  There's this terrible malady that afflicts some teenagers: it's an incredible urge to be perceived as artistic without actually practicing any art. I know a lot of kids who call themselves poets and they never write a line of poetry. I also know a lot of 'writers' who never write a word unless they're forced to in school. It's all about the image of being artistic , because chicks dig artists. I used to be somewhat guilty of this.
I allowed people to call me a writer when I really wasn't writing anything. Now, other than the fact that I actually do write, I often try to clarify the meaning behind the term 'writer. ' Here's the deal ladies: if a guy tells you he's a writer, he's coming on to you. (Especially for the older crowd - college-aged and such. ) He's obviously just trying to impress you. If he was honest, he would tell the truth. Here's a bit of dialogue to illustrate this: Girl: "So, what do you do for a living? " Guy: "Um, I'm a writer. " Girl: "Oh how interesting ! What do you write? " Here I'll save the guy from answering and supply a translation: Girl: "So, how much money do you make?
" Guy: "Um, I'm unemployed. " Girl: "I don't quite know what to say. But I might sleep with you, anyway. " When somebody asks me, I tell them that I don't have a job, but that I write stuff. They ask what, and I say something like, "I write crap. " I'd rather they have low expectations before reading my stuff, anyway. Of course, this all applies with music, fine arts ... basically anything that can be passed off as artistic.
The worst offenders are 'writers,' with 'poets' coming in at a close second. Some kids call themselves poets in the sense that they've written a poem before. Others use the title because they actually do write poetry ... it's just really crappy poetry. But there are a select few who have the right to call themselves poets. Actually, I only know of one, and that would be Krispin the Poet. He denies being a poet, which is exactly why he is one. Very good with metaphors, that one. And satire. Like our co-writing of the poem, "Green," or whatever we ended up calling it.
It's all in the delivery, by the way: you have to read poetry in a dramatic, mystical voice, with candles lit, someone banging on a drum, maybe throw in a bass, and you have to wear a hood. Or eyeliner, in Krispin's case. Emo kid. But I digress. Actually I don't, because that's all I've got. I just wanted to use the word 'digress. ' So I did. 
