"Editing"

I cracked open my manuscript. Finally.

Not sure what kind of reaction I would have to reading my thesis/book (yes, we're back to calling it that, as opposed to just "book"), I was surprised when, part-way through, I kinda felt like crying. And not just because my prose was getting self-righteous and full of itself and down-right clunky in some place.

So I get that I probably haven't changed all that much since I "finished" writing the thing in July. (Ugh. I hate myself, by the way, for using air-quotes--twice now--but I can't figure out another way to convey my "sarcasm".) Still, as I read about my life from even just a four-months-ago perceptive, I couldn't believe how naive and stupid I've been. I mean, I could believe it, but I was saddened by the realization anyway.

Am I being too vague? I think so. Maybe this will help: Do you ever look back at people you've "loved" and realize that you couldn't possibly have really loved them? Because your perception of a certain person has completely changed and you realized he was a huge asshole to you and others? And then you feel, on the one hand, deceived by your own past feelings for that person, yet, on the other, immeasurably grateful for the life you have now (in which that person has no part)?

Well that's kinda like what reading my manuscript was like, to put it dramatically. I'm not trying to feel sorry for myself nor am I steeping in regret--I swear--I was just surprised at my reaction. And now, onto reading the second half...