Confession No. 12: This Is Me

While I usually keep this blog quite separate from my personal journal entries, I can't deny that because my journal is within easy reach during the day I find myself jotting ideas down into it and hence often pulling inspiration from it for this blog. However, tonight I'm going to do something a little bit different.

Confession Time: I'm going to copy a piece from my journal onto this blog, word for word.

I talked to a friend today about publishing of writing works and how unlikely it was that our works would be published, because they weren't what publishers were looking for currently, and it got me to thinking about integrity of works - when do we pass from compromise to just plain doing whatever we can to be recognised? And am I writing for recognition, or to tell a story? Does it make me selfish for wanting recognition? I pride myself on selflessness, but if I'm motivated in part by reward, does that make me selfish?

Ultimately, I had myself a bit of a moral crisis. Is the end result - regardless of whether it's a piece of writing or happiness brought to people through volunteering - diminished by the means of getting there? Am I morally a lesser person for volunteering when I am driven, in part, by reward?

I talked some more to my friend and did a lot of thinking on the subject last night, and I don't think there will ever be a right answer. I don't think it will ever sit comfortably with me, and there is too much grey here. However, the friend in question did say something that I think sums up my current position on the topic; the end result is the end result, regardless of the motivations to get there.

If I made someone happy, I still did that. No matter why I did it, that person is still happy. And in the end, that's the most important part.

Always,

Your teenaged disaster