Thursday, January 31, 2013

Writing it out...

When I was in 6th grade, I wanted to be a writer when I grew up.  Every week, my teacher had us write short stories to turn in, and every week I'd...wait until the last minute and pump out an A story.  It was my process.  Wait for the creativity to hit.  I wrote a small book (30 or 40 pages?) on my own time and showed it to her.

In high school, I...hated school.  It was boring.  Everything took too long.  My junior year, I decided to write while I was not learning anything or doing anything.  In a couple months, I had an almost 200 page book.  My friends loved it, if nothing else.

At UCLA, while I was admitted as a music major, my plan was to switch over to English.  My cello was really, at the time, just a ploy to get into college.  That ended up being ironic, since I had to first pass the academic requirements of the colleges and THEN pass the music requirements.  Oh well.

Since a scholarship was involved, I decided to try for a double major, instead.  I took 2 extra quarters of language (Japanese, since I knew...none), started working on the extra GEs, and started taking my English classes.  That's when things went awry.  It was my essay on Beowulf that really did it for me. I got a C on this paper, which normally would have been...okay...had the reason been poor writing or grammatical errors or structure issues.  But I got a C because my paper was "too creative".  What?  I was told that my paper took a view that nobody else's in the whole class (a class of 100s) had taken, and because of that the teacher didn't know how to grade me.  He told me he wasn't sure if he should give me an A or an F, so he gave me something in between.

-_-

That kind of describes...my life in a nutshell.

When being myself, and being what I consider completely logical, I'm actually being out-of-the-box.  One thing I've learned is...people either embrace that type of thinking, or they think you're weird and look at you funny.  That's literally the only two reactions to me I have ever gotten.  "You're weird...I like you!" or "You're weird...ew, get away from me."

To be fair, the people who say "ew" are usually very...closed minded and unpleasant, and thoroughly threatened by change and innovation.  But still.  Come on, I don't have cooties.

But going through that, time and time again, kind of...ruined writing for me.  While I still wrote short stories on my own for my own enjoyment, I never really pursued it after that.  I found other outlets.  I've also been blogging since then; a pastime I enjoy enormously.  If nothings else, it's a snapshot of who I was at one point in time.


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