A new class...

requires me to write things quite frequently. It's Creative Nonfiction, something with which I should be intimately familiar. Unfortunately I've not felt very, well, orignial as of late. I'm sure that my observations and interpretations of current and past events is in some way unique, set apart from all the rest of the rantings and the ravings of the press-slash-blogsphere. Even the topic on which I will do much of my writing this semester, Religion in America and/or American Politics, has recieved much coverage thanks to Dubya's supposed ability to harness the Fundamentalists as a viable voting bloc, a theoretical counter to the Crazy Commie Lefties who would ban all guns and make dope legal and use Bibles to fuel the melting machines of the recycling plants.

Perhaps there are a few more words in there than I thought. At any rate, things should get interesting when I have to infiltrate some religious organisation and write up its nefarious operations. Having the experience that I do in this area should also provide some grist for the word-mills, as it were, although being predisposed to certain positions (i.e. right-wing religious nutters aren't rational and cling like children to made-up stories about a benevolent invisible Superman named "God" who will reward them for eliminating individuality in His name, but only once they die) is supposed to be bad for honest reporting. So, to what degree are we supposed to be "creative"? Sounds like a good question to ask the instructor, no?

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