It took me twenty-one years and two attempts, but by God, I've finished wading through Look Homeward Angel - and I loved it. I know these people - they're my people. All the melodrama, the repressed feelings, the hateful cutting comments, the sense of loneliness and loss - I understood every word, every sensation. I recognize the ugliness and the beauty, and I value both equally. It makes me want to start writing again.
I've never been good with expressing emotions. I always felt that emotions were a sign of weakness - part of being raised as my father's "son", I suppose. Lately I'm having a hard time bottling up those things that bubble up when people start flinging arrows and stones. Some I deserve. Others, less so. Innocent comments get taken out of context and used to further some cause. I make a genuine post about an overwhelming feeling I have, and someone turns it into an accusation, based on some sort of internet statistic that proves I've posted in response to something else. Frankly, I don't see the connection. I get angry more often than I used to, but I often feel like I've been kicked in the gut too. I'm not accustomed to that one. It usually brings tears. Intended kindnesses are perceived as attempts to control. And this post will be labeled as an attempt to send someone on a guilt trip - but hey - if the shoe fits, baby, wear it out.
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