On one hand, creative writing like blogging is personally great. To me you get to get some things off your chest, talk out your frrustrations and work out the ideas you have about the world. Then you click share and in a way you hope people read what you wrote, and think about the ideas you present.
It’s honestly a better way than just dwelling on the past, unsolved problems and ways you felt you have been wrongfully treated. You also learn a lot about how other people react (or in my case don’t react) to what you have wrote, or what they think of the ideas that you think. It’s like the introverted way of talking to people. I definitely can say this writing deal was my go to. It was my way of broadcasting myself to the world.
Quite honestly no one really cares. You know when I am out in public, at my local bar, or some dive bar, no one cares to talk to me. They either ignore me, make up some bullshit story or make a mockery of me or what I want to talk about.
Luckily, people just ignore me.
Then I get people who just misconstrue my words, take my ideas out of context or what I say and apply the “spin”, misleading the reader with a narrative that is suited to their own best interest and not the intended meaning of the author. In this way, writing becomes dangerous, as people think they know you now, because they’ve read your work, or a random blog entry, or a comment and AHA, you’ve been figured out.
I had this professor for this statistics class, it was an upper year level course in management statistics, and he advised me to stick to something that can be proved with evidence for our research topics for any course in economics. I swear, I looked at him and thought it was a challenge. I honestly looked at most of my professors like they were testing me, and that conforming would just make me like every other student. I don’t remember what I did for that class, but I know in my research class I chose to do an experimental economics paper. The paper failed, although I got an A in the course. I had so many goals in that experiment though, and not all were economical, and they weren’t clearly defined; you really have to sit down and read the paper with me.
That paper is lost now, I think I have a hard copy somewhere. The point of that story was creative writing, like most artistic endeavours, is hard to define. It’s also open and vulnerable to a lot of criticism. The uninformed, the properly uninformed, will be more open to “sensible” explanations, rather than the true explaination. That is why the way I write, to me is invasive. It’s why I’m am now very hesitant to write because of my writing, I have been expelled from school and my dream of being a Journalist has ended ever so abruptly. All because some egotistical woman decided that I wasn’t to be a journalist, they decided that for me.
My life isn’t my life, it’s whatever you say my life should be. Yet I am supposed to believe that you’re good people?