I hate writing.
I don’t exactly hate writing. Currently as a (tryingly) functional member of society, part of the criteria is being able to communicate through spoken and written language with fluency. I understand the philosophy behind written language, it’s literally a tradition that’s been passed down throughout the historical inception of spoken language. Written language allows the writer to convey their thoughts effectively and cohesively. It allows readers to process and understand what emotions the writer is trying to convey.
It’s especially useful for reading the tiny footnotes policy writers put down in your life insurance policies (even if I don’t know what some of the clauses mean , who cares, it’s too complicated, sign anyway!) Or, when you arrogantly text your ex you’re seeing someone else just to have the briefest ego boost (text it now, deal with the emotional consequences later!).
However I’ve never been able to fully respect written languages as I’ve haven’t been that patient in really engaging with the content. The life insurance example I stated above, man, this is when text bores me to tears and I’m sure it bores a lot of people. But to be a responsible adult where your health is priority (or is it money?), I’ll have to read through the policies, make sure I understand what they mean, how they apply to me, what premiums I can afford, what it doesn’t protect me from, etc.
That is where resentment towards writing starts from. Written language can be incredibly dry (remember any academic literature you had to read for University? Or that one book your teacher assigned you to read for the week). I believe at this point, my disdain for anything related to the act of reading and/or writing makes me irrationally annoyed and even a little nervous. Hence I believe it’s likely hurt my previous chances at being scholastically prosperous between ages 8 and 24.
Then, this feeling of resentment rationalises itself into feeling insecure. Seemingly, other people appear to be insecure about financial stability, career advancement and their own happiness, but here I am telling the blogosphere how I would rather curl into fetal position than proof my cover letters, my academic essays, CVs and even sketched drawings. It’s literally that impatient princess who thinks she’s going to produce the perfect piece of writing.
From an early age, my migrant parents were concerned that I was watching ‘Western television’ too often, and therefore at risk in being culturally alienated. This is a fine concern, however as a child, I didn’t have the mental faculties to really address how incorrect they were into going about teaching me (oral and written) languages. Being told you’re suddenly going to another 6th day of school in a week without being told informed why is child abuse.
I was thrown into language school (on Saturdays, what a time to be alive!), at the age of 8 – in a curriculum for Year 1s. While older than my peers, I didn’t realise how this made an impression on me later when I was older and angsty enough to demand freedom from an outdated, uninspiring teaching curriculum. After all, it’s been said that learning an additional language next to English boosts literacy rates from a young age. But I’m sure with positive encouragement and attentiveness, a healthy, learning environment fostered from happy home would also contribute in better quality learning, right?
Now, after leaving language school too damn early for my own good, my verbal abilities in passionately stringing sentences via speech and text (even English or Vietnamese) is like an occasionally wet noodle; unsatisfying, limp and ineffective. From when I displayed poor linguistic aptitude from ages 8 on wards, the humiliation I dealt with from my parents and my siblings and to the stressful uncertainty of my current life have likely been influenced by inability to properly respect one of the important pillars of communication: writing.
So tell me, if you managed to slog this far down through whiny, drivel:
Is my writing good?