I have been keeping myself
distracted busy, trying to iron out details and take care of tasks before I’m out of commission for a few days, post-surgery. When I close my eyes, I want my mind to be clear of nagging worries–the fridge should be full, the bills all paid, the books balanced, and the laundry done. Same for things at my job.
When I’m lucky enough that a friend calls me up to do lunch, I eagerly say yes. So we eat pizza and guffaw at fennel, all in a good day’s work. I’m happily distracted.
Of course, I google information about my surgery on the sly–Patent foramen ovale surgery….and what of the recovery? How long will it take to recover? Will there be any pain? Agh. I need to stop thinking about it. I hear it takes up to a week to get back to work fulltime. And that the incision point is the source of most discomfort. That’s all. I’ll update you later.
…back to being happily distracted! What pleasant thing was I writing about? Ah. Friends!
Yes–! This week, I met a new friend in Elizabeth of Fluent. We met “in real life” and wondered aloud as to how one would take an online, written correspondence, into spontaneous real life interaction. But we’re writers. We’re used to having a written life coexisting with an interactive life somewhere else. And we managed. We managed well!
So attractive were we to our fellow diners that our table was quite the attention getter! Diners asked us what we were eating–perhaps our faces spelled out comfort and joy and they attributed it to the dishes on the table? (We were eating a chicken curry and a beef bavette dish…plus a chicken bun as a starter).
Oh shush–it wasn’t the food, it was US! 😛 Really.
My community just got larger by one, and I think my soul and writing will grow as a result. Writing is a solitary act…but I always desire a community–in fact, a big reason I enrolled in an MFA program was the desire for a writing community.
Ironically, as I have written previously and learned, friendships have an awkward existence inside of an MFA program. Artists tend to be jealous of each other, and an MFA program engenders jealousy and competition. I’ve been lucky to make a few friends, and I met more than a few writers I respect…but for the most part, I do a lot of social ducking and diving. And still I end up hurt sometimes.
So where do we writers go for friendship? So far, I’ve made lasting (writing) friendships outside of my MFA program–at writing conferences, at a writing colony, online, through other friends–just about anywhere outside my MFA program’s ecosystem.
It’s a bit odd–like walking through a prairie and finding a frog and fish. Or meeting a penguin in the desert.