Day After Writing Group

As is the case with new obsessions, my writing career started yesterday and I am keeping up the two-day trend by writing today. I'm sure my zeal will not waver.

I re-read my posts from yesterday and think "wow, that was heavy" and "whoa, I was so full of myself when I was writing that". A myriad of other self-admonishments rise and fall away. "i need comedy today to balance all that heavy stuff". "I need to stop being lazy with capitalizing my I's". "is what i'm writing readable at all"? It's like the day after heavy drinking. Not that I ever drank heavily, Mom, I'm just guessing about how THAT feels.

Anyway, I'm writing today about writing. Maybe tomorrow I'll write about how writing about writing felt.

Writing Group III

Her mother had always stressed the importance of good posture. Lessons like that survive. They survive childhood years when you experience an uprooting from your native country due to politics involving your father. They survive the years when you live in a new place, forced to work at sixteen instead of finishing school. They survive your marriage to an alcoholic and your raising of ten children with him as your spouse. They survive the loss of a nine year old daughter to drowning. They survive the loss of your third child to cancer during his fifty-fifth year. Yes, good posture is very important, because when you have it no one suspects.

Women's Writing Group II

What did she say? She can't do it? Did she say why? Boy, that news was hard to take. The production is tomorrow. Well, what do you think we should do? My mind was racing. When I originally signed up to be the advisor for Habitat for Humanity, I never envisioned this. I thought we would do a few standard fundraisers and then build a house. I should have realized that the school talent show, being sponsored by HfH all those years, would be a responsibility I would have to take on. But I expected, or assumed really, to get some help from the theater teacher as had happened in previous years.

But alas, her personal life is now troubled and I am left holding a microphone with a stage of 40 or so performers in front of me. What would they do if they were stuck in the chemistry lab without me? No time for thoughts like that. Must act.

As I bravely held the mic and started my directing debut, I thought it would be obvious to all that I was forced into this position at the last minute against my will. I am, after all, the school's chemistry teacher. But a few minutes later and many frustrated looks later, it became clear to me that the full weight of what was going on was falling on my shoulders and anything that went wrong would be blamed on me. And it was.

The kids who ran the audio could not keep all the microphones straight as the various teacher and student acts took the stage during rehearsal. I pictured myself there the next night with the auditorium filled with 400 students anticipating the show that had been so popular in previous years. I still tried to believe that someone would realize that I was helping out under extraordinary circumstances. But in the end, if anyone did, they stayed silent. The actual production was a mediocre display with microphones not working and shotty pacing of the acts. Because I had the earpiece on, everyone was asking me questions and complaining. I was a repository for their stress, which was amazing given how much of my own stress I was carrying.

The night ended and I went to sleep. No one at school has spoken of that night since. I am changed and more cynical now. Much more careful about expending my energies. In the end, it's probably a great lesson, but for now it still smarts.

Women's Writing Group I

Sunshine has always struggled with being herself. As a little girl she was pretty, sweet, responsive, lively and a real adult pleaser. She is the first born. Of a family that ultimately, over the span of 20 years, expanded to seven siblings. When sunshine was two, her sister Moon was born. Sunshine wanted to share her whole world with Moon. Sunshine continued to dance and sing her way into the hearts of all adults, and Moon began to take on her own self-realization. Moon was serious, purposeful and lovable in a completely different way. Moon had dark hair and eyes in contrast to Sunshine's blond and blue. Moon developed a larger, more athletic frame in contrast to Sunshine's delicate frame.

Momma Earthly loved both Sunshine and Moon, but quickly developed an anxiousness about Moon and how she would fare next to Sunshine. Momma E had decided that- not that it was true. Moon had her own beauty and way that was just as endearing to adults and others. But nevertheless, Momma E projected in her mind a future in which all came easily to the joyful Sunshine and all came hard, if at all, to the more serious-minded Moon. Nearly with overt intention, Momma E began to compensate for Moon's projected future.

Momma E never took time to wonder if her perceptions of her daughters were really the projection of her own feelings of inadequacy from her relationship with her own sister growing up. Momma E was the dark-haired, dark-eyed older sister of a beautiful, joyful little blond-haired girl named Cat. Cat always got the lion's share of attention, some of which Momma E wished to share. Momma E had Her self confused with Moon's self and she made it a constant, persistent priority to spare Moon from her most certain fate.

Both Sunshine and Moon developed into beautiful adults who have deeply touched the lives of those they love.  Their beautiful and different ways have been very much appreciated and admired by those who love them.

Second Entry

This writing stuff is difficult. What to write/share? One tries to be honest and genuine but some (like me) get worried about what she says and whether it will offend someone or cause me pain in the future. That comes from family mores of course. Well, maybe it isn't a moral tradition not to share "family business", but certainly my big family has a healthy fear that things they say and do might come back to bite them in the... Well, anyway. It is also a tenent of the family mores not to use unsavory words. I'm tempted to end here but feel like there should be some kind of satisfying ending. I can't provide that. Let's see how my writing progresses.