Writing, the religion of fools.

When I write, which is conveniently what I am doing right now, I don’t feel so sad. I will be honest in saying that there are still a few occasional times when even writing can not pull me out of a depressed slump. But when I am writing – and I mean really writing, like typing letters that form words that somehow, and I have no idea how, but somehow by the grace of the Gods turn into sentences and paragraphs, and not the writing I usually do where I type a word out (usually short and misspelled) and then stare at the screen for five minutes before I decide to masturbate to internet porn for two and a half hours lying to myself that afterwards I’ll somehow be inspired to write – I am usually having the happiest point of my, albeit pathetic, day. I don’t know how, but somehow writing distracts me from all those things that I usually think about throughout the day and bring me down (such as death and dying, loneliness, being a loser, Dane Cook’s humor and the people who like him, and how the human race is most assuredly screwed). Writing keeps me happy the way hanging out with my friends does. The way playing sports does. The way it makes me happy when a cute girl smiles at me; even though she’s really smiling at the more attractive guy behind me, but I’ll never figure it out. I love writing. If I could I would marry writing. But I guess we’ll tackle that legal debacle after we get gay marriage legalized.

I admit that I am not a good writer. In fact I will argue to exhaustion that I am a pretty terrible writer. Me grammar is far from appropriate. My Spelling is atroocius (you’ve used that joke more than once). I apparently use the same jokes often. I write using some weird second personality in parentheses that I’ve never really explain (explanation is futile). And worst of all my writing is pointless and lacks much needed passion. Without passion how can I ever expect to be as good as Austen, or Hemmingway, or Tolstoy, or Dr. Seuss – to quote Homer Simpson, “It was so sad the way they hopped on Pop.”

Well the fact of the matter, assuming there is a matter, is that I don’t ever plan to be as good as the aforementioned authors, or anywhere near that good. It would be nice if I lived in a self delusion that I was a great writer, or that I might one day become a great writer, but I don’t. I’ve pretty much abandoned the idea that I’ll ever be a good writer, or that I’ll ever write something meaningful. However, perhaps out of stupidity, my motivation for writing is not to be good at it, or to become famous, or to try and makes lots and lots of money that I could use to purchase high-end prostitutes (I don’t know why you made that so specific). My motivation for writing is that I thoroughly enjoy it because while writing it takes my mind to some special place I didn’t know existed. It takes my mind off all that crap that bogs me down and keeps me from enjoying this beautiful fucking life. This beautiful life that, although enjoys to shit on me, has gifted me with the ability to write. Granted it’s not the ability to write well, but I say balderdash! I don’t need to write to make money. I don’t need to write to make a difference in this world (although it’d be nice). I don’t need to write to get famous. I don’t need to write so people will know my thoughts (well now the question arises of why you’re even bothering to post this here then?) and that’s a good question that will go unanswered. I need to write because it consistently makes me happy. And I haven’t been able to find too many things in this life that consistently make me happy.

People say religion makes them happy. Well writing makes me happy so I guess it’s my religion. And I am the God of this religion, which makes this a pretty lame and pathetic religion.

About Danniel

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12 Responses to Writing, the religion of fools.

  1. sololos says:

    I was going to carefully read this but I got distracted by the HTC Touch pro2 article that is for some reason related to what you wrote.

    – Chris

  2. Neofreed0m says:

    How do you post comments? Is this it?

    Anyways, I don’t like your blog’s name. I think you should change it. How about “Fantasticwinner’s Blog”? No? OK, but really consider changing it.

    • fantasticloser says:

      I was hoping you guys would toss out some good suggestions but all you came up with was crap. I plan on changing it I just don’t know what to.

  3. TheBlueCrow says:

    Love for writing or love for recognition [of writing]? Why not just write in a notebook, lock it in a drawer, and keep it to yourself as opposed to posting it on the web? Can one write and not need another to read it? Does it defeat the purpose of writing if it is never read? Does having readers make a writing more valuable? Do readers get something out of reading or is it the writer that gains something when his work is read?

    • fantasticloser says:

      I will be honest in saying that after thinking about this later I don’t think I was 100% truthful in this post.

      Writing in a notebook is nice in that you can write whatever you want no matter how personal (and hope that nobody ever finds it). I’ve tried to write everyday in a notebook but it’s a lot harder than writing electronically. The idea of posting I use to hopefully get people to read it, because let’s face it, it does feel good to have people read your writing. But also the idea of posting is used to help me write more. I have found in the past that doing something just for the happiness of doing it has not been very good motivation for me to do things. I know the things I can do to make me happy when I am feeling down, and yet time and time again I still don’t do them. So by telling myself I need to post a blog, and hopefully post a blog everyday, it gives me more motivation to write.

      Life is about tricking yourself into being happy.

  4. Thaison N'guyen says:

    “Life is about tricking yourself into being happy.”

    You see this is the truth write here; sorry I wasn’t going to comment but I just can help but agree with you here.

  5. Thaison N'guyen says:

    Craps. I mean to say right, not write.

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