- Bomb Texas for freedom -

I’ve been disillusioned about my education lately if anyone that asks me about school noticed by now.

I understand that I’m in a good school, and I’m lucky that I was accepted. I also am thankful that I can finish my education that lots of people can’t do. I also understand that my writing has been getting better (I think), and I’m learning discipline.

But however there is a rub; workshops. I really hate them. In New School workshops there seem to be several genres.

1. Old people (60+) who write stuff for old people, that it thinks it appeals to a younger gen.
2. Younger writers, who really jerk off about being writers. They consider themselves to be tastemakers in 21st century literature. They are willing to use a high level extremely formal language to convey potty humor.

Please note both assholes are in cahoots with each other, and will suck up to the teacher up to the point they both have a recent reminder of what semen tastes like.

3. Tortured artists, these guys want to stab the english language in the face for some slight suffered years ago.
4. Creepy guys, these guys write the weirdest shit. Not the weird kind that makes you think, the weird kind that makes you look over your shoulder when you leave class.
5. Chick-Lits, they write chick-lit (duh). They are the lowest of the low, they may have some descent skills but their subject matter often makes you want to bomb a women’s shelter out of spite. (Girl goes on vacation/takes a job far away/Is a pampered housewife, cheats on nice boyfriend/husband, woman is now empowered) They often cry at each others work, and turns a class into a group therapy session.
6. Freak, this is where I fall in. He’s often quiet (depends from class to class), topic matters varies wildly, and they write pretty descent stuff. They look fondly at the days when writers were violent alcoholics, drug addicts, perverts and proud of it. Hemingway, Kerouac, and F. Scott Fitzgerald are heroes to these guys.

If you take these about two or three a semester for two years, you get really sick of these people (yes including my group)

But it wasn’t until recently something clicked, and my mild annoyance turned to loathe. I’m working on a project, and it’s a really good one. I love working on it, and my mind isn’t too far away from it at all times.

It like all undertakings take time, and concentration. In fact I dare say I CANNOT have any interaction with assholes that ask “why did the fireman have a helmet?” because it will sour my work.

So I was getting pissed that I was reading their material, and editing it instead of working on MY WORK OF ARTISTIC BRILLANCE AND INTEGRITY!!!!

Finally it’s my turn to present, and here it was the final nail in the coffin. I’m re-editing my work, my precious vision to impress the lowest common denominator; the workshop people.
I swear though, this time I’m wearing earplugs and their comments go straight into the shredder.

I believe in the Cropsey.