roses are red…

In fun news, my recap of last night’s douchetastic Bachelorette has been posted at Hey Don’t Judge Me. Go forth and enjoy the douchebaggery in all its glory.

In writing news (and you can just skip this if you’re not in the mood for some la la land confessional woo woo stuff), I’ve really been trying to find my way back to feeling creative with words. I’m journaling again, which feels a little weird to me. I haven’t done that in years, and in the past, the only reason I would write in my journal would be to sort out sad feelings. So when I started associating the journaling to sadness I stopped.

Anyway, I say all that because I am trying something new with this journal. I’m just using the notebook to jot down thoughts, random ideas, pictures…or just words. Sure I’m talking to myself, but it’s kinda weird…like word vomit.

The funniest thing happened to me though. I wrote a poem yesterday. I can’t remember the last time I wrote an actual poem. (I’m not talking about Limericks…haha) It’s not a very good one, but it was heartfelt and honest.

And then…to make sure that I was completely out of my comfort zone (as if journaling and writing poetry isn’t enough to make me feel uneasy) I actually gave the poem to the person I wrote it for…which means, I totally risked my vulnerability to rejection and humiliation. And as scary as it was, it was actually very empowering.

I risked rejection again. I don’t deal well with rejection of my feelings or my words–I’m awesome, why would anyone reject me, right? This has been a bit of a revelation for me, and I’ll just stop right there because this is not a couch and y’all aren’t my therapist. 🙂 I just wanted y’all to know, I’m working on it and I am going to write this book because I need to fill my creative well again.

And I need to enjoy writing fiction again.

*ding* I’m sorry, our time is up. See you next time…

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