It's My Party And I'll Lie If I Want To - 12.29.97

If you've been reading my essays (or stories) as of late, you may have recognized something strange. It probably isn't that big of a deal, but it's probably something that sticks out every once in awhile. What I'm speaking of is the writing itself. Chances are, after reading one or more pieces, you've either thought to yourself "This guy has really bad luck" or "This guy is full of crap." You might have also thought, "This guy's writing is shite," but that's not the point I'm trying to make.

What I'm trying to get at is sort of an evolution that my page has gradually gone through and will probably continue going through. At first, I was bound and determined to write everything anonymously and even androgynously. Over the course of the first 8 or so 'whatevers' it was my point to try and be as secretive as possible. A sort of non-personal personal page, if you will. By writing in this nature, I was hoping that people reading my writing would perhaps be able to identify with what I had to say a little more. Without names and identities already attached, I thought that just maybe, others would find things in their own lives that clicked with what I had to say.

Eventually, this sort of writing became more of a hinderance than something that I wanted to continue doing. There were several times when I wanted to say more, but simply didn't want to give out too much information. After awhile, I decided that I would then go ahead and try to still be fairly anonymous (ie, no mention of names), but that I would disclose my sex, etc.

Which brings me to the point that I was going to make in the first place. At one point during my writing, I wrote an essay that was based upon a dream that I had remembered one day. As soon as I had written it down, it suddenly became my favorite piece that I had done. There were other things that I liked, but for straight writing, I liked it the best. Then, really funny things started happening. I got a call from a friend who thought it had really happened and two other people I talked to were dissapointed that it was fiction. It wasn't my intention to try and fool people (I even wrote out a disclaimer), but it was interesting to me that I had come up with something completely random that people thought was true.

Since that time, I've written lots more pieces (most of them being true). Still, though, once in awhile I get inspired and come up with a story that could have actually happened to me, but didn't. I get inspired by other people, bits of conversation that I hear, and even my dreams. Instead of being concerned with what people think of me, I've become more concerned with writing interesting entries. If someone thinks that I'm a loser, that's fine with me. If they read an entry from start to finish, though, then I've accomplished what I wanted to in the first place. If anyone that reads them actually wants to know the truth, it's easy enough to mail me anyway. Eventually, I'm sure that I'll change the site around and throw the different pieces of writing into specific sections and sub-headings For now, though, I'm just going to keep writing whatever comes to mind, whether it really happened or not.