CONFESSION:
“Rough Drafts of Life” has been a public (though low-key) blog since April 14, 2017 when the first post, “Thank You Mister Truck Driver” was published. That post was a poem written for a creative writing class during the final semester of my senior year of college which led to the concept of “equal parts fiction and non-fiction” that is the backbone of this blog.
Shortly after graduation I found myself in that post-college “what now” rut which led to me wanting to explore my writing. I had an interest but no sense of direction. I was younger and my thoughts were all over the place and I was still trying to establish my sense of identity. I cranked out a bunch of various drafts that included a medley of pieces including: short stories, poems, funny encounters and sad memories. It was a mess and I could not find a connection between any of it. Finally I just decided to focus on what was “stupid simple” and go from there without overthinking it which is the tone of this blog. I do a rough draft and revise with little to no edits to keep it as authentic as possible. With this new approach, I found myself fixated on the term “confession” and what it may feel like to “confess” my feelings and thoughts. What would these confessions feel like as they transform from inner thoughts to printed words?
The word “confession” stems from the Latin term, “confiteri” which translates to, “admit” or “acknowledge.” Something I am learning as an adult is trying to invest and build in this often neglected relationship with the idea of “admitting” or “accepting.”
Why is it so difficult to admit that one needs help? That one is hurting?
Why is it so difficult to acknowledge that one isn’t perfect? That one might not be super happy with the person they are at the moment?
These issues may not appear to be too difficult to overcome, but when it comes down to it, they can be hard to say out loud. Once it’s said out loud, I mean, that’s when it becomes real. It cannot be unsaid or taken back.
Recently, I've been recalling a conversation I had with a psychology professor my freshman year of college. He pulled me into his office after I applied to join his research team. He said the position was mine but I had to do one thing. I had to declare psychology as my major. Literally, that was it. No letters of recommendation, no GPA requirement, I just had to declare my major and I could not do it. I was afraid of the commitment and this idea of being attached. I was afraid to admit that I wasn’t doing well and needed help. I was also unable to acknowledge any of these feelings. While I said none of this out loud, I think he was still able to, on a certain level, feel my sense of just being overwhelmed and lost. He gave me some advice and said,
‘In life there are three types of people. The 'ready, aim, fire' type, the 'ready, fire' type and the 'ready, aim, aim,aim,aim' type. Don't be the last one. You cannot be afraid of making choices life is full of choices. Pick a favorite color, choose a liquor, find a lover, buy a house, live your life. It doesn't matter how perfect your aim is if you never fire. So. Fire.’"
I think about this conversation still to this day and since writing that post back in 2017. The days of life may seem long but the years are short. Too short not to say, “fuck it” and lay all the cards out on the table without fear of judgement. I am going to admit and acknowledge everything no matter how difficult or how long it takes.
As for the three types of people my professor described? I have decided to go rouge. I have decided that I am going to be the fourth type of person. Yes, the fourth person, not mentioned by my professor because I am making it up right now. I am going to be the straight-up “fire” person. There will be no aiming whatsoever! The part about being “ready” well let’s face it, are we ever really “ready” for what life throws at us? No. Am I really ready to share some of these thoughts, stories and drafts of life with people who actually know me or people who just met me? Not really, but it all circles back to the truck driver. For whatever reason, I was supposed to stay and so here I am firing. Firing off these “Rough Drafts of Life,” trying to find my purpose as everyone else in this world is and maybe learning how to aim along the way.
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cng