A Horribly Limited Explanation From Rush
If there’s something I want you to know about me, it’s that I have a very complicated relationship with my writing.
It is such a big part of my life — some people train to become ballerinas, athletes, and musicians… I’ve trained to become a writer. Of all skills and talents I could have cultivated at a young age, I chose the least practical one of all in a survival situation. If the apocalypse happened tomorrow I would not stand a chance.
However, I say that it’s a complicated relationship because it’s also something that I’ve grown to love, whatever that means. I’ve been given several opportunities because of my writing: I’ve won shiny trophies and worked with amazing people, got some money and splurged it on things that I may never financially recover from.
Some time in between my freelance writing gigs and writing expeditiously long academic papers, I’ve realized that I’ve never really written for myself. I could only point it to one cruel incident in elementary school: we had an academic-requirement that required writing a diary for a month and there was a different prompt every day. It ranged from “Write about your family” to “write about your crush.” We were specifically told to tell the whole truth, and every week, the teacher checks and reads everything we wrote.
It felt odd, because I knew the whole concept of a diary was so no one could read anything you’ve written. Although, I was also thrilled by the excitement of getting to show off my “writing chops” at age nine. But it still felt weird, I remember, because there were things I really wish I didn’t write, but we were told not to lie. Of course, I could’ve, nobody would know. But it was a very Christian institution and I *was a devout Christian girl.
What stuck with me until now was the “crush” entry. We were asked to name an actual person who wasn’t fictional or famous. (I vaguely remember someone throwing a tantrum because of this.) Anyway, I don’t know if I had the capacity to determine what a “crush” was, so I wrote my seatmate’s name, who was a girl. When the diaries were checked during that week, the teacher interrogated every single student about their ‘crush’.
I was reprimanded for ‘lying’. I was asked to rewrite my entry and write a boy’s name instead. The teacher and my classmates teased me about that boy for the entire year, and for some reason, my parents also read that diary entry, and asked me about this boy too, even though I barely spoke with him.
Years later, now identifying as a queer woman, I believe that I wrote that girl’s name for a reason, and apart from one of my earliest realizations about my writing — which was that it was always going to have an audience whether I like it or not — I also had the first experience of homophobia and forced heterosexuality.
I think that reflects the fears and reservations I have with my writing. I’m comfortable hiding behind characters, brands, and organizations, perhaps, because it felt like a shield from anything way too personal, or way too revealing. I guess, subconsciously, I felt like if I said something way too real, someone would say I was wrong.
And I’ve experienced micro-examples of this on social media — tweeting very niche personal stuff and having people disagree with me because they understood it a different way, or they feel like there could have been something else added into what I’ve just said. I’m sorry for not encapsulating the entirety of the human experience in 280 characters or less! I’m getting heated. Maybe I’ll write about this topic another time.
But, for now, I’m very excited about this project. This is horribly limited, the newsletter for people who like to overthink the media they consume, written by two women who like to overthink the media they consume. I am so thrilled to be working with my partner, Asteria, who is an amazing writer who is just like me but a different zodiac sign. Do with that information what you will.
We will be talking about our favorite things, the things we hate, overanalyzing regular gossip, gossiping about people overanalyzing things, and etc. I hope you like us enough to stick around and tell your friends! I love attention, shower me in it.
See you next time,