piece in these processes, and typically, I am the same way. But, when you write about something that takes you back to a place of such vulnerability, something so fresh there is hardly a scab to keep it from bleeding over into the rest of your life. When something is still that raw for you, then their honest judgement and critique of your writing seems to turn their words into an attack on the validity of the experience. They're not correcting grammar and syntax, their criticizing your emotions. A compliment is reduced to a perfunctory task, in your mind, and each assessment of your literary skill becomes an arrow, carved and crafted to cut the memory into shreds that will tear you apart.

Yeah...I would continue, but I
m falling asleep just writing this. Rest assured (lol, so sleepy) there will be an update.