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 |   Second blog -- answers to an ocean of prompts |
 "Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself." CHARLIE CHAPLIN  Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you. David Whyte        This is my supplementary blog in which I will post entries written for prompts. |
| Blog City prompt: “If you're horrible to me, I'm going to write a song about it, and you won't like it. That's how I operate.”― Taylor Swift Most of can't write songs like Swift but we can write. This is your opportunity to vent about things that didn't go as you hoped. Have fun! ----------- Well, I'm no Taylor Swift and if I ever complained about anything in my writing, a reader will never know if what I write about is real or made-up. This is probably because I believe that thinking and even venting on the negative, makes that negative feel even stronger. The only place I may really vent is probably my blog or an essay or two. Then, since the prompt asks, here is something that got me upset about a month ago. I received in the snail mail from our town that my house had a code violence and in a harsh tone. Now, since the 2004 hurricanes messed up the attached pool area extension, no new addition or anything was added to the area. Anyhow, whatever we did, we got the town's okay. Even the people who I hire for repairs, I ask them to get a permit. A phone call cleared the confusion, however. Someone said it was because of the black rot on the outside back wall of the house. I hired a pressure cleaning company who found the black rot, which was hidden from the eyes and was only about 10 inch square. That company got rid of the small rot and cleaned and painted the entire back wall of the extension. What the town really thought was black rot probably was the black foam the builders in 2004 put under the roof over the extension to glue the roof better. That foam wasn't on the roof of the main house either. I e-mailed the person who was heading this, with the copy of the pressure-cleaning-company's receipt and the explanation of the black foam thing on the inside of the roof. He wrote back immediately and said he'd send someone to inspect it again. Now, I appreciate the town's minute attention to how we keep our houses here, but for something so little, couldn't someone just ring the front door and tell me or send a letter explaining the problem in the first place about that 10 inch square thing? Why send an official violation-code letter that gave no details and unnerved me? Now that I've said my piece (or peace?  ), I want to write a bit about the real writers writing to vent. Yes, they do and the most famous ones that come to mind at the moment are:Virginia Woolf: In "A Room of One's Own," she complained about the limitations and lack of opportunities for women in the literary world. Sylvia Plath: Her autobiographical novel "The Bell Jar" explores the challenges faced by women in the 1950s and their struggles with mental health. Plath herself battled depression and wrote about her experiences to highlight the pressure and expectations on women in her time. Charles Dickens: In his "Oliver Twist" and "Hard Times," and other works, he portrayed the harsh conditions of the working class during the Victorian era and criticized the injustices and inequalities of his time. George Orwell: In "1984," he expressed his concerns about the dangers of government surveillance and propaganda versus the individual freedoms and privacy. Those I mentioned above and many other writers have used their craft to express their frustrations, sorrows, and grievances, often in the form of personal essays, memoirs, or in their creative works. Their unique perspectives could be a therapeutic outlet like that of Taylor Swift's or it may be a social commentary or a seeking for empathy and connection. Then there is that artistic inspiration from one's own pain and suffering which may also lead to some existential exploration of the human condition. Yet, not all writers resort to complaining about their misfortunes. And in my case, did writing about what happened with the town help me? I don't think so. I had just about forgotten it and it popped up in my mind again.  . |
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