I am taking a creative writing class on Tuesday nights. We write about our experiences. My professor constantly reminds us that the reader does not want to listen to us complain about the scars on our body or the mother-in-law who insists on making the gravy, even when in your kitchen. The page is personal but not a means to have your own pity party. I agree. Except. Sometimes I need to vent, to complain, to feel sorry for myself. And that's when I pull out my journal. Well, today is your lucky day because my journal is at home.
I have been out every night this week. All fun places, fun people. My feet have been uptown, downtown, midtown. Tuesday night I even went to class, followed by a birthday dinner which lasted until midnight. You're thinking, well aren't you popular. I wanted to be home in bed before our salads came. But I stubbornly said yes to everything. Why? Because I am afraid of being forgotten if I say that I need to go home to lie down. Needless to say, people, normal people, do this every week. I do not. Between physical therapy, acupuncture, yoga, deadlines at work, changing my sheets and pain, there is little time during the week for much else. How do I balance everything and still get to see my friends? How do I hurt inside and still WANT to see my friends? On top of everything I will be out tonight, tomorrow night, and Saturday night. Oh, and its going to rain today. Are you having fun yet at my party?
Ok - I'm finished. Now if only I could have a good cry while watching Love Actually in bed, I would be all better. Just remembered - I can do that tomorrow morning during the Royal Wedding. The day is looking better already.
