I wrote this reflection for Cultivating Voice in response to what I had written in my blog the night before, which was the night that I decided to stop writing in my blog. That post is called "Questioning" and I included it in what I turned in last week. Here is the rest of my reflection, acting as a reaction to that post:

"While I understand what I wrote last night, and remember why I wrote it, I do feel differently today.

After reading this weeks article, “The Classroom and the Wider Culture: Identity as a Key to Learning English Composition” by Fan Shen, I feel better about my writing, blog or not. I realized much about myself from the authors anecdotal reminiscing. S/he (?) only had to go so far as discussing the implications of the individual as a writer before I changed my thinking. I then remembered the possibilities inherent in an ability to express oneself through written word. We (I) do have the ability to change our voice, our audience, our purpose. And equally as powerful, we (I) have the ability to reassert our (my) original intention toward writing. That 'intention' seems to be what I am most questioning about myself as a writer. Do I intend to be an artist? Do I want to entertain? Am I trying to forward an opinion, or am I simply sharing my thoughts? …

Aimlessly flipping through my planner I come across the page from last week. So many wonderful ideas were shared in seminar this past Monday and I had written two of them down. The first one says 'desperation is my inspiration.' Someone had quoted their friend on that one, and I am quite enamored by those words which aptly describe my ability to write well, under the influence of sadness or a deep need to express.
The other quote reads 'each person can write and is a writer for whatever purposes they want to be.' Sandy said it, though I cannot recall whether this was a reference to the reading last week, a sentiment that came from her heart, or both. In any case, when I read those words, I closed my eyes, nodded, and told myself, 'Yes, remember this.'

Often I find myself surrounded by people who will take anything and find something wrong with it; people who enjoy the “best of the best,” and love critique because it will only make them better. Of course they are entitled. I find myself being critical too. But, its like this: I’m listening to Jack Johnson in the car with my sister. His lyrics are simple, while his music is straightforward and easy, and it doesn’t try to be anything more. Nor should it. This music makes me feel good. It evokes smiles, dancing, sing-along, ect., and I’d be willing to bet that is all he intended it to be.
Sometimes things just exist to exist, not to exist greatly. They exist because someone felt like creating, and did just that. And when it comes right down to it, for me, I’d rather read a thousand different ideas, from a thousand different people, with a thousand different viewpoints, even if they aren’t the best or even close to it, before I’d read just one most pristine and perfect piece with the answer to 'life, the universe, and everything.' Is that really true? Yes Yes Yes! Gimme rough, raw, good, bad, ugly, random, corny, thoughts, questions, anger, expressions; things with intention, or none at all.

My intention? To put these thoughts on that paper, and that’s that. (This is not to say anyone should shy away from improvement, but if I have to try to be the best, then I will never really write again.)"


(Ironically, the next day Nygil handed me an article written by Ben Gibbard, entitled "The Meaning of Life." I still haven't read it yet, but I will most likely comment on it when I do.)