A Wannabe Writer

I used to call myself an aspiring writer, but that’s not really what I am. I’m a wannabe writer. The difference? An aspiring writer works towards their dreams and hasn’t made it yet, and a wannabe writer is someone who wants to be a writer and has hardly ever written anything. Most people would rather call themselves aspiring writers because it sounds fancy and people wouldn’t scold them as much, but I don’t care. I’m an honest person. I am what I am.

To me, wannabe writers calling themselves aspiring ones are like drug dealers calling themselves public pharmacists. (I’d probably use that on my resume if I was a drug dealer.) My first job since I graduated university was a general labour job at an egg factory (more on this embarrassing story later). I switched between lifting 25-pound trays of eggs onto a machine and searching for defective eggs. Most people probably tell others they were general labourers or quality assurance managers. I tell others I was an egg factory bitch and a defective egg finder.

I’d argue that wannabe writer is a level below aspiring writer. (I mean, seriously? Who knew there could be a level below aspiring writer?). The saddest part is I’m on that level. The question is: How does one become an aspiring writer?

Reading about Writing

Since I lasted posted 3 months ago, I spent time working jobs I had no future in, falling in love with TV shows, and reading about writing advice. Aside from all the common advice, there are two schools of thought regarding writing.

  1. Just write. Force yourself to write anything because even bad writing is better than not writing. Eventually, the writing will come along.
  2. Wait for inspiration to write. You won’t feel pressure to write so you’ll love it. Also, your writing will be inspired and passionate.

Well, thanks for the advice with contradicting views. I guess the take away from this is figure out what works for you. I haven’t figured that out yet, but I did learn something valuable from my own experience and reading about it.

Relax on Research and Reading

Don’t invest too much time into researching and reading about writing. While I was in university, a wise professor once told me, “There are always more resources to read. The goal isn’t to read everything, but to learn how to make use of what you read and to learn how to pick what you should read.”

Through one of my Googling reading sprees, one writer even gave an amount of the most time you should spend: 3 months. (No, that’s not why I’m posting now. The 3 months was just a coincidence.)

All the time I spent reading about writing, I could’ve been doing something else. Knowing me, most of it wouldn’t have been spent writing because I’m a wannabe writer. But even if I spent a little bit of time, I could’ve taken baby steps towards becoming an aspiring one.

There’s no point in reading about writing if that means you never write a single thing. That sentence felt weird to write because I’m a hypocrite.

My (Insert Number)th Return to Writing

I’m actually writing again because it’s NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), and that also inspired NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month). I’ve never been the type of person to follow the crowd, but there’s something about a lot of people writing that inspired me to come back. It takes a randomly made-up event for me to return to writing. I know some people out there criticize both the NaMos, but if it makes wannabe writers like me actually write something, it’s not so bad, right? I’ll take any progress I can get.

Baby steps, wannabes. Baby steps.

 

Yours truly,

 

PLIGC, Society’s Used Condom

 

P.S. While I was on my most recent (and too frequent) hiatus, two people actually commented on my posts. I know I haven’t replied yet, and it’s awful because usually only popular bloggers are too cool for their commenters, and I’m not even popular, yet I haven’t replied. How much of a douche would I be if I ever became popular?

I will reply. (Better late than never?). And thanks to both of you. You both really made my day when I read them. I’m just not used to people commenting that I get anxiety when someone does. I feel like I can’t reply until I have something else to post. Don’t ask me why. I’m just weird like that. But thank you. It means the world to me.

Bad Noun Poetry

As a kid, I thought I was the best poet in the world. I thought poetry was all about rhymes, and I had plenty of those. I scouted pop, soft rock, R&B, and rap music for the best rhymes and collected them in my very own rhyme dictionary. Then, I would write poems for the girls I “loved” at the time and write songs to prepare for my future career as a songwriter that never panned out.

Anyway, the best poet can’t be the best if he hasn’t won anything, right? So, I signed up for a few contests and let’s just say my heart shattered beyond repair and I never wrote poetry like that again. When I grew older, I learned poetry had more to it than rhymes and I realized I sucked at poetry. But I can still rhyme. And every now and again, I feel the urge to write something that rhymes and show off my bad poetry skills.

This is one of those times.

For this week’s Writing Challenge at The Daily Post, they ask us to use a noun list from any source and incorporate them into your writing. I used a random noun generator, and here are the 5 nouns they gave me: Anger, Calculator, Friends, Pigs, Canvas.

A Fresh Start

by: PLIGC, Society’s Used Condom

The clock flashed 10:01 and screamed out “Danger!”

She imagined her father with a face full of anger,

He said “Be home by 10, not a minute later,”

But something didn’t add up; she should’ve used a calculator,

Instead of studying, she went out with her friends,

When her father finds out, she knew her life would end,

To celebrate her last night, they ate like pigs,

They passed bottles of vodka and took multiple swigs,

Eventually, she passed out on some sort of canvas,

As she planned her runaway to somewhere in Kansas.

 

Back in the day, before the Internet was so popular, my rhymes would be pretty impressive. Now there’s a million rhyme dictionaries and I’m totally not cool with my personal rhyme dictionary :(. Feel free to let me know if I suck at poetry in the Comments section below!

 

Yours truly,

 

PLIGC, Society’s Used Condom

 

P.S. Happy Civic holiday to my fellow Canadians! Enjoy eating your maple syrup and poutine, walking your polar bears in the snow, and playing ice hockey!!!

Selfishness Sucks

Since I grew up non-religious, I never knew the seven deadly sins existed until high school. Yesterday’s awesome prompt from The Daily Post asks us to pick an eighth sin. If I had to pick an eighth, well, it’s all in the title—selfishness.

To recap, the seven deadly sins are: Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Pride.

Selfishness fits in to this group. If we weren’t selfish, we wouldn’t have problems with gluttony, greed, or envy. We would share what we had with others, and we would be happy for their success.

It’s a Dog Eat Dog World

Instead, we live in a world of fierce, competitive competition. So competitive that people will do anything for success, like break others down rather than work towards their goals.

I find that to be a tragedy. If they’re better than you, why don’t you work harder, or learn from what they did, or team up with them? Since when was destroying other peoples’ lives a key to success?

It’s as if people would rather have the highest grade in the class with a 50 than be second in the class with a 99. If you ask me, you’re 49 grades if you have the 99, even if you’re not first place. But that hardly matters when people are selfish; they’d rather be number one with the 50.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for competition. I’m a competitive person. But I want to be the best from beating the best when they’re in the best shape, not when they’re injured or sick or caught off guard.

Sometimes, selfishness makes us bring down the level of competition rather than raise our own. And I wonder, what is the point of that? How are we progressing as people by bringing others down?

We aren’t. And that’s why I believe selfishness should be the eighth deadly sin, if there is ever one added.

 

Yours truly,

 

PLIGC, Society’s Used Condom

Dreams and Failed Expectations

As a dreamer, when I’m asked to predict the future, I generally see the best possible outcome more often than I should. Why? Because as a dreamer, I have to. I have no other option but to see the positive because since most of the world will beat down on me for dreaming anyway, I might as well not add myself to the high number of doubters. (Note: It’s probably worth mentioning that I go through many phases where I stop believing in myself and become the most negative person in the world, but that’s natural… I think?)

While I see it as necessary to be positive, it also means that I’ll go through a lot of failures when it comes to reaching my goals in life. I have high expectations, and the greater the expectations, the harder (and more likely) the fall. And this is usually when all the negativity pours in—questions about what I’m doing with my life, embarrassment, tears, and pain.

Dreamers and Settlers

I’m sure someone out there thinks I can avoid the negativity and start dreaming with more realistic expectations. I find it hard to dream and be realistic. Aren’t dreams unrealistic anyway? Correct me if I’m wrong, or teach me how to dream realistically in the Comments selection below because I’d really like to learn.

I think most people settle for something that can live with rather than continue on the path of what they really want in life. And that’s completely fine if they’re okay with it. I just worry that one day they might regret not chasing their dreams. Sometimes it seems like I’m heading down this road too, and it hurts me inside. What is a dreamer without his or her dreams?

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How Do You Feel Human Again?

Life sucks sometimes because we have things to do, yet we don’t want to do them. It takes up our time when we could’ve spent that time doing something we actually liked, like listening to Carrie Underwood, watching Gang Related, or watching cute animal videos on YouTube. (I know I can’t be the only person who likes doing these things.) Instead, we have our priorities and we have to deal them—working the job we hate, studying for our exams that we have no interest in, or travelling a far distance to see relatives we don’t want to see.

In today’s awesome prompt by The Daily Post, they asked, “What’s the one thing you do to feel human again?”

Spend Time with Those That Matter

Well, I know what I do—I spend time with those that matter the most. Why? Because they’re the reason behind everything I do. Because whatever I achieve in life means less if I have no one to share it with. Because they make me happy. Because they make me feel like I’m the luckiest person in the world, even though I’m not rich, popular, or in love. Because why the fuck not spend more time with those that you love and respect?

I pretty much spend time with those that matter as much as I can, regardless of the situation I’m in.

If anyone ever reads this, I’m sure someone will think that I sound very interdependent. And you’re right. I won’t fight you on that, but I will say that there are both positives and negatives to being either too independent or too interdependent. (The middle ground is probably the best, but I’m a fellow yellow brother of extremes.)

Meaningful Relationships

I believe a life with other meaningful relationships will make our lives full of value. No, the amount of Twitter/ Instagram followers and Facebook friends do not count as meaningful relationships in case you’re wondering. Work on finding stronger connections. Yes, it does mean we have to make ourselves vulnerable to open up to others and risk getting hurt. But when we do find true friendships or love, it will be super awesome.

It’s a risk, but one that I believe is definitely worth taking.

 

Yours truly,

 

PLIGC, Society’s Used Condom

 

EDUCATE ME: WHAT DO YOU DO TO FEEL HUMAN AGAIN?

The End Result

If I had things my way, I’d already be successful and rich and famous and I would only be 19 years old. Sadly, I’m about 5 years late for that, and I’m much closer to being a failure than a success story.

When I was younger, one of my teachers asked me, “Why do you have a specific age that you want to be successful by?”

I answered, “I don’t know. Well, I think because I want to be successful when I’m younger. If I’m older, it won’t feel as much of a success.”

I cared a lot about my age. It was like the younger I was, the better it would be. If I made $25 million dollars by 25, I’d be happier than if I made $25 million by 65. In the end, it’s the same amount of money; the key difference was my age.

Does Age Really Matter?

People say, “Age is just a number,” but is it really? It seems to have a huge impact on our lives.

So many people feel the need to find love while they’re young because they believe no one will want them when they’re older. (Yes, I’m talking about both men and women. The feelings are real for some of us dudes too.) We have age restrictions on when people can smoke, drink, gamble, and watch porn, even though many people break the rules. We find it odd when two people have 20 year age gap between them and they date or get married.

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Grown-Up Pains

It’s quite the cliché story.

As kids, many of us dream about growing up because we want to be free from restrictions. When we grow up, we don’t have to listen to mommy and daddy anymore. We can eat chocolate for dinner (white chocolate only because dark chocolate is so overrated), attend the party we would have to sneak out for and risk getting grounded for weeks, hang out with the friend who’s a “bad influence”, and so on. When we grow up, we can do whatever we want, whenever we want, however we want.

As kids, we dream that growing up will be the greatest thing ever. The best part about this dream is that it comes true—we will eventually grow up.

The Grass Isn’t Always Greener on the Other Side

Time passes by and we’re grown up (at least by age). We waited for this moment our whole childhood, and it’s finally here, yet it’s not as beautiful as it once seemed.

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