Headsticks

Hey writing. You’ve really been there for me over the years, but I haven’t been very awesome to you. In fact, I’ve been an asshole.

I’ve jerked you around so much, it’s amazing that you’ve stuck by me. I told you we would work together in journalism, but then I totally bailed and started saying shit like “I don’t believe in objectivity, so how can I be a journalist?” and abandoned you for two years  to become a social worker. I tossed you a bone, and was all, well we’ve still got my English Writing minor, and you were cool with it even though I could tell you were hurt. When the social work thing completely fell apart, I swung back in your life and said “Yeah, let’s just metastasize that minor into a major, particularly because it’s my last semester as a senior and I really need to get this undergraduate degree thing done.”  And within two semesters, I had cranked out that English degree. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Things bumped along while I experimented with ESL teaching in South Korea, but in the last few months of my contract, it was like I saw you again for the first time and we started working on that terrible play. I was giddy with delight and couldn’t wait to get home to you each night. Remember how I would even sneak out of work during breaks just to be with you? We were so good together for those few months.

But then came film school in Australia. I had big plans for our transition into filmmaking, and I could tell you were excited about us working in a new format. We were going to get that master’s degree together, and it would be amazing. We worked on plenty of screenplays during the degree program, and even had one filmed.  As the program progressed, however, I started saying things like “I need to be practical and build skills that can get me a job” and spent more and more time with film. Film had a lot going on, and I was desperate to get its attention. I focused my efforts on film editing, sound editing, camera operation, and producing. I was still writing, occasionally, but I pushed you aside because I wanted film to take me seriously. I didn’t even finish a complete draft of that first full-length screenplay we worked on together.

I spent the next five years chasing after film. There were times it was exciting, but mostly I felt way out of my element. Now I was the one being jerked around, thinking if I could just be more trendy or ruthless or sexy or outgoing, film would notice me and like me. It didn’t. When I finally separated from film, I panicked. What could I do now? What would rescue me from this yawning void opening up in front of me? I rebounded first with law school, narrowly avoiding entering a program, then escalated my ambitions and turned to courting the Foreign Service. Intense and demanding, the Foreign Service totally swept me off my feet. I swooned at the all-encompassing trajectory of a career serving my country, living in exotic locales, triumphing in the face of adversity. It could be everything to me, and I was hooked.

Meanwhile, I still needed a job. While I was embroiled with the Foreign Service for three years, I managed to get a part-time gig writing daily news summaries. It wasn’t prestigious or exciting, but I was writing every day for money which was a first for us. We were back together, but I still couldn’t see it with all the health and security clearances diverting my attention. Then the Foreign Service just evaporated with no note, no goodbye. When I saw what I had left, I didn’t panic this time. I felt grateful that you were there.

Let me apologize to you for my foolishness, writing. I am sorry it took me so long.