One: People “really” don’t give two ***** about the arts. They are more interested in different aspects of our society. ****** tabloid magazines and celebrity instagrams have replaced real news and artistic expression. People care about what color hair Kylie Jenner showed off at the latest red carpet premiere. They cross their fingers hoping it was beach blonde so they can fit in just like the royal snobs of our pop culture obsessed generation. People don’t pay attention to stylistic word choice or diction of a story, they can’t even get past the first ten words. If you're still reading this I applaud you. They don’t care if your writing flows right off the tongue, they only care if their sarcastic and arrogant tweet made some rando follower giggle. Technology has disconnected the power of our words from our audience.
Two: Being a broke college white girl isn’t cultured enough for some. No I have not been to Europe, London, or China. I have not tried real Italian Spaghetti, I’m lucky if I can find a decent piece of cheese pizza that has the perfect cheese to sauce ratio at my caf! For readers I am not enough of an adventurer or an explorer. I haven’t done sunrise mediation over a 50 foot drop off cliff or taken a cute touristy picture of me “ holding a famous landmark” in my hands. I trip over tree branches when I attempt to hike metro park trails and even though I’ve studied German for four years, if you ask me to speak it, I’ll probably tell you no because I can never get the accent quite right. I always sound like a dying horse with a sore throat.
Three: I am just shy of nineteen and let’s be honest I have no ******* clue how actual life works. I am just like every other mild tempered youth that gets fired up when you take something away from her and gets the occasional scare that in ten years I will be living alone with not just five cats but ten. I fear I will never find a job, that I picked the wrong major, that I’m not good enough to be anyone’s someone. And what twenty-something year old wants to read about someone else’s fears and **** ups when they don’t even know what they’re doing in life either.
Four: As a youthful writer I have faced a lot of rejection. Being only nineteen it can really make you want to give up and go crying on home to mommy and daddy. But I have stories, some not one single person will ever care about and will probably never even read. But at the end of the day all you write is just words. If they don’t mean anything to anyone, if they don’t leave someone feeling changed, then all you really did was waste 500 of them.
I know this website is technically for poems but heres an opinion piece instead.