true confession tuesday (my first)

After reading other Tuesday confessions for quite awhile now, I’ve decided to try it out myself. Let me first confess that the worst promise I make to myself is that lack of a good structure (like confessing something every Tuesday) is the only thing keeping me from writing more freely and more frequently. I confess to believing that structure will be enough to overcome the lack of permission I give myself to be honest, to just write what needs to be written. 

And a meta confession of sorts: I confess that the act of confessing is appealing because 1) I am a former practicing Catholic and therefore have experience with confessions and 2) my lack of self-permission to simply write provides a lot of fodder for Catholic guilt, which never goes away no matter how far removed a person is from Catholic practice.

I confess that I am already enjoying this. 

This weekend I returned from our two-week trip to California. I confess to being jealous of the literary activity in San Francisco and to buying a half dozen books of poetry and to wondering to Carl many times how a slice of such community might be created in West Michigan. I confess to coming home more for the cheap housing than for the culture. If I am being truly honest (which I am, under penalty of said Catholic guilt), I do know that the only way to see that kind of activity here is to start creating it. I confess that I started thinking about a zine again, because I realized that from middle school through college I was involved in publishing something. It dominated my free time. It was the thing that made me very energized, even if no one read it. And since college, I haven’t done anything like that. I am not sure why. 

I confess that yesterday I received a rejection letter from the first literary magazine I had submitted to in years. It felt good, actually. Because it was a sign that I am releasing things again, that the process has started. Now I need to go get more rejection letters. Hopefully some acceptances, too. But more of a paper trail, for better or worse, to affirm that I really am trying. 

And finally, I confess that we went grocery shopping tonight and I sang along to the awful Sheryl Crow song because I enjoy singing to Carl in the grocery store and making things uncomfortable when strangers walk by. I think it’s ridiculous that people walk around in imaginary boxes of silence. Tonight Carl joined in with me. And that was probably the most favorite part of my day.

And now I suppose I should go say the Hail Mary 10 times?