02 July 2011

from the only soapbox i never tire of standing on. sorry.

yesterday i went to bookmans, and visiting there is always the best because it's really only populated by hippies, hipsters, and old people (because i'm almost positive i'm not an old person, i guess i fall somewhere between the first two... a hipstie?).  it's a really eclectic group of people, and for some reason i think it's funny that they can all come together in one place and nobody finds it peculiar.

after i consciously avoided the gardening section because i didn't want to get excited about growing plants again, i took home this book on journal writing.  it's definitely the most holistically-conscious book on writing i think i've ever read in my life, and i'm almost positive that the author (who, in fact, is a retired english professor from asu) is a total hippie.  but in the beginning, he shows an excerpt from his journal to show what kind of journal writing he means for readers of his book (or students of his class) to aim for, and it's pretty incredible.  reading his journal is like reading a story, it's all narrative.  personally i'm not sure if i'm capable of producing anything like that in my own journal writing, and i'm not sure if i even want to journal that way.

there's something about today i did this, and then i did this, and it made me feel this way that i like about journals.  it's raw and natural, it hasn't been messed with, and i like it that way.  as much as i love stories and believe that they have real power and a place in this world, i don't want my life to read like one.  what i'm experiencing and what everyone else experiences in life is real.  are stories based on real life?  generally speaking, yes.  but it is my belief that the way in which journals and stories are written and presented should be kept separate.

therefore, as i consider this blog to be a journal of sorts, everything i've written here is real.  it's not made up; it's not published for show or any ulterior motives.

i write because, ultimately, i love people and everything this world has to offer us.  fiction treats that love.  but it's the nonfiction that connects people together through those real experiences, and there's nothing so binding as reaching communion with others by discovering that the parts of their lives they open up for others to read about are shared and understood.  we learn from each other and the emotions we feel comfortable declaring publicly.  the more organic, pure and untouched those feelings are, the more powerful they come across to those readers who may need it most.

it's an overlooked act of service that i wish would garner a little more attention every now and then, but i'm stepping off my soapbox for now.

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