Fear vs. Fun

Well, today is Halloween.  Halloween.  What a weird holiday.

    No, I’m serious!  People walk around in costumes that may or may not be frightening, knock on strangers’ doors, and ask for candy, which basically goes against everything we were ever taught as children.

    What’s more, scary things suddenly experience a major skyrocket.  People will pay to have the living daylights scared out of them.  Whether in the form of haunted houses or scary movies, people want to be scared.

    Why on earth would you want to be scared?  Isn’t the adrenaline rush you get from being scared supposed to instill a “fight or flight” reaction?  Because that is not what happens most of the time.  Instead, you usually experience a “jump and/or scream and then giggle nervously” reaction.  You don’t try to hit or kick whatever scared you, and it’s very rare that you run away or do anything to get yourself away from the situation.

    Right?  That’s what I thought.

    Don’t get me wrong: I like Halloween.  I’ve never been to a haunted house (real or otherwise).  I like scary movies to an extent.  I like suspenseful-scary, not horror-scary.  Ghosts or aliens or monsters are fine, but when you get into serial killers and creepos, I get distinctly more squeamish.

    I just don’t understand why we like being scared in that way.  I mean, if someone is afraid of a spider, they don’t usually go out of their way to find spiders and interact with them.  If you’re afraid of something and go out of your way to experience that thing, you probably fall underneath the aforementioned category of creepos.

    But for some reason, it’s what we do.  In fact, it’s a main part of society.  Haunted houses and scary movies are extremely popular, and increasingly so.  And the thing is, it’s not just spooky things that we like scaring us.  Let’s be real here: you are more afraid of rollercoasters than they are of you.
Just some food for thought.
I hope your day is as awesome as you.

How I Write

     As previously mentioned, I rarely know what I want to write.  The simple fact of the matter is, I want to write so much that it's hard to pick just a few things that I want to put elsewhere.  My mind is filled with all sorts of unfinished thoughts, chasing each other around my head, jumping on top of more pressing matters.
     And it still feels the same way when I do write.  I start with something, and then when I run out of things to say, I've ended up with something else.  I mean, it usually stays within the general vicinity for most of it, but I've come to realize that I usually accidentally write a preface, and then the real stuff.
     I mean, it's almost a cycle.  I start by writing absolute nonsense.  I just write.  Plain and simple, that's how it starts.  I write the sentence that keeps popping into my head (usually something along the lines of "I have no idea what I'm doing").  Then, I elaborate on that, almost like a reassurance that I really do know what I'm doing; I just don't know how to do it.
     Then, the more I write, the more the words just kind of appear.  It becomes easier and easier to just type my thoughts.  I don't have to think and think anymore.  I don't have to look back at each sentence to make sure it's decent.  They just suddenly...work.
     And right there is when I reach my happy place.
     That is the perfect state--when I can just write and write and write, with minimal thought and effort, because my fingers and mind just suddenly connect.  They bypass all of their obstacles and different physical barriers that are placed in their way.  They hurl over those obstacles with flying colors and connect in a swirling display of my thoughts physically appearing.
     I don't know how it happens.  All I know is, once I'm warmed up, there are those several precious minutes where I just sit there, writing incessantly, feeling the joy grow greater and greater as the thoughts come easier and easier and the words continue flowing so smoothly and effortlessly, and it becomes harder and harder to pay attention to what's going on around me and easier to start separating all the madness inside of me.
     Backspace still exists, but I almost don't even notice when I use it because everything is just going so efficiently that I don't need to focus on where the backspace key is.  I just know it's there, and my fingers find it where it always is.  I don't need to focus on anything but the words.
     And the words are beautiful, or at least, I think so.  They just fit so well together, like puzzle pieces that have especially smooth edges.  They just fall into place, seemingly without effort.  They're just...there.  And even though I repeat the same words a lot, it doesn't matter because they fit.  They just fit.  They work where they are.  When I'm in this stage of writing, I rarely have difficulties finding the right words to use.
     It's something that stirs within me as I write, some sort of movement I can almost feel.  It doesn't really have a rhythm, but it's definite, rather like writing.  Constant, but not consistent, if that makes any sense.
     That's another thing.  The stuff I write while in this zone is so deep and complex in my mind, and as I put it into writing, I'm just astounded that such complex thoughts can be so simply expressed in language.  It seems almost embarrassingly simple, and I sometimes ask myself, "If that was so easy to say, why didn't I say it earlier?"
     Not that it means the same thing to anyone else.  That's another beautiful part of writing.  It doesn't have to be uniform.  The writer thinks one thing while the reader thinks another, and there's no problem with it.  There doesn't need to be an argument or a debate, although there often is.  Writers just have a way of putting the exceedingly complex into extraordinarily simple.  Readers sometimes ask (myself included), "That person wrote it so simply; I should have come to that conclusion earlier."
     But that's okay.  We don't have to come to the same conclusion at the same time.  Some people see it before the others, kind of like solving a mystery.  Some people figure it out before others.  And while some may need some gentle prodding and nudging, or maybe even some flat-out hints, everyone who participates will get it eventually.  Even if it's not necessarily the conclusion you were looking for, you find the conclusion you need.
     Then comes the ending.  I feel almost like I'm slowly floating back down to Earth after hanging out with Orion and Andromeda for a couple minutes.  During that time, though, I can still write what needs to be written, just a little slower and perhaps less fervor, but no less passion.  I never write with half passion.  It doesn't exist.
     I finish up.  The deep, intense thoughts slowly start to melt together again, getting all mixed up and jumbled, but not so much that I lose that clear golden stream of light that's pooled in the middle.  The clarity and beauty of that golden ribbon are just as clear and beautiful as before, but I don't feel the same urgency to drink up every last bit.  I have to save some for later, after all.
     See?  Utter and complete nonsense.
     I hope your day is as awesome as you.

Essay Sarcasm 101

     I've always been fully aware of my rather sarcastic nature, especially since starting junior high.  It's just the way my sense of humor works, in speaking, writing, and thoughts.  It's just what I do.  Which is probably part of the reason I can't stand writing certain essays.  How on earth do you sound sarcastic in an essay you can't use first or second person in?  Well, be prepared to learn.
     First thing to remember is that sarcasm is like a liquid: it takes the shape of whatever container it's in.  Also like a liquid, if it freezes, it can break things.  DON'T BE COLD.  Someone's feelings are much more important than whatever you think is funny.  Finally, sarcasm can leak into things...like a liquid.
     How does all that apply to boring school essays?  First, let's start off with the shape of sarcasm.  As I mentioned, it takes the shape of whatever container it's in.  Sometimes, we get drawn into this idea that there is only one type of sarcasm: the bullying kind.  While this is certainly prevalent, it is not exclusive.  If you're plotting along, writing your essay, and have that urge to say something sarcastic?  It won't look like this: As we can see from Salinger's rhetoric strategies, sensory details help to achieve the effect of the story.  Wow, Salinger really must've been an amazing person.  His sense of fashion must have been with the times.
     If that's how you plan on infusing sarcasm into your essays, you're going to get an F on your essay and an F on your sarcasm.  Nice try.
     Instead, you'd probably do something like this: As we can see from Salinger's rhetoric strategies, sensory details help to achieve the effect of the story, because rhetoric strategies are the most important part of writing a story, obviously.
     See?  You infuse your sarcastic opinion into your essay while still maintaining your smooth writing flow.  Nothing is interrupted, nothing feels forced or awkwardly placed, and you can make your statement without referring to yourself.
     As previously mentioned, sarcasm can be used destructively and rudely.  Whatever you do, don't use your sarcasm to viciously attack another human being.  With the example above, I simply made a statement on rhetoric strategies and their use in literature, not on the author himself.  If you have a bone to pick with someone, don't do it sarcastically, and don't do it in an essay, or you're going to get an F on your essay and an F on your sarcasm.  Thanks for playing.
     Finally, there are some times when sarcasm might not be extremely appropriate.  For example, there's a difference between writing an essay for your English class and writing an essay for your end-of-year exams.  You can't exactly start bashing on writing strategies or stories while doing your exam.  I mean, you could, but it's not entirely wise.  Just let the sarcasm leak through.  Unlike speaking, sarcasm isn't inherently obvious in writing.  Compare and contrast the following exam essay examples:
     Fitzgerald makes clear social statements in his writing, which is so fascinating because it's definitely not done in a way that's annoying, and he absolutely comes right out when he says stuff and doesn't leave you hanging around, waiting for him to flat out say that freaking Gatsby died.
     Fitzgerald makes clear social statements in his writing, such as when he uses his vacuous characters to fill the blank spaces in the story and allows for the characters' actions to be implicit rather than explicit, adding a tenterhook feeling to an already emotionally-demanding story.
     In the first example, it's extremely obvious that I don't like the story of The Great Gatsby, which may not get me on good terms with whoever grades it.  In the second one, however, I'm essentially saying the exact same thing without sounding angry.  The reader probably won't understand my negative feelings unless they're looking really deeply at my essay.
     You write really well, no one gets mad at you, you pass the class.  Thumbs up.
     Well, I hope that was illuminating for you all.
     I hope your day is as awesome as you.

Poetry-Lovers Beware

     Do I love writing?  Yes, 100 percent.  But I don't like every single type of writing there is out there.  I especially hate poetry.  Ooh, poetry.  Reading it?  Don't like it.  Listening to it?  Whatever.  Writing it?  I'd rather be stabbed in the ankles repeatedly.  With a fork.
     See, the thing is, I don't like being restricted when I'm writing.  I love grammar and spelling, but I don't like rules of how to write.  Like in poetry.  You have rhyming, rhythm, stanzas, and all that other garbage you have to focus on.  No thank you.  I'm also really, really bad at coming up with clever rhymes.  Like, I can write "I see my crazy, psychotic cat, who's puking her guts out like that."  But so can a first-grader.  Do you know how long it would take me to come up with a clever rhyme like "surely that is something at my window lattice/Let me see, then, what thereat is".  Trick question: I wouldn't.
     I'm also really bad at being all deep and thoughtful and metaphorical and all that other nonsense (for example, my cat poem from above).  I mean, there is no way I could write anything (on purpose, anyway), that would be revered by generations of poetry-lovers who recite my words with far-off looks and misty eyes, voices trembling with the sheer astonishment of the soul-stirring words poured from my deranged or depressed mind.
     I didn't used to mind poetry.  In fact, I used to kind of like it.  But then sixth grade happened, where we did an entire poetry unit.  And as I studied all sorts of different types of poems, I realized that poetry was way more complicated than "Roses are red, violets are blue," and I came to realize that poetry sometimes (emphasis on sometimes) doesn't sound particularly intelligent.
     Going into junior high, I realized I really, really, really did not like poetry.  In seventh grade, we read a novel that was written more like poetry than prose, but not exactly poetry.  It was more the rhythm than the rhyme, and the deep, metaphorical thinking was definitely prevalent.  I wanted to toss the book across the room every time we read it.  Eighth grade was the last straw, where I realized that I absolutely hate writing poetry.
     My biggest thing with poetry is, if you want to say something, just say it.  It's so easy to do!  My point of this blog post is coming across fairly bluntly, isn't it?  Imagine if I wrote this in poetry form.
The words that flow from my fingers
Will never stay, never linger.
They simply fly away from me
In thoughts of deepest poetry.

But why, I ask, why poetry?
Why can't my thoughts work naturally?
Why must my words be held in rhyme?
Why must my lines stick to their time?

I cannot bear to read such words.
My writing talent's for the birds.
I do not feel the stirring flame
When each stanza looks quite the same.

There's nothing more for me to say.
The weight feels heavy every day
Of all the lies my pencils write
In poetry, deep in the night.

     See?  You only understand what I'm saying because you've been reading the first part!  Don't believe me?  Let's say I was a famous poet, and this was my most famous poem, memorized with "The Raven" and "The Road Not Taken".  Your English teacher, during your poetry unit, would have everyone read this, then say something like, "Now, poetry is very rarely literal.  Because of this, we can't just assume that Odessa feels despair when writing poetry.  I want you all to look at each stanza of this poem and write your interpretation of each one and what you think Odessa's trying to say."  Yeah, that's what I thought.

     I am very, very much a prose person.  Give me a novel any day (but not one that's written like poetry, jerk).  I'd rather write an essay than write poetry, and I'd certainly rather read one.  You can say things outright in an essay, or at least put it bluntly enough that you don't have to stare into space and question the universe to find the meaning of your essay.

     And the worst type of poetry is diamante.  Diamante poems are possibly the most stupid writing idea I've ever had the misfortune of beholding and being forced to write.  "Here, take random words and arrange them in an aesthetically pleasing way."

salt

                                                         white                             crystal-like

             falls                                                            flavors                                          enhances

shaker                                 rock                                                        grinder                                      spray

             sneezes                                                      spices                                           crushes

                                                         black                             fiery

                                                                               pepper

     Look.  Look at it.  What can you possibly find impressive about that?  What is so great about it?  WHY DOES ANYONE CARE IF YOU CAN WRITE A POEM IN THE SHAPE OF A DIAMOND?!?!?!

     Haikus are another random one.  Who the heck created those?  And more importantly, why?  (And I don't need any smart-alecky comments, thank you very much!)

     Okay, rant over.  Thanks for your patience.  Sorry if I offended anyone...not really.

     I hope your day is as awesome as you.