Will the Ends Justify the Means?

“What do you have to say to the individuals who have misinterpreted or miss communicated your message and to those who have lied, cheated, or stolen directly from you?”

“Fuck ’em.” – Dope

When I first began this blog, although not that it was long ago, my first worry was that someone would speak my words as their own.  Don’t get it twisted, I’m not saying that I’m so wonderful at this whole writing thing that I’m Plagerism-worthy.  I was just worried that, with all the stupidity and laziness in the world today, you never know when someone will take a shortcut to free-up a weekend, no matter what the grade or outcome on their end.  I’m not putting myself on a pedestal; I’m surely not A+ material.  I wasn’t when I was turning in essays in highschool and I know I’m not now, regardless of my education or experience.  However I also know what I’m worth and it’s not a failing grade.  I mean, at least C-.  That was a joke.  I do have a degree after all.  That was a joke as well.  Not that I don’t have a degree, that part was true, but it has nothing to do with editing, writing, proofing, none of that.  I got a degree in, yeah I’m sure you guessed it, Art and Humanities.  Ok, probably not the humanities part because realistically I doubt most people even know what that is because I sure as hell didn’t when I signed up for it.  But as a 17-year-old college kid with a full-time job, rent payment, and the wonders of adulthood, I wanted out as soon as possible while still making good on the promise I had made my mom.

I’m getting miles away from the topic.  So I was worried about people claiming my words as their own.  I had friends who felt that beer and boobs were more important than their education and personal growth, so anything and everything was fair game.

After I read a few posts throughout this site I felt that it may be an outlet for me to grow my own talent.  I feel that I’m pretty good at this whole thoughts onto paper thing.  My dream since I was 10 years old was to be a published writer.  I’ve got notebooks and hardrives and napkins littering my home with thoughts and ideas and full-out stories.  I’ve never wanted anything so bad as to see my name on the cover of a paperback.  The chance that maybe someone would read my words.  The thought that maybe my stories could change someone’s life as so many stories have and continue to change mine.  I’ve never wished for something so hard in my life.  I’ve never dreamed for something so much.  And then, after some prodding and picking and poking from my wonderful and amazing and overly supportive husband, I finally decided to do something about it.

I’ve researched publishers and agents and even considered self publishing, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep with myself knowing that I paid for my words to be read.

I’ve never been an activate for social media.  To be honest, I’m one of those people who preach against it.  I wish for the day that Facebook’s main server permanently fails and Twitter finally gets shut down.  This seemed different.  Nobody even has to know who I am.  I can let the world read my words without selling out.  I can reach anyone who wants to hear me.  Even if no one hears me or reads my words.  Or even if they do and think that it’s complete shit, it’s available.  It’s out there for anyone who needs it or wants it or remotely cares about it.

I’ve gone out on a limb doing this.  I’ve reached into myself determining if this is a positive source for me to release all of the things scratching at my insides to be let out.  I’m an over analyzer.  I’ve gone through the pro’s and con’s a million times in my head.

Although I’ve put my words at risk in my own mind, this is something I have to do.  This is how I will get my words out of me and to whoever will listen, or in this case read.  I hope that what I’m trying to say will be understood the way I intend it to be.  I hope that no one will steal my words and portray them as their own.  I hope that maybe what I have to write will help someone.  Maybe it will change someone needing a new point of view.  Hell, maybe I’ll corrupt a few youths.

I hope that the ends I’m looking for will justify the means, but if not, all I can say is fuck ’em.


About Blue

I'm the classiest motherfucker you'll ever meet. View all posts by Blue

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