I'm so Starstruckk

Today's post. Arriving first class priority mail. Weird.

Concept Stolen From Others:

A few days ago my friend Dayna wrote her blog about how she got interested in writing. A part of me wants to copy that idea, and in fact that part of me won out.

But you see, the thing is, I don't know how I got interested in writing. It's just not something I've ever really thought about. Why write? Why did you choose Journalism? My answer has always been "well it was either this or English. and this seemed like a pretty good way to go." I don't think past that. so why do I write, why journalism?

i know why i write. I write because i can't do anything else. I write because those damn voices in my head won't leave me alone. It's a compulsive behavior and it's entirely insane. But I write and I read because stories drive me, it's how it's always been. But you already know that. I've written about it before.

But how did I start? What started that compulsion, after all I'm at least partially sane so something must have started it right? The truth is, I don't know. I have no long tale about how my blah blah blah grade teacher showed me the magic of words and how the next years I ate up the curriculum and wrote every chance I got.

I'm not that person. I have never been that person. I hated grammar lessons, I paid attention to writing essays just enough to get by. I never particularly compared myself to others in terms of writing ability. I never took a creative writing class before college. Hell, I don't even remember most of what I did in terms of English and writing in high school.

Many of the English majors/minors here have these stories about what they read in high school and how it effected them. I don't have that. Yes, I mildly remember what I read in high school, mostly because the remnants are still sitting on my shelves. I vaguely remember being force fed information about books and not being allowed my own opinions. I"ll be damned if the green light in The Great Gatsby isn't some kind of symbolism. High school mandated symbolism. Maybe that's why I never really cared. High school never made me think. That's why I don't remember most of it. You don't actually think there, so any effect was negligible. I don't remember my English teachers as individuals, or at all for most of them.

I do remember my writing composition teacher from 8th grade. But only because she lost my paper and made me cry. Not for any special talent and effect on my life. I remember my senior year teacher. But only because I loved my senior valedictory project. I don't remember her at all. I remember my teacher junior year, but only because I had a friend in her class one semester, and someone died from her class the next. Also because I wrote a halfway decent (for the time) poem and paper in there once.

Maybe that was the breaking point. The paper and the poem I mean. It probably wasn't. I mean, it wasn't enough to make me not be a biology major. I took creative writing my first semester here at BSU though. I loved it. It was fun. Barb was fun. I've taken a class with her every year since then. The class pushed me closer to the breaking point. In any case. I still don't know what that breaking point was. The point where English took over for Biology. The thought of English has always been in the back of my mind. Well, I mean since choosing a major was a mandated part of life.

I can't really say any teachers influenced this decision. At least not any elementary, middle, and high school teachers. I never gave two shits about them. As for college, I know Barb has had an influence. I love that lady. Brad probably has too.

I can tell the difference between college professors and high school teachers. It's clearly there. I just don't know what makes me so prone to actually paying attention to the college ones. Maybe it's because we're forced to know each other better. Maybe it's because I spend more time with them. Maybe it's because they treat you like equals (stupid ones, but equals nonetheless). The sense of "I'm infinitely better than you" so you have to listen to me all the time and my opinions are better than yours isn't there. You're allowed to be friends. Maybe that's the main difference. You're allowed to get to know these people as they get to know you. It's kind of fun.

I can't even claim any writers I've drawn inspiration from. Sure I've read. I've read quite a bit. But I can't overtly say that any of them have "influenced" me. Not consciously at least. Maybe Margret Weis and Tracy Hickman. I know they've probably subtly influenced my fantasy writing style. But overall, I'm not sure.

Leading us back to square one. I have no idea how the hell I ended up here. But I'm enjoying it anyway. It's like falling asleep during a car ride. You have no idea how the hell you ended up at Disney World, but I'll be damned if the results aren't magical.

Quote of the Day:

"Only the shallow know themselves."

- Oscar Wilde