Stop being so self deprecating, was the message I got in my in box today, from a dear old writerly friend. He takes me much more seriously than I take myself, which delights me and pleases me and makes me feel much less alone in the world than I ordinarily do.
I am crazy, deeply grateful for his love and e-mails.
When we were sixteen I was not nearly serious enough for him, now that we are 45, I can question his intellectual integrity when he tells me he's watched "When Harry met Sally" more than once, recently.
It's hard not to gloat a little, over that one.
You guessed it S, yes, I may have had tiny, high hopes once, but the fact of the matter is that most of the time I don't try very hard with my writing, which is the story of my life, chronic underachiever, and that is not self deprecation, it's just a matter of fact.
Thank goodness I chose to have Maxwell. My six pound hail Mary.
The most remarkable thing about parenting is that you can throw all of the energy you pissed away for most of your life and devote it to your child and it more than makes up for the lack of editing, discipline, all the self deprecating humor, the fact that you hate opera, can't always remember the Oxford comma rules, laziness and inaction. Parenting has been an antidote to a self centered, navel gazing life, filled to the brim with self loathing.