Sometimes I wonder if I’ve actually become a worse writer than I used to be. I started this blog nearly two years ago with the intention of forcing myself to write—I wasn’t doing enough of it on my own and I figured creating an audience would be a good way to force myself onward. For the most part, the blog has done its job and I’m happy with what it produces.
But then, every so often, I filter through some of my work from high school and I realize that some of the crap I publish here is pretty goddamn awful in comparison to the essays I wrote then. Granted, when I look back on the old stuff I mentally rewrite awkward sentences and correct poor word choices, but grammar, syntax and diction aside, one thing is for sure: I was more creative back then. I wasn’t afraid to take chances. I hadn’t yet learned the pyramid format of newspaper writing and as a result, I think, my work was far more striking and much less stiffled.
On a completely unrelated note, surfing the web is kind of like going to the video store: there are a probably 85,475,211 websites that you’ve heard great stuff about but haven’t really had the time to actually check out. But there you’re at work in your cubicle, bored nearly to death, and you can’t for the life of you think of a single one of those sites, so you end up Googling your coworker yet again. The same thing happens with me and movies: I know there are things I want to rent, I just can’t remember what the hell they are and I end up getting High Fidelity yet again, even though I’ve already memorized it. It’s pathetic, really.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how fortunate we are to be able to do this—to create diversions like this blog that blather on and on about absolutely nothing. Peak oil, global warming, terrorism threats, Iraq and the lies that brought us there, other problems in the Middle East—this is important, scary shit and we, as members of a rich, industrialized, non-war-torn nation, are in the lucky position of being able to pretend that everything is okay.
In the face of so much to fear, we turn to diversions—like blog entries about absolutely nothing. Things that matter so little, that are so fleeting and meaningless but nevertheless so goddamn precious. How lucky we are to be able to Google (or Clusty) our coworkers—to be able to create a diversion.
Also unrelated: we caught what appears to be a hobo spider in our apartment today. I’m more than a little worried about it.
13 responses so far ↓
1 TimsHead // Nov 10, 2006 at 3:43 am
Curiously, I have also looked at things I wrote for college or in journalism and said: Damn, I don’t think I could write something that good any more. But I think there’s also something to be said for nostalgia, for a certain halcyon glow that limns work from years ago. It brings with it memories of a time and place, and this is more than just writing; it represents a piece of our lives and is thus more special to us.
Or maybe we’ve just killed too many brain cells over the years.
2 Boo // Nov 10, 2006 at 4:23 am
I worry about that too. Taking chances does seem to decline a bit with time. To keep it weird give myself odd writing exercises that call for the chances.
Though, I’d have to say, I wrote a blog last and it wasn’t about nothing. It was about about a real gang activity going on in my school. However, the first responses let me understand that if my mother read it (and she would) she would worry needlessly. So I privatized it and left up one about nothing instead.
I don’t like pretending everything is okay. Discussing issues is important, but I never considered the worry factor for my loved ones. I hope when I look back at now though, I haven’t protected them so much that all I express is the land of milk and honey as it does not exist.
This can be a tricky forum. But it is a nice distraction, you’re right.
3 Truly // Nov 10, 2006 at 4:57 am
hmmm…I tried to leave a comment. Maybe my computers not working?
4 Truly // Nov 10, 2006 at 4:57 am
oh bother.
5 thinlizzy17 // Nov 10, 2006 at 5:24 am
When I saw “hobo spider” I pictured a little gray spider with a stick slung over his shoulder with a red bandana pack on the end, sitting in an empty rail car.
6 rubyblue123 // Nov 10, 2006 at 6:17 am
If it weren’t for these diversions I suspect we’d have to put anti-depressants in our drinking water. The bits of life that people (or at least the people I read) share on their blogs give me hope that there are good people with a conscience out there. The bad news will always grab the headlines but I need the human interest stories to balance it.
7 Bob // Nov 10, 2006 at 5:19 pm
Laura,
How about renting the “Shawshank Redemption”….
Bob
8 kaz // Nov 14, 2006 at 10:54 am
You caught a homo spider? So what? At least he won’t reproduce.
I agree with all you say about writing. Sometimes I feel like I can’t put two words together. But I just force myself to write anyway.
Then you see those people who just write stuff and don’t think about it, or even refer to themselves as writers…all typos and run-on sentences and stuff.
I dunno. It’s weird. I write and luckily get paid (a little) for it…but sometimes I think I suck.
For the record, you are a very good writer. Don’t sweat it.
And thanks for the remark on my faux myspace piece. I originally wrote that about Xanga when it went down a couple of years ago….
anyway..
seeya
kaz
9 kaz // Nov 14, 2006 at 10:55 am
PS
NOTHIN’ wrong with High Fidelity! I’ll watch it again. What time should I come over?
I’ll bring Ghost World while I’m at it…
10 kaz // Nov 14, 2006 at 10:59 am
PPPS
God. I just read my comment to you. Lotta clunky sentences. Sorry. I wrote it without looking back, ala Kerouac.
11 Meredith // Nov 14, 2006 at 11:33 am
A) RA = rheumatoid arthritis. I was going to make some crack about being the Sun God, but I thought better of it.
B) My new job is at a midtown firm. Hooray!
C) My boss refuses to acknowledge I am leaving because he is the most passive aggressive 60 year old man I have ever met. He puts most 13 year old girls to shame.
And I don’t know if I said it before, but I know what you mean about the writing. There is something numbing about writing each day that takes the edge off of writing. I see some kind of progress in my work, for example, if I sit down to write a “Real” piece, it comes much quicker…like the pump is primed. But the every day stuff is way less special than the old work I used to do.
If you’re in town over the holidays, we should have lunch or drinks (I typed “drunks” like four times). I am the preppiest WASP in tribeca, but I am still tolerable, I promise. I won’t talk your ear off about Reaganomics or anything…
12 Lynn // Nov 14, 2006 at 4:17 pm
I am disturbed about my blog, too. It was supposed to spur me on to write better, and all I seem to do is blather on about stupid little topics that mean very little. But then we all read each other’s little life reports, so is it really blather? Or news of the ordinary world? I don’t know. But I do like your blog.
BTW, read mine. We have a mouse, which makes me understand your spider worries.
Lynn
13 Lynn // Nov 14, 2006 at 4:46 pm
RYC: I would scream if that happened to me while I was typing. Somehow this mouse problem makes me feel *dirty.* I’m sure my cats will take care of it. The question is when. And will I find it in pieces in the middle of the night?