Just who am I
Let me think…
I don’t really have an
My name is Julia Louise Paige and I am one of the seven billion people living on the world. Sometimes this fact overwhelms me (like kind of right now) and I find myself thinking so what, why does this person that is me matter? but I try to forget about this and toss a penny into the well that someday I’ll have an answer, or at least stop asking the question. Anyway, I am going to give you my best stab at describing myself:
my dad used to say that “my motor is always running”
my favorite room in any house is the kitchen
I like to collect “treasures” because they are memories
I love people
they teach me ways that I want to be, or ways I don’t
I spread myself too thin like
a small pat of butter on a too big piece of toast
I know that this is fuzzy, but even though I don’t really have a good answer to the question, I think I know who I am, at least who I am at the moment. I feel like maybe analyzing a human personality is like putting your nose up to a pointillist painting and trying to understand what you are looking at.
When you’re too close, it just looks like dots.
However, look at the image as a whole and it is something cohesive and beautiful.
As to what I like to read, there is not really one genre or author or format I enjoy. Instead what I look for in writing is when you read something, and you think oh my gosh, that’s it! What I really love is when it feels like the writer went into your head and pulled out the exact feelings or thoughts you have been having, but that you didn’t even know you had because you couldn’t put it into words, and then they put it into the most amazing words possible. I love that a sentence or a piece of writing that invokes that reaction can in some way become a contribution to your own personal reality.
An example of writing that makes me feel that way is:
“You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.”
(one of my favorite authors)
Also pretty much all the lyrics in the song A Case of You by Joni Mitchell.
(** please close your eyes if you listen to it because the cheesy YouTube picture slideshow distracts from the brilliance of the song**)
When reading the articles titled “Why I Write” and “Why I Blog”, I was looking for a passage or a sentence like that. One that just launched from the page and lodged itself in my brain, that could become a contribution to my reality and my ideas of myself as a writer. I found it in the piece by George Orwell. On page two, Orwell lists motives for writing. The second bullet point that he lists is “Aesthetic enthusiasm. Perception of beauty in the external world, or , on the other hand, in the words and their right arrangement…Desire to share an experience which one feels is valuable and ought not be missed.”
Although Orwell describes aesthetic motive as “very feeble in a lot of writers”, this bullet point profoundly resonated with me. Reading it caused me to realize that much of the reason that I do enjoy writing is that I think that the world is a crazy place and I find that the people in it are even more mind-boggling. To me, a great deal of the value in writing is the embodiment of human experiences, which would be appreciated only by one person unless they write it down. Once something becomes a piece of writing, those thoughts and experiences can be shared and absorbed by readers, whoever they may be.
Perhaps mine is not necessarily a perception of beauty, as Orwell stated, but more a perception of the awesomeness of the external world. I find writing a useful tool that can be used to share the pleasure I gain from observing the planet I live on and all the other six billion nine hundred ninety-nine million nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine people that inhabit it with me.