It's so funny when I think of writing a blog- I have an overwhelming wave of ideas. Yet- I sit here, in my car waiting for my boyfriend to come out of Rogers, sort of stumped. Writing quickly. My eyes shooting back and forth from the front door of the building to my notebook. If I see him coming, I will quickly tuck my book away and pretend I was doing nothing. Pretending, because he'll ask.
Why am I so shy to share this writing with him? I even hesitated to tell him I have always been interested in writing a blog. He is encouraging, kind and enjoys my writing. So- why so shy? I enrolled in a creative writing course last year at the University of Toronto. I failed to attend the last few classes as it was time to present our final piece and have them critiqued. I was so beside myself to let my classmates into my head. I failed and never returned.
So, a year later, here I am, thinking about this. I have confidence in what I write. I speak to people all day. When it comes to family and friends, I shut down shop. It's strange that I worry about the opinions of those who will be gentle with my feelings and dive into the critique of those I don't know. I suppose this may be the purpose of this journey. To expose myself in a cathartic way in order to have stronger bonds with those around me. To tell them how I feel without making a sound... Sometimes talk is so overrated.