I was impressed with myself\u00e2\u20ac\u201dI was able to be drift alone and not be overwhelmed with social anxiety. That day, I agreed (after a friend’s persistence) to accompany him to tubing down Russian River. With more than 50 of us, we launched from a beach in our inner tubes, most were packed with ample beer, weed and mineral water. Most people held onto each other\u00e2\u20ac\u201dforming large floats almost like the trash in the Pacific.<\/p>\n
Not particularly finding anyone interesting, I was content to float by myself. Sure, there was the ihatepeoplehelping me feeling, but in general, I just didn’t feel like conversing with anybody. I wanted to put my head back, close my eyes and float soundlessly down the slow moving river. Admittingly, I kept floating into the banks with branches and rocks. On my own, I needed to independently push myself away.<\/p>\n
Interrupting my thoughts, a guy\u00e2\u20ac\u201din his early twenties and the kind that lived to wear a popped collar\u00e2\u20ac\u201dpaddled next to me. He had departed his “floatilla” of 10 and came toward me. I had just pushed myself away from a floating log and now was floating down the current.<\/p>\n
Instead of an expected friendly greeting, the first words out of his mouth were, “I don’t like your individualistic tendencies.”<\/p>\n
I shook my head at the disappointing conversation starter and explained my contentment of my independent floating. Somehow small talk turned into what we did for a living.<\/p>\n
“I am going to be a writer,” I declared, not hesitating this time for a stranger.<\/p>\n
“You can’t be just a writer,” he said. “You need to have a goal.”<\/p>\n
“A goal?”<\/p>\n
“You have to write for something. You can’t just be a writer.”<\/p>\n
Inside silently, I scoffed at his comments. Artists can be artists without having a goal. The act of making art is perhaps a goal. The act of creating is what drives me\u00e2\u20ac\u201dto share my ideas and my perspective with the world<\/p>\n
Instead, I admitted, “Not copywriting or technical writing, but writing. A book.”<\/p>\n
“Well, good luck.”<\/p>\n
After that, I let the current carry us apart. He returned to his floatilla while I floated on my own again\u001f\u00e2\u20ac\u201dbanging into logs and rocks. I got stuck in a shallow area and needed to maneuver out of it on my own\u00e2\u20ac\u201dstanding on the stony pebbles with my bare feet.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I was impressed with myself\u00e2\u20ac\u201dI was able to be drift alone and not be overwhelmed with social anxiety. That day, I agreed (after a friend’s persistence) to accompany him to tubing down Russian River. With more than 50 of us, … Continue reading