Last night I tried venting to a friend on the phone. Common back-to-school feelings, I suppose. Overwhelmedness, inadequacy, social shunning, public speaking. She was patient with me.
Hey, sorry I kept you up.
Doing homework right now, 5:30am. Well, not right now, but you know.
Came across a quote from our friend, Wordsworth:
What we have loved,
Others will love, and we will teach them how.
The first female ever to be named a University Professor at Harvard, the first female MLA president, Helen Vendler, included this in her inaugural speech. She also said this:
Writing is a different profession from teaching, a different profession even from scholarly research and discovery, a different profession from the profession of critical thinking. Writing demands different impulses, different talents, a different temperament. Writing not done out of love will never serve to teach others how to love what we have loved.
This may help to explain my fear of speaking/reading in front of a class of my peers – because a lot of love goes into what I write, no matter what it is, and I want to protect it – but above everything else, this reminds me what impulses I have, what talents, what temperament, what love. I am a writer. Those who love it have taught me as much; they have brought me here, and I am here to learn more, and love it even more.
Time to stretch.
Back to work.
I can do this.