Ladies and gentlemen,
As early as the 20th century, writing was the most common means of both communication as well as mass entertainment; this being possible due to the fact that there was a time when letter-writing was very much the in-thing, and people simply loved waiting for the mailman to bring home such passionate letters and hence fill them with joy at the prospect of feeling the words melt in their minds like sing-song melodies of Mother Nature itself.
Sad to say, that in the 21st century, though the practice still remains, it has lost its former grandeur due to the increasing reliance on short and often mutilated versions of the written language, as can be witnessed on addictive social networking sites, such as Facebook and Twitter.
Really, it is quite upsetting to see the exchange of such hogwash when there are so many words one can use to express oneself in a more illustrious manner. Here is one such example of what I am so helplessly talking about:
'i luv u. u is most awesum n i cant live widout u!'
Sigh. What a shame! A mutilation of such beautiful words often leaves me with a rather sickly feeling in the gut.
Well, as can be apparent from my obvious hate for the so-called 'modern lingo' used by my generation; let us be a bit more lenient here and explore more deeply the reasons for my violent debasement of the society itself.
The first and foremost reason for this, my friends is that I am not human. I am, most unfortunately yet most uniquely an alien from outer space.
See? You see my problem right there? My disregard for the proper description of my entire being shows that I clearly am a victim to past horrors and sins that I had to apparently live through in order to become the sour writer that I am now.
Also, there is another problem which I shall discuss in the next post, but which I shall briefly touch upon. And that, being that I love writing too much!
Okay, love in my case is a clear exaggeration, as I would like to immediately point out. I write for nearly every human feeling that seems to affect me on a daily basis. I write when I am worried; when I can't go to sleep, when I am facing personal deprivation, when I feel a sense of emptiness clutch the walls of my mind, and so on. Ah, there are so many reasons as to why I write, and so much of an intense dramatic writer I have become that I have to admit that writing, for me has grown into an incurable disease!
Oh my God! I can't stop! There is no end to it, I swear. I write every day! Every day! I try explaining to people as to why I bug them with long messages, why it is not my fault that everything I write seems rather impossible of reaching to a conclusion. Sad to say, yet again, that I am grossly misunderstood by society here.
There is no end to my writing and it often gets irritating for people to read through all the thick gluttony words I enjoy employing every now and then.
Being the narcissistic, overly confident person that I am, I blame the society for having so stupidly misunderstood me. But, while I claim my being misunderstood as a universal thing, I am well aware that there is a lot that I don't understand about myself as well.
And, therefore being both misunderstood by society as well as my strangely complex sub-consciousness, I believe that I am indeed the true epitome of a truly misunderstood phenomena in the making.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is me; the Misunderstood Writer.
As early as the 20th century, writing was the most common means of both communication as well as mass entertainment; this being possible due to the fact that there was a time when letter-writing was very much the in-thing, and people simply loved waiting for the mailman to bring home such passionate letters and hence fill them with joy at the prospect of feeling the words melt in their minds like sing-song melodies of Mother Nature itself.
Sad to say, that in the 21st century, though the practice still remains, it has lost its former grandeur due to the increasing reliance on short and often mutilated versions of the written language, as can be witnessed on addictive social networking sites, such as Facebook and Twitter.
Really, it is quite upsetting to see the exchange of such hogwash when there are so many words one can use to express oneself in a more illustrious manner. Here is one such example of what I am so helplessly talking about:
'i luv u. u is most awesum n i cant live widout u!'
Sigh. What a shame! A mutilation of such beautiful words often leaves me with a rather sickly feeling in the gut.
Well, as can be apparent from my obvious hate for the so-called 'modern lingo' used by my generation; let us be a bit more lenient here and explore more deeply the reasons for my violent debasement of the society itself.
The first and foremost reason for this, my friends is that I am not human. I am, most unfortunately yet most uniquely an alien from outer space.
See? You see my problem right there? My disregard for the proper description of my entire being shows that I clearly am a victim to past horrors and sins that I had to apparently live through in order to become the sour writer that I am now.
Also, there is another problem which I shall discuss in the next post, but which I shall briefly touch upon. And that, being that I love writing too much!
Okay, love in my case is a clear exaggeration, as I would like to immediately point out. I write for nearly every human feeling that seems to affect me on a daily basis. I write when I am worried; when I can't go to sleep, when I am facing personal deprivation, when I feel a sense of emptiness clutch the walls of my mind, and so on. Ah, there are so many reasons as to why I write, and so much of an intense dramatic writer I have become that I have to admit that writing, for me has grown into an incurable disease!
Oh my God! I can't stop! There is no end to it, I swear. I write every day! Every day! I try explaining to people as to why I bug them with long messages, why it is not my fault that everything I write seems rather impossible of reaching to a conclusion. Sad to say, yet again, that I am grossly misunderstood by society here.
There is no end to my writing and it often gets irritating for people to read through all the thick gluttony words I enjoy employing every now and then.
Being the narcissistic, overly confident person that I am, I blame the society for having so stupidly misunderstood me. But, while I claim my being misunderstood as a universal thing, I am well aware that there is a lot that I don't understand about myself as well.
And, therefore being both misunderstood by society as well as my strangely complex sub-consciousness, I believe that I am indeed the true epitome of a truly misunderstood phenomena in the making.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is me; the Misunderstood Writer.
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