Tomorrow, I’ll head home to Grosse Pointe for the weekend to celebrate Easter with my family. My mom just asked me when I have to get back and I said Monday morning. I had to explain to her that holidays are viewed a little differently around here. For example a professor said the other day “Well your paper can’t be due this week because of Passover, and then Sunday is that Easter thing, so I guess it will just be next Wednesday.”
But anyway, I’ll be heading home for the weekend, and the past few weeks I’ve been wrestling with the idea of whether or not to visit an old friend while I’m home. This is not the kind of old friend that you should want to catch up with. This is the type of old friend that is in the past for a reason. This is the type of old friend where it’s easy to remember their compelling attributes, and harder to remember the other ones. Okay, I’ll stop…this old friend is a boy. And I’m being that girl. I know, just embrace it.
Anyway, I had my mind set that I’d see him when I was home, until the other day. I was cleaning my room and found an assignment that I had to write for a creative writing class. It was all of the reasons why we are “old friends.” Needless to say it wasn’t that creative. I re-read it, and then read it again, and then realized there was no way I could see him this weekend. And now that I’ve officially made up my mind, I know it’s the right decision.
I’ve been so much of an adult these past few weeks I think I need a medal….or a drink.
Guys, I’m becoming more mature.
I bring up this story though because I wonder…have you ever had your own words help you make up your mind like that? Has your past self ever been so convincing that your future self can’t help but to listen?
A passage from my “Why I Write” essay:
“Thinking something in your head, feeling something in your heart and having the ability to articulate it is something special. I write because sometimes I feel such passion, or rage, or excitement, or depression that I never want to forget the feeling. I do not want the emotion to subside and only remain as an ember of the once blazing fire. Writing helps me remember.”
Can anyone relate?