It's strange having a blog sometimes. Like when I know that other people actually read what I've written on this thing. Or when I want to write something that I hope nobody will read. Or the opposite, when I write something that I hope everybody reads. These are things out of my control.
Here is my cheese sandwich lately.
I took three classes this semester, which has totally burned me out. Two of the classes have involved an assload of writing. One in particular is a 500-level advanced writing class that has forced me to write things that were previously buried deep down in my psyche. These thoughts were safe as long as they remained untouched.
The assignment was to write a twenty-or-so page multi-genre project about anything. I chose to write about the ensuing birth of my first child, which probably would have been fine. It would have been a nice happy story about a new baby and a proud father, but I just couldn't have that. Instead I started thinking about my neglectful father and the kind of parenting he gave me. Of course on top of that, three years ago he succumbed to cancer after a long painful battle. So I chose to write a story juxtaposing my dad, myself and my unborn child. This study took me to emotional places that I had long ago blocked off.
Writing has always been therapy to me, whether stories, poems or songs, it was a way for me to work out on paper where my head was. I was not prepared for this story though, I began to dread working on this paper because it forced me to think about guilt and pain and consequence. And also about what kind of father I can be to my kid.
This paper is just about done, along with this semester. Hopefully all those thoughts constantly swirling around my head will settle back down into cobwebs and I can begin to devote myself more to the writing I've been meaning to do. Like pointless ramblings about songs that nobody cares about.
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