Why write and when

So where are the young writers?

I wrote songs and some poems when I was young but never a story . The idea of writing a journal was foreign to me some thing that women did , keep diaries. You never hear of young authors , well yes you do but young usually means after 30 seldom does an 18 year old able to capture the imagination of the readers. Is it imagination or experience that causes us to write . Is it a fear that when we are gone no one will know what we think so we try to answer every possible question by writing stories or my favorite expression putting my words on paper.

SO is it a desire to say to the world look at what I have done. Hear my ideas listen to what I say. Do we realize that with experience the end of gaining more experiences is diminishing. We so desperately want to leave a mark some where on this earth that we were here. Like all other mammals we are marking our territory. The one good thing is we know that peeing every does not last. When we are gone the urine dries up and some one else comes along and is able to lift their leg higher. Of course we could leave plastic bags around and in a few hundred years they might spring a leek and some one might pass by and say hey wow where is that guy now. I think words might be better easier to see and interpret.

So words are great for the future generations see our mark. The problem is we will never hear a word or thought about what we have written our dreams what we care about unless we receive some comments now good or bad they allow us to judge what we say and leave behind. I am upset when some one forces their way into the room to see what I am writing or drawing. Though, I will post to blogs or leave my art work in plain view to entice a comment. When none comes I cast doubt on the value of my work I am hurt and feel forgotten. I let the webs of dust form, the ink will dry and ideas do not easily form. We are funny little creatures we have battled ourselves and mother nature, flown to the moon and walked with volcanoes. We beat out the dinosaurs and put all other mammals in the back seat. Yet no comment on our thoughts or ideas and we are crushed.
The weakness nation on this earth has to be the imagination. So easily bruised so much fear of non acceptance I wonder how we made it this far.

My last thought on this is what if future generation takes what I say out of the context that it was written what if I am depicted as a monster right up there with Hitler and Bernardo. I will not be there to guide their thoughts or answer questions I will have to leave my word to be judge on what they feel is art or a good story, that is a scary thought. So in the true fear in man that has continued since we left he trees I have a plan. I decided to return to my writing and art and of making things with a clause. A good friend will be asked to make sure that for six months after I am gone all art and words will be available to everyone and then it will be wiped clean why this drama queen attitude. I do not really care if I leave a mark for future generations they can have a bag of pee. Only my friends know me and understand what I write or why. Truly it is their thoughts I wish to stimulate and their comments that I wish to hear.