This is me as a sad panda... on writing and social situations

(written earlier this afternoon)

I’m feeling like I have no interest in doing anything other than staying home and reading. I know it’s getting closer to the time that I rather not do any more schoolwork. No more of those deadlines (of course, in my future field, these will be commonplace). No more dealing with teachers that annoy me. No more writing workshops or literary groups that make me feel that my style of writing is inferior and not clever enough for consumption. My whole being feels drained of energy. I’m dreading my last two papers. I have a feeling they will go wrong (as my last one had done). I’m forgetting tasks in my internship.

One big thing I’ve been dealing with is this feeling that everyone treats me and talks to me as if I’m inferior. Back in the earlier days, I would accept this and believe I was inferior. Now, my long-awaited arrogance and stubbornness has risen and I refuse to accept that I am an inferior person. However, why is it that people still treat me like I’m ignorant?

I should note that about 90% of the time when I talk and interact with people... if I act or say something awkward, that doesn't mean I'm unaware of the situation. I don't always have a snappy comeback or always the more appropriate response. I'm trying to fix this and perhaps, this is where these feelings stem from.

Back in my fiction workshop last semester, I had never felt so left out. Sure, the professor and a couple of friends reassured me that I was fine (writing-wise); yet there were a few times I got criticism that called my writing "commercial fiction", which tore at me. I mean, I'm not trying to go completely into genre fiction, but I don't thumb my nose at it. I know I should take criticism, which I do with gusto, but then there are times I know something just isn't true. This was one of those.

I'm a rare breed: I don't want to write poetry with clever language for the sake of it. I'm not striving to be like Vladimir Nabokov and have writing be art and nothing more. I can't. I want to write stories with engaging storylines, realistic characters, and important issues and points (note: no morals). Language still is important, but not on the pedestal it seems to be on right now. The same goes with all other writings I do.

I guess, to compare my intentions with those of Camus and Nabokov in terms of writing... I'm a Camus. I can't help but be a little political. I want to write about big things and share them with people. This will be a struggle as I go into grad school and even the world of literary magazines where genre fiction is an unwelcome pest and pretty prose stands out more than the context.

Maybe I need something to eat or a drink to bring myself out of this funk. But it can't be blocked and I can't keep doing that anymore. I owe to myself as a writer to just say to this whole thing:



But change the "home" to "the bar". Or whatever will be my future happy place.