You know, I really shouldn't be fearful of them - or anyone, reading the thing. I mean, I write stuff in my diary that I probably wouldn't tell anyone in real life - and you read it. And I only know these guys via the written word. I've never seen one face to face. It's just that what I write here, and what I write to them is my commentary on real life stuff. The novel is my "creation". As if I painted a them picture, or made them an ashtray out of clay or something - and what if they hate it, or it sucks... (Plus, you know, they're all really good writers of hot man-on-man sexcapades. I know. I've read it).

I'm rambling, but this brings back a lot of memories and uncomfortable feelings for me. I keep recallling my second year in college, when I developed this panic disorder thing. I was a music major. I sang. My whole life, I sang, and I was always accepted into any vocal group for which I tried out. Never a question. I loved to perform! Then, all of a sudden, in the middle of my second year in college - I started to panic. I started to believe that I couldn't sing. I started to dread going on stage, or even rehearsing with the group. We went on tour during the summer, and I never sang a note the entire time. I just moved my lips!!! From that time until very recently, I would not sing for anyone. Now, thanks to Beta Blockers, I drive my neighbors crazy, screeching along to my CD's, while I wash dishes, or clean the apartment. Knowing those guys are going to see my stupid "novel" (and it's bound to be stupid. I'm not a novelist, and even if I was - it's supposed to be finished in a month), well, it brought back a whole lot of anxious memories and feelings.

Like Dharmaqueen asks. What would you do if you weren't afraid?

I'll bet I would do a lot of things...

November 02, 2002