The Fifth Chakra

Last night, in my fiction workshop, the prof gave us a writing prompt.

Put pen to paper, and write the worst thing you have ever done.   Now.

After a short while the prof asked us to look over what we had written, and asked if it was really true.

Mine was.  I wrote: I can’t decide.

The goal was to get it on paper, to make it manageable, to see if we were really able to write the worst things we’d ever done.   I was so thrown off guard, so exhausted from this week that I sat there, crossed my arms, and stared at the desk.

I am not a sullen type.  I am not quiet.  I am loud.  I am an exhibitionist.  Had the professor had us read them out loud, I probably would have either made something up, or told something so terrible, so awful, that no one else could out-do me.  I write nonfiction for fuck’s sake.  And this just hit me the wrong way.  I am embarrassed and ashamed that I could not even list ideas because I am so embarassed and ashamed of them.

I feel the intense need to apologize to my professor.

Hello.

I’m woman in my late-twenties, and I’m a writer.  I also teach college composition.  I am working on jump starting my yoga practice, cooking more and cooking more healthfully.  I am trying to write more.

I’m also working on not having my head explode after a summer comprising a series of unfortunate events that started like a snowball, and ended in one day in a five-hour period like an avalanche.

This is my third or fourth iteration of a personal blog.  I’ve got one work-related, one class-related, and decided that this time, I was staying pseudonymous.  I decided that writing about writing and my insane life and sharing it with other bloggers was better than paying $175 a session for my shrink every week.  I also missed my blogging friends, who often helped my writing more than people I know in “real life”.
So welcome.  Thank jadepark.wordpress.com for getting me started again.