confession tuesday, february 1
Here’s this week’s confessional, and here are my own confessions:
I confess that as much as I love meeting writers and looking at books and listening to panels and staying in hotels and getting-away-from-it-all, I have no interest in something on the scale of the annual AWP conference. While it is full of so many delightful things, it is on a scale that I cannot enjoy. It makes me break out in hives just thinking of it.
I do not like crowds. I do not like crowds in small rooms. I do not like crowds in big rooms. I do not like the noise of crowds. I do not like the jostling of crowds. I do not like the body temperature of crowds. (Did I mention I do not like crowds?)
I have no doubt that at some point in the future, I will have the desire to attend AWP, and I have no doubt that I might actually enjoy myself. However, it will come at a great cost — pushing my anxiety to the levels I spend most of my days trying to avoid.
I confess that confession makes me sound like A Crazy.
I confess that my dislike of crowds is less pronounced at baseball games, certain concerts and road races.
I confess I am envious of the one-on-one or small-group meet-ups people will have at AWP. I love meeting writers IRL. Writers are my rock stars.
I confess that I am inconsolable that February is behaving exactly like January in the following way: snow and sick kids. With the exception of January 3-7, my kids haven’t all been in school for a 5-day week since they broke for Christmas on December 22. In fact, most school weeks since Christmas break have been three days. This week may only be two, if I’m lucky, once it’s said and done.
I confess this knocks me on my ass because I am a big baby when it comes to having my schedule interrupted or changed. I plan my days based on kids being in school during the day. It’s very hard for me to adjust. I lose my balance very easily.
I confess that confession also makes me sound like A Crazy.
I confess that I have been feeling very tenuous where my muse is concerned. I know you see evidence that my muse is healthy, but I know how it feels from the inside. And right now, my muse lacks energy and momentum. And it makes me feel frustrated. Ever experience sexual frustration? Yes? It feels just like that. (Not that I am admitting knowledge of anything of the kind. This is about you.)
I confess that I am looking forward to eating frozen pizza tonight. And yes, I confess that confession is what we call “changing the subject.”