First I'd like to say hello to my blog, which I completely forgot about. I re-read some of my older posts and I seem very angry in some of them (some might say extremely opinionated), but, you know.
Anyway. I got my hair cut. I don't look like my brother or Justin Bieber anymore. I don't know how I'm going to cope with this whole actually having to style my hair business, though. That's not something I've ever experienced.
I'm thinking I'll post the creative non-fiction piece I wrote for class on here. It's about working at Wegmans. That doesn't really do it justice because it's pretty damn funny and I know it. You know. Dr. Nieson was talking about how creative non-fiction is less about writing about a memorable event in your life and more about taking an event--any mundane event (like working at a grocery store)--and making it meaningful. I mean, that's the same with fiction too, if you wanna get real (or not, ha--get it?).
Nieson also suggested ways that I could politicize my Wegmans piece to make social commentary on various things (a Marxist commentary on low-level dead-end jobs, nourishment and lack thereof, etc.), which I considered, but I don't know. The question was whether or not writing should have an agenda--a political aim--and it's a question that I can't answer. Someone brought up that it doesn't even matter if you infuse your work with some aim, because people are going to read into it regardless. The author is dead n'at, you know? It's all about what the reader brings to the table and their interpretation. Which is demoralizing as a writer, because then I think, well, fuck trying to make a statement--I could write about unicorns that shit rainbows and someone would say it's exploring classism because only rich people can afford unicorns.
Anyway. I'll post that short story soon.
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