Do you get so-so-so freaking excited about the littlest things in life sometimes? Like, do you almost want to jump around, House of Pain style, when you suddenly remember that during rehearsal tonight, you get to work on your favorite dance scene? Are you just so excited to go home and work on your latest story or finish your book and polish off a nutty bar?
There's a lot I didn't like about high school (AP Chem, awkward slow dances, Driver’s Ed). But there were so many things I got excited for—and not just the big things, like college acceptance letters, prom, and graduation, but the small things, like student council meetings when we discussed homecoming decorations. Wear Your Pajamas to School Day lit up my life. I’d lie in bed excited to perform my own version of “Get Your Religion On” (inspired by a similarly-titled Missy Elliot jam).
Getting excited about the small things is exciting. But since graduating college, I'd been so intent on the big things—securing a job, getting my own place, finding someone to make babies with—that I'd forgotten to enjoy the little pleasures of life.
Then I joined a writing group. It meets semi-regularly and is made up of semi-regular, semi-awesome people. Every few weeks, we get together and discuss two to three pieces written by people in our group. Sometimes we bring cheese, and this is when things really get crazy.
I woke up this morning and did what any normal human being does upon waking: Facebook stalk. I saw my fellow writing group dork's status: “such a nerd: woke up excited about writers group today.”
That’s how I felt, too. Writing group takes me back to the simple pleasures of life. Not only does it benefit my writing and develop any literary talent I might have, but also it gives me chance to remember myself as someone younger, someone I was before: a hopeful kid.
In high school, I wanted to be a writer. I scratched angtsy poems in my notebook, came home, typed them up, and posted them on message boards. Then I reloaded the page, waiting for people to comment. When they did, I would feel vindicated, accepted, noticed. When I meet with my writing group, I feel the same way. I love hearing what people have to say about my story, about the things I write, about what they liked and what they thought could have worked better.
As much as I enjoy the company of all these people, my favorite part is going home and reading their written comments. "I LOVE THIS STORY!" one girl writes, underlining the word "love" several times. Notes like this take me back to high school, when I sat in the basement with parents' Gateway 2000, waiting for someone to read the words I had written, waiting for someone to stumble across me.
It’s so easy to lose focus on small pleasures as you try to handle the big stuff, like procuring jobs, food, and boyfriends. Sometimes you forget that you love things like writing stories, and having people read them. My writing group reminds me of this.
As you grow up and try to become just like me, I would advise you to keep doing the little things you love. I think a lot of people give up their interests as they age. Actors don't try out for local plays, athletes sit on the sidelines, musicians let their guitars sit untouched in basements. It doesn't have to be that way. Even if you're just a person with a funny blog, or writer who's found five people willing to read her stories, if it makes you happy, then it’s worthwhile.
What do you want to hold on to as you grow up?
Related post: Pajama Day FAQ
Topics: Life
Post a comment!