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Blogs by Steven Maus
Purpose, thank Madeline! 2/7/2008 6:32:27 PM
I have now witnessed 50+ college kids, crammed in a room meant for much less, all singing along to the karaoke version of Britney Spears' "Crazy." It made me laugh, I'll give it that much, and not just in a sad, pitiful way, or a pitifully entertaining way. I actually find the song very catchy and thought for a moment that if Britney could have heard those college kids that maybe it would have cheered her some.
Other than that, Florida is disappointingly like Arizona in terms of work and social opportunities, meaning that the work sucks and the people are retarded. Who has fun standing in the middle of a large crowd, screaming? Aren't there many more ways to have fun that involve actually talking to people and learning?
At this open mic gathering, I read from Branchwater. Granted, I knew no one was going to pay attention. There had been a girl who went up a few people ahead of me and read poetry. I don't know if it sounded good or not; I couldn't hear over the people braying and hee-hawing as they all clumped together to make room for as many people as possible, lest they miss some stranger's questionably enteraining story that started out, "So this one time I was totally about to bone my girlfriend..."
But I read from Branchwater anyway, and there were a few people in the room that were nice enough to listen, and a few even nicer ones that tried to shush those around them. I did get more attention than the girl who read poetry (probably having to do with the level of blood and gore that my subject dealt with), and three people actually complemented me in person, which I appriciated. All in all, this crowd ain't my crowd, and while I could have very well been disappointed by the lack of attention I gained for my book, I was actually very pleased with myself.
As I stood up on that little stage, reading the battle scenes from chapter 8, I left Florida for a short while and went to Branchwater, fighting alongside Branch and Hugo, slaying First soldiers and fleeing that burning tower. Yeah, perhaps not a single person from that gathering will buy my book, but that's okay, because as I jumped from the tower and landed on the wall beside my mantlik friends, I was reminded why I write. There are stories out there (or perhaps in here, I say, placing a hand over my heart) that only I can tell. There are people who will never live, unless I give them breath, and as I watched that siege tower fall, crushing the First Army beneath it, I remembered why I write. The words themselves are their own reward - mine as well - and no amount of money can equal them.
