It's been one week and one art of rejection since my last confession. I am still without chocolate during Lent and I am missing my chocolate. My serotonin levels are missing chocolate.
Not much to confess today but let's see what comes up.
To the confessional--
I confess it was great to hear everyone's comments on my post about rejection. I know it's part of the game with the writing life but it can be tough/annoying/one-big-downer to be rejected. Thank you all for sharing your thoughts and I'm happy many of you were able to laugh with me (being rejected by a teenage boy...) I know, that sounds so wrong.
I confess I tend not to have a lot of rules for myself or anyone else. I kind of like it when people lead the life they need to lead without asking permission from anyone.
I confess I gave up asking permission a long time ago.
I confess last week I went to dinner with a friend and our dinner turned into a poem. I love it when that happens. Our conversation became art. It's kind of magical how an evening can lead to something more. It reminds me to pay attention to the details, even the garlic prawns. There's poetry everywhere.
I confess I'm currently writing an essay for Dear Teen Me, and I'm deciding if I'm going to stay on the surface or jump a little deeper into my teenage world. I'm leaning towards jumping a little deeper, even though what I write about it is still a little painful, I think it might be good to write about.
I confess if I write about this tougher time in my teen years and don't get comments, I might feel weird and want the essay deleted. This is the issue with sharing, I need to know it helped someone otherwise I end up feeling vulnerable. I so dislike feeling vulnerable.
When I hear the world "vulnerable," I mostly think about that Eddie Murphy movie (The Klumps) where he dressed as a woman and said, Oh, I feel so vulnerable. And then I laugh. I remind myself that life is not permanent and I need to settle down, relax, let things happen.
I confess I've been listening to Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now and I get annoyed when he says "In the NOW there are no problems..." I'm not sure what "now" he's in, but I see problems all over the place. Mostly, I try to be grateful as I'm not good living in the now because I tend to like the future a little more. Eckhart says I'm escaping, but honestly, I just like a little bit of headlights to see where I'm going.
I confess that when things get rough, I say in my best Eddie Murphy voice, "I feel so vulnerable..." and then laugh. There is nothing better than laughter to let the world know it can't kill you with its insanity. If you can laugh at something, you win.
This is what the French side of my family have always thought--I know the French aren't seen as funny, but my family finds humor in the oddest places. I have laughed terribly hard at funerals and in church. I have known I shouldn't be laughing and not been able to stop. Maybe it's a way of coping. I'm not sure. It has nothing to do with red wine, except when it does. If we can laugh, we can save ourselves from pain. Maybe that's it. I'm so vulnerable... No one can take my smile away.