Who Do I Think I Am??

This one's about what I do.

THE PROMPT: "Which of your hobbies have you been doing for the longest amount of time?"

Good afternoon, good people. Allow me a moment to catch my breath after one of the children came down the stairs while sharpening a knife and asking me "Guess what?" Yeah, that just happened. So I chugged a beer and said "Have at it."

Turns out he wasn't on a mission to stab me. But damn, when I start blogging from hell, wouldn't that have been much more interesting? He came down to tell me about some site he was reading things on earlier this morning, and couldn't verify if they were true or not. Something about a video game he plays, and Southern Baptists are against it, and if your kid has cerebral palsy you're just a bad parent because you're lazy, and all this other shit. Later on he finds out it's a parody website. Shame him once, shame on them. Shame him a shit-ton of times, and knives all of the sudden need sharpening.

And why does this pertain to what I have to blog about today, fine citizens that read this well-landscaped place of internet shrubbery? Well, it doesn't. But it kinda does.

See, I took up writing as a hobby in the 7th grade. And through the encouragement of several different teachers throughout high school, I kept it up. They told me I was good at it. They like it. They thought I brought something to the table. But from where I sit, that table exists next to "As Seen On TV" products and chain letters. Or said more outright, blogging don't pay the bills (and the same can be said for my 90's lament, "Poetry don't pay the rent".)

If I started writing back when I said I did, I'd be lying. I wrote books back in the day. I'd grab scrap note paper and write and illustrate childrens' books. As a 7-year-old. With magic markers, because I was too sophisticated for crayons at that point. I'd write little mini kid's books. And they were probably about my toys. And that's cool. Don't judge my little kid-ness!

When I got older I became wildly enthralled with poetry. Combined with my love of music, I wrote daily. I discovered The Beat Generation, and spent every expendable cent on Kerouac and Ginsberg. And when I rescinded my love for hip-hop and hardcore rap, I fell in love with Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash...that helped me transcend from the Grunge era of music that I still hold close to me, even if I don't rock flannel anymore.

That being said, I guess I'm wrong. Writing isn't a hobby, it's a lifestyle choice. Albeit not the same as what sex of partner you choose, but the same. You don't choose it. It claims you, and what you do with it is up to you. And I have decided that it is my hobby...but I would love to make a job out of it. And if I can make it feel like a hobby more so than a job, all the better. Who goes to work and likes their job? If I got paid for this, shit, why wouldn't I do it? It's what I love and what I've always done. Stacks of notebooks and WDC portfolio reviews can't argue that point.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

I may have posted this before, but this song resonates with today's prompt. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkX5LaVicUs

VITAL STATS:

Most of you cats don't even remember Stories.com.

I did not lose my life today.

And with a Hell Yeah! screamed loudly, I'm gonna take a nap. The inaccuracies I have to live with are so much more compelling and infuriating. But that's what growing up me leads to. So with that, I scream GOODNIGHT NOW!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_ZBVvCKrCU