Why Write? (A Violent Reaction)

Another self-questioning post.... Why again...

Why do I write?

One columnist's reason for being a writer is (let me summarize that one paragraph into a one-phrase interpretation) : to bare out the decadence of the society he moves on.

I have a different side on why I write (though I seem to be moving in his same thread in this post).

I write to pinch my cheeks... to feel the sensations of cold water suddenly thrown on my face; to feel that somehow, in this vast world, I exist and am part of this invisible community bonded by the written word.

" The hills are alive...." My reason for writing cannot be described with pun or song, nor with poking someone's chest for answers and critique.

There are lots of subjects out there waiting for someone to flesh them out in words. But sadly, darkness is an interesting topic especially in this confusing age, this "whatever generation".

I feel this darkness... I swim in its throes. I relish it and not shun it, because it is here. It is for this reason I write, though in a different perspective.

I write not as a foresayer of doom. I write not as an observer of society. I write to rouse myself to act and think- not comment then run to the hallways of escapism (the hills are alive.... as philosophers said.... )

I hope by writing, others may act and think. Because Writing is not only art.... it is a silent but potent movement.

Above all else, I write because of love. Because if writers don't love this world and its inhabitants, what's the rationale for sharing thoughts and invoking action?

(sermon done. my insanity pills pls...)

(hi to my fave mushroom columnist ! Thanks for spurring me to write! ... with the sound of music, lalalala)

How do you solve a problem like toot...toot... toot. How do you catch a cloud and pin it down... (stop it already, you're already contradicting your post!)