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I wrote quite a few stories up through college, many of them quite disturbing. (Imagine that!) Somewhere along the way, I just lost interest. Occasionally I’ll get my juices refired and write down a story idea that comes into my head, but usually after a chapter or two I get bored of it and give up. Still, becoming a writer ain’t out of the picture, some writers didn’t start writing until their 50’s or 60’s. Dunno if I’ll live that long, though.
I think I’ll be getting a hotmail account soon…I hid my email because I’m publicly known by other people on the 'Net and I carefully hide the “J.E.T.” side of my personality from them (for obvious reasons.)
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I’ve thought about getting a cat. Cats are nice and low-maintenance. Can’t really afford the food/litter bill at the moment, though.
Yes, hard times pass. Then they come back. Things improve, then dis-improve. (What’s the opposite of improve? “Deprove”? “Unprove”?) It’s not so much the bad times that bother me, it’s the whole out-of-control roller coaster ride. I’m tired of it and I want off.
Also, to reply to what you said in this thread:
Sometimes, I’m not sure myself. I say what I feel, but it’s not always clear to me if it’s a firmly held belief or just something said for shock value. I can say for certain, though, that I’m dead serious about my attitude towards Taliban women vs. Buddhist statues. I could give a rats ass what people do to other people in a country half a world away. “Inalienable human rights” is purely an American concept, and not God-given like we tend to assume. (Whoa, there’s a whole 'nother GD thread lurking in that sentence.)
However, I’m totally lost at what you mean by “dealing with the problems of others.” Can you clarify?
…Back to the topic at hand, I did come to a major realization last night when I was re-reading the part about the copycat shooter and how he’s destined to be in and out of jail all of his life. These days, I fear imprisonment and will do anything necessary to avoid it. But it wasn’t like that “back in the day.” When I was plotting my homicidal revenge in high school, I relished the thought of spending the rest of my life behind bars. I thought of it as something heroic.
On the surface, that looks like typical teenage ignorance. But then, it hit me…it was, subconsciously, fear of the Outside World! I had totally forgotten about that, how afraid I was about leaving home and going off to college, because I knew that I was NOT READY for it. I wanted to do anything, anything at all to stay protected and avoid the uncertainties of having to live in the outside world. Wow, maybe that’s an angle we’ve totally overlooked in this thread.
J.E.T.
J.E.T.