"Writing, at its best, is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer's loneliness but I doubt if they improve his writing. He grows in public stature as he sheds his loneliness and often his work deteriorates. For he does his work alone and if he is a good enough writer he must face eternity, or the lack of it, each day."- Ernest Hemingway
On being a writer
God forbid that I write something in regards to myself in a (relatively) concise and forward manner on my own blog. I ran across this quote from Hemingway, whose writing style is about as close to a 180 as you get from mine, a while back. I began to reflect upon how I came to be known as a writer, and thought it to be a little interesting (for myself.)
For a fob...
In case you didn't know or couldn't tell, I was born in Taiwan and started speaking English at the age of 8. I still remember how inferior I felt in elementary school when I could only somewhat understand instructions from teachers and comments from peers (half of which were probably cheap shots mixed with half snickers, I'm sure.) To this day, I still feel like it had a substantial hand in how my personality was molded along with the fact that I was fat-- but I digress...
For a fob, I think it's funny that I would turn out to be a bigger fan of English than math. As elementary school passed me by, I traded algebra for cheesy Chicken soup books and eventually started writing angsty poetry. Eventually I saw my English grades rise and vice versa. Part of it I think is how I was just meant to be-- and no matter what barriers stood in front of me, I was going to develop into the person that I am. I don't see myself as an exceptional writer by any standards (that takes work, and I'm far too lazy) but I guess through my past experiences, I've just kind of fallen into that category. I'm guessing that eventually, it will play a significant part in shaping my career as it has already.
Recently, I took a short screenwriting course. I was assigned to write a short screenplay, and decided to elaborate on a concept that I had developed in a previous blog post (not on my tumblr) as a channel to rant about everything about me. Without going too much into it, the piece took a toll on me emotionally. I placed myself in the position of the protagonist and became too attached-- only having to destroy it (something beautiful) later. The result was nothing original and was melodramatic as it takes endless revisions for a work to be somewhat satisfactory. I haven't had the courage to return to it just yet. Someone told me that I would when I'm ready... although I'm not sure when I will be.
On the nature of this tumblr
It's weird and uncomfortable for me to share my thoughts to the rest of the world, and I apologize beforehand if my posts seem pseudo-intellectual/artistic, angsty, and/or pompous. The truth is that I've also taken in some sort of pleasure in being cryptic as if hoping that someone would take the effort and time to guess my thoughts. Plus I take solace in the fact that half of these images and music that I share are aesthetically pleasing. Secondly, there are plenty of other blogs (you probably follow them) that are plenty more annoying to read. Lastly, for those who point their fingers at me in saying that I'm just contributing to the junk on the interwebz, I will point one right back at you (not the index) to say that this is my blog.
