Sunday, October 14, 2012
For many people, it’s hard to talk about their (G-rated!) passions; as you may have guessed, I fall into this category. Who would’ve thought? When something is so much a part of you, when you think about it before you fall asleep at night, when you look forward to doing something at the end of your day, it can be hard to share with others. It can be very hard.
For example, right now I’m taking an art class. Some of my classmates have this amazing talent and draw for fun, everyone is happy for them or secretly jealous, etc. See, everyone is very nice and all of that, but I don’t feel like I can bring up my hobbies, let alone my passion. Why? Perhaps I have a great fear of being judged. Also, I’m not sure if people would actually care (which in high school seems highly plausible). But you know what? From now on, I have temporarily supposedly stopped caring less about my insecurities. Just as some of my friends may surf or be cheerleaders and are proud of it, I can be proud of my hobby too. There’s something great about being a writer, and it’s okay for me to love writing. I am a writer, darn-it-all! I just—might not tell any close acquaintances of mine for the time being. Okay, so maybe this concept needs some work. I’m such a hypocrite. Oh well, I’m a writer hypocrite anyway. (See? I’m stepping into my identity!)