| Upon mentioning my website to Michael and Marie, it seems I now have two more readers. Huh, who woulda thunk it. So, hi guys! Love you. Now get off the computer and go do your homework. Heh. I didn't hear from anyone about my poll on the 12th regarding entries and tweaking and the like. For me, personally, I keep every darned thing I write. I have short stories I wrote in the 8th grade. I have sappy, soupy notes written to my as-yet-to-become-ex during high school study hall. I have all my journals from the time I was 10. I have some experiments with collaborative stories, poems, dirty limericks, and a go at a romance story. I have two (three?) unfinished forays into fiction and fantasy. I have present-day sappy, soupy love letters I've written to Calvin. I have stuff I've worked on as recently as last week, and stuff that has sat around untouched for years. The funny thing about that is, as I get older and (gulp) mature, my writing "tone" changes. So when I pick up on a story I've left for a while, I can see the separation in styles, like a crease in the story. But I never completely throw away what I've written, even when I deem a complete rewrite is in order. I simply save the old copy and continue with a new copy. I like to see the differences in my writing style as it evolves. Or devolves, take your pick. **Flashback**I remember the very first affirmation I received of my writing. It was in eighth grade, and my teacher gave the class a writing assignment. We were to write a short story, fiction, about anything we wanted, as long as it contained dialogue. I rattled off this 12-page story (the minimum was 4 pages, if that tells you anything about me that you haven't already twigged yet) about how two friends and I (I used real names) snuck out of our houses one summer night to go swimming, and happened upon a super-secret gold mining gig in our hometown. The teacher (who clearly must have been having a very slow week) was so impressed she wanted me to enter it into the school writing contest going on at the time. But only if I would re-write it and cut it down by four pages. I refused. I mean, I couldn't honestly see where I could cut the thing and have the *meaning* of the story still shine through.To use one of Viv's favorite terms, "Yeesh". My various writing instructors have been complaining about my verbosity (there's that word again) ever since. I refuse to change. "I yam what I yam." Tough noogies. I do tend to tweak the stories I write. A lot. Even the few stories I've deemed "complete" still make me itch to change things here and there, should I go back and read them. Really, it's an exercise of discipline to *not* go back and do "just one more rewrite". I mean, it's gotta end sometime, right? I'd never make it as a professional writer. My editor and/or publisher would kill me. "No, sorry, it's not ready yet. I'm on the fourth rewrite. Call back next week. Deadline? What deadline?" When it comes to my journal, though, I never rewrite, or erase, or surreptitiously change terms to something slightly less offensive or harsh (if I'm pissed). I'm one of those people who can articulate thoughts better when writing them down. Get me in a face-to-face argument and I forget the points I want to bring up, but give me a half-hour with pen(keyboard) and paper(monitor) and you'll be helpless in the face of my blazing logic and pointed... well, pointedness. Anyway, my written journal used to get spouts of "damn him he won't listen to me he's such a jerk he hurt my feelings I hate his guts maybe it's time to leave I think he's cheating no I KNOW he's cheating" during my years with X(m). Then it transitioned to "dammit I'm so lonely nobody loves me this song makes me cry hey how many beers did I have Ally McBeal's hair irritates me the dating scene sucks is there no such thing as decent PEOPLE anymore" during my alone time before Calvin. I looked at things seriously at that point, realizing that I had no other venue for venting my anger/frustration/loneliness/mania, but hating that my journal was reduced to *just* that. No creativity. No passion. No inspiration. So I stopped for a little while. When I got the "itch" again, I wrote a lot about my happiness with Calvin, and my concern for his well-being and the well-being of the kids. I interspersed this with some descriptions of some *really* weird dreams, and some fun and happy times we had together, and some thoughts or ideas that were triggered by snippets of conversation. Still talking about day-to-day life, but happier, and with more thought-provoking subject matter. Which brings us to where I am today. Maybe 50/50. I like describing the details of my life, it's great to look back on it in later years. But I also like stretching my brain, writing about intagible things. Ideas. Thoughts. Ponderances, if you will. Damn, I *am* verbose. Do I aspire to stuffiness, do you think? As a continuation of the personal philosophy theme, for those of you out there with journals, hard-copy or computerized, how do you feel about people you know reading your thoughts? For OLJ-ists, I suspect we wouldn't put them on line if we had a problem with it. Even before this on-line version, Calvin has been reading my journal ever since we've been together. It helped when I needed to express very deep things going on with me, that seemed silly or trite or whathaveyou unless it was written. Besides which, we're so attached at the hip we both think mind-reading is a really cool idea. Not everyone can be that comfortable with their significant other, and I'm grateful I can be. I think it's because Calvin instinctively understands that what I've written in my own journal is *not* to be argued over. It's *not* meant as a method to cause harm, and it's *not* to be taken advantage of. It's a very vulnerable part of me, and Calvin has always handled it with the utmost respect. It did surprise me when the kids took an interest in this site, but hey, I have no problem with that. We talk so openly that none of what's in here should come as a surprise to them. And thankfully I'm off the use-the-journal-for-a-rant kick, so no bitching about family members here, nosiree Bob. Dirty laundry should be laundered in private, not in public. I understand a lot of people keep separate journals, one "public", and one "private". I guess if I ever felt the need to write about something I didn't feel comfortable posting here, I'd do that too. Besides which, tappidy tapping on a keyboard is all well and good (and I type faster than I write, which translates into the long rambling "dear God is she ever going to stop" entries you see here), but sometimes I miss curling up in bed with a good ballpoint (no pencil-scratching - erk!) and one of those thick-papered journals with the flowery covers. Hmm... writer's cramp or carpal tunnel? Decisions decisions... You'll never believe me when I say that I had no idea what I was going to write about before I started in today. "Yeesh" indeed. Technical GooI don't remember if I've mentioned it previously, but I recently discovered how completely gross this website looks when viewed through Netscape. Please forgive me, and know that I am not completely lacking in taste and a sense of style. I simply have no idea how to fix it. If you have any input, please let me know. Or, alternately, go out and get yourself IE4! Go on, shoo. You'll be glad you did.Oh, and I guess I should mention...~Snerkology~ celebrates it's official monthiversary on the 15th (or 16th if you want to be very strict about it's on-line status). Yay me! |