April 20, 2011

Writing, Writing


My hours are filled with writing words. My thoughts are all about writing. When I'm struggling to find a new, interesting way to tell prospective clients about garage door springs (they make a cool "sproing!" sound when they break?) I'm thinking about what I'll write at night. I don't necessarily want to spend all of my waking hours in front of a screen thinking about the right words and the perfect order they go in, but when I leave my job in the evening I'm already planning out my own words. Which could mean one of two things: I'm really a writer and can't get sick of it, or I'm doing a lot of self psychology.

I worry that the situation with my dad is doing the damage it usually does to people. Because I feel so rejected by him I feel other rejections so much more. That's so unfair not only to me but to the people in my life. When I first realized what my dad was doing I remember thinking of how it would affect my sisters and I in 6 months, a year, 5 years, 10 years. I wondered what our relationships with men would be like, if we'd be screaming for attention or looking for the wrong kinds. If I were in a committed relationship I'd be happier with it, glad there was a man I could look up to, someone I loved who wasn't a complete jackass. It kind of sucks not being in a relationship and wanting one, and having slight abandonment issues doesn't really help. You would think that being 25, a complete adult by anyone's measures, would make me exempt from those feelings, but apparently not. Hopefully, if I go down the sociology path, this will give me good thesis ideas. If nothing else, maybe I can at least use my experiences for good.

It makes sense for me to be drawn to sociology. Researching, case studies, writing, and probably endless reading seem to be involved. I already have those skills. It would be so exciting to use them for something I'm so interested in.

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