Self
Music: Snow Patrol - Run
Book: -
My lit tutor told me I am a real unique writer, mature beyond my own age, and a few other congruent things. I have the scaffolding, the steel structure, she said, but dont often let us in into the beauty of the house; I shouldnt always try to outshine the literary work at hand. She went on to give me a 34.5/50 for a recent prose pc test. My classmate then commented, rather sarcastically, this is "not good enough for him eh". I was smiling throughout the entire session not because of the praises, but because of the sweet, sweet irony I saw. (Read on this is not some egoistic self-praise post)
Before those I had told her (the tutor) how she was imposing her structure on us--and I realised, after the comments, how I myself like imposing my structure on others. Looking back now on my writings I guess, yea, I have a very strong tendency to trod over the work being criticised and enter into my own realm of emotions..
But thats beside the point. The point is, Im back to a debate that has plagued my mind for years already. Right from my first piece of school writing (sec1)--it was, I recall perfectly, an essay on pornography, of which the teacher hauled me up to read it in front of the whole class. I had a subsequent experience in sec2, on an essay of a different nature of course, but still nonetheless extreme from their end. Sec3/4 saw me writing minimalist-style (I am a perverse fan of that) narratives, of which dark and brooding scenes, and the like, were always present. And I was always directly or indirectly (by marks) told to change my way of writing, change it to something else more...more what? More mainstream? (As if I am some radical freak-genius like that)
And this is the very conflict that has been within me for years--to change or not to change. The dividends have been paid now at college--but not so. Because I got a 34.5/50. Because no matter how well I criticised it is still a B, and to my very own classmates who seem to think I write well, you have no idea how much this other side of me wishes to be a normal, conventional straight-A student who, like the tutor herself mentioned too, gets A but is only ok. And yet this ordinary A, it's still a consistent A is it not?
Is the plain, but consistent A really that much more valuable than a shaky performance between A-C? I have certain urges to believe so. And yet....
Interesting to note that a classmate, herself a relatively consistent A student, expressed a desire to find out how I write--when I want to find out how she writes, and the way we're seeing the greenery on the other side of the field.....We shouldnt, should we? Should we, hm?
If there is one thing that I want to see fulfilled before, or upon my death, it wouldnt be a grand retirement scheme, nor a wealth of friends, no matter how genuine it may be. The one thing I truly desire is recognition, understanding, and finally appreciation of my difference, of my self. That is, for me, ultimate fulfilment and with that, can safely say I have lived this life well.
PS. Which was why her last comment, you remind me of no one, gave me a gem of a smile all the previous comments put together could not muster.
Book: -
My lit tutor told me I am a real unique writer, mature beyond my own age, and a few other congruent things. I have the scaffolding, the steel structure, she said, but dont often let us in into the beauty of the house; I shouldnt always try to outshine the literary work at hand. She went on to give me a 34.5/50 for a recent prose pc test. My classmate then commented, rather sarcastically, this is "not good enough for him eh". I was smiling throughout the entire session not because of the praises, but because of the sweet, sweet irony I saw. (Read on this is not some egoistic self-praise post)
Before those I had told her (the tutor) how she was imposing her structure on us--and I realised, after the comments, how I myself like imposing my structure on others. Looking back now on my writings I guess, yea, I have a very strong tendency to trod over the work being criticised and enter into my own realm of emotions..
But thats beside the point. The point is, Im back to a debate that has plagued my mind for years already. Right from my first piece of school writing (sec1)--it was, I recall perfectly, an essay on pornography, of which the teacher hauled me up to read it in front of the whole class. I had a subsequent experience in sec2, on an essay of a different nature of course, but still nonetheless extreme from their end. Sec3/4 saw me writing minimalist-style (I am a perverse fan of that) narratives, of which dark and brooding scenes, and the like, were always present. And I was always directly or indirectly (by marks) told to change my way of writing, change it to something else more...more what? More mainstream? (As if I am some radical freak-genius like that)
And this is the very conflict that has been within me for years--to change or not to change. The dividends have been paid now at college--but not so. Because I got a 34.5/50. Because no matter how well I criticised it is still a B, and to my very own classmates who seem to think I write well, you have no idea how much this other side of me wishes to be a normal, conventional straight-A student who, like the tutor herself mentioned too, gets A but is only ok. And yet this ordinary A, it's still a consistent A is it not?
Is the plain, but consistent A really that much more valuable than a shaky performance between A-C? I have certain urges to believe so. And yet....
Interesting to note that a classmate, herself a relatively consistent A student, expressed a desire to find out how I write--when I want to find out how she writes, and the way we're seeing the greenery on the other side of the field.....We shouldnt, should we? Should we, hm?
If there is one thing that I want to see fulfilled before, or upon my death, it wouldnt be a grand retirement scheme, nor a wealth of friends, no matter how genuine it may be. The one thing I truly desire is recognition, understanding, and finally appreciation of my difference, of my self. That is, for me, ultimate fulfilment and with that, can safely say I have lived this life well.
PS. Which was why her last comment, you remind me of no one, gave me a gem of a smile all the previous comments put together could not muster.
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