i’ve been having trouble telling people im 25 now. and its still so ridiculously young. i can still pass for a 22, considering i got this Coca Cola job courtesy of Dean. so that’s reassurance that im still ripe and bouncy.
my book got rejected by Allen & Unwin. which was expected, seeing every writer in the world needs to be rejected at least 5 times before publication. but still. i dont handle rejection very well, as it puts doubt in your work and you question whether its worth it. i mean, what makes ME think that i actually write well? well enough for people to pick my work off the shelf and part money for it? but then i think, Jane Austen got rejected three times. even charles dickens got ripped apart before he made it public. so its ok. its ok.
i am having quiet time now, in my room, writing reading listening to music on low. its been a pretty hectic couple of weeks – with birthdays and Grand Final just passed, resulting in one random crazy night at a friend’s house party and my first ‘serious’ fight with G. its strange, for i cant even call it a fight without excusing it as a ‘debate’ because compared to the actual fights i’ve had in my past, this was a nice walk through the park on a sunny day.
we sat on Dean’s bed and it was heated, but there was this underlying consciousness to stop, let him speak, my turn? ok this is what really shits me Gerard… yes i understand your point of view. There were apologies within half an hour, a calm and amazingly complete resolution towards the end. it was bizarre. the maturity of it all. the difference.
which is why i often think – this is why we work so well. albeit everything else that bothers me from time to time. at the very core there is a willingness to understand. and the effort to bring things up out in the open, which was never easy for me before. it is within those moments that i am reassured that what we have is so completely rare. and utterly valuable.