Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Originality's Futility

Originality used to horrify me, not in the way the dark does, but sort of like Dairy Queen when I'm on a low budget. I was obsessed with having it. It was the goal for my life, being unique in my writing, in my ideas, in the way I acted. I spent days at a time thinking about it, wondering how to do it, looking for and planning out how to achieve it.

There’s a thousand and ten quotes on how one can never prove completely unique. “All ideas have been done before and all of them will be done again.” I haven’t seen evidence against this yet.
Especially when I go on the internet.

Yet I sit there, knowing this, but have some sort of epiphany where I always think, “Yeah, no one's done this before!” and then see it somewhere else. Usually some odd place that I really don’t want to believe my ideas are similar to. And then I cry, remove the thought from my options, and go on to the next brilliant endeavor.
After years of being an artist, or whatever we're calling it these days, I began to learn my lesson. Being original is not the most important part of being successful, no matter what the definition of success is. To make something that others wouldn’t be bored with due to familiarity, one only has to be different. Different takes on many different forms.
An author could tell the tale about the poor farmer boy who grows up to be a hero, following every little direction The Hero's Journey says he should, just so long as the other elements have something unique to them. Like say the boy wanted to be a woman. Though I’m not sure how many fans of that plot line would be able to relate. Or it could be simply the time period that changes, being that it’s a farm boy of the 1930’s who grows up to be a capitalist after World War II.
I mean, I realize this. I have come to this conclusion and I accepted it. No more would my focus be on astounding people with things they’ve never seen before. No. I will just be honest and astound them with aspects that they’ve always ignored.
So why is it that every time I get on the internet I begin to slip back into depression?
I still believe that I am special and no one is like me, yet when I click from page to page, blog to blog, I begin to see people with the thoughts that I have coveted, with the humor I prized, with the writing style, the interests, the slighted views, the tastes, and the all around essence of me pasted in bits and pieces.
I wanted to start this blog and think of a way to avoid the types of things other bloggers did that I judged. I can’t do it, mostly because those I judge are too close to me.
Therefore, I’m writing a blog, like all the other writing blogs you’ve seen before, and will just have to bemoan it later. I have things needing to be said. God knows I can't get anyone I actually know to listen.