In a recent dinner with old friends, I came to a conclusion that they don’t really understand me as well as they think they do.
I think that everyone forgets that in the decade or so since we first became friends, everyone developed different interests and hobbies. Different life experiences and people that we meet, changes us at least, just a little bit. It would be naive to think that one will remain the same as one’s seventeen year old self, even after more than a decade.
I don’t think that they understand why I love writing. It’s not something that is easily explained to someone who does not enjoy the writing process. For me, it’s like an itch that needs to be scratched every once in a while. Too many plot bunnies in the head makes life very distracting. It is also rather hard to explain to a non-writer why my written topics usually have a number of racy scenes. Everyone who writes has their own genre, be it crime/thriller, murder/mystery or sci-fi/fantasy. Mine just happens to be chick lit, with a pinch of unintended humour and a sprinkling or racy bits.
Another thing they do not understand is my interest in technological things. I like having Internet at home or with me when I’m out with my Mac. I can spend hours on the Internet. I like learning about new gadgets and if given a chance, to play with them.
All these things made them think that I’m a tech geek who writes pr0n. They said that I should go out hang out with normal people, what ever ‘normal people’ means.
Seriously, do they think me to have no life?
Just because I spend a lot of time on-line and happen to write in my free time, doesn’t make me a hermit or some strange creature that should be pitied and made fun of. I think I have more fun than they do.
I just wish that people do not make sweeping judgements over things they don’t or are unwilling to understand.