I have to write some paragraphs for my BSSM creative writing class.

Assignment #1 - Why do you write?

(disclaimer: the term "man" is used through-out the essay in its figurative, non-gender-specific sense, and purely for its rhetorical aesthetic)

"But what is this urge not only to write, but to publish one's work? Besides the pleasure of being praised, there is the thought of communicating with other souls capable of understanding one's own, and thus of one's work becoming a meeting place for the souls of all men...Living in the minds of others is what is so intoxicating."

-Delacroix, in his Journals.
-Stolen from Kristen's blog, the 'About' section.


Connection is a fundamental facet of human existence. There are few forces stronger than man's urge to enter meaningfully relationship. To know and to be known. For myself, there is no better medium to both express and fulfill this intrinsic need than the written word. My thoughts become my identity, and their lyrical instantiations become expressions of myself, instances of who I am, of the most cherished gift I can offer to either God or man. My writing becomes my worship, a sacrifice of myself in deference to my creator, an open and vulnerable invitation to any who'd deign to know me. I write because I am; because I am with Him, and because I am with you.


Assignment #2 - Write two paragraphs respectively describing desirable and undesirable emotions

Paragraph 1: Exhilarating Anticipation

Red hot blood surges like a ruthless tide, scalding the cheeks and drying the tongue. Lungs shrivel into tightly wound receptacles of expectation. Ears overcome by deafening heartbeats. One throbbing cadence tells enough time to enact an entire lifetime of possibilities. Each rhythmic undulation echoes across vast arrays of unarticulated hopes and horrors. This is an important moment. This is the pulse of life. After this moment... Existence.

Paragraph 2: Melancholy

I feel like I've been here before. This must be where I live. I thought I had moved, but I'm here again. It's like a bad dream that waits for me every morning. Today I labor. Tonight I sleep. Tomorrow will turn out to be Today disguised as the future. But when do I get to cry? But why should I want to cry? But oh I want to cry! Because to cry is to die and death is this dream's only respite. But when do I get to cry? Today I labor and Tonight I sleep.