I attended a Red Badge Project class today. They are writing “classes” for women veterans. The focus is on self-expression. I was anxious but chose to stretch my limits and go anyway. It was a new environment. Fortunately two friends were there also. That helped me feel more comfortable. I was also concerned about critique. Although I share my blog, my writing is for me. I don’t worry about impressing anyone or being perfect. No criticism. The other attendess gave feedback about how the writing touched them and what they enjoyed. Yet, we could still touch on sensitive topics if we wanted.
One of the exercises that we did was to write one continuous sentence. One gigantic run on sentence. I found it diffult not to use ending punctuation. We were allowed to use commas, colons, semicolons, and dashes. I want to share my long run one sentence. The topic is my paretner. The one who doesn’t exist. My writing turned into free thought, tangetical exploration of relationships and independence.
Romance is overrated; pressure to marry and have children- Mom really wants grandkids, talk to my brother and sister, they’re married: no one had children, deal with granddogs, grandcats, and grandferrets- no one should be pressured into having kids: relationships are risky and confining- there is freedom in being alone- I can do things I wouldn’t be able to: I have my own destiny but I am not selfish- I help others, I honor obligations, I treat others with respect and am supportive but still, maybe I should have gotten married- religion and society demands it- why can’t I feel free from who I am supposed to be and what I should do; so I rescue those who were thrown away and are misunderstood by people but ferrets are intelligent and hilarious and they are crazy wild but yet domesticated, I understand: they depend on me -and I wonder who rescues who- Brighid was a young kitten, another castaway; I’m adrift too and she chose me and I chose her- two lost souls and I wonder who needs a partner when the ferrets and cat provide the unlimited, non-judgmental, simple love and trust that people never do but still, I have to wonder why there is so much judgment on different because everyone is- yet, here we are, all grouped together, marching toward something but nothing; society’s expectations: hide being different – because different is dangerous- yet I still can’t change who I am; I can’t lie to myself anymore but still I hide the truth from others behind a mask of normal to just be another lemming jumping off the cliff into insanity.
Punctuation makes a difference. Still, the style of free writing offers a different way to communicate thoughts. It requires patience on the part of readers. I think it also provides more opportunities for each person to find a meaning unique to them.
I think this style also illustrates the inner jangle of thoughts that just never shut up. Almost everyone experiences this. Often they are fears, self- criticism, and lists of “I need to..” or “I should…”
Really, life is a run on sentence.