Tuesday, May 17, 2011 | By: Brianna

What are you going to do with that?

Q: So, you're an English major. What do you want to do with that, teach?

A: No, I don't want to teach. Mostly because as a writing major the only class I would be qualified to teach in high school would be Creative Writing, and the last time I was in a creative writing class, no one took it seriously. Not that I'm saying all creative writing has to be serious, but really folks? Writing poems that rhyme...with "cat" and "mat" and those? You can do better than that.

This may seem like it's in the same vein as Monday wishing, but here it is.

Want the realistic answer?

Q: Sure, why not? I'm a fan of realism.

A: I'm going to sit trapped for eight hours a day in a cubicle in a gigantic office building in the midst of ties and panty hose and I'm going to write jingles. And mission statements. And memos for my boss because he doesn't know the difference between "their" and "there" and also because I really don't want another memo saying: "Be their and make sure they bring there notes on the Berger merger." I'm going to make jokes about Chaucer that no one'll understand and I'm going to read poetry by the water cooler when I'm on my fifteen minute break because none of those accountants or other people are interesting to talk to.

Q: That sounds lovely, I don't know why you're so grim about it.

A: Because I want to write.

Q: But you are writing in that scenario.

A: No. I want to write for me. I want to write poetry that people think is ridiculous and brilliant and silly but profound. Something that makes people think while they're choking with laughter. I want to write a novel with characters that kids dress up as for Halloween, and I want every parent to recognize them and suggest another book for that kid to read. Because Brianna's great, but have you read Rowling or Adams or Pratchett or Gaiman?

I want to write plays and screenplays so quirky that they only cater to a specific audience. I want to write for my favorite TV show and make it even better than it already is. I'll write plays that Darren Criss will compose music for, and we'll both be such great friends that he'll invite me to watch the filming of next week's episode of Glee. I want to write skits that make me laugh every time I see them performed and I want kids to perform them and have fun doing it. No chore skits.

I want to live in a box on some deserted London street and support my "habits" by miming. Or monologuing. Or reciting poetry. Any poetry. Maybe even Shakespeare. I want people to be able to say "I knew her when..." and be proud when they see that I'm actually living out my dream. Show pride when they gesture towards my cardboard box, decked out with Christmas lights running on a portable battery.

I want to write until my keyboard falls apart or my fingers bleed. I want to write nonsense and things that make no sense just because I can. I don't want people to ask me what I write, and I don't want them to ask if they can read it. Not until I'm done. I'll sit in a local cafe and scribble on anything in sight from napkins to menus or newspapers. I'll do the crossword in the newspaper first, of course. The locals will recognize me because of my overlarge cream sweater with the adverbs dripping off the sleeves and the adjective stains.

That's what I want to do. I don't want people to remind me that I actually need money to live. I want to have come into a decent-sized inheritance so I don't have to worry about things like that. If I do, the street performing'll cover it. I don't want people to tell me that it's impossible. And I don't want people to tell me that I'll never do better than what's already set as a goal. I don't want people to tell me to be practical. Because that is practical. Reaching for dreams, shooting for the moon, facing the impossible, doing what you love. It is practical.

"Write without pay until someone offers to pay."
- Mark Twain


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