Writing: It Gets the Rage Out

Recently, the linguistics professor with whom I work four nights a week asked me if I write every day. She knows I graduated from Cortland with a professional writing degree, so I suppose she just assumed that I write constantly to keep my creative juices flowing. I could have lied and told her I do, and then made something up about the kinds of things I write. I mean, that's how I made it through classes like Intro to Fiction and Creative Writing: telling the professors I was keeping up in my journals, and then filling them in feverishly the weekends before they were due. But I didn't; I told her I haven't written anything substantial (outside of essays for classes) in many months. In fact, I haven't focused heartily on creative writing, for any purpose other than to not fail out of college, in many, many years.

I used to enjoy writing very much. I mean, I wouldn't have come to this crappy college in this crappy city to get a crappy degree in writing unless I really enjoyed it, would I have? But it wasn't long into my time in the professional writing program that I realized I wasn't cut out for it. I'm not all poetic. I don't really care about creating symbolism or crafting multiple layers of meaning. When I write, I want to do one of two things, and usually both: 1) talk about myself, and 2) rant about everything that moves, and many things that don't.

So when this lady encouraged me to start writing again, I got to thinking. Yeah, maybe I wouldn't be such an angry guy, filled with such horrible (and often unfounded) animosity for the people around me. I mean, maybe I could even psychoanalyze myself and figure out exactly where all this utter abhorrence stems from, allowing me to do something about it and be a better person. I try to recall the days when I used to blog in this manner constantly, at least once a day, and I envision myself as being a happier guy back then. People would comment to my blog, giving me advice toward fixing my problems and/or telling me to stop being such a pouty baby and grow up. That contact with (and intervention from) other people, wow... it can actually be a good thing sometimes.

But you know what? If I'm going to keep this blog, it won't be long until I stop using it as a place to fully formulate my thoughts/feelings/problems/quirks in an attempt to do something about them. It won't be long until, instead, I'm just coming here to whine and complain, in two-sentence posts, about stupid little things that bear no consequence on my life as a whole, and eventually I'll stop even doing that. Then this blog will just join the numerous other blogs I've started, gotten tired with, and abandoned.

That said... keep reading! I'm gonna need your support to keep me back from the ledge!