Although still quite "wet behind the ears" when it comes to this writing thing, I have developed an opinion about it. At first, I hated it, couldn't stand it. I was very good at it in school, in fact English was indeed my best subject, well other than P.E. (if you want to count that). I usually got decent grades, not always though due to laziness, but never really enjoyed it. In fact one assignment we were given while in 11th grade consisted of a literary outline about the novel Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. Great book but I forgot to actually do the assignment until it was almost too late. It was due on a Monday and I suddenly remembered the Saturday afternoon before. No one is thinking about doing homework during the weekend, especially not me. That was my time for basketball and an awful lot of television.
Not wanting to take yet another bad grade in a class that came easy to me, I sucked it up and followed the instructions our teacher gave us to a preciseness. It must have taken me like half an hour to complete the entire thing. I kind of just slept walked through it. I really didn't care, it was better than getting a "0" and now I was free to waste my weekend anyway I saw fit.
Later in the week we received our grades. Having pretty much felt like I half-assed it, you could understand my shock when I saw a big "100%" in fresh red teacher marker ink. I didn't understand. I thought maybe she had mixed up my work with someone who deserved that grade. Any sensible teenager would have been happy and simply walked away breathing quite the sigh of relief. But not yours truly, I wasn't as smart as I am now. Later in the day, after the last bell had rung, I journeyed back to her floor and found my English teacher in the hallway. I asked her why she gave me that grade. Yeah, I actually asked that, I told you I wasn't very smart. She basically said, "It was good". I told her my story of realizing at the last minute and sacrificing half an hour of my precious Saturday. She told me that my skills must be that good because it was the best one out of the 70 or so juniors that had the same exact assignment (my school was very small).
Still a little dumbfounded but also feeling pretty good about myself I walked away and lived to write or not write another day. I still didn't like it. I hated it actually. But I was good at it. Go figure, something I was good at, I disliked. Nowadays I wonder what could have been if I had chosen to pursue to sharpen my excuse for a writing ability.
I said aaaaaallllllllll of that to merely say this. Now that I write quite often, I feel like I can say that I feel like writing is an art. A very descriptive and expressive form of art. I have attempted to write song lyrics and poetry before but I don't think I can hold a pen to a lot of poets and song writers. One young, aspiring writer of both (among several other talents) is a young lady who calls herself "Wendy". Don't know if many of you have noticed but I have her blog listed on my side bar under "Well Worth the Click". To say the least, her stuff is pretty good and deserves some attention. I felt the need to take it upon myself to attempt to direct those of you who enjoy a good, meaningful poem to her page. Let her know what you think so that I am not the only one annoying her about how talented she is.
If you don't then I'll post something that might make you want to throw up and try to call it poetry and that's if I really, really try. Go, check it out!