Hey blog family! Sorry I’ve been MIA for a minute. Late winter into spring is the busiest time of the work year for me. I haven’t had blog block, but I have started about 10 entries and not followed through. Why, you ask? Well, ya’ll didn’t ask, but I’m gonna tell ya’ll anyway. Ya girl was in her feelings. Yep, yours truly had her feelings hurt in writing class last Monday night. I should have just blogged about it then and got it off my chest and out of my mind, but being the Cancer (July baby!) that I am, I internalized and contemplated and debated myself and questioned my feelings and subsequent reaction to the situation. I’m better now, but I still figured I should write about it.
Basically, I was prepared for all the constructive criticism (and I got some really good feedback), but I was unsure how to interpret the comments that my teacher made. So, instead of speaking to her, one on one, ya girl (moi!) retreated into her shell and played the role of the mortally wounded for a few days. Finally, after much gentle prodding from a couple of people close to me, I had decided to call my teacher. I knew that if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to focus completely in class. Well, I didn’t have to call her. We crossed paths on Gmail/Google Talk and we got everything worked out. Bottom line, she thinks I’m brilliant! Ok, maybe not brilliant, but she did say that I had talent and she gave me some specific advice and suggestions on how to elevate my novel. The whole experience reminded me of high school. I was pretty smart, but from time to time, I liked to lay in the cut and only exert a minimum amount of energy. Met a teacher that called me on my crap and pushed me harder than any other teacher I’ve ever had before. At the end of the day, she challenged and encouraged me. That’s what I’m feeling now with my teacher. Yippee!
My reaction to the whole situation kinda surprised me. I mean, really. I ain’t no punk! *LOL* Those that know me in the real world can voice that I’m straight NY, mixed with just a bit of Southern charm. But, beneath my tough exterior (crab like shell), ya girl is a big ole marshmallow. Most people never get through the shell. I don’t offend easily and I don’t get hurt easily, but if you slip through the shell, I melt into a big ball of sensitivity.