I thought of you because I was meaning to ask you if you worked with Aimee Bender at USC and then a friend serendipitously linked me to something you posted re: the Riverside CW Director Open Letter (I think) and you mentioned you DID work with Aimee and I was so glad to see that (also, I thought your post was spot on!).Aimee was my mentor when I was a PEN Center USA West Emerging Voices Fellow a few years ago and we stayed friends; she still offers me invaluable advice, even now. She also wrote me a lovely letter of rec for all of my MFA apps. We met for drinks last night and I told her that you and I had just been connected via Dave Borofka on email & Facebook and she was so excited! She said she was glad because she thought you would really be into my stuff and that you were “a real go-getter!” with fantastic energy. 😀 Sounds like the class you took with her was pretty awesome — The Writer and Community, yes? — so I would love to hear more about it from your end. Especially since you seem to have a very keen observational eye, just in your descriptions of life in Charleston. Some really good stories are going to come out of that, I am sure!
It’s amazing. The writing world. The networking world. I’m trying to write a good response back, Anna A (:, and, I’m on my lunch break–can’t be writing on this for too long. But, it’s also just wonderful to know… that I really did make an impact on those who made an impact on me. I love Aimee. I need to email her too… Hm. This is becoming a useless blog post, but whatever. I was feeling really, really down today. I miss home. I just don’t fit with some of the other editors, and it’s for factors that are beyond skin and upbringing. Maybe I’m just shy. I had a talk with a good friend at work and we just both are in a slump. She’s in a bigger slump than me, and I really hope she’ll be okay. I’m sure she will, she’s a strong-willed woman, beautiful too. After hearing her sadness, I felt that mine was a little trivial and I felt a little too excessive, or sensitive, maybe that’s the word. But, I’ve always been that way. I miss home. I really do. But, when I think of home, or about LA and growing up, it’s just rife with disappointments.
I love Los Angeles. However, the way I grew up and how ‘family’ is, sometimes, it’s just a little hard. I miss home. There are too many bad and good memories at home. As a child, I grew up in a household that was never called a “home.” My grandmother, as ‘dragon’ lady as she was, always said to me, “This is not a home, you people make this not a home.” ‘You’ referred to me, my sister, and my dad, even though ‘we’ were the only home I knew of. I grew up not knowing what “home” meant. I grew up not really knowing anything about what love, which is why I let myself down so many times. But when I look back at LA, I realize… the whole city was my home. The little things about LA, from my favorite restaurants, the people, the cemented streets, the cold Pacific, the dirty beaches, the million of lampposts at night… and so many more things, that was what home was to me. Los Angeles, you are my home. I was someone there. I was someone to people there, like my good friends and my professors and some of my family. That’s why I miss it, even if LA brings to mind so many mistakes. I miss home.
But on a good note, Josh is treating us out to massages today after work. He hurt his back yesterday while working at the Prototype base. He isn’t sure what he did exactly, but he was in pain last night and in the morning. I can’t wait to see him. Can’t 4 o’ clock come sooner?
Okay, it’s the end of my lunch break and spiel. Good-bye, writing blog. Till later!