What happens when you sing to yourself

I have been singing to myself lately.

Now, whether or not my voice is decent is not really important. What I have found is that tuning into this voice changes my writing voice in a way that I find to be incredibly helpful.

After all, I have not been able to write much at all (besides surface nonsense for a blog) since taking an Advanced Poetry class Spring '09 semester. It was awful. I had to transfer myself into a man who was grounded and had a distaste for flippant and airy writing. Whoever this person was that I had to transfer myself to was too heavily influenced by the crazy person I was living with, this professor who was teaching the class (so I could get a decent grade) and any other person I was having to lie to myself for in order to survive, basically. I had to play a role to realign myself.

Frankly, I was a shitty actress because I could not get out of the role without making a huge mess.

It seems, spending that much time trying to survive by adjusting the way that you speak and/or communicate is astounding. It's something that I am not sure if I will ever be able to explain to anyone else.

Regardless, I am finding my voice again and it's going to take a lot of work getting it back to decent pace. It's just that... when you are told, as a student, that the way you soak in information does not make you a writer and instead, some other kind of goon, it's a bit hard to swallow. For me, the only use of college has been to remind me that I am certainly not one of anything at all and that I must be a moron. I have always inputted and outputted my information differently and if I am going to be judged by a bunch of traditional rules (as usual) I will be pigeonholed always as something other than what they define as the tradition.

Anyway, so I sing to myself, not regularly, but sometimes. And then this person comes out that is entirely genuine but speaking a different language than before. Still, a different language, just spoken in English. I like to let her sit in and get fed with all that is Earthly before she emerges. This is just the "creator" in me, apparently. This is just another voice.

Frankly, I have many. Maybe this is why I can't bother trying to pin myself down as anything. That's the best thing, you know.

I am making little sense.