Thursday, February 24, 2011

Good Medicine

In the fourth grade, I wrote a story about a family of turkeys that disguised themselves as cows on Thanksgiving so they wouldn't get eaten. My teacher, Ms. Wyatt, told me that I was a very good writer and I believed her. In hindsight, I realize that she probably told this to everyone, even the kids who wrote really stupid, non-turkey related stories.

Where was I going with this???

Oh yes, I love to write. It's probably the one thing in which I tend to pride myself. (Look at me, not ending that sentence with a preposition!) I don't play sports anymore, I can't read music, I rarely cook. My last art project was a seventh-grade self-portrait and my teacher thought it was a former US president.

But I do have journal after journal full of my writing from over the years. It's the one thing that I have been the most consistent with in my life and has proven to be good medicine.

Most of my readers are probably bloggers so here is where I express my admiration. But not everything can go on a blog...this is the internet after all. I've learned a lot about myself because of the personal, brutally honest things that I've written down and it has turned into a rough, sometimes insightful, sometimes weird, sometimes ugly, sometimes beautiful summary of who I am. I would recommend it.

“Writing is a form of personal freedom. It frees us from the mass identity we see in the making all around us. In the end, writers will write not to be outlaw heroes of some underculture but mainly to save themselves, to survive as individuals.”
- American novelist Don Delillo

ps. The turkeys escaped to Canada and lived happily ever after.

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