I’ve never been much of a joiner. From grade school right up until today, I have, whenever humanly possible, avoided joining any groups.
I’ve never been much for rules and bylaws, so if a group emits even the slightest whiff of organizational groupiness—I’m outa there!
I Blame Peggy
In sixth grade a whole gaggle of us girls spent months of our recess and lunch hours engaged in wickedly epic games of hopscotch.
That is until Peggy pulled on her bossy pants and decided to organize us.
Her first order of business was to regulate the size of the hopscotch squares so every grid was symmetrically the same. You know—to be fair. (I’m certain Peggy has continued her love affair with the slide-rule; or, she’s dead—killed by someone who can’t stand symmetry.)
Anyhow, once she started systematically checking the bean bag place markers we tossed for their weight, size, and color…I jumped ship.
I knew I’d loose my mind in that group of hopscotch nazis. I decided to while away my free time reading or flirting with boys. It was time well spent.
I Love Books Just Not The Clubs
Over the years I tried book clubs but the expectation to finish a book by a certain date took all of the enjoyment out of reading for me.
First they want you to:
Read a book that has been assigned by the group.
Be expected to research the author, know and have read all of their other books, quote passages, and sound smart doing all of that.
Stay up until 2 a.m. the night before book club trying to finish the piece of shit book that rambles and makes absolutely no sense, knowing full well you can never get those lost hours of your life back.
No fucking way.
Never again!
You know what that’s called? College.
Jeweler Not Joiner
When I first started as a jeweler back in the late eighties, surprisingly, there weren’t that many women in the field.
Hence, there was a local chapter of The Women’s Jewelry Association that continually reached out to me. They held get-togethers after work at local hotel bars or better yet, a guest expert would give a lecture and there would be wine, cheese and limp crudités.
I tried, I really did, but in all honesty I would have rather gotten a bikini wax.
So that just reaffirmed my aversion to groups and I also learned:
Jewelry lectures, cheap wine, and limp crudités make me want to commit Sabuke with an olive fork.
Groups and George Clooney
So you can imagine my shock and horror when a couple of months ago, I, me, of sound mind and body, and of my own volition, joined this amazing writing tribe. The BWG the Beautiful Writers Group. I don’t know what came over me! I actually cringed when I pressed JOIN. All of my book club bullshit and hopscotch hell experiences came circling back around.
Why did I think this would be different? What had I gotten myself into? What in the hell was I thinking?
I haven’t the faintest idea.
But unlike those situations from my past— I’m having the time of my life with these women! They are successful, smart and funny. Thoughtful and generous.
And you wanna know the best part? Most of them are self-confessed non-joiners too!
All of my protestations remind me of that eternal bachelor, George Clooney; who when confronted with a woman so right for him, could barely contain his giddiness as he RAN to join the club of which he swore he would never become a member—marriage. Lord have Mercy.
The moral of this story? I guess it would be: Ditch the attitude and dump the labels. Non-joiner Smoiner! Things change. People change. I changed.
It’s my guess I would still run screaming from a book club, but now I get it—when you find your tribe—you WANT to join.
Carry on,
xox
