by TBAcademics

Created on: April 26, 2008

My heart sank.
I reminded myself that I was to write about what I knew. Then, the scornful, admonishing attitude of a Helium community board poster flashed, like a halogen bulb, before me. To paraphrase, the huff and puff regarded his view that an increasing tide of "detected favoritism" was shown toward more subjective, "magazine-style" writing selections; in other words, emotionally-charged, highly-bias articles, that were based on personal life experience, advice and the writer's urges, had been rated very well, as of late. It seemed, to him, they were "beating out" objective, researched-based, "truer" journalistic articles.

My heart ached.
Had I done it again?... divulged too much of "me" to this community? Glaring into the screen, I plead guilty. As guarded as I had intended to be in Helium's forum, had I blown it- meaning, all credibility as a writer, because, one article after another, I had dared to share My Truth- the only real, true thing... I knew? This consisted of past journeys, and some of the bumps-in-the-road, interspersed with the promises of a better day. This was my journey, walking- sometimes, trudging... into the future.

Was the community board now going to serve as a billboard for backhanded, Helium camp bitterness- this glorious "family" I had begun to feel adopted into? And I threw in the towel. I let it in. I let the rumblings of this peeved participant get the best of me. I chose to feel embarrassed. He won, the critic, that is, at least temporarily. Where I had been writing my life away obsessively compulsively since joining, it all just ended. I stopped believing that this was a medium for, among other things, self-expression. I disbelieved a receptive audience, for my triumphs, tragedies, bear-hugs and baggage, lived and breathed, on the other side of just clicking... PUBLISH.

Then, out of nowhere, it happened again. MY HEART BEAT, that is. Another Helium message had found its way into TBAcademics! The Heliumite was communicating her connection with one of my pieces. In a matter of seconds, I felt resuscitated. Finally, the kryptonite, I so desperately needed, infused itself into my literary bloodstream.

Funny (or not so, huh?) how, depending on my fragility in the moment, it only takes ONE to rain on my parade, crashing my party. Similarly, and equally as interesting, it only took one to pull out the Heliumite Big Guns and gently, but everso firmly, nudge my butt back out there- to the front lines, we call the keyboard, again.

My heart

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