I just came out of the closet. OMG!!!!
Okay so no I have not secretly started crushing on girls. Not that there is anything wrong with that. If it wasn't for my total attraction to boys with pretty eyes and dark hair who look like Sufjan Stevens, i would totally be gay. But unfortunately girls just do not do it for me. I like my art boys with scruffy faces, disheveled hair, and a hint of "i haven't showered in a few days" masculinity.
I came out in another sense. I came out of the WRITING closet. Whenever i watched a documentary about gay teens i was always heartbroken with there coming out stories. You hear a whole array of the good("they always kind of knew), the bad("my father stopped talking to me"), the ugly("i have basically been disowned"). I literally watched with tears in my eyes, wanting to give them all a rainbow hug.
I guess what really got to me was this whole idea of closets, be it a gay or otherwise, there are closets for everything, because closets hide secrets. And who would people be without a shit load of secrets.
I have been hiding a secret from my mother, a secret that was killing me. I was born this way, and even though i have tried to change it for other people, it's just a part of who i am, and i can't be happy without everyone knowing this part of me. I Beckett Amelia Hughes am a writer. I love it, and i think it loves me. And i don't think I'm going to be a doctor( especially after taking Ochem this semester. I'd rather not talk about it. Just know that it went badly, very badly)
So after talking on the phone with her for about a half an hour, i smoothly inserted the comment "someone mentioned that i was a good writer again" and from there i was off. I began telling her that i think this maybe something that i am good at, that this is sort of a passion and i think i can succeed at it.
At first she was sort of like "what about Med School" Shit. I was dreading that. I told her that technically people are always going to be sick, and that it wasn't like the profession of healing the sick would fade away. But if i let this fade away i would spend the rest of my life wondering "what if". What if i had taken a chance on a dream. What if i had believed in myself once in my whole life and invested in something that i am good at. I could make money, i could have fun, and i am confidant that i can do this.
And then there was silence. The longest silence of my whole entire life.
I was expecting the worst. The good, bad and/or the ugly. I felt like for her whole life she has expected me to be a doctor. To save lives, and make money after paying off a billion student loans. I felt like she was seeing her aspirations for me fade down the toilet. I was expecting the worst
But instead i got.."Sounds great".
WHAT?!!?!?!?
She doesn't care if i want to be a doctor or not, she just assumed it was something that i wanted to do, so she was behind me all the way. I said i wanted to be a doctor, so she supported me. Apparently i could be a painter, or a shoe salesman, a accountant, and/or a lawyer and she would just want me to be...HAPPY..
WHAT?!?!?!??!!?
And with that my coming out was over. We talked about my Alice story, and my English professor, and my idiot brother. She's okay with whatever makes me happy, and what makes me happy is writing.
So i think i'm going to be a writer.
Holy Shit i'm freaking out. I'm going to be a f*cking writer.
Okay so no I have not secretly started crushing on girls. Not that there is anything wrong with that. If it wasn't for my total attraction to boys with pretty eyes and dark hair who look like Sufjan Stevens, i would totally be gay. But unfortunately girls just do not do it for me. I like my art boys with scruffy faces, disheveled hair, and a hint of "i haven't showered in a few days" masculinity.
I came out in another sense. I came out of the WRITING closet. Whenever i watched a documentary about gay teens i was always heartbroken with there coming out stories. You hear a whole array of the good("they always kind of knew), the bad("my father stopped talking to me"), the ugly("i have basically been disowned"). I literally watched with tears in my eyes, wanting to give them all a rainbow hug.
I guess what really got to me was this whole idea of closets, be it a gay or otherwise, there are closets for everything, because closets hide secrets. And who would people be without a shit load of secrets.
I have been hiding a secret from my mother, a secret that was killing me. I was born this way, and even though i have tried to change it for other people, it's just a part of who i am, and i can't be happy without everyone knowing this part of me. I Beckett Amelia Hughes am a writer. I love it, and i think it loves me. And i don't think I'm going to be a doctor( especially after taking Ochem this semester. I'd rather not talk about it. Just know that it went badly, very badly)
So after talking on the phone with her for about a half an hour, i smoothly inserted the comment "someone mentioned that i was a good writer again" and from there i was off. I began telling her that i think this maybe something that i am good at, that this is sort of a passion and i think i can succeed at it.
At first she was sort of like "what about Med School" Shit. I was dreading that. I told her that technically people are always going to be sick, and that it wasn't like the profession of healing the sick would fade away. But if i let this fade away i would spend the rest of my life wondering "what if". What if i had taken a chance on a dream. What if i had believed in myself once in my whole life and invested in something that i am good at. I could make money, i could have fun, and i am confidant that i can do this.
And then there was silence. The longest silence of my whole entire life.
I was expecting the worst. The good, bad and/or the ugly. I felt like for her whole life she has expected me to be a doctor. To save lives, and make money after paying off a billion student loans. I felt like she was seeing her aspirations for me fade down the toilet. I was expecting the worst
But instead i got.."Sounds great".
WHAT?!!?!?!?
She doesn't care if i want to be a doctor or not, she just assumed it was something that i wanted to do, so she was behind me all the way. I said i wanted to be a doctor, so she supported me. Apparently i could be a painter, or a shoe salesman, a accountant, and/or a lawyer and she would just want me to be...HAPPY..
WHAT?!?!?!??!!?
And with that my coming out was over. We talked about my Alice story, and my English professor, and my idiot brother. She's okay with whatever makes me happy, and what makes me happy is writing.
So i think i'm going to be a writer.
Holy Shit i'm freaking out. I'm going to be a f*cking writer.
3 comments:
YES!!!!
another convert to the humanities! yayyayyay!
and super-duper congratulations on coming out. you're right; there ARE lots and lots of closets, all hiding different secrets.
not that i have like a million awesome contacts or anything, but if you ever DO want me to talk to any of the MFAs (master of fine arts, the creative writers - poets, fictioneers, nonfiction, etc) about anything, i am more than happy to do it. Pitt has a pretty good MFA program, actually (Michael Chabon's WONDERBOYS is based on his experiences at Pitt, and on some of the profs i see around the dept).
anyway, congratulations! i love reading your blog writing; i loved your alice piece; i hope you'll let me read more of your work in the future!
go writer go!
Congrats! How exciting! You are now officially a "writer." Now you have to get some tortois-rimmed glasses that say I'm an avante-garde intellectual and take your laptop to coffee shops as you sip mocha latte and draw in inspiration from the crowds around you.
When are you going to post a story for US to read?
WHOOT!!! Can we all say "We knew her when..."...???
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