Tuesday, January 26, 1999
3:31 PM
I remember when I was growing up, I wanted to move away. To a place nobody new me, a place where nobody would tease me. Somewhere I could make new friends and start a new life.
Growing up, I moved around from time to time, but from age nine to thirteen, I attended the same school (some name and directorial changes, same campus), and knew the same kids. Going through grade school had its really rough spots, and I thought the best thing that would ever happen to me was if we up and moved to another state.
I thought that magical place was Iowa, where my favorite uncle lived, and where nobody my age (except my two cousins) knew me. My uncle always made me feel like I mattered, and that was a wonderful feeling, and something I rarely remember feeling any other place or time as a child. He was sort of a surrogate dad to me; maybe the dad I wished that I'd had. His youngest was jealous of me, I'm not sure why (maybe she thought I was spoiled because I was an only child, and I guess in truth that I was); I was very jealous of her, too, though maybe I did a better job of keeping it hidden.
Times changed, and I grew up, and moved here to Missouri. Not far from Iowa, granted, but far enough that I rarely saw my favorite uncle, especially after his wife (mom's sister) divorced him and moved away. Here though, I had my chance: a shot at a new life, with new people to meet, new things to do. You know what? I feel like I blew it.
Not completely, mind you... I did manage to find Jev, and that's the best thing that has ever happened to me. Still, I didn't go out and make a bunch of new friends here in town, or do much more than hide in the house for a good deal of the time. Seems like a waste, to me.
It wasn't like I didn't have opportunities... I did get to know some people in town through the bulletin board community; I was part of the handbell choir at church, helped with one of the Vacation Bible School classes, tried a couple of the Sunday School classes, and one of the evening study groups. I just never felt like I fit in; I was always an outsider, always different.
Part of it was my shyness, I'm sure... maybe part of it was even because I look different than everyone else. But I think it was also a matter of being from two different worlds, and not growing up here and knowing everyone else.
Mom has managed to fit in very well. We just went to the vet to take Purrrrrbaby in for his neutering, and waiting inside were our neighbor behind us (on the other side of the block), and Mom's best friend's son and his wife. I know our neighbor girl because she comes over to visit our cats, but I'd never met the other couple, so I was surprised when Mom struck up a conversation with them. She didn't realize I had no idea who they were (I figured it out), so she didn't introduce me, and it just made me feel a little more isolated, and a little more a stranger. Looking back on my time here, I feel like I didn't do a very good job at fitting in or finding my niche; but I'm not sure what would have made it better.
Looking forward, though, I'm getting a second chance, or is it a third? In about four months' time, I'll be packing up and moving even further east, to Virginia, and starting out all over again.
This time, it has to be different. I need to get out and get involved with things. The thought of that scares me a little... I'm always nervous around people I don't know, especially when it's a whole new group of people and I don't know anyone. There's nothing to say that I'll always have to get out and meet new people alone. In fact, until I get my own license, I'll still depend on Jev to get me places a good deal of the time. I do hope the area we're moving to has public transportation though; it would be nice to have at least that degree of independence again.
I hope the community college system isn't so disappointing as what I found here in Missouri, as well. Jev and I talked a bit the other day, after I posted my little travelogue -- Road Trip -- and he seems to think that I'm not half bad at taking pictures. I'd never really thought about it, but I did enjoy both taking them and then writing up the page to go along with them. An amateur photography class might be something I'd enjoy.
Oh, I'm definitely going back to school. I got chastised just the other night by my friend's husband, who said I was too smart to have not gotten my degree yet, though that's not the only reason I'm going back. I just need to figure out what I want to focus on. Writing something, definitely; so I've narrowed it down, some. The next question is, what do I want to write about?
I took a creative writing class at Cerritos College, but I felt rather out of my league. I was 19, and most of them were in their twenties and thirties; and we even had a grandmother in her seventies, who wrote wonderful stories. Because of that, it was a bit disappointing to me; I just couldn't measure up to their standards. I think one of the big reasons was that I just didn't have the life experience. Maybe I've grown some, both in maturity and as a writer.
I also took Freshman Composition, and that was a class I really excelled in. My Intellectual Autobiography was one of the assignments, and something I'm still proud of. I felt challenged in there, but in a different way than in the creative writing class. In Creative Writing, I was just mediocre, and the teacher treated me accordingly. In Freshman Comp, I was good; the teacher pushed me to do better, and I gave it all I had.
I need a pusher. No, scratch that. I need to learn to be my own pusher. Not just in my writing, but in my everyday life.
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