The Voice, The Voice, The Voice

If I’m being honest, nothing I write is truly my “voice.”  In the real world, where real people are, I’m unable to speak as clearly as I do in writing.  I never say things that are nearly as profound, and I most definitely don’t speak at the same vocabulary level.  It’s not that I write in a more sophisticated way than I speak, it’s just that in person I speak loud and quickly.  In doing so, I’m unable to press delete, go back, and correct myself.  I am a plethora (new word I learned) of figures of speech that I’m vaguely familiar with.  When I want to get an idea across, I want to get it across as quickly and easily as possible.  Which inevitably leads me to eagerly venturing into the territory of half-learned phrases that I embarrassingly say way too often.

($5.00 to whoever can find all of the ones I use in here.)

Another thing:  I’m not that funny.  I mean I’m funny, but not funny.  Does that make sense?  If given the time and the appropriate amount of alcohol, yeah, I’ll make you laugh, but if I can just type?  Give me 20 words to butter you up and I’ll have you doing anything I want.  Seriously.

Listen:  I’m insecure.  (Obviously.)  So in truth I don’t really know what my voice is like, what my persona is like.  I have body dismorphia, personality dismorphia, [INSERT ANYTHING]morphia, so it’s really hard to see myself through a truthful, critical eye, because I think everything I create is shit.  I know I make people laugh (sometimes), and I know I’m attractive (sometimes), but does my written voice perfectly correlate with how I speak in real life?  Probably not.  Is my voice in this blog post close to my true “authentic” voice?  Who knows.

I think it’s important to note the reasons I signed up for the minor:

  1. I loved my English 124 class with Jaimien Delp and I craved more creative classes that my Biochemistry major couldn’t provide.
  2. I felt writing was one of my things.  Like I was one of those writer guys and I was quickly losing that.
  3. I wanted to get better.  I felt I lost focus.  I didn’t know if my writing was ever good or not, and I felt myself getting lazier and lazier.  I claimed it as “pushing the boundaries” but the line between passive and innovative is shockingly smaller than you think.

So, no, now that I think about it, I don’t know what my voice is anymore.  I’m smart.  Does that mean my academic essays are more me?  I’m goofy.  Does that mean the parentheses I add in, the sentence fragments, the filler words (e.g. like, I mean), the bitchiness show the real me?

I’ve grown a lot in the past year.  Lots of ups and downs and everywhere in-between.  I’ve cried a few too many times and smoked weed even more.  At this point, I don’t even know what I am.  But, if I’m being honest, I’m probably just being dramatic.

There you have it.

Complete identity crisis in almost* 500 words or less.

Let’s see what the next post brings.



*531 words, to be exact.

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