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We who are bothered by rules.

July 2, 2010 \pm\31 11:56 pm

Once upon a time there was a girl who dreamed of being a writer. Maybe it was because she loved to read. Maybe it was because she loved to dream. Maybe it was because her fifth grade teacher gave her an A+ on a story she wrote about a young girl crossing the Cumberland Gap. Maybe it was because she really took to those silly five-seven-five haikus all the teachers love to use to teach poetry. One of her haikus even got read on the public radio station. She didn’t get to hear it because her family didn’t have FM in their car. Yeah, that was a long time ago. She didn’t really pursue her dream.

Fast forward mumblemumble years. The world has changed. There’s this thing called the internet. That little girl is old enough to still think it’s magic. She remembers punch cards. And wishes she’d saved just a few from her college programming classes. To show the grandkids someday. She likes to play around on this net thing. She even gave in and joined a social networking site. She did not “friend” her grown daughters, or any family members. That would get too complicated.

She regularly wonders what she’s doing. All the other kids on the playground seem to know the rules of the games. Just like fourth grade, when she moved to San Jose from Philadelphia in October. After school started. Everyone had already made their friends. And she was shy. She always stood on the edge of the playground, wanting to be invited to play, but as soon as anyone looked her way, she would pretend to be intensely interested in some random spot on the ground, or she’d need to pull her sock up, or tie her shoe. Never meet their eyes. That was her rule.

But rules are meant to be broken. Or made up as you go.

She doesn’t know what this post is about. That probably doesn’t matter. It’s just writing.

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3 Comments
  1. Robin Elizabeth Sampson permalink
    July 3, 2010 \am\31 10:16 am 10:16 am

    I started this back when I first volunteered for this mission as my first post, but decided against. Last night I finished it and posted it. Not sure why. I’m not feeling sorry for myself at all, it’s just that often I wonder why I have this compulsion to write stuff that most other “normal” folks would keep to themselves. And I admire folks who don’t (keep things to themselves).

  2. July 4, 2010 \pm\31 3:44 pm 3:44 pm

    You know you’re not alone in any of that?

    I’m sorry for the move though, and the late school start. That’s an unhappy one.

    But as for the writing… yeah, I wish I’d just written in my twenties. I wish I’d discovered the internet scene far earlier, or that it had been there. I wish I wish. I think the bst thing to wish is to get off your ass and do it now, cos better late than never, eh? That’s what I need to do.

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