Snapshots from Green Victoria (tedwords) wrote,
Snapshots from Green Victoria

So, look. Here’s the thing. About three weeks ago…I don’t know why…I think maybe it was a fit of madness…I did an incredibly stupid thing. I signed up for one of those “rate your journal” things.

Maybe I thought that I was putting out entry upon entry of brilliant prose, I don’t know. But, while there were some nice ones, most of the respondents (whose median age, I think, is 19) were…well…not really nice. “Good grammar” was one comment I got a lot. “Boring” and “tame” was a comment I received on several occasions.

Here’s the latest:

“I really want to give you good score because I thought the same thing about the Oscars, you seem like an upright kinda guy, and I love how you're making your family work despite how the world feels. But I wasn't very interested reading your journal. I found myself wandering off into space at times. Your blog works very well as a journal. You document what's going on in your daily life, how you feel about your relationships, etc., but as a blog in the sense that most are written partly for the entertainment of others, particularly people who don't know you, it's not very engaging. You write well, clearly and with good grammar, but it's a little tame and slightly on the boring side.”


Here’s what I WANTED to write:

“I am what I am, my friend. It's an interesting point you raise: am I writing "nocompromises" for myself, or writing it for the entertainment value of others?

I think the truth of the matter is, I don't really want my life to be an "entertainment." So I really do wonder why I agreed to have my journal rated. It was a moment of idiocy on my part, believe me.

And tame? I mean, seriously, in the past month, I've written about sexual abuse, posted pics of the inside of my kitty litter box, hooked Nanny 911 up with a one-armed alcoholic hillbilly who beats his wife over the head with his stump and sleeps with his daughter, and served my ex-wife up to a man-eating vegetable.

Sorry, I don't drink, do drugs, do wrong by the people I care about, or go out having sex every other night, like some of the other fags. I'm also not an immature 19 year old any more. I work in Public Relations in a fairly conservative industry and have a stable relationship and hope to be a more creative writer, someday. But if it doesn't happen, life goes on. And maybe I'm ready for life to go on, now.

This whole experience has been really helpful, actually, because it made me realize something. I was not put on this earth to entertain anyone. That's not what one's life should be about. So it's okay if you don't consider my life to be blogworthy. As Eliza said, "I can do very well without you." Ducky.


But I’m not going to post that (I know, call me tame), because it’s not worth the aggravation. I don’t know why I let things like that get to me, but I do, and I’ve ruined enough of my night obsessing about the whole situation.

What I think I need to do is look at a few things, seriously. What am I looking to get out of my journal? I think I’m looking for it to fulfill too many purposes: I like writing about mundane things, just to get them out of my head. I like talking to certain friends every day, people I wouldn’t normally talk to. I like posting my creative writing, when I have something to post (which won’t be until after the play is over). And, I like posting thoughtful entries, and having thoughtful people comment on them.

That’s quite a list.

What I need to do is to find another kind of outlet for my creative writing. Something that will allow me to progress as a writer. I need to take that next step. Now that a lot of other problems have started to smooth out, it’s time to set aside time to pursue my dreams, even if I seriously think that, at 39, it’ll be an uphill climb.

Okay, Corb’s cooking gingerbread, and I’ve ignored my beloved family way too long. To those of you sharing the rest of my journey with me, I’m truly grateful, and for the rest of you, I wish you the best of best of luck—and good journaling!
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