writing and trusting

Writing is a funny thing. I sit here pecking at the keys in attempt to portray something on a blank white screen, something that in my head has color and movement and noise and emotion. I have read people who have done this with immense beauty, poise and success. I don't have the tenacity nor the experience for that amount of depth. Instead I decide to try this thing, in an effort to let it all go. No agenda to be heard or understood and surely not for success, more so just to put it down and out. I wish I could be rough and tough in writing, and say it how it is. Instead I just say it how I see it. And there is a big difference. My reality is all I know, and what is real to me is not all that is real . Anne Lammott is one of those writers who is a hard ass and says it how it is. I admire this immensely. Sometimes I have dreams that I am a student of hers, the two of us sitting in a small dark room together plucking at type writers in the middle of the night. Piles of papers stacked ceiling high, and just as many crumpled copies on the floor. Drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes, stretching our necks with disillusionment. I imagine myself watching her intently studying her every move and every word, wishing I could be inside her brain, inside her words. teach me. If I could meet her I wouldn't tell her I admire her work, or even which of her writings inspire me the most. I wouldn't tell her of my secret dreams to be her student. I would simply say that I wish I could be a bit more of a hard ass like her. What would it be like if I really said what I thought about the people around me, about myself, about my inner life? I'm sure I would have much less friends than I do now, and I cant afford that because I don't have many. I sometimes wonder if that is the life of a writer.  What if someone wrote down the intricacies and truths of your life? I imagine this might be a very humbling, hurtful, honest, freeing thing. Pick and choose your description based on your life experience, and how many secrets you have. 

Speaking of this, I know this guy, Rob, whom has been confided in about some of the most intimate details, hurts, fuck ups, and failures of my life. At one point he chose to share these experiences (my life) with whomever he pleased, throwing around my heart and world.  I mean really, where do people get off? I have never really understood why one would talk about another- why trust is broken in this way. This is so inappropriate that the intent behind it all no longer matters. Who am I to air someone else's dirty laundry? It's just not my place, nor was it his.  And this is something we have got to learn. When I think of "confiding" in someone I imagine a safe place, a place of trust. But you must be very careful about this. As I have recently learned, not every one (and specifically not Rob) is trust worthy. To be safe you could try just not trusting anyone named Rob ever again, but I'm sure there are some nice Rob's out there. As an alternative you could possibly try not trusting those with gel in their hair, or those who wear a certain style of jeans. Or maybe you could try not trusting people who make their living off talking other people into something, or specifically not those who think they are always right. Make up your own version based on past hurts, betrayals and bitter inner dialogues- and presto! you have your own theory on trust.

I was discussing this issue of trust once in a classroom setting with a group of people I do not know. Why do we trust? When do we trust? Who do we trust? Do you trust everyone until your trust is broken? Or trust no one until your trust is earned? Some of us trust blindly and flippantly and wonder why we so often end up getting screwed. While others hardly trust at all and live without close companions most of thier life. Some of us trust based on looks, while others base it on feelings. We all have a theory, and whose to say what is right or wrong. I think that trust is a beautiful thing. However and whenver you end up diving into the deepend; eyes closed, nose plugged or screaming and flailing- we have got to just go for it at some point. The deep is much different than the wading pool. And we cant let the little crawdads and minnows that have disturbed us before stop us from traversing inthe the beautiful beyond.