I am famous for my “Oh shit” moments. The words burst from my mouth so uncontrollably that heads turn and my friends jump. And today was no exception. It hasn’t been my first “Oh shit” since Korea (in fact one of my student’s sometimes sees me and says “Oh shit” in playful mockery after hearing me say it, I know worse teacher status, but if you all only knew my other screw ups), but this has been my worst. Today I left school early to meet-up with a few other ETAs to help chaperone a school field trip. Everything was good, I made my train with time to spare, I got dunkin donuts that I ate within seconds, I slept a little on the ride, and I was finally close to arriving where my friend was waiting for me. Except I got off the train, called my friend and we both had the realization that I was not where I was supposed to be … que the “Oh shit” reaction. But just minutes before I had texted “Akuna Matata” so in the spirit of the word and in Mathew fashion I made a plan B and got my new train ticket. I obviously feel guilty how my stupidity and mistakes are effecting my peers, but I am surprisingly at ease. I ate at the McDonalds equivalent in Korea called Lotteria, had 4 chicken fingers and a large fry, and now I am sitting in a coffee shop finding myself writing again and that is what is bringing a smile to my face.
It has been months since my last blog post despite the countless memories I have wanted to share and the many stories I have written in the confines of my mind all during my walks back home from the bus-stop. So why don’t I write more? The voices in my head ask me that question all the time. I never have a good answer … “I am tired,” “TV is just so much easier,” “GAME OF THRONES” and may other bad excuses. I have even tried making writing packs with friends, but still my laziness perseveres. Despite loving writing, I know it can be taxing work, it is a process, and for me usually a very long process. But against those lame excuses I have to remind myself of this coffee shop feeling when I let my drink go cold because hitting my fingers against the keys is like a well needed massage and I feel the tension in my body sigh in release. Yes, writing is my therapy and I didn’t even know it. So much of my writing never reaches the paper that I never call it writing. My friends, my parents, my friends again, ask me often who do I talk to when I need to vent or think through my problems and my answer has always been … ugh I don’t know. While throughout college I worked to change these unintentional secretive habits, I still find myself resolved in being my own therapist (not saying I never share, but it is just more complicated) and I think that is because I am always writing my feelings out until they pass through me like a fading sound. Just in this case instead of a pen or a keyboard I am using the voice inside my head and instead of a journal or a computer it happens all in the shower or in random moments throughout my day. So this is my proclamation to write more. To exercise my fingers as well as my mind. To not allow my thoughts pass into emptiness and be gone. To give myself a chance to speak and dig into emotions and thoughts.
Because what I love about writing is I never know what I will write. Yes, some people outline and formulate their thoughts, but that is not soulful writing and even then I argue the writing still evolves and changes despite the blockades the writers create. Writing is a living action that acts very much like an improv dance (and yes many of you know I am terrible at dancing aka the shitty first draft) and a child opening a Russian doll only to find a different doll underneath.
Cheers to writing!