in the hall of the mountain king.
Hello, dear readers. I had an oddly bad day, today. My teachers, apparently, all decided to gang up on me. It was the most odd thing I've ever experienced. I felt like, even if I were to run away and try to find help, all of those people would be against me, too! Alas, I got over it, and came home and found that not everybody hated me. Anyways, this blog is actually something I wrote in first period. My teacher sent me into a whirling fit of anger, and I decided to write.
I told her I was writing my speech, so she would shut up, but I was really writing this. A short recap on why I was writing: we're writing a speech in English class. For SOME reason, my inebriate excuse for a teacher says that "we" and "us" are not used in speeches. I decided to argue my case; but no, she knows EVERYTHING about speeches, apparently. So, I got pissed off of her constantly censoring my writing. THIS is what happened:
Dear readers,
I would like to subject to you a simple ideal: I am not a cookie cutter. I do not write to please the "AP Audience," and I do not write to please your invisible panel of hipster judges. I write because I, a common person, can voice the people's cry more readily and easily than the top paid journalist for the New York Times or the Rolling Stone. I do not send my thoughts through editors to censor my work. My work is read as it is written: raw.
Sure, I get angry when my required assignment is marked up because it wouldn't appeal to my "college professors," but is this unjustified? Who gives those people the authority to adjunticate my papers, my speeches, my OPINIONS? When did my opinions fall from my hands and become the property of someone else?
In this day and age, writers cannot voice what they truly think. Our authoritorial society seems more like an authoritarian socialist regime than a creative group. We're proverbially raised as authors in a simple manner: Write a sentence. Make sure you spell it right. Write a paragraph. Use your punctuation correctly. Make a "hamburger essay." Throw a thesis in there.
NEVER ONCE is creativity added. NEVER ONCE do the hatchling writers learn to put forth their opinion in a respectable manner. We become a tool for this automated writing machine, spooling out threads that the upper-crust wear upon their heads. They chuckle to each other at fancy tea parties, proud of their ensnarement of the minds of this generation and, in that manner, the hearts and souls of the common citizens of the WORLD.
They sit upon their throne, looking down through hazed glasses, "editing" our freedom away with the whisk of red pens. I was raised as a writer to heights unimaginable, the inkling curiosity in my mind furthering the exploration of my writing prestige. I will not subject myself to the red pens of the censors.
I will not allow my metaphorical children to go through that humiliation.
I was born a writer.
I plan on writing.
And I am not a cookie cutter.
So, that was my rant during first period. In second period, my teachers continued to bully me. What was up with today? Eh, it lead to a pretty good writing sessions, so I guess I can't be too downtrodden. Thank you, readers. Feel free to comment, I respond to all of them.
I told her I was writing my speech, so she would shut up, but I was really writing this. A short recap on why I was writing: we're writing a speech in English class. For SOME reason, my inebriate excuse for a teacher says that "we" and "us" are not used in speeches. I decided to argue my case; but no, she knows EVERYTHING about speeches, apparently. So, I got pissed off of her constantly censoring my writing. THIS is what happened:
Dear readers,
I would like to subject to you a simple ideal: I am not a cookie cutter. I do not write to please the "AP Audience," and I do not write to please your invisible panel of hipster judges. I write because I, a common person, can voice the people's cry more readily and easily than the top paid journalist for the New York Times or the Rolling Stone. I do not send my thoughts through editors to censor my work. My work is read as it is written: raw.
Sure, I get angry when my required assignment is marked up because it wouldn't appeal to my "college professors," but is this unjustified? Who gives those people the authority to adjunticate my papers, my speeches, my OPINIONS? When did my opinions fall from my hands and become the property of someone else?
In this day and age, writers cannot voice what they truly think. Our authoritorial society seems more like an authoritarian socialist regime than a creative group. We're proverbially raised as authors in a simple manner: Write a sentence. Make sure you spell it right. Write a paragraph. Use your punctuation correctly. Make a "hamburger essay." Throw a thesis in there.
NEVER ONCE is creativity added. NEVER ONCE do the hatchling writers learn to put forth their opinion in a respectable manner. We become a tool for this automated writing machine, spooling out threads that the upper-crust wear upon their heads. They chuckle to each other at fancy tea parties, proud of their ensnarement of the minds of this generation and, in that manner, the hearts and souls of the common citizens of the WORLD.
They sit upon their throne, looking down through hazed glasses, "editing" our freedom away with the whisk of red pens. I was raised as a writer to heights unimaginable, the inkling curiosity in my mind furthering the exploration of my writing prestige. I will not subject myself to the red pens of the censors.
I will not allow my metaphorical children to go through that humiliation.
I was born a writer.
I plan on writing.
And I am not a cookie cutter.
So, that was my rant during first period. In second period, my teachers continued to bully me. What was up with today? Eh, it lead to a pretty good writing sessions, so I guess I can't be too downtrodden. Thank you, readers. Feel free to comment, I respond to all of them.
Labels: censorship, hell, writing
posted by Dylan at
4:28 PM
2 Comments
