Writ on this Date, a Tuesday, the Tenth of May, in the Year of Our Lord, Two Thousand and Eleven:
Well now, I appear to have dropped off the face of the earth. I wonder where did all the time go? One second, I just got on terminal leave, chillin out, maxin, relaxin all cool; next second, terminal leave is over and I am subject once again to the real world’s torments.
And I find it strange and disconcerting. All that time, I had aspired previously to spend writing. Granted, a large majority of that time was spent writing, but what came of it? Not much at all. That’s what frightens me. I second guess. I doubt. I critique in haste, much prematurely. All of this has made it to where I pretty much float through the same poems and pieces and re-edit and re-edit and re-edit. Thereby, writing technically, but with little to nothing to show for it. I’m stuck on like the same twelve pages of one story man…and it’s about sixty pages total if you count all the poems that nobody ever reads. But growth overall is stagnant. There’s been little conceivable measure. And my attempts at writing personal works have drew me away from my work as a columnist for the examiner, of which, I have not posted on in nearly three weeks. No Joke.
All of this is alarming. I’m starting to put my motives in doubt. Do I really want to write? I do…I say to myself, deep in introspection, but alas then, why am I afraid? I am afraid. Ultimately, that is what it is. I am afraid to see what fruits of my labor the harvest might bring. I am intimidated by being at the mercy of the public’s every whim. I am fearful of my own written words.
Because they can be self-interrogations. They can be brutal self-negotiations. They can be tear-jerking confessions. They can ruin careers. Shatter previously held notions. Completely fuck someone up man! Words are fierce!
I’m afraid…but still I do it. I feel like I am waiting for the prime moment to really deliver my chops. A time when I can confidently say that I have conquered this language beast. I have become wordsmith to the smelted letter. I have slayed the word in its place of work. Mastered that which all other Masters bow to. That moment. That’s what I feel I’m waiting on.
But logically, I know that doesn’t quite make perfect sense. I tell myself, well, of course, you’re the guy who needs to get yourself there, bucko. And then I respond, I know. Shut up. Leave me alone. Powerpuff Girls are on, you kidding?
And so I sit. Frustrated. And think, perhaps maybe I should clarify my goals a little bit.
What do you think?
For now, I suppose I’m gonna live my life, every now and again write some pieces, look at them, place them on the shelf, maybe mark their place with a dried flower. Other than that, I drive. It works. For now. Fall is school. I think that will be cool. I feel like I play with my kids too much and not enough at the same time. Being home more has allowed me more interaction with them, but now, since I am selfish, I tune out occasionally because I don’t always want to focus my attention on them. I feel school will allow me more adult social stimulation, the kind I feel I’ve begun to seriously lack over the years. That, in turn, will make me appreciate more the time I will have with the kids then. And I love my kids. They deserve to have me engaged. Provided, I don’t need school to do it, but I’ve hopes that it will help rekindle my vitality, urging me to do more with what I have. For now, I have but do little. It’s easy to stay in a slump. You gotta get the right cogs turning to encourage further revolutions. Feel me? Am I talking to myself?
But of course, this is all largely speculation. On the whole, this life ain’t too shabs either. I just feel I could be participating a little more and contributing a little more to the world. At least in the realms that hold my interest. Ya know? You’d think, right? But of course, I always told myself that I never felt it necessary to have school in order for one to do that. Change comes from within, right? Not without. But hell, I guess it helps to have a bunch o’ like-minded individuals who all mostly share in your demographic category on your side right?
Here’s hoping for some mad allies!!!
I love you God. I love you family. I love you you infinite cruel joke of existence.
Sincerely and respectfully submitted,
Blepedaimones Lothario
