I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I haven’t been blogging lately. It’s because I’m busy re-inventing myself as a writer. I had this epiphany, semi-recently, that if I really want to make a change in the world, I need to broaden my horizons. This means (shudder) I need to write about things besides me.
It also means that I have to think about things besides me. It’s a difficult assignment. One might assume… especially if one knows anything about my husband… that I should be reasonably educated about our world’s happenings. In truth, Ash (my 3-year-old), and I are pretty on par regarding our understanding of economics and politics.
I’m not proud of this truth, and I’m trying to remedy it. That’s why I’ve finally begun reading books and articles by people who write things besides adolescent fiction. The journey has been both inspirational and disheartening. Working to align these epiphanies with my own life-experiences through writing has been a challenge. I guess it’s like beginning a new job.
It’s been a long time since I started a new job.
Here are some brief descriptions of my previous awkward job-beginnings, in hopes that the reminder will help me feel more confident about this one:
1) At my first job (a daycare) when I was 16, I got a “talking to” because, I stood on the table blowing bubbles for the children while I scolded them: “get down kids… you aren’t allowed to stand on the table”
2) When I first became a house cleaner I got a “talking to” because it took me over four hours to clean one house (it was supposed to be a 1-hour house). When, at last, my fellow housecleaners allowed me into their coven, I learned the secrets: no one really cleans everything on the list. But always vacuum under the couch cushions. It’s the ultimate housecleaner exam. The boss knows how much is there, and she expects to find the full amount piled on the coffee table.
3) When I started assistant teaching at a psychiatric hospital through AmeriCorps, I got a “talking to” because “you CAN NOT walk onto the boy’s unit (or the girl’s either for that matter) with your boobs bouncing around like that! If you don’t own a bra you’d better book it to Wal-Mart right quick!”
4) When I got my own classroom at the psychiatric hospital my students informed me that I was ‘boring’, ‘ignorant’, and ‘ugly’. It took me a solid year to figure out that these statements had little to do with me. “Boring” is code for “too hard.” “Ignorant” is code for “Didn't anyone tell you they just changed my meds?” and “ugly” is just a random filler word because, let’s face it, who wants to live in a psychiatric hospital? My whole life took an upswing when I started teaching The Crucible instead of Lord of the Flies. Every teen girl loves a good, juicy story about infidelity.
5) When I started driving the drop-off and pick-up van for teen moms, I endured one of the worst days of my life when I accidentally drove South instead of North along the coast… for an entire hour… because I trusted my student’s very assured suggestion about a “short-cut” over my own instincts. No one gave me a “talking to” that day. They must have intuited that three hours spent driving 6 teen-girls and their babies strapped in car-seats presented its own venue for corrective feedback.
6) During my first month of motherhood, I almost starved my son because I had no idea that, though he was constantly nursing, he wasn’t actually extracting milk from my breast. Oops!
Now I’m working for myself. The folks at the Friendly Street Café, where I write… or don’t write… as the case may be, cast me curious side-glances as they observe me giving myself those early-learning talking-to’s. Being the teacher and the student is kind of exhausting.
It truly does suck to be green, but I guess I’ll just keep plodding forward. So far, it’s always paid off in the end.
PS - Thanks to the two people who randomly checked my blog this week (or the one person who checked it twice). You inspired me step out of my insecurity-funk and just write something.
