You know how it’s a lot harder to write about things you don’t care about? That might be a generalization, but for me, at least, it’s true. I just recently had the pleasure of completing the worst writing I have ever put out in public in the history of mankind. I don’t want to throw out too many details on what/who it was for, for fear that it will actually be read by persons other than the instructor it was meant for. Just how bad are we talking? It went a little something like this.
I went to the Philippines this summer through a program at the University for a month. It was a great experience and I wrote in a journal about my great experiences, then I talked to people about my great experiences, then I had to attend several workshops to parse out my great experiences, then I had to complete a series of assignments related to my great experiences, and then I had to create a portfolio about my great experiences…plus my entire life up to that point with all of my significant learning experiences.
I think I had something like three months to complete the portfolio for my said “great experiences,” but there I was on the night before it was due, unable to stop my fingers from typing out endless strings of garbled, incoherent, half thought out, truncated bits of the English language.
I was supposed to be answering a whole lot of questions that all sounded the same to me and honestly, were a bit too esoteric for my comprehension. I was so far behind that I started to just type in my one or two sentence response to the question, delete the question, answer the next one, and then mash them all together into a paragraph. It goes without saying that I am definitely not proud of my work, but for some reason, that particular assignment at that particular time got about 1/87th of my attention. I have definitely had to write papers or study subjects that are not my first choice and that I do not find particularly interesting and I have definitely waited until the last minute before. There was just something about that one assignment and it was definitely reflected in the quality of my work…and unfortunately, it is out there in the interwebs world able to be read by unsuspecting strangers.
It’s weird because after my rambling, this post actually ties into a greater discussion I have been having with a good friend for a while about the future: if you should work for money or for passion. I told her that I wasn’t cynical enough yet to give up trying to be what I wanted, but that there may come a day when I just have to suck it up and do something I don’t want to do. In a more crucial setting, such as the workplace, I’m sure I could make work I am apathetic towards presentable. Yet, I think there is something to be said about the quality and depth of work you do when you are engaged and enlivened by a subject and that some day, some of us will be lucky enough to get up and go to work for more than just bread and bills.