Other Links:
Confession
thejanechord
Diaryland
notifylist.com
2003-10-20
3:20 p.m.
Well, so much for the World Series.
I’ve been sitting at work since nine o’clock this morning, and do you know what I’ve done? I have no idea. I’ve been sitting here, staring at the computer screen, absolutely incapable of having a single coherent thought. Nothing makes sense. Everything is one big blur. The screen is my attachment to the rest of the world.
The only way I know I’m truly alive and functioning today is that I feel an odd, conflicted feeling of simultaneous hot and cold, like it’s too cold in here and the heat is on too high. It’s very strange. My fingers are freezing, my toes are freezing, my nose is freezing, but the rest of me is almost uncomfortably hot. How can I be so many different temperatures all at once?
Like most things in life, it doesn’t make any sense.
Well, I’ve been absolutely floating on cloud nine for about five days now because I had my Dennis Lehane class last Thursday night and he went on and on about how great he thought my story was. He actually said to the whole class that my story was the first one we’d read that any depth to it.
My God, everyone must hate me now.
But I don’t fucking care because it’s so rare for me to receive a complement that I can actually feel proud of. There are so few people whose words mean anything to me. The funny thing about writing is that you can’t take praise from people who don’t write because they don’t know what it’s like to be a writer. And you can’t take praise OR criticism from people who DO write because there are far too many differences between types of writing and everyone has a different opinion of what is good and what is bad. So you just have to throw your arms up in frustration and say, “You know what? I’ll take that as a complement because I have to. Thank you.”
So, I am thrilled. And good for me.
