Damn, for all I’ve learned in this class, I still find myself wanting to tie a neat bow and tighten any loose ends. Maybe it’s because I love this class, and all of you in it, so much. So, will I able to continue to push? Let’s just say that if I ever find myself settling for half-assed attempts at writing again, I’ll…(insert some terrible punishment). I kinda dig the comparison of writing to a lover that a lot of you have going on. And this brings me back to a conversation I had not too long ago with someone about a former lover of my own. I couldn’t seem to shake him, no matter how long he’d go without showing the slightest hint that he even remembered I existed. The moment he’d come a’calling I’d go all mushy inside and was completely unable to resist his allure. In the conversation: he was a drug. It felt so good when I was on it, but when I was inevitably withdrawn from it I felt like absolute shit. And, according to science, the first high on a drug is the most intense. You can never completely feel that elation again. But stubbornness says otherwise, so it’s way to fucking tempting and compelling to keep returning to that wonderful, beautiful, happy drug. I will find that numbing high again, damn it! (Turns out that this lover was not a drug, just a really good imitator. Anyway..) In this short, five-week class, I believe I have experienced my first REAL writing high. But the cool thing about writing is that you CAN reach the highest high time after time - no limits. And so I am going to do my best to stay completely intoxicated by the high of real writing. And if that doesn’t require a push, I don’t know what does. I am writing’s faithful addict and lover - there’s no going back.
When going back through some Almond essays, the reality show one I believe, I found one line where he was talking about his natural habitat being "sitting around in his underwear trying to avoid writing." This reminds me of myself, and I hate that. If I wasn't pushed to write, I might never do it. I can remember being a child, getting my fathers old non-electric typewriter and turning out three short stories over the next three days. I wonder what happened to that youthful me, that was just itching to write more, to write better, to reach other people through my writing. I turned into a guy on the couch doing anything to avoid writing, telling myself I could always do it later, when I wasn't busy with school. But then I woke up one day and realized I could die and all that would be left to the world of me would be some half-assed, half-written stories. And I wanted to, as Kat put it, write myself into the world. I feel like I have a viewpoint of the world that is original and could transform at least one person into a more aware human being, ethically that is. While I may not always live my theories of humanity, I think that they are helpful in general, and now I need to push myself to make such things known to a larger community, even if only for my own vainglorius reasons. But now it is time to push, push always harder, always towards something better than myself. Maybe one day I'll push myself to be the person I hope to be, to write the way I want to be remembered.
“And so, when the contractions started, I attempted to let it out but each false start on that blank page was like a false contraction. I wasn’t ready to start pushing yet. That baby was ready, but I wasn’t.” I am so glad I returned to the page and found danner.beth’s piece waiting for me, with a perfect summary of how my some of my ideas feel. And then. “And the baby’s first cry. I love it and I hate it. I start to regret pushing, wishing it was back in my belly, safe from the world, from prying eyes and well-meaning smiles and “isn’t it adorable”s. No, it’s ugly, wrinkled, red and screaming its bloody head off. But it’s mine, all mine.” Again! So maybe I’m not alone. Maybe it’s alright for me to give birth. There’s more. Laura, droppin’ bombs like woah “In this short, five-week class, I believe I have experienced my first REAL writing high. But the cool thing about writing is that you CAN reach the highest high time after time - no limits. And so I am going to do my best to stay completely intoxicated by the high of real writing.” I’m all about the highs. And the lows. Saturday night, I got real real drunk with my friend who nearly died over Christmas break. We hadn’t seen each other in about half a year. He does this thing- he strums the guitar. Hands it to me. I play a bit. Then he suggests we take a shot. I never say no. Sometimes we get real high. Other times. We get so low. I like the extremes, the in-betweens bore me. As a writer, the in-betweens are a death zone. Don’t go there. That’s mediocre. That’s droll. That ain’t worth reading. And if it ain’t worth reading, it ain’t worth writing. I like when my fingers hit the keyboard faster and faster. I always imagine myself as the conductor of a symphony, maybe even Mickey in Fantasia. You know that feeling though. When the words are coming out, but not every word is elation? When each paragraph is devastation? When you’re digging deeper than you want? I like that too, I like vomiting out whatever is insid.- whether it has the deep beauty of danner.beth’s baby or is just a bunch of bile, vodka, whiskey, and home-grown okra stew.
I really enjoyed danner.beth’s confession of not pushing. And I LOVED what came out when she did. The story in itself felt like a confession. And I totally connected with it because I found my own brother crying on the yellow tiles of our hall bathroom pressing a razor to his wrists. Praying for the pressure to be released with his veins. To be free. I, however, offered no words of comfort or great wisdom. I ran- straight to my parents so that my father could be the one to break down the bathroom door to steal the Bic from Erik’s hands. I have failed to understand him since this moment. The boy that called me a priceless porcelain doll, that grew up to like foreign cartoons past the age of twelve, that was an embarrassment to my maturing teenage social life. I now had even less to salvage the degrading bridge between us. Because I didn’t want to die. But I didn’t know how to tell him to live. I was just a silly fourteen year old girl. I hadn’t lived yet either.
I hope this honest is appreciated by someone in the world, whether or not it’s by my peers.
We always hear that we need to “give it our all” 100% of the time. This is something that is drilled into us from the beginning. And I try and follow that, but it’s hard. It’s hard to give it your all when you know you can get by with just 60%. So how do we find this push and get ourselves to go the extra mile? You have to be in love with what you’re doing and have to have a passion for it. You just have to want to do it for yourself, because there is only personal gain to be had. It’s still hard to do when you know that. I’m a person who pushes all the time only because I can’t stand being embarrassed by doing badly on a test, paper, quiz, or what have you. I have to push myself to get that extra oomph in seeing my parent’s or the teacher’s smile at my awesome paper or have that 100 written on the top with an “Awesome!” Is it better to push without any consequences or rewards? Or is it better to push because of the consequences and rewards?
In reponse to bnp0001, Brittany Maclain, and Abby.
I also had the same Rhetoric and Comp class with them.
(Aside) The teacher worked with my mom at another school. My draw dropped when she told me this in class.
Anywhoo. In this class this teacher made us push our writing by composing "fat drafts." Fat drafts were taking your four to five page draft and making it a whooping ten page beast. I remember us groaning....that's too much...ughh....awe man. But in pushing us to write ten pages we were forced to go to the next level. To answer the "so what" questions and make our writing more detailed.
By not trying to push your writing your not only hurting yourself but your readers. It kind of reminds me of the athelte who has all the potential to be the best pro player ever, but who does just enough to get by in pratice and during workouts.
Pushing our writing causes us to exercise our sore hands but our minds as well---Dr. P's in class writing assignments---forced us to do this on a constant basis.
Based on my observations of the other blogs, I’ve noticed that many of us don’t push ourselves enough. I’m guilty of not pushing myself enough either. Sometimes I just get fed up with a paper and tell myself that’s all I can do. Is it really all I can do? No, it isn’t, but at that time I’ve probably got other things on my mind. Going to dinner, getting a couple of extra hours of sleep, making plans for the weekend. It’s my last semester at Auburn, so I’m kind of burned out on school even though I’ll be starting grad school at another university in the fall. Guess I better start pushing even more. I do know that as I grow up, I’ll have more responsibilities. Those responsibilities will require me to push myself even more each day. I need to get accustomed to pushing myself. Nascar just came to my mind when I think of the push. Racing isn’t really my sport, but I do love going to Talladega in April or October for the big race on Sunday. Those guys have to push other drivers in order to move up in rank. Kind of like what we have to do as writers—push to get better at writing.
Do I ever put all that I have into my writing? Do I ever give it my all? Probably not. Especially of late. You see, I am finishing up my last English class as an undergrad. I have probably never not cared more. I have been through four years of homework and stress and grades. I am done I tell you, done. Hopefully not done forever, but done for right now. Truth is, I am tired. My brain is tired. I have been writing for four years. But I have not been writing for me, I have been writing for you. For all of the teachers I have had. And that is exhausting. Out of these four years, I have hardly ever written for myself. Maybe five times or less, but I guess that is what college does to you. Hopefully in a year or two, when I am no longer bogged down by the obligation to write, I will have the desire to start writing for me. I want to push myself to be a better writer. I would love to be the kind of ballsy writer that Steve Almond is, but will that ever happen? Will I ever let that happen? I am afraid that it won’t. That I will always be the lazy, good-for-nothing writer that I am today, that I am right now as I sit here on this bed, typing this and refusing to cut off the t.v. I hope that if I ever know that I am going to die soon, that I will push myself to write something great. I owe it to myself. I owe it to my family and my future family, to leave them something. To leave them a piece of the real me. Not the me who felt too lazy or too tired to write anything worth reading. But the me who is willing to push herself to write something real. I’m with Tyler on this one. We had been trained to conform to the “rules” of paper writing. We are trained little monkeys. We have been taught that if our paper doesn’t fit the exact specifications, if I forget a comma or don’t use the right font, my paper isn’t deserving of an A. Sometimes, for some teachers, my paper wouldn’t even be worth a grade if I failed to type it in the right font. And that is what makes a person fail to push.
I notice myself pushing as I sit here and try my best to complete this final.
I am the over zealous student who is trying to respond to all of these blogs in one sitting. Mostly because I know what my night is going to consist of and I will be in no shape to respond tomorrow morning. The wild child at her finest.
I also found myself pushing for something more last night when I was studying for my Photojournalism final. I only had to make a 67 on it to keep my B and there was no way I was going to make an A so why did I kill myself trying to memorize all of those pointless facts? Because my pride was at stake.
There was no way I was going to let myself make a freaking D on that final. Who manages to make a D on a PHOTOJOURNALISM final? It wasn't going to be me. No sir.
This pride is something that I have noticed getting involved with my writing too. Am I going to sell out and only put half of my hard work and soul into it? Or am I going to give it everything I've got and never look back and regret it? I'll take the latter.
I like what I did in my first response. Comparing a relationship with writing to a relationship with a lover. It was groovy.
Now all I can hear in my head is Salt n Pepa. "Push it real good". Totally applies to writing. And to sex. And if we are going to say that writing is like a lover, to both at the same time!
I just made myself blush. That's hard to do.
But yea. Maybe if we all played that song while we were writing we would feel the Mojo. I play it while I run. Push it the extra mile. Push it and run a little faster. It motivates and it's catchy!
So go to iTunes or whatever music downloading thingy you use. Purchase "Push It" by Salt n Pepa. Play it while you are writing. Let the sweet beats DJ Spinderella lays down get you in the writing groove. Get up and dance a little. You'd be surprise how much better your writing is when you are looser.
Brittany, you are magic. I read your post. and re read. and cried. and I am sitting in the Auburn public library blubbering like a fool, but I don't care. This push that we talk about, the highs, the lows, they do mean everything. They are where we draw the inspiration, the true emotion flows out of us as we write, but what about the day to day? what about the mediocre, every day life? Late last night, I sat with three of my roommates in my empty college apartment. We had just removed the final garbage bag,and Nothing was left. Not a single shred of our years together remained in that townhouse. Yet, just sitting, talking, laughing. It will be my favorite memory. But there was nothing extreme about it. Or so I thought until sitting here right now. One of my roommates tried to push the life from her body with a damn kitchen knife. One that I supplied our apartment with. Lindsey suffered in ways that I can't imagine. I don't know what it is like to feel like the world is crushing down. I don't know what it is like to feel so suffocated that the only way out is to not feel at all. I found her fall of junior year, laying in her room with blood dripping from her wrists, and a vacant look in her eyes as she held the stupid knife. Thank God our knives were dull and I had decided to stop my run early. I wrapped her wrists, called one of our other roommates, and spoke to her as if she would break. Lindsey didn't speak for hours, and when she did she seemed shocked at what she had done. Her cousins came over, her parents drove down, and doctors were called. Yet, her parents still thought her depression was a phase. We knew better. I called a therapist and my roommate drove her to the appointment. One of us went with her every time for the first four months. And so, this moment last night seemed so ordinary, so basic, yet in truth, it was the extreme of an opposite low. I just didn't realize that our pushing paid off until I sit here talking about it. When I wrote this first, I said I was stuck in a thorn bush. Now, I realize I may be a little further out than I thought.
Pushing... that's what I thought I was doing this entire time. Perhaps not enough though. yeah, I'm calling myself out. I do push, but when writing pushes back I used to fold and try another topic or idea to write about.
Yeah, Ive looked back on some of my writings and said WTF was I thinking?? I also find myself reading some of my classmates writing and feeling a tad envious to tell you the truth. Some of you guys just blow me away with your writing. I try to mimic some of you in an effort to make myself better, I push myself to strive for the next level of writing.
In a way I will always be "pushing" why wouldnt I? Everyone should always push themselves to be better wether you have an associates degree or a PhD you can always improve.
One time I pushed my cousin out of a golf cart. Yep.
And I remember the event so clearly. We were riding around, unsupervised in the farm cart. Loaded down with cousins, dogs and enough coca-cola to effectively kill someone. I'm going to throw it out there I wasn't driving (thank god). The unfortunate cousin whom I pushed happened to be reaching out to goad a running dog to catch us, when, being the comedian I am, I thought I would give him a little push to scare him. Fail.
But- After I pushed him the first thing I did was unceremoniously throw myself out of the golf cart as well. Double fail. I guess I figured if I was going to take him out I might as well off myself too. Good thing we were moving at a max of like... 10 mph. Everyone was fine.
And now..... the point. If I hadn't been attempting some debauchery I never would have felt everything I did that resulted from that one event. Terror that I had killed my cousin. Desperation to save him. Relief at his survival. Continuing guilt 10 years later. I got all those things from one stupid moment doing what I shouldn't have done. Push yourself and you can force your head to grind those gears that are so little used. Push yourself and you can feel, experience, and write more (and maybe write better). WIthout a little push, we as writers are doing ourselves a disservice by failing to reach full potential. It's not always going to work, but it'll be worth it in the end. No, I can't tell you the last time I felt pure terror, but I can tell you the last time I REMEMBER feeling it (see above) and all the ensuing feelings, too. And here I am writing about it.
I think Matt said it best in the previous post when he said, "Fight the good fight." That's what writing's all about right? DUH! We constantly push ourselves to be perfect, precise and delicate so that our readers think we actually know a thing or two about grammar and spelling, but that's not the true push. The true push comes with risky emotional content, weird punctuation, starting sentences with "and," and clearly showing the readers that you have a heart.
After reading over everyone's blogs, and after sitting through an amazing class with Dr. P, I've grown to enjoy writing for myself. I used to just write to please my professors, or write when something was important for class, but now I keep a small journal and jot things down that happen in my everyday life. At night, I go back and begin to tell a story through the events I saw. Corny? Maybe so, but it helps me become a stronger writer.
Fight the good fight. Words to live by in a world full of inspiring writers. Enough said.
The first time around, I talked about writing so well that I actually believed myself. I talked about actually using the one warrant that I was born with – the warrant of me. And, I do think that I’m beginning to get an idea of what that warrant means for me, of what the components of that warrant are.
But, the second time I read Dr. P’s post, I was reminded of a connection that I hadn’t let myself talk about before. But, I’ve decided that the warrant of me warrants me – no, requires of me – that I expound upon that connection.
I love to run, sometimes. There are few things more perfect to me than a leisurely run through a familiar neighborhood on a cool fall afternoon, the smell of leaves in the air, the feel of football season all around. Oh, and that feeling, that feeling after you’ve pushed and pushed yourself and you finally make it to the cool down walk – it’s enough to give you a sense of accomplishment that carries you through the whole day.
But, then there are other days.
Days that have become more familiar to me during my first Summer in the South - 105 degree heat, 99% humidity, not a breeze to be found. It’s on those days when I am forced to remember the real reason that I run. Yeah, I love to be in shape, and fitting in my pants is nice too, but that’s not why I run.
I run because someone that I love never could.
She never got to experience the joy, the accomplishment, or the freedom of a long run on a beautiful day. God has blessed me with the ability to experience that freedom. Maybe for the rest of my life. Maybe just for one more day. But, while it’s mine, I will not take it for granted.
So I run.
And so we push. Because we can. Because it’s a gift to be able to do so.
I like what Kristen Haynes said about meeting the requirements not being good enough. We have to push because if we become satisfied, stationary, we forget what we are capable of.
I feel like I did push more. Maybe not enough, or as much as others may have wanted, but I personally pushed more. It was terrifying and exciting at the same time. Finally I was able to just write what I wanted... but wait... was it good? I had to make myself stop asking that question. Who cares? It's real and it's me. That's what matters. Now... I feel like we all need to push a little more in every aspect of our lives. Is just getting by enough? Not to me. I know I have more push left in me... and I better because law school is gonna be a bitch. Whenever I get burnt out, I'll remember this blog. I'll remember to push because it's worth it to me... for me to get what I want out of school and life in general. It's the push that gets us what we want. So why wouldn't we push as hard as we possibly can?
It’s hard to push ourselves when we don’t think that we can push anymore. We are human… we get tired… we get frustrated… and sometimes don’t feel that we can push anymore. But we must. If we don’t push ourselves to be better people, better friends, better writers, then what will we have to be proud of when it’s all said and done? I have to admit that I am not always the best when it comes to pushing myself. I start out strong, but as time goes on and things get harder, it becomes easier and easier for me to get discouraged and lose my desire to push through the tough stuff. But this isn’t right of me. First of all, I should want to be a better writer for myself. I should want to be all I can be, and then be proud of all that I have accomplished. Also, I should strive to push harder for my future students. If I do not push myself to be the best I can be, what right do I have to ask that of my future students? Striving for my personal best should always be my goal. That way I can look back and have no regrets, and also ask the same of my future students.
I can’t get the student that we called Susan out of my mind. I found that she inspires me, even though I never knew her. How amazing that she had such a passion for life and learning, knowing that her life was drawing to an end. After hearing this story, I have to admit that I was truly ashamed of myself. The thought of how much I take for granted every day now haunts my thoughts. Also I have the thought… why me? Why am I blessed with the time to experience life when Susan, who has a true passion for living and knowledge, is not? This is a question that is constantly in my thoughts… and certainly one for which I will never have an answer.
Kristin’s statement about writing words, sentences, and even papers that don’t really mean anything stood out to me. I often times find myself only writing for the grade instead of pushing myself to be the best writer that I can be. Of course we all want A’s, but if we lose ourselves and our voice in the process of getting an A then what’s the point?
I didn't push until I got to the second paper. What I thought was good, really wasn't. I understand now why it is so important to just dig a little deeper and you're able to learn so much about yourself than you ever expected or wanted to learn... still working on it... there's always more you can do...
I'm pushing through these blogs tonight in one sitting... I'm in Atlanta at a friends place, they've all already gone to bed because they're real people now and have real jobs and real responsibility but I'm pushing so I can get to that point, but not yet-- I just wanna get on that motha fuckin air bus in the AM and get home to my mama and hug her and hold her hand and bug the shit out of her for two weeks. To smell my house, to play with my dogs.. I'm pushing so I can be there. Hot damn, I need me some mama time. My little brother called me today just to let me know how excited my mother is that I'm going to be home for two whole weeks. Yikes... this might be a little overbearing at first.
James Dean said "Live as if you'll die tomorrow, dream as if you'll live forever." This might be one of the best things a writer can be told. Well this quote and the original "the push" blog entry go hand in hand. They are words of warning. The student and James Dean both died far too soon and yet I'm willing to bet they lived full lives. It reminds me of a football player when he gets sustains an injury that ends his career. Some may regret not going all out, some might regret that they didn't work out hard enough in the gym; but most know that they had a great ride out there on the field. Sweating and grinding toward a goal.
We don't have much time in our lives. With twitter, facebook, and ESPN our "dreaming" time is scarce. Our writing time is probably even sparser. We gotta put down the Wii-mote and pick up the pen.
Or better yet, go to the store and try on that jacket you've been wanting or go eat that new deal they have at Taco Bell, treat yourself. Dote on you. Be stoked on life, fall in love with your life. It will pour over into your life writing, music, cooking, boinking (you know what I'm talking about).
I was blown away by this original post. I learned from it. Doing my best to push today because no tomorrow is every promised, I don't care what Annie said.
I’m going to be honest, I loved my original post. This was one of those posts that when I pressed submit I knew that what I was submitting was real. Every bit of it. And I pushed. Although it took the biggest push to press that submit button and share it with everyone else.
Andrej and BrittanyMaclain, thank you. That was like jumping off a cliff for me, I’m glad you could relate. BrittanyMaclain I appreciate your honesty because I’ve been there, done that, and I’m pretty sure I should have gotten the t-shirt (wit in an inappropriate place? Would Almond approve?)
That said, I loved Valerie’s comment, “Sometimes I feel like I’m a better writer than I can physically put on paper. There’s this thing that happens to me sometimes, and with all efforts not to sound insane I’m going to attempt to explain myself. My life has a narrator. I mean I think everyone has inside thoughts, but sometimes I look around, and I literally form paragraphs in my head that sound as polished as if I had written them months in advance and bullied them with my perfectionism till they could take no more.” I am with you 100%. I often daydream. On the bus, long driving trips, the walk to class, the shower… I’ll tell myself stories. By the time I get to a computer or paper to write it down, they fly out of my head as fast as they possibly can. So what can you do? Keep telling yourself stories until you come across one that sticks. Look at JK Rowling, she came up with Harry Potter while riding a train…
In my original post I talked about pushing myself to the limit in my writing. Pushing myself to let my voice come out and be heard in my writing. To be 'real' with ourselves and others.
Before this class I had a problem with people being able to hear my voice in my writing. I think it was because I'm a shy person and expressing my emotions doesn't always come easy...in my writing or in life...but this class and Dr. P have caused me to come outside my comfort zone a little.
When Dr. P told us we'd be writing a blog for everyone in class to see, I was a little timid at the idea and nervous of what other people would think...But as the weeks went on I thought to myself, "Everyone else is doing the exact same thing you're doing so why would they judge you if you don't judge them?" This helped me ease up a little bit and open up my voice and emotions in my papers and my blog posts.
I think to become a better writer it is our job to push ourselves to our limits. If we don't we will never be able to understand what we are capable of. That's the same idea that allowed me to push myself out of that comfort zone and discover my being.
With all my heart, I love writing. Just as much as cooking and singing - And that's saying ALOT. But like Dr. P mentioned her teacher said, I often find myself so emotionally invested in certain peices that I'm not sure they could get any better. And that is just not true. Charles Dickens could have been better. J.K. Rowling could have been better. I certainly can do better. And although I once thought my love of writing rivaled that of many of my professors, Dr. P, you have proved me wrong. You love it more than any other professor I've come in contact with. You love it more than teaching, and that's how it should be. And in sharing your love of writing, I have wanted to be better. And better. And better. And from now on, I promise to push. When nothing seems inspirational, I promise to put pen to paper and push. Isn't that all you could really hope I would learn from this blog? The class? From you.
Wait, Katy Perry is responding to these blogs too?
When I read the title of this blog again today I thought of Randy Moss. The man who once told a reporter that he doesnt write check, he pays "straight cash homie". http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07G23zMGa4g "Aint nothing but ten grand. . .maybe next time I'll shake my d***". Wiser words were never spoken. But I bring up the immortal Randy Moss because he was widely considered one of the most talented football players to ever play the game, yet there were times where he would leave something to be desired. while he was toiling in Oakland, he said that he plays when he wants to play. He didnt push himself to that next level on a consistent basis. In this class and, more specifically, on these blogs we have had to find a way to push ourselves to become better writers. In only a month we have packed a full semester onto this webpage and I think that many of us have pushed ourselves to become the best writers that we could possibly be. Others, however, wrote like Randy Moss would write: entertaining and full of sound bites, but not quite enough to be considered the greatest.
I never really got caught up in the in the whole internet community thing. I mean yea, I would IM my ass off on AOL in Middle School, but sense then my enthusiasm has faded. If it weren't for a High School girlfriend it may have been years before I created a Facebook account (which is likely to go unchecked for weeks at a time). Emailing is another thing I never could grasp. Mainly because I'm forgetful and they just end up piling up in my inbox to overwhelming amounts-- I have a hard enough time checking my actual mail-- also because I prefer personal contact, be it face-to-face, or speaking over the phone; I respond better to personal contact because I'm there with the person (either physically or verbally) in the moment. That allows me the chance to truly be myself to react to the situation spontaneously, not to mull over whether or not what I'm saying is coming across the way I intend it to. Which I worry about constantly considering my tendency to be sarcastic and ironical, and without the ability to deliver this physically I worry that my meaning will be lost in translation and I will come across as an asshole, or stupid, or both. So this makes me over analyze everything I'm writing in an email and it just seems a lot easier to avoid them all together and set up an appointment. One thing I can say I enjoy and find myself doing a lot these days is texting. Which I used to refuse to do but the convenience is so great that I knew I would inevitably submit. But I text in complete sentences, I still refuse to use to use ridiculous short hand like using numbers as words, and those obnoxious mnemonic devices that are multiplying at an exponential rate (not to mention have started becoming apart of spoken language too) and are getting longer and longer: K (okay), BF (best friend), LOL (laugh out loud), TTYL (talk to you later), LMFAO (laughed my fucking ass off)… swear to god it seems endless. Don't even get me started on the narcissist's, and stalker's, wet dream that is Twitter.
Wow, anyway I'm starting to ramble and this is getting to be pretty long; I'm not even sure if this is on topic, but in a way it is because I'm concerned with being true to myself in my writing and my personal truth isn't necessarily logical-- shit, maybe even discernible-- but that's okay. So I think that if i were to go back and completely change what I have thus far, I would be moving away from my end goal: the truth.
I guess my point is that I struggle to translate who I am to written word. Not to say that I think that finding my personal voice is an impossibility, I'm just being honest with myself when I say I haven't found it yet. I read writers such as Almond, and Bukowski, and Ginsberg and I immediately trust them. I trust that they are giving me a glimpse into who they really are, fearlessly giving all their readers a small piece of their soul. And when I reflect on this I realize that the possibilities are endless, and that the only thing holding me back are the restrictions that I place on myself. And its writers like Almond who inspire me to push the bounds of my writing and find my voice. And once I find it use it use that bitch preach the truth! Use it get some attention(something that I'm constantly seeking anyway).
Damn, for all I’ve learned in this class, I still find myself wanting to tie a neat bow and tighten any loose ends. Maybe it’s because I love this class, and all of you in it, so much. So, will I able to continue to push? Let’s just say that if I ever find myself settling for half-assed attempts at writing again, I’ll…(insert some terrible punishment). I kinda dig the comparison of writing to a lover that a lot of you have going on. And this brings me back to a conversation I had not too long ago with someone about a former lover of my own. I couldn’t seem to shake him, no matter how long he’d go without showing the slightest hint that he even remembered I existed. The moment he’d come a’calling I’d go all mushy inside and was completely unable to resist his allure. In the conversation: he was a drug. It felt so good when I was on it, but when I was inevitably withdrawn from it I felt like absolute shit. And, according to science, the first high on a drug is the most intense. You can never completely feel that elation again. But stubbornness says otherwise, so it’s way to fucking tempting and compelling to keep returning to that wonderful, beautiful, happy drug. I will find that numbing high again, damn it! (Turns out that this lover was not a drug, just a really good imitator. Anyway..) In this short, five-week class, I believe I have experienced my first REAL writing high. But the cool thing about writing is that you CAN reach the highest high time after time - no limits. And so I am going to do my best to stay completely intoxicated by the high of real writing. And if that doesn’t require a push, I don’t know what does. I am writing’s faithful addict and lover - there’s no going back.
ReplyDeleteWhen going back through some Almond essays, the reality show one I believe, I found one line where he was talking about his natural habitat being "sitting around in his underwear trying to avoid writing." This reminds me of myself, and I hate that. If I wasn't pushed to write, I might never do it. I can remember being a child, getting my fathers old non-electric typewriter and turning out three short stories over the next three days. I wonder what happened to that youthful me, that was just itching to write more, to write better, to reach other people through my writing. I turned into a guy on the couch doing anything to avoid writing, telling myself I could always do it later, when I wasn't busy with school. But then I woke up one day and realized I could die and all that would be left to the world of me would be some half-assed, half-written stories. And I wanted to, as Kat put it, write myself into the world. I feel like I have a viewpoint of the world that is original and could transform at least one person into a more aware human being, ethically that is. While I may not always live my theories of humanity, I think that they are helpful in general, and now I need to push myself to make such things known to a larger community, even if only for my own vainglorius reasons. But now it is time to push, push always harder, always towards something better than myself. Maybe one day I'll push myself to be the person I hope to be, to write the way I want to be remembered.
ReplyDelete“And so, when the contractions started, I attempted to let it out but each false start on that blank page was like a false contraction. I wasn’t ready to start pushing yet. That baby was ready, but I wasn’t.”
ReplyDeleteI am so glad I returned to the page and found danner.beth’s piece waiting for me, with a perfect summary of how my some of my ideas feel.
And then.
“And the baby’s first cry. I love it and I hate it. I start to regret pushing, wishing it was back in my belly, safe from the world, from prying eyes and well-meaning smiles and “isn’t it adorable”s. No, it’s ugly, wrinkled, red and screaming its bloody head off. But it’s mine, all mine.”
Again!
So maybe I’m not alone. Maybe it’s alright for me to give birth.
There’s more.
Laura, droppin’ bombs like woah “In this short, five-week class, I believe I have experienced my first REAL writing high. But the cool thing about writing is that you CAN reach the highest high time after time - no limits. And so I am going to do my best to stay completely intoxicated by the high of real writing.”
I’m all about the highs. And the lows.
Saturday night, I got real real drunk with my friend who nearly died over Christmas break. We hadn’t seen each other in about half a year. He does this thing- he strums the guitar. Hands it to me. I play a bit. Then he suggests we take a shot. I never say no.
Sometimes we get real high. Other times. We get so low.
I like the extremes, the in-betweens bore me.
As a writer, the in-betweens are a death zone. Don’t go there. That’s mediocre. That’s droll. That ain’t worth reading. And if it ain’t worth reading, it ain’t worth writing.
I like when my fingers hit the keyboard faster and faster. I always imagine myself as the conductor of a symphony, maybe even Mickey in Fantasia.
You know that feeling though. When the words are coming out, but not every word is elation? When each paragraph is devastation? When you’re digging deeper than you want? I like that too, I like vomiting out whatever is insid.- whether it has the deep beauty of danner.beth’s baby or is just a bunch of bile, vodka, whiskey, and home-grown okra stew.
I really enjoyed danner.beth’s confession of not pushing. And I LOVED what came out when she did. The story in itself felt like a confession. And I totally connected with it because I found my own brother crying on the yellow tiles of our hall bathroom pressing a razor to his wrists. Praying for the pressure to be released with his veins. To be free. I, however, offered no words of comfort or great wisdom. I ran- straight to my parents so that my father could be the one to break down the bathroom door to steal the Bic from Erik’s hands. I have failed to understand him since this moment. The boy that called me a priceless porcelain doll, that grew up to like foreign cartoons past the age of twelve, that was an embarrassment to my maturing teenage social life. I now had even less to salvage the degrading bridge between us. Because I didn’t want to die. But I didn’t know how to tell him to live. I was just a silly fourteen year old girl. I hadn’t lived yet either.
ReplyDeleteI hope this honest is appreciated by someone in the world, whether or not it’s by my peers.
We always hear that we need to “give it our all” 100% of the time. This is something that is drilled into us from the beginning. And I try and follow that, but it’s hard. It’s hard to give it your all when you know you can get by with just 60%. So how do we find this push and get ourselves to go the extra mile? You have to be in love with what you’re doing and have to have a passion for it. You just have to want to do it for yourself, because there is only personal gain to be had. It’s still hard to do when you know that. I’m a person who pushes all the time only because I can’t stand being embarrassed by doing badly on a test, paper, quiz, or what have you. I have to push myself to get that extra oomph in seeing my parent’s or the teacher’s smile at my awesome paper or have that 100 written on the top with an “Awesome!” Is it better to push without any consequences or rewards? Or is it better to push because of the consequences and rewards?
ReplyDeleteIn reponse to bnp0001, Brittany Maclain, and Abby.
ReplyDeleteI also had the same Rhetoric and Comp class with them.
(Aside)
The teacher worked with my mom at another school. My draw dropped when she told me this in class.
Anywhoo. In this class this teacher made us push our writing by composing "fat drafts." Fat drafts were taking your four to five page draft and making it a whooping ten page beast. I remember us groaning....that's too much...ughh....awe man. But in pushing us to write ten pages we were forced to go to the next level. To answer the "so what" questions and make our writing more detailed.
By not trying to push your writing your not only hurting yourself but your readers. It kind of reminds me of the athelte who has all the potential to be the best pro player ever, but who does just enough to get by in pratice and during workouts.
Pushing our writing causes us to exercise our sore hands but our minds as well---Dr. P's in class writing assignments---forced us to do this on a constant basis.
Based on my observations of the other blogs, I’ve noticed that many of us don’t push ourselves enough. I’m guilty of not pushing myself enough either. Sometimes I just get fed up with a paper and tell myself that’s all I can do. Is it really all I can do? No, it isn’t, but at that time I’ve probably got other things on my mind. Going to dinner, getting a couple of extra hours of sleep, making plans for the weekend. It’s my last semester at Auburn, so I’m kind of burned out on school even though I’ll be starting grad school at another university in the fall. Guess I better start pushing even more. I do know that as I grow up, I’ll have more responsibilities. Those responsibilities will require me to push myself even more each day. I need to get accustomed to pushing myself. Nascar just came to my mind when I think of the push. Racing isn’t really my sport, but I do love going to Talladega in April or October for the big race on Sunday. Those guys have to push other drivers in order to move up in rank. Kind of like what we have to do as writers—push to get better at writing.
ReplyDeleteDo I ever put all that I have into my writing? Do I ever give it my all? Probably not. Especially of late. You see, I am finishing up my last English class as an undergrad. I have probably never not cared more. I have been through four years of homework and stress and grades. I am done I tell you, done. Hopefully not done forever, but done for right now. Truth is, I am tired. My brain is tired. I have been writing for four years. But I have not been writing for me, I have been writing for you. For all of the teachers I have had. And that is exhausting. Out of these four years, I have hardly ever written for myself. Maybe five times or less, but I guess that is what college does to you. Hopefully in a year or two, when I am no longer bogged down by the obligation to write, I will have the desire to start writing for me.
ReplyDeleteI want to push myself to be a better writer. I would love to be the kind of ballsy writer that Steve Almond is, but will that ever happen? Will I ever let that happen? I am afraid that it won’t. That I will always be the lazy, good-for-nothing writer that I am today, that I am right now as I sit here on this bed, typing this and refusing to cut off the t.v.
I hope that if I ever know that I am going to die soon, that I will push myself to write something great. I owe it to myself. I owe it to my family and my future family, to leave them something. To leave them a piece of the real me. Not the me who felt too lazy or too tired to write anything worth reading. But the me who is willing to push herself to write something real.
I’m with Tyler on this one. We had been trained to conform to the “rules” of paper writing. We are trained little monkeys. We have been taught that if our paper doesn’t fit the exact specifications, if I forget a comma or don’t use the right font, my paper isn’t deserving of an A. Sometimes, for some teachers, my paper wouldn’t even be worth a grade if I failed to type it in the right font. And that is what makes a person fail to push.
I notice myself pushing as I sit here and try my best to complete this final.
ReplyDeleteI am the over zealous student who is trying to respond to all of these blogs in one sitting. Mostly because I know what my night is going to consist of and I will be in no shape to respond tomorrow morning. The wild child at her finest.
I also found myself pushing for something more last night when I was studying for my Photojournalism final. I only had to make a 67 on it to keep my B and there was no way I was going to make an A so why did I kill myself trying to memorize all of those pointless facts? Because my pride was at stake.
There was no way I was going to let myself make a freaking D on that final. Who manages to make a D on a PHOTOJOURNALISM final? It wasn't going to be me. No sir.
This pride is something that I have noticed getting involved with my writing too. Am I going to sell out and only put half of my hard work and soul into it? Or am I going to give it everything I've got and never look back and regret it? I'll take the latter.
Never Accept Anything Less Than Greatness.
I like what I did in my first response. Comparing a relationship with writing to a relationship with a lover. It was groovy.
ReplyDeleteNow all I can hear in my head is Salt n Pepa. "Push it real good". Totally applies to writing. And to sex. And if we are going to say that writing is like a lover, to both at the same time!
I just made myself blush. That's hard to do.
But yea. Maybe if we all played that song while we were writing we would feel the Mojo. I play it while I run. Push it the extra mile. Push it and run a little faster. It motivates and it's catchy!
So go to iTunes or whatever music downloading thingy you use. Purchase "Push It" by Salt n Pepa. Play it while you are writing. Let the sweet beats DJ Spinderella lays down get you in the writing groove. Get up and dance a little. You'd be surprise how much better your writing is when you are looser.
It could be magical, even. Ooh baby baby.
Brittany, you are magic. I read your post. and re read. and cried. and I am sitting in the Auburn public library blubbering like a fool, but I don't care. This push that we talk about, the highs, the lows, they do mean everything. They are where we draw the inspiration, the true emotion flows out of us as we write, but what about the day to day? what about the mediocre, every day life? Late last night, I sat with three of my roommates in my empty college apartment. We had just removed the final garbage bag,and Nothing was left. Not a single shred of our years together remained in that townhouse. Yet, just sitting, talking, laughing. It will be my favorite memory. But there was nothing extreme about it. Or so I thought until sitting here right now. One of my roommates tried to push the life from her body with a damn kitchen knife. One that I supplied our apartment with. Lindsey suffered in ways that I can't imagine. I don't know what it is like to feel like the world is crushing down. I don't know what it is like to feel so suffocated that the only way out is to not feel at all. I found her fall of junior year, laying in her room with blood dripping from her wrists, and a vacant look in her eyes as she held the stupid knife. Thank God our knives were dull and I had decided to stop my run early. I wrapped her wrists, called one of our other roommates, and spoke to her as if she would break. Lindsey didn't speak for hours, and when she did she seemed shocked at what she had done. Her cousins came over, her parents drove down, and doctors were called. Yet, her parents still thought her depression was a phase. We knew better. I called a therapist and my roommate drove her to the appointment. One of us went with her every time for the first four months. And so, this moment last night seemed so ordinary, so basic, yet in truth, it was the extreme of an opposite low. I just didn't realize that our pushing paid off until I sit here talking about it. When I wrote this first, I said I was stuck in a thorn bush. Now, I realize I may be a little further out than I thought.
ReplyDeletePushing... that's what I thought I was doing this entire time. Perhaps not enough though. yeah, I'm calling myself out. I do push, but when writing pushes back I used to fold and try another topic or idea to write about.
ReplyDeleteYeah, Ive looked back on some of my writings and said WTF was I thinking?? I also find myself reading some of my classmates writing and feeling a tad envious to tell you the truth. Some of you guys just blow me away with your writing. I try to mimic some of you in an effort to make myself better, I push myself to strive for the next level of writing.
In a way I will always be "pushing" why wouldnt I? Everyone should always push themselves to be better wether you have an associates degree or a PhD you can always improve.
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ReplyDeleteOne time I pushed my cousin out of a golf cart.
ReplyDeleteYep.
And I remember the event so clearly. We were riding around, unsupervised in the farm cart. Loaded down with cousins, dogs and enough coca-cola to effectively kill someone. I'm going to throw it out there I wasn't driving (thank god). The unfortunate cousin whom I pushed happened to be reaching out to goad a running dog to catch us, when, being the comedian I am, I thought I would give him a little push to scare him. Fail.
But- After I pushed him the first thing I did was unceremoniously throw myself out of the golf cart as well. Double fail. I guess I figured if I was going to take him out I might as well off myself too. Good thing we were moving at a max of like... 10 mph. Everyone was fine.
And now..... the point. If I hadn't been attempting some debauchery I never would have felt everything I did that resulted from that one event. Terror that I had killed my cousin. Desperation to save him. Relief at his survival. Continuing guilt 10 years later. I got all those things from one stupid moment doing what I shouldn't have done. Push yourself and you can force your head to grind those gears that are so little used. Push yourself and you can feel, experience, and write more (and maybe write better). WIthout a little push, we as writers are doing ourselves a disservice by failing to reach full potential. It's not always going to work, but it'll be worth it in the end. No, I can't tell you the last time I felt pure terror, but I can tell you the last time I REMEMBER feeling it (see above) and all the ensuing feelings, too. And here I am writing about it.
I think Matt said it best in the previous post when he said, "Fight the good fight." That's what writing's all about right? DUH! We constantly push ourselves to be perfect, precise and delicate so that our readers think we actually know a thing or two about grammar and spelling, but that's not the true push. The true push comes with risky emotional content, weird punctuation, starting sentences with "and," and clearly showing the readers that you have a heart.
ReplyDeleteAfter reading over everyone's blogs, and after sitting through an amazing class with Dr. P, I've grown to enjoy writing for myself. I used to just write to please my professors, or write when something was important for class, but now I keep a small journal and jot things down that happen in my everyday life. At night, I go back and begin to tell a story through the events I saw. Corny? Maybe so, but it helps me become a stronger writer.
Fight the good fight. Words to live by in a world full of inspiring writers. Enough said.
The first time around, I talked about writing so well that I actually believed myself. I talked about actually using the one warrant that I was born with – the warrant of me. And, I do think that I’m beginning to get an idea of what that warrant means for me, of what the components of that warrant are.
ReplyDeleteBut, the second time I read Dr. P’s post, I was reminded of a connection that I hadn’t let myself talk about before. But, I’ve decided that the warrant of me warrants me – no, requires of me – that I expound upon that connection.
I love to run, sometimes. There are few things more perfect to me than a leisurely run through a familiar neighborhood on a cool fall afternoon, the smell of leaves in the air, the feel of football season all around. Oh, and that feeling, that feeling after you’ve pushed and pushed yourself and you finally make it to the cool down walk – it’s enough to give you a sense of accomplishment that carries you through the whole day.
But, then there are other days.
Days that have become more familiar to me during my first Summer in the South - 105 degree heat, 99% humidity, not a breeze to be found. It’s on those days when I am forced to remember the real reason that I run. Yeah, I love to be in shape, and fitting in my pants is nice too, but that’s not why I run.
I run because someone that I love never could.
She never got to experience the joy, the accomplishment, or the freedom of a long run on a beautiful day. God has blessed me with the ability to experience that freedom. Maybe for the rest of my life. Maybe just for one more day. But, while it’s mine, I will not take it for granted.
So I run.
And so we push. Because we can. Because it’s a gift to be able to do so.
I like what Kristen Haynes said about meeting the requirements not being good enough. We have to push because if we become satisfied, stationary, we forget what we are capable of.
I feel like I did push more. Maybe not enough, or as much as others may have wanted, but I personally pushed more. It was terrifying and exciting at the same time. Finally I was able to just write what I wanted... but wait... was it good? I had to make myself stop asking that question. Who cares? It's real and it's me. That's what matters. Now... I feel like we all need to push a little more in every aspect of our lives. Is just getting by enough? Not to me. I know I have more push left in me... and I better because law school is gonna be a bitch. Whenever I get burnt out, I'll remember this blog. I'll remember to push because it's worth it to me... for me to get what I want out of school and life in general. It's the push that gets us what we want. So why wouldn't we push as hard as we possibly can?
ReplyDeleteIt’s hard to push ourselves when we don’t think that we can push anymore. We are human… we get tired… we get frustrated… and sometimes don’t feel that we can push anymore. But we must. If we don’t push ourselves to be better people, better friends, better writers, then what will we have to be proud of when it’s all said and done? I have to admit that I am not always the best when it comes to pushing myself. I start out strong, but as time goes on and things get harder, it becomes easier and easier for me to get discouraged and lose my desire to push through the tough stuff. But this isn’t right of me. First of all, I should want to be a better writer for myself. I should want to be all I can be, and then be proud of all that I have accomplished. Also, I should strive to push harder for my future students. If I do not push myself to be the best I can be, what right do I have to ask that of my future students? Striving for my personal best should always be my goal. That way I can look back and have no regrets, and also ask the same of my future students.
ReplyDeleteI can’t get the student that we called Susan out of my mind. I found that she inspires me, even though I never knew her. How amazing that she had such a passion for life and learning, knowing that her life was drawing to an end. After hearing this story, I have to admit that I was truly ashamed of myself. The thought of how much I take for granted every day now haunts my thoughts. Also I have the thought… why me? Why am I blessed with the time to experience life when Susan, who has a true passion for living and knowledge, is not? This is a question that is constantly in my thoughts… and certainly one for which I will never have an answer.
Kristin’s statement about writing words, sentences, and even papers that don’t really mean anything stood out to me. I often times find myself only writing for the grade instead of pushing myself to be the best writer that I can be. Of course we all want A’s, but if we lose ourselves and our voice in the process of getting an A then what’s the point?
I didn't push until I got to the second paper. What I thought was good, really wasn't. I understand now why it is so important to just dig a little deeper and you're able to learn so much about yourself than you ever expected or wanted to learn... still working on it... there's always more you can do...
ReplyDeleteI'm pushing through these blogs tonight in one sitting... I'm in Atlanta at a friends place, they've all already gone to bed because they're real people now and have real jobs and real responsibility but I'm pushing so I can get to that point, but not yet-- I just wanna get on that motha fuckin air bus in the AM and get home to my mama and hug her and hold her hand and bug the shit out of her for two weeks. To smell my house, to play with my dogs.. I'm pushing so I can be there. Hot damn, I need me some mama time. My little brother called me today just to let me know how excited my mother is that I'm going to be home for two whole weeks. Yikes... this might be a little overbearing at first.
James Dean said "Live as if you'll die tomorrow, dream as if you'll live forever." This might be one of the best things a writer can be told. Well this quote and the original "the push" blog entry go hand in hand. They are words of warning. The student and James Dean both died far too soon and yet I'm willing to bet they lived full lives. It reminds me of a football player when he gets sustains an injury that ends his career. Some may regret not going all out, some might regret that they didn't work out hard enough in the gym; but most know that they had a great ride out there on the field. Sweating and grinding toward a goal.
ReplyDeleteWe don't have much time in our lives. With twitter, facebook, and ESPN our "dreaming" time is scarce. Our writing time is probably even sparser. We gotta put down the Wii-mote and pick up the pen.
Or better yet, go to the store and try on that jacket you've been wanting or go eat that new deal they have at Taco Bell, treat yourself. Dote on you. Be stoked on life, fall in love with your life. It will pour over into your life writing, music, cooking, boinking (you know what I'm talking about).
I was blown away by this original post. I learned from it. Doing my best to push today because no tomorrow is every promised, I don't care what Annie said.
I’m going to be honest, I loved my original post. This was one of those posts that when I pressed submit I knew that what I was submitting was real. Every bit of it. And I pushed. Although it took the biggest push to press that submit button and share it with everyone else.
ReplyDeleteAndrej and BrittanyMaclain, thank you. That was like jumping off a cliff for me, I’m glad you could relate. BrittanyMaclain I appreciate your honesty because I’ve been there, done that, and I’m pretty sure I should have gotten the t-shirt (wit in an inappropriate place? Would Almond approve?)
That said, I loved Valerie’s comment, “Sometimes I feel like I’m a better writer than I can physically put on paper. There’s this thing that happens to me sometimes, and with all efforts not to sound insane I’m going to attempt to explain myself. My life has a narrator. I mean I think everyone has inside thoughts, but sometimes I look around, and I literally form paragraphs in my head that sound as polished as if I had written them months in advance and bullied them with my perfectionism till they could take no more.” I am with you 100%. I often daydream. On the bus, long driving trips, the walk to class, the shower… I’ll tell myself stories. By the time I get to a computer or paper to write it down, they fly out of my head as fast as they possibly can. So what can you do? Keep telling yourself stories until you come across one that sticks. Look at JK Rowling, she came up with Harry Potter while riding a train…
In my original post I talked about pushing myself to the limit in my writing. Pushing myself to let my voice come out and be heard in my writing. To be 'real' with ourselves and others.
ReplyDeleteBefore this class I had a problem with people being able to hear my voice in my writing. I think it was because I'm a shy person and expressing my emotions doesn't always come easy...in my writing or in life...but this class and Dr. P have caused me to come outside my comfort zone a little.
When Dr. P told us we'd be writing a blog for everyone in class to see, I was a little timid at the idea and nervous of what other people would think...But as the weeks went on I thought to myself, "Everyone else is doing the exact same thing you're doing so why would they judge you if you don't judge them?" This helped me ease up a little bit and open up my voice and emotions in my papers and my blog posts.
I think to become a better writer it is our job to push ourselves to our limits. If we don't we will never be able to understand what we are capable of. That's the same idea that allowed me to push myself out of that comfort zone and discover my being.
With all my heart, I love writing. Just as much as cooking and singing - And that's saying ALOT. But like Dr. P mentioned her teacher said, I often find myself so emotionally invested in certain peices that I'm not sure they could get any better. And that is just not true. Charles Dickens could have been better. J.K. Rowling could have been better. I certainly can do better. And although I once thought my love of writing rivaled that of many of my professors, Dr. P, you have proved me wrong. You love it more than any other professor I've come in contact with. You love it more than teaching, and that's how it should be. And in sharing your love of writing, I have wanted to be better. And better. And better. And from now on, I promise to push. When nothing seems inspirational, I promise to put pen to paper and push. Isn't that all you could really hope I would learn from this blog? The class? From you.
ReplyDeleteWait, Katy Perry is responding to these blogs too?
ReplyDeleteWhen I read the title of this blog again today I thought of Randy Moss. The man who once told a reporter that he doesnt write check, he pays "straight cash homie". http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07G23zMGa4g
"Aint nothing but ten grand. . .maybe next time I'll shake my d***". Wiser words were never spoken. But I bring up the immortal Randy Moss because he was widely considered one of the most talented football players to ever play the game, yet there were times where he would leave something to be desired. while he was toiling in Oakland, he said that he plays when he wants to play. He didnt push himself to that next level on a consistent basis. In this class and, more specifically, on these blogs we have had to find a way to push ourselves to become better writers. In only a month we have packed a full semester onto this webpage and I think that many of us have pushed ourselves to become the best writers that we could possibly be. Others, however, wrote like Randy Moss would write: entertaining and full of sound bites, but not quite enough to be considered the greatest.
I never really got caught up in the in the whole internet community thing. I mean yea, I would IM my ass off on AOL in Middle School, but sense then my enthusiasm has faded. If it weren't for a High School girlfriend it may have been years before I created a Facebook account (which is likely to go unchecked for weeks at a time). Emailing is another thing I never could grasp. Mainly because I'm forgetful and they just end up piling up in my inbox to overwhelming amounts-- I have a hard enough time checking my actual mail-- also because I prefer personal contact, be it face-to-face, or speaking over the phone; I respond better to personal contact because I'm there with the person (either physically or verbally) in the moment. That allows me the chance to truly be myself to react to the situation spontaneously, not to mull over whether or not what I'm saying is coming across the way I intend it to. Which I worry about constantly considering my tendency to be sarcastic and ironical, and without the ability to deliver this physically I worry that my meaning will be lost in translation and I will come across as an asshole, or stupid, or both. So this makes me over analyze everything I'm writing in an email and it just seems a lot easier to avoid them all together and set up an appointment. One thing I can say I enjoy and find myself doing a lot these days is texting. Which I used to refuse to do but the convenience is so great that I knew I would inevitably submit. But I text in complete sentences, I still refuse to use to use ridiculous short hand like using numbers as words, and those obnoxious mnemonic devices that are multiplying at an exponential rate (not to mention have started becoming apart of spoken language too) and are getting longer and longer: K (okay), BF (best friend), LOL (laugh out loud), TTYL (talk to you later), LMFAO (laughed my fucking ass off)… swear to god it seems endless. Don't even get me started on the narcissist's, and stalker's, wet dream that is Twitter.
ReplyDeleteWow, anyway I'm starting to ramble and this is getting to be pretty long; I'm not even sure if this is on topic, but in a way it is because I'm concerned with being true to myself in my writing and my personal truth isn't necessarily logical-- shit, maybe even discernible-- but that's okay. So I think that if i were to go back and completely change what I have thus far, I would be moving away from my end goal: the truth.
I guess my point is that I struggle to translate who I am to written word. Not to say that I think that finding my personal voice is an impossibility, I'm just being honest with myself when I say I haven't found it yet. I read writers such as Almond, and Bukowski, and Ginsberg and I immediately trust them. I trust that they are giving me a glimpse into who they really are, fearlessly giving all their readers a small piece of their soul. And when I reflect on this I realize that the possibilities are endless, and that the only thing holding me back are the restrictions that I place on myself. And its writers like Almond who inspire me to push the bounds of my writing and find my voice. And once I find it use it use that bitch preach the truth! Use it get some attention(something that I'm constantly seeking anyway).