Sunday, November 26, 2006

Is writing a memoir in your 30s self-indulgent?

I've been turning this over in my head a lot the past few months, and it's really begun to crystallize after reading my friend Rona's recent post on her blog, and it got me thinking about what I've done for the past 30+ years.

I don't think I really want to put my shit out there for public consumption, as I don't think I'd be comfortable as a writer. But on the other hand, I find it amusing that when I describe to people what I've been through so far in this extremely short time that I've been alive, that I've done more than most people have who are my age (at least from the surprised looks on their faces). Not to say that I feel like I've accomplished all that much, but I think that I've learned a lot and just want something tangible to look at in order to lay it to rest.

It is cool to say that I've done such things as come out on an international level; enjoyed a brief stint as some kind of known political activist/talking head/"expert" on a subject; found a love of my life; recognizing, celebrating and overcoming aspects of my past in order to embrace my future; made peace with my mom and dad; cursed those who've hurt and abused me growing up; and really discovering how to love and care for others by loving and caring for myself.

But I look at the (hopefully) 50-60 years more that I've got ahead of me and think that I've got a long way to go, and it feels like that I've learned not to engorge myself on everything life has to offer--but to savor and appreciate everything slowly. Some things leave a sweet taste and memory for a lifetime; others are fleeting, briefly and extremely bitter, but flavor your life anyway.

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