On Saturday, I was invited to a housewarming party thrown by people I met two weeks ago. They were nice folks and the party was in my neighborhood so I thought, “Why not?”
The party started at three and went on until eight (that’s what the Facebook invitation read). I woke up and read the whole day and also wrote a story for my writing group that meets once a month.
When I got there, I realized that I didn’t have anybody’s number from the party (like I said, I just met these folks two weeks ago through other friends that weren’t there) and the buzzer didn’t work. I wasn’t going to scream because I did hear them in the backyard and I did live ten minutes away. After trying to contact the mutual friends between me and host, I gave up and walked back home.
I arrived and finished working on my story. There was a satisfying moment to sitting down and working on a story for a writing workshop. I think the universe wanted me to finish this tale instead of socializing. I wanted to socialize but I was more invested in writing my story. It was my baby. I’m glad I finished it and now I can play!
I still have more writing assignments to tackle but I’m glad this one is done!
The me last year would have socialized instead, which is probably why I was rejected by all my schools. This time, it’s different.
If I’m choosing writing over socializing, that’s a good thing, right?