Hello gentle reader (who may or might not be me in the future).
Did you know that I stop writing about how I feel when I don't want to remember? I know myself so damn well that I know that if I stop writing about my feelings than it is as if they don't happen.... *satisfied sigh*
Oh! Oh! Oh! The things that I don't know!
Oh Oh Oh, The Things You Gotta Know from "Hooper Bloop Highway"(Dr. Seuss, 1975)
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But on the other hand:
I was getting off track.
I've been so busy checking in with others that I haven't check in on myself in awhile. That's the true purpose of a journal; to write without an intended audience. I suspect that most of my blog readership burnt off in the year gap between posts (not that I haven't been active.) My angst ridden writing has been topic driven at Quora in the intervening time.
I purposefully don't promote this blog on Quora because I have a steady following there. Promoting this on that site would reflect a quality bar I haven't met here in the past decade of writing.
There's a commonly held belief among young writers (which I am just barely still at 30) that one has to write tens of thousands if not hundreds of thousands of terrible words before good writing starts happening. I still hold this belief doubtfully because typing and formatting does not make a good writer. A good writer is a master manipulator of language, the reader's emotions and thought patterns. Until I get recognition in the way of people asking for me to write for a living, my assumption is that I am startlingly average among the semi professional writer class.
My belief is further tempered by bad prolific writers: L. Ron Hubbard, Larry Niven and Stephen King particularly.
I would rather be good than prolific any day.
--------
Which brings it back to what I'm doing with my life.
I'm a full time straight A student. At least at this point in the semester I am. I landed on the Dean's list at NSU last semester. Landed being a particularly apt term for a process that has more to do with class structure than my actual skill.
I am a paradox of terms:
I am academically well ahead of my peers.
I didn't earn my Associates degree until three months before my 30th birthday even though I started college at age 17.
I have been told by others that I am perceptive.
Other people believe I should have no problems with any academic challenge.
Meanwhile I work 40-50 hours a week on 9 credit hours (which is 27 hours of theoretical work.)
I washed out of a sophomore level math class two weeks into this semester.
--------
What else can I say? Our country is in terrible trouble, but it isn't my department to fix it. I'm having medical issues, but I'm also doing everything within my power to resolve them. There are plenty of problems but all of them have solutions and people who are okay with covering them if I don't want to.
---------
On the other hand I wear a glove. (a joke.)
Did you know that I stop writing about how I feel when I don't want to remember? I know myself so damn well that I know that if I stop writing about my feelings than it is as if they don't happen.... *satisfied sigh*
Oh! Oh! Oh! The things that I don't know!
Oh Oh Oh-Phonetic transcription by Max Malcolm of
The things you gotta know
Oh Oh Oh
The things you gotta know
History history you have to know your history
you have to know those dusty musty gents
emperors kings and presidents
you have to remember which one is who
remember his birthday and remember his birthday
and the size of his shoe
remember sir Oliver Oglethorpe
and dear old Ching Chang Chose
and which queen of Qumblin had a wart on the end of her nose?
who's that geezer Julius Ceaser?
Looks to me like Ebeneezer
No that there is Ebeneezer
This sir Frederick Von Thorpe Pleaser
And this is sir Alfred Fluther Hillary Billery Blurn
Oh my gracious goodness Bub the things you gotta learn
You've got to learn why do cows chew their cud
And why are fiddle blisters always blowing suds?
You've got to learn the smell of the stipulated pinkweed
how it differs from the smell of the pipulated stinkweed
Of all of the pyramids,
how deep is the river Nile?
And how many teeth in a crocodile's smile?
And how many bones has a diploducklodicus?
And how many bones has a rumpa- rampa-wrinkle-dinkle-populatta-ficus?
Oh Oh Oh, The Things You Gotta Know from "Hooper Bloop Highway"(Dr. Seuss, 1975)
--------
But on the other hand:
I was getting off track.
I've been so busy checking in with others that I haven't check in on myself in awhile. That's the true purpose of a journal; to write without an intended audience. I suspect that most of my blog readership burnt off in the year gap between posts (not that I haven't been active.) My angst ridden writing has been topic driven at Quora in the intervening time.
I purposefully don't promote this blog on Quora because I have a steady following there. Promoting this on that site would reflect a quality bar I haven't met here in the past decade of writing.
There's a commonly held belief among young writers (which I am just barely still at 30) that one has to write tens of thousands if not hundreds of thousands of terrible words before good writing starts happening. I still hold this belief doubtfully because typing and formatting does not make a good writer. A good writer is a master manipulator of language, the reader's emotions and thought patterns. Until I get recognition in the way of people asking for me to write for a living, my assumption is that I am startlingly average among the semi professional writer class.
My belief is further tempered by bad prolific writers: L. Ron Hubbard, Larry Niven and Stephen King particularly.
I would rather be good than prolific any day.
--------
Which brings it back to what I'm doing with my life.
I'm a full time straight A student. At least at this point in the semester I am. I landed on the Dean's list at NSU last semester. Landed being a particularly apt term for a process that has more to do with class structure than my actual skill.
I am a paradox of terms:
I am academically well ahead of my peers.
I didn't earn my Associates degree until three months before my 30th birthday even though I started college at age 17.
I have been told by others that I am perceptive.
Other people believe I should have no problems with any academic challenge.
Meanwhile I work 40-50 hours a week on 9 credit hours (which is 27 hours of theoretical work.)
I washed out of a sophomore level math class two weeks into this semester.
--------
What else can I say? Our country is in terrible trouble, but it isn't my department to fix it. I'm having medical issues, but I'm also doing everything within my power to resolve them. There are plenty of problems but all of them have solutions and people who are okay with covering them if I don't want to.
---------
On the other hand I wear a glove. (a joke.)
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