Ten Years ago-

Ten years ago I wanted to be a writer. maybe reality crept on in, and I discovered I have horrible grammar, and tend to miss the connecting words, like to, for, the, and I use to many commas. In college I was told by a young professor to explore creative writing classes because I have a knack of putting odd words together, and describing things better then the norm. But after writing millions of technical papers on philosphy and the constitution of the Eu. My creativity dropped off the face of the earth and into the endless ocean of nothing.
I am sure an English Major would be annoyed to tears while reading my blog, because quite frankly I don't always proofread, and its a journal.

When reading "black" womens literature in college. there was a discussion on the vernacular of writing. that how one writes, is how one lives. that novels are coming out with ghetto slang, and hyperboles. I thought wow; I can now write the way I think. this idea really didn't help my grades a bit. Not that I did horribly in college, I got an A on almost every bluebook I took, it was those technical papers that were my gpa's downfall, and my lack of motivation to ask for help.

I hate asking for help especially with my writing, for it's something I have struggled with, and am overly sensitive about. if i ask for help its like I am admitting this flaw, acknowledging the fact that I am not perfect, or perhaps not as smart as i think i am.

this is all ironic to me, because right at the moment, professionally I am getting paid to 'type' other people's words, correct mild grammar mistakes. I get freaking complements about my judgment on their horrible handwriting. i have had horrible handwriting, which has improve a million times over through my years of education. Its actually legible (mostly). But its starting to fade because I type more then I actually write.

i wonder if there will be a day when we just type? our hands will never meet a pen?

I was going somewhere with this before i got off on a tangent of background. i just pick up another new book to read. I dont know if this makes me crazy or a genius, but i read about five or six books at one time, and never forget the plot line, the details, or have to really reread to find my place.

heres what I am reading right now-
The people's history of the world by Howard Zinn, which i pick up to read and reread.
The Martian chronicles by Ray Bradberry- my imagination goes wild with good sciencefiction, and this is a great book, but i tend to take my ideas a little too far sometimes, so I am taking a short break before i finish it.
Pledged: The Secret Life of Sororities by Alexandra Robbins-

A very good book about sororities, why i am i reading it, because i find it fascinating, because its a real look and is breaking down societal and my own assumptions. but i lose my attetion and have to pick up another book..

when i was cool, my life at the jack kerouac school by Sam Kashner.

oh i am also finishing a scientfic journal on vaccines (doing research on vaccines)


so when i was cool (my life at the jack keroac) school is like a reminder of when i was 16 and in love with a boy who got me hooked onto the beats. when i was young and foolish, but it nether less reminded me of a time where i loved writting, and wrote actual letters. now i rarely get a greeting card, and everything is through email. i miss the personal written word, i miss talking about books other then everything you know is wrong..and political jargon, i miss a lot of who i use to be.

i was talking with my husband about how we have changed, and granted there are a lot of parts of me that has changed for the better, but there are parts of me that i miss, like my lust to be a writer.