I, 23 Times Removed

Oops. It's been a few weeks since I've written. That's because I haven't really wanted to detail the New Bad News -- how my cousin's wife had cancer of the liver, bones, and brain diagnosed a month ago -- and the Formerly Bad but Good News, that my aunt had surgery because they suspected she had cancer (pre-cancerous growths, in the end, but not there yet). Who wants to hear all that? Not me. It's in my head already.

But since then things have been OK. And tonight I come off of three really good things:

1) A fantastic weekend with my eternally energetic, intellectual, ALIVE friend Cynthia. Cupcakes, multiple ethnic foods, and a play that -- of course -- was about sex and artistic men.

2) My first lecture and assignment for an advanced personal essay class.

3) Feedback from my managers that people are happy with me at work.

I'm still sorting through that compelling play -- mainly why I'm so attracted to it. The class, which I just signed into, is top of mind.

I recently wrote my friend Laura about this class, and she wrote back telling me how she admired I get excited about "assignments." I see it as someone challenging me to do something I love in a different way.

The first assignment is to write like a Joan Didion passage we read as part of our lecture: to write in first person without using "I."

I'm scared by this. I'd like to think that when I had my blog (no, I will not link to it, and even if I wanted to I couldn't) I avoided saying "I", and I think I did. But since then? I, I, I, I, I. This instructor managed to pinpoint why I've hated my writing for years. I couldn't figure it out.

In case you wondered, I used "I" 24 times prior to this sentence.

Let's see how "I" can reign that in.