I’m going to be redundant. That is I’m going to repeat myself. Which is to say I will reiterate something I’ve already previously said, or in this case written here. It’s about writing. For some inane reason I want to be a writer. I know. I know. In the days of the future where every book has a movie or can be downloaded as an audio file, and news is delivered via podcasts and newspapers/magazines are going the way of the Phorusrhacids (basically a big ass extinct bird, also known as a Terror Bird) What on earth would possess and motivate me to want to tie my fate to this Titanic of media output. I’m a dreamer I guess. You can probably tell by the fact that this is a blog and not a vlog how much I prefer the old medium to the new. But wishes are just that, wishes. I don’t know what the hold back is. Maybe I’m filled with the same doubts as anyone trying to pursue a non-conformist middle American job.
Avoiding delving into the bottomless pit that is my psyche for just one more post, we will start with a huge problem of accomplishing this dream. I don’t write. This may seem contradictory to the evidence that these words are presenting to you right now, but trust me when I say I don’t write. I read a phenomenal book once, called The Lie That Tells the Truth. It was assigned reading for a class I was taking, so I was skeptical at first, but the author, John Dusfresne, gave some solid advice all of it so simple a cave person could do it…if a cave person had transcended the rudimentary drawing phase of human communications into a written language…you know what I mean.
My brain is bad, so I don’t retain a lot of non-essential information, but I do remember one thing from Dusfresne’s book was that he advised you to write everyday. Of course this is virtually impossible for the citizen on the go with real life concerns, but he is very adamant about writing every day or often enough. To be a writer, you must simply write basically. It’s the only way to get your ideas out and it’s the only way they will turn into something more if skill and fate so design.
Hence my dilemma. I don’t write anymore. I use to write a lot. Stupid little short stories and character pieces, poems, songs, anything. And then somewhere along my life plan I started buffering. Buffering is the term I’ve come to most associate with my life as of the date of this entry. A lot of people my age are long past that transitioning stage, that growth stage, the eye rollingly nauseating “finding myself” stage, but I am not. I’m still working on some things, still discovering what I want to be when I grow up, and trying (and failing) at a couple of things still. So my life story is still loading at about 30bit/s and it isn’t in HD and I am fine with that.
Well, not fine, but dealing in any case. However, my writing has suffered. I haven’t really written anything other than a research paper or blog or email in a long time and that is just unacceptable, which is the reason why I even decided to write a blog in the first place. To dust off the old cobwebs so to speak (did I use another cliche? I hate myself) I’m going to attempt to take Dusfresne’s advice and write something non academic for a change. I’ve had this brilliant idea several times over the past couple of years, but I’m really going to attempt to do this for real this time. I even bought a writing journal (granted I bought it a couple months ago, so I’m still behind on my goal but you know better late than…If I write one more cliche I’m punching myself).
[This a repost from blogger. I’m migrating from there to here. Read the original here.]