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I love to write. I'm one of thse irritating people who would honestly say that it's the thing I love most in the entire world. I remember driving back up to college one lonely Saturday night, depressed and feeling worthless. My boyfriend (now ex) was playing the typical games with my heart and I was confused as all hell. My good old LTD was giving me troubles driving (kept stalling on the highway) and I was scared. However, to cool off I stuck my head out of the driver's sdie window and felt the cool air on my face. It made me smile. Then, I looked up at the stars above my beat-up car and noticed how many you can see out in the cow-town my college is in. Suddenly a poem started coming to me as I developed it my mind moved away from sadness and came 'round to joy. If I could only do one thing, I'd like to spend my life with a notebook, a pen, my lover, and a motorcycle stalking around the country writing about everything I saw. I think I'm probably gong to end up living under a bridge. ;)

Anyways, this kind of passsion seems unappreciated in this academic setting I inhabit. It's disheartening and makes me want to run away from here as fast as I can. I don't want to be brainwashed into thinking I can't do it. So many people tell me that, but I know that whether I'm a political scientist, a teacher, or a lawyer my heart will always be in writing. It's like a mistress I just cannot stand to leave. There are few things I praise higher than writing, and I just want to be one of her muses. Why? Because she's mine. I hope I don't just feel this way because I'm young. Indeed, I doubt that's the case (I've loved to write all my life), but it's still a frightening thought. I never wanna be the person that settles for a career I don't love. Sure, I'll work a shitty retail job if it only means I have time to write and a home to write in.

Well, I was hoping to make this entry about writing and how like any art people all have their own ideas of what's right and wrong or good and bad. However, I guess the muse lead me somewhere else. =D Perhaps I'll cover that next time.

Take care everyone and keep writing.

"God grant me distraction."

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The following comments are for "Writing Indeed!"
by Darkshine Raven

so true....
I think I might end up under a bridge also...if it werent for the sometimes pesky lover of mine...seems to always bring you back to earth when you want to fly the worse. you captured my feelings exactly.

( Posted by: wrtrcat [Member] On: November 12, 2003 )

I really identified with that first paragraph of yours (actually, the whole entry!). Isn't it the most wonderful/incredulous thing, to be doing something completely irrelevant, then suddenly words and sentences start popping into your head? I remember vacuuming a long time ago, when the first sentence of my first horror story formed. I love it when it happens like that. God, it's such a wonderful feeling.

And I completely get you; I think many of us around here do. It's disheartening at times, because it's tough, but I really can't see myself doing anything else but writing for the rest of my life. I love it too much, and can't imagine doing anything else. I just can't see it; I'd really be lost. I'm lucky; even though he doesn't jump up and down and go nuts with joy and excitement at every story I write (the man barely reads anyway), my husband does support what I do.

Don't let anyone tell you you can't do it, and don't settle for a career you don't love. You've got too much talent. I know you don't need me to tell you those things, but I did anyway-- Momma comin' out here. ;)

Damn. I think I just wrote my own blog entry here. Sorry!

( Posted by: Elphaba [Member] On: November 12, 2003 )

young at 'art
Don't you just hate it when poeple play with your emotions? Weak, petty, sometimes though, just inexperienced in life and love. Young? I wonder where the wisdom of your generation comes from. I was still scratching myself and bumping into things at your age. You say more eloquently in a small passage, what a clumsy lumbering beastie would take a fortnight to. We need those scraps of paper though to open doors sometimes. It is a proof of commitment, as well as a road of intellectual advance. However, when fresher fields beckon.... ahh, the choice to cut our own path.... See you where the bridges all meet...

( Posted by: smithy [Member] On: November 12, 2003 )

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