Bad Writing, the Road to Hell

I don't feel like I'm gaining much wisdom by typing my thoughts haphazardly. In fact, I may be loosing some. My grammar, punctuation, and paragraph structure feel like they're on a downward spiral toward nothingness.

Before I started doing this, every single one of my sentences made perfect grammatical sense. I always mentally checked whether or not the subject and the verb agreed with each other before and after I typed a sentence, so my sentences always came out perfectly, grammatically speaking, when I finished them. Punctuation was hardly an issue. It was literally like I'd never learned what bad punctuation was, so all that came out of me was punctuated perfectly. My paragraph structure wasn't always perfect, but it at least made sense most of the time because my writing teacher gave me a system to fall back on (which I haven't really used in a long time) that not only got me through the toughest times, but made those times a joy to force myself through.

I wrote strictly and didn't post or publicly display what I wrote until I was happy with it, so through that constant need to check myself, I developed my own really strong system of not only writing, but thinking that turned phrases like advanced analysis, thousand word essay, and book review into fun activities; made words like metaphor, simile, concept, medium, connotation, and so many others beautiful; and made life a million times more worth living than it already was. I could see the beauty of reading Shakespeare, the awesomeness of comparing writers' essays, the fun of writing about whatever I wanted, so I felt like the world was mine, that I could do anything. Everything had beauty. Purpose was all over the place.

However, somewhere along the line I got the foolish idea in my head that constantly checking on my writing was a bad thing, and that not doing so would make my writing more "free." That was wrong, dead wrong. Typing my thoughts as my brain processed them constantly, like I've been doing for more than half a year --what was I thinking!?-- on this blog, was like scratching at a fresh scar, trying to make it into an open wound. The more I did it, the worse I got at writing, but I've realized now that my writing wasn't the only thing on the line like I thought it was. I was also loosing the ability to think clearly, to program well, and, just recently, even to read coherently --TO FUCKING READ A BOOK!

I'm done with not thinking about what I write as I write it, most likely for good. It may be a technique that has worked for some people, but it will never work for me. My brain isn't separated into little categories, so if I don't think about what I'm writing as I'm writing, the idea of not thinking about what I'm doing will begin to spread slowly, like a bucket of paint in a pool of water, to all of my realms of thought until, eventually my brain interprets it as a desire not to think, and I end up not thinking about what I'm doing at all, ever. I've come pretty close to reaching that point right now, but, luckily, I've found my way out of the hellish idea.

So, ghost readers, I guess you'll get to finally actually understand my thoughts as I dump them onto you, at least hopefully, for I do not know if my system of writing and grammar is understandable by anyone but me, but hey, it is better than the thoughtless nest of nothingness I've been giving you so far, so it can't be all bad. Wish me luck, if you want to, in my quest to better my writing.

Adieu, adieu, remember this, I've sworn it. (It's so fun to spin-quote Hamlet, isn't it?)