On writing

I am 20 and I am at the school I hate, in the cafe I love. It is March, and instead of doing homework, a line popped into my head.

"Gabe and I became fast friends when I threw up on him the first week of second grade."

I stopped studying for my favorite class (Economics of European Integration), stopped drawing graphs, and scribbled on college-ruled paper for an hour. It felt like a flower blossoming from a seed in fast-frame photography. 

For better or for worse, I am an idea person. Quotes, wise thoughts, and story ideas pop into my mind frequently.  These quotes, thoughts, and occasionally  story ideas, help me move forward. Help me express a thought to myself, so that I never have to think about it again. 

Grappling with wanting THINGS led me to "envy is simply this: looking at what you don't have, rather than what you do." I employ this quote a lot as a reminder when passing things that I want. I'm ignoring the non-material and material things that I do have. 

That quote helps me understand it. Writing helps me understand life. It lends clarity and comfort. 

I'm 8 or 10 or 11 or 12, and much of my summer is spent the same way. Playing outside alternated with reading for several hours. At least one book a day/night. Often 2. 

What I think I sought in books were: 1) escaping and 2) validation. Books helped raise me to think in many of the ways that I think today. When being smart was an invitation for a torrent of teasing, when I came home from school the target of teasing, books and words reminded me not to sell out. Not to have the character of one of the characters in the books who does. Books raised strong girls.

I have always had my concerns about  books' influence, however, for the american teen. Teens are too young to read adult literature, too old for kids books, and subjected to the vulgar and catty themes and content of young adult literature. I hated those years from a book point of view. There were, and continue to be, few good options. 

So, I don't know if I grew up always wanting to write for those age groups, or whether this is just another example of me wanting to serve the under-served, but a desire to write is certainly there. I love the (sadly very) few evenings when I can pull out one of my three stories and write a few more pages, learn a few more things, and become more acquainted with my true self. My old self. My young self. My wise self. My entertaining self. 

Perhaps it's just that when writing and reading, I see my best self. And I want others to glimpse what their best self can be through writing, as I often did. 

Whether I write prolifically just for myself, or whether I end up publishing something (or a few things) one day, I am grateful for the pleasant way to spend an afternoon. I have visions of being an OT by day, an athlete and/or family-person by evening, and a writer by night (depending on time of life). 

And, by the way, that opening sentence is almost completely autobiographical. I did throw up on a friend name Gabe in Mrs. Harris' 2nd grade class. I remember that. I threw up a very small amount in a tissue, and was walking up to tell Mrs. Harris. She asks for everybody to stop and listen to Gabriel (I still remember his last name, but will refrain so he doesn't become creeped out if he ever googles himself) read from his morning exercise. We were in Albany, PS #27. I was a rule follower, so I did as asked. He begins to read. 

I open my mouth and hurl, with a portion of it landing on his shoe.