It's approaching now, that feeling that comes every so often. That unfounded, irrational sensation that great things lie ahead. That next year will put all others into the shade.
And why shouldn't it, I'm building on something I know works. It might not be shiny right now, it might be in no way complete but there is something about the ground on which I now stand. Something about all that had decayed and washed away from it before, what remains has stood the test of time.
And those are words and words are what I'm swearing off. I'll build no more pictures, no empty hallucinations of meaning, I have no more time for them. I love to tell myself how far I've come, how my mere survival is something to be proud of. Of course age has taught me how shallow all of that is. It is not enough to merely be, it is not enough to merely want.
For me, 2012 will be a year of purpose. Where I discard words, mirrors and speeches for some form of action. It will not be an overnight thing but I will aim to exercise my executive will in whatever way I can. I will find purpose in the things I do.
What's more, I will record it here. To the future.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Posting to my Blog
Hey, I said to myself. Why not drop the organization for a moment, why not give up trying to write something that somebody may want to read. After all this blog exists for one reason and one reason only.
It is my soap box.
You know, I've been accused of being a decent writer. It's true, people have said it. I've always secretly held that belief myself, that my, in many ways unique, perspective on the world combined with modicum of talent with the English language combine in a way that is somehow good.
But what does that mean? There's no cash prize, no career path. No interview to attend or cv to update, it's merely just the case. And I suppose that's the hard part of being better than utterly hopeless at something, it's intimidating. Sitting there in my living room playing games on my XBOX feels like a waste of something. Something I don't really understand.
It's just something I do every weekend now. Or try to do. That's all it is and whether I ever have a chance to do it professionally or not that's all it will ever really be. There is no quota of words or benchmark to meet, just what I do.
I find that hard to accept somehow. I seek structure in something that's inherently structureless. I have what I have and anything beyond that is a matter of chance.
It is my soap box.
You know, I've been accused of being a decent writer. It's true, people have said it. I've always secretly held that belief myself, that my, in many ways unique, perspective on the world combined with modicum of talent with the English language combine in a way that is somehow good.
But what does that mean? There's no cash prize, no career path. No interview to attend or cv to update, it's merely just the case. And I suppose that's the hard part of being better than utterly hopeless at something, it's intimidating. Sitting there in my living room playing games on my XBOX feels like a waste of something. Something I don't really understand.
It's just something I do every weekend now. Or try to do. That's all it is and whether I ever have a chance to do it professionally or not that's all it will ever really be. There is no quota of words or benchmark to meet, just what I do.
I find that hard to accept somehow. I seek structure in something that's inherently structureless. I have what I have and anything beyond that is a matter of chance.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)