Saturday, June 2, 2007

Going Offline for a while...

Once upon a time, there was a girl who wrote for herself, because she enjoyed it. Then there was a girl who wrote for the approval of others--teachers, judges, editors. Then there was a girl who wrote because the paper she wrote on was the only thing she trusted to hear her. And then there was the girl who wrote to win the attention and affection of someone who would hear her in no other way.

I feel drawn to go back and meet that girl who first started writing at the age of eight; the girl who writes for herself. That girl doesn't blog. She doesn't do email. She doesn't do msn. That girl writes with a medium-point Papermate pen on plain, lined paper. That girl capitalizes and punctuates every sentence. That girl doodles as she writes and doesn't give a fuck what anyone thinks. And she sure as hell doesn't use spellcheck. That girl uses a thesaurus and a dictionary, the kind you open and close with your own hands; the kind you thumb through until your fingers get black and icky. That girl keeps her writing in a Rubbermaid tub and protects it as she protects her own heart, sharing it only with those who have proved worthy.

I suspect that girl is still there, patiently waiting for my return. I've gone to meet her. See you when I get back...

tall penguin


Anonymous said...

It must be a big tub to accommodate the little girl, you and the paper.

Perhaps the whole universe is in there. Even those missing socks. Every sock that has ever gone missing is in there. But only singles; no matching pairs. Now that's sad. The paradox of no pair-a-soxs.
Life sucks sometimes, or is no matching socks a good thing? Perhaps it's all in my mind, and life is just fine. After all, I have feet to put my silly socks on. Call me Fabulously Frolicie Funny Feet. My dad used to call me fuck-head. If he were alive today he might call me fuck-feet. A nice name for a pet fish, especially a clown lotch: Hey, here's my new pet: funny fishy fuck feet. If he dyed I would freeze funny fishy fuck feet, and we could put him in your tub too.

truthsetsonefree said...

I know this feeling. Sometimes I revert to writing my thoughts out, talking on the phone, reading a paper newspaper, and in other ways taking the "long" way about doing things. Because shorter methods leave things out that I think we sometimes need to satisfy inner thirsts and hungers. Perhaps for human companionship or affection. In any event tune into what makes you tick and I know that you will benefit from it.