For instance, the stairs at my dad's house are too small for my feet. My giant ugly stepsister feet. Maybe they're not that big, but they are bigger than the steps, built by my grandfather, a dainty Italian man, who was not effeminate, just small. My daily climb reminds me of all the ways I have never quite fit in with my family, and also, the ugly stepsister thing. There are also the shoe metaphors--I'm fond of heels, CFMPs, which make it more treacherous to climb the stairs, and which, truth be told, I am a little wobbly in...
There's also the key, which is hard to operate, and the door that sticks. Things that are easy for most people are often difficult for me. My fierce independence does daily battle with my quasi-incompetence. I plan to use both of these metaphors in an upcoming piece.
I'm glad to be out of the condo, where I really did get stuck for way too long (it depreciated over $20k almost as soon as I bought it; then came the two-year battle with the ASSOCIATION over the water seeping up from my floors, and causing mold to grow up my walls). Sometimes I wonder if I should have just let it foreclose...
Anyway, it's comfortable and safe at my dad's. Comfort is my quicksand. Sometimes I just want to come home from work and watch a movie or read a book and do nothing to improve my life (like WRITE). And now I have Scrabulous... My dad cooks a lot, he even brushed off my car one morning, which just made my day. He's there to help if I need a ride, or if the shower leaks or if I don't have any bagels and have to have one now. In fact, his freezer is stocked for Armageddon, and he also has a generator.
But comfort isn't enough. I have to move forward. My job is not what Parker Palmer so eloquently describes in Let Your Life Speak :
Some journeys are direct, and some are circuitous; some are heroic, and some are fearful and muddled. But every journey, honestly undertaken, stands a chance of taking us toward the place where our deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.
So, I'm trying to keep going on my writing. I committed to posting a new draft on April 15, and I also plan to send something to Glimmer Train, even though it's a ridiculously long shot. My first rejection will be from someplace great, and I will be over the moon if I get a note.
3 comments:
Best of luck. Your last line reminded me of a quote I liked in high school. "Even a fool knows you can't reach the stars, but that won't keep a wise man from trying." Or something. I think it's sort of cheesy now and not entirely true... but it's what I thought of.
Thanks Margosita! I appreciate the support!
I also like the quote a lot. It's funny, because I'm not afraid of failure, but I am afraid of futility, and I like how that fits, journey-chasing cliches aside...I'm going to put that on my bulletin board
Long shot, schmong shot. May as well start racking up those rejections, because that means you'll be that much closer to the Yes. You're a good writer, Michelle - someone is going to take one of your terrific stories sooner than you think, I bet.
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