Embarrassment
From self-pity to Emily Dickinson
Complaining is useless, it is more useful to analyze the reasons for the failures. I hate to say it, but, in the end, it’s always all a question of social anxiety. We should go, say hello, be in the front row at conferences, maybe present an essay in person. Forget about it! I would risk dying. Everyone says you have to show up, call the newsrooms, make real friends with those in the trade. I was under the illusion that in the age of litweb it was possible to ignore physical contact but this is not the case. If they don’t see you, they forget about you and, if you write to urge, you become a nuisance, so it’s better to keep quiet, always and in any case, also because, when they don’t answer, you feel humiliated and stupid. The pounding advertising, the billboards, the shouts, the “buy my book, pay for it by credit card”, the photos of the book in different ways and positions, are not for me or for you, I know, you would like that people understood for themselves the value of your work. A utopia.
By Patrizia Poli4 years ago in Confessions
Cross-Dressing For Country
"Alright troops, before I begin, does anybody have any acting experience?" This seemingly innocuous question, to me, would soon become as consequential as "Do you take this woman to be your wife?", or "Do you understand these rights as they've been read to you?". The year is 2011. I am a 23 year old, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed Infantryman private. I had recently completed a full 3 year contract with the army. I immediately re-upped for a second round, as I hadn't had a chance to go to war yet, which should say everything you need to know about my intelligence at that age (or lack there-of). The truth is, when you're not overseas trying to kill anyone that doesn't look like you, the army is actually pretty boring, and your daily life is transformed into a celestial battle to stave of alcoholism and debauchery. A group of us had been "hand picked" to represent our regiment at an upcoming festival called the Royal Nova Scotia International Tattoo. In civilian terms, it's a celebration of foreign and domestic military skills on display. In army-speak, it's a 3 week booze fest in an ACTUAL city, complete with College girls to chase and a per diem to waste. Our mission, with no choice not to accept it, was to participate in said Tattoo, and perform what was called an "unarmed combat display", among other things. On paper, it looked brilliant. We were to rappel down from the roof, at a break-neck height into the middle of the convention centre, and simply kick each other's asses for a couple of minutes. For lack of a better term, this was a slam dunk, a good go, an infanteer's wet dream. Enter Private Jones, stage left.
By Christopher Jones4 years ago in Confessions
Accept, Limit, Concentrate
Accept yourself, nothing and no one will make you change. You are avoidant, you suffer from social phobia and this will accompany you throughout your life, therefore, the sooner you make up your mind and act accordingly, not opposing what happens to you but waiting for the crisis to pass and bypassing obstacles, the better. Avoid blaming yourself: you can’t do anything about it and, in any case, you don’t hurt anyone.
By Patrizia Poli4 years ago in Confessions
A PIECE OF MY MIND
I blew hard, repeatedly gasping for air, each breath mandatorily drawn orally and not through nasal orifices blocked by... what? For nearly an hour to clear my right nasal passage from the obstruction causing me to lose consciousness. It was funny to me that my face had grown to a rubbery texture. Unreal for anyone not in film and theatre. As I gasped and blew I could feel myself slipping into a blackout. Just before falling across one end of my bed, I felt it fall free from one nasal... my right nasal drew a bit of air. Through dimmed eyes, I could see a small clump of blue-grey tissue in my hand. I blacked out.
By CarmenJimersonCross4 years ago in Confessions
The Worst Summer Meal of My Life
It is a splash of bright orange in the middle of the dark summer forest. We have turned the corner of the trail and a beam of sunlight has entered the forest in front of us illuminating an oak stump that is studded with an orange shelf fungus that ladders its way up the wood. This is the mother lode, a chicken-of-the-woods mushroom bigger than any we have ever seen.
By Andrew Gaertner4 years ago in Confessions
Why I bought a Louis Vuitton handbag for my imaginary sister
“Why is there a $3000 Louis Vuitton handbag in your closet?” As I read the SMS from my girlfriend, Vanessa, I was struck with a sudden sense of dread, and the realization that I was going to need to make a confession to her, but it was one that I would struggle to accurately relay over a text message. Yet, I sent the following reply anyway.
By D-Donohoe4 years ago in Confessions
Her Resentment Towards Me Is an Important lesson about Relationships
At the beginning of 2022, what I struggled with the most was getting back out into the public. At that point, I had spent the last 7 or so months at home and I only went out about once every few months.
By James Ssekamatte4 years ago in Confessions
A Letter To The Owners Of The Airbnb I Accidentally Redecorated With My Blood. Runner-Up in Holiday Hijinks Challenge. Top Story - June 2022.
To the owners of an unnamed property in Llanberis, North Wales, the United Kingdom. I’m sorry. I truly am. I never meant to leave your beautiful cottage looking like Leatherface’s workshop. It was an accident.
By Christopher Donovan4 years ago in Confessions
