A book? A novel? Some prose?
So I've got some great stories buried in my memory. Many great tidbits, crazy characters, weird insights. But what is my issue with writing something longer than a page? My stories are short and casual, while I long for something epic and grandiose. I don't know. I just know I've got to get the ball rolling somehow. It feels great to write, even in this medium. In high school I would blog everyday. I knew what was up.
Sometimes I feel like I used to have it all figured out, and then the world confused me. People confused me. I read something interesting about this I-used-to-not-be-lost-but-then-I-grew-up topic. It was in a comment on a gawker.com article (of all places). The comment was in response to a post about a young man who committed suicide after his highschool expelled him for possession of some synthetic marijuana substance that is technically legal. Some people were outraged about how the school handled the situation, some people thought the suicide was only marginally related to the expulsion, some thought the school administration had handled the situation correctly and etc. etc. This one guy wrote something completely tangential but striking to me at the time:
"The greatest lesson ever might be learned from my wonderful three-year-old grandson Peej. He studies for himself whether he wants to go up on the slide or into the deep end of the pool. The decisions of others, younger and older, have absolutely no effect on him.
Rousseau says, in effect, we begin with the answer and work up to the question.
Most internal misery is in simply absorbing the opinions of others. We are all fiercely independent souls who allow others to tell us what to think, in effect joining the audience of Faux Noise. Who am I? Will someone tell me, by dating me or accepting me into the club or the class or the school or ratifying my bloated opinion of myself for your own advancement? These are called negotiating skills.
Some think socialization is a valuable learning stage. It taught my old pal Scoob aggression in support of grub and it's teaching even Peej to whine about his mother, although he does it as a one act play. It's insidious, nefarious, but necessary, gawd help us all."
OK. Rereading this comment it seems so Holden Caulfield (oh no, the phonies are invading!), so weird (who is his old pal Scoob? Is it Scooby Doo? And why are you letting your three year old grandson swim in the deep end?) and so unrelated to some poor kids tragic suicide. But at the time it struck me. Perhaps it was just the quote from Rousseau, the part about the cause of internal misery, and the mention of negotiating skills (which still remains sort of mysterious to me; negotiating what?) that caused me to save this comment to my phone. Proof again that I am drawn towards slightly crazy people and their slightly crazy ramblings.
But anyway, born with the answer and work up to the question. I'm not sure what that means in a literal sense (what the answer is or what the question is); but as I get older it does feel like I drift farther from an answer and more and more into a world of unending questions. I guess that's part of creating your own identity. I get lost listening to other people, each with such divergent view points, each making me question my own internal truth. I'm too easily influenced, that's for sure.
Sometimes I feel like I used to have it all figured out, and then the world confused me. People confused me. I read something interesting about this I-used-to-not-be-lost-but-then-I-grew-up topic. It was in a comment on a gawker.com article (of all places). The comment was in response to a post about a young man who committed suicide after his highschool expelled him for possession of some synthetic marijuana substance that is technically legal. Some people were outraged about how the school handled the situation, some people thought the suicide was only marginally related to the expulsion, some thought the school administration had handled the situation correctly and etc. etc. This one guy wrote something completely tangential but striking to me at the time:
"The greatest lesson ever might be learned from my wonderful three-year-old grandson Peej. He studies for himself whether he wants to go up on the slide or into the deep end of the pool. The decisions of others, younger and older, have absolutely no effect on him.
Rousseau says, in effect, we begin with the answer and work up to the question.
Most internal misery is in simply absorbing the opinions of others. We are all fiercely independent souls who allow others to tell us what to think, in effect joining the audience of Faux Noise. Who am I? Will someone tell me, by dating me or accepting me into the club or the class or the school or ratifying my bloated opinion of myself for your own advancement? These are called negotiating skills.
Some think socialization is a valuable learning stage. It taught my old pal Scoob aggression in support of grub and it's teaching even Peej to whine about his mother, although he does it as a one act play. It's insidious, nefarious, but necessary, gawd help us all."
OK. Rereading this comment it seems so Holden Caulfield (oh no, the phonies are invading!), so weird (who is his old pal Scoob? Is it Scooby Doo? And why are you letting your three year old grandson swim in the deep end?) and so unrelated to some poor kids tragic suicide. But at the time it struck me. Perhaps it was just the quote from Rousseau, the part about the cause of internal misery, and the mention of negotiating skills (which still remains sort of mysterious to me; negotiating what?) that caused me to save this comment to my phone. Proof again that I am drawn towards slightly crazy people and their slightly crazy ramblings.
But anyway, born with the answer and work up to the question. I'm not sure what that means in a literal sense (what the answer is or what the question is); but as I get older it does feel like I drift farther from an answer and more and more into a world of unending questions. I guess that's part of creating your own identity. I get lost listening to other people, each with such divergent view points, each making me question my own internal truth. I'm too easily influenced, that's for sure.
posted by Sophia at 2:21 PM
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