aegnatovich
aegnatovich
| Forum role | Member since | Last activity | Topics created | Replies created |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Member | Nov 17, 2011 (14 years) |
- | 3 | 1 |
- Forum role
- Member
- Member since
Nov 17, 2011 (14 years)
- Last activity
- -
- Topics created
- 3
- Replies created
- 1
Bio
It starts out as a notion, a flicker, with no regard to my tasks at hand. All too many times driving me from the safe haven of my bed, stumbling blindly in search for my the two friends I rely on the most, pen, and paper. Merely look around my abode, every where there are scraps of paper with scrawled sentences, incomplete thoughts, ideas begging me to take the time to realize their full potential. I choose to succumb each time the urge takes over, even if it is a few random words to capture an emotion, however fleeting.
I have always written, in fits and spurts, no consistancy and have fallen prey to months of lack of inspiration. My private journals date back to the angst filled, searching, teenage years and I hold them as such dear possesions. And one thing remains consistant, and that is the rawness of my expression. Always the train wreck of first and third person colliding in one deliciously compossed paragraph, past and present tense co-mingled with alarming consistancy, grammar tangled through and through. Fraught with run on sentences and a certain vagueness in content. Sentence structure a foreign concept, and complete and utter lack of regard to refinement of form.
In time, I found myslef intrigued with the madness of blogging, such the awkward term, like a graceless thud. I had felt the urge to throw myself out for mass consumtion, to make my words somewhat accessible for the first time. Again, lacking in focus, I wrote inconsistantly, but when I did, with a previously unknown sense of accomplishment. And in time, began to look forward to the time I would spend pecking away at the keys and finally hitting post, and waiting to see what occured. Soon 5 readers became 15 and so on, people I had never even conversed with had begun to contact me, to tell me of how they were left feeling after consumming my words. I marveled at what filled my ears and of course, fed my heart.
It was a simple habit to form. When the words began to beg for attention, when I couldn't contain a blossoming concept, I fell into delightful mode I am about to describe. Once the ancient computer is up and running, I take my seat. Out comes the Ipod, and I search for that song, that tune that would lead me in. I need to have the first song match the mood I am creating, to set the scene. The first cigarette is lit and I am off! Fingers dashing madly, pounding away at the helpless keys cruelly. Attempting to keep up with that which is growing, and taking shape in my mind. Seldom do I look up to see what is taking shape, I simply spill words across the screen, satisfaction found in the knowledge of the previously blank space filling up . When I have appeased my brain and come to an end, it is the same scene played out each time. Only one quick glance,a brief reread to be certain I had expressed all I desired in those moments. Then, send off my little slice of me, satisfied in some form. Never a sense of orgasmic bliss, just accomplishment.
Up till this day, one could count on my inconsistancy, my unrefined ways. Trying on various styles in the attempt to locate my true voice. Never having given care to anything beyond keeping pure in my words, remaining true to myself. Things are about to change.
What had begun as a haphazard attempt to appease the need for expression, now MUST be taken on a more serious level. Me, serious, please, hold back the snickers ladies and gentlemen! It is rather simple you see, for in the time that has passed since I have taken on this endeavor, I have grown, in some ways that I am only now beginning to comprehend, and now, my writing must do the same. With more careful thought, nurturing at a slower pace and a whole lot of spell checking! Some may see the subtle changes in time, and it may also fall before many blind eyes, but ultimatly, I am doing this for me, I want to, somehow, need to.
I am a writer.
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