Is it just me, or is there anyone else out there who finds themselves wanting to do things and it seems like divine intervention to prevent it? Maybe this is the case. OR maybe since I am one who is lacking in belief of the divine, I may just have the worst set of timing and/or "luck" in the world. I have been wanting to keep up with this blog and keep it going since I started it and reentered the world of, as I quote a man I once knew and once thought to be brilliant, "writing a million words to say nothing". Between being in and out of school, full time work, my laptop frying from having the worlds largest cup of water fall on it, almost in a choreographed manner, I might add, and also the countless hours of therapy from watching too many hours of Bones on Netflix and worrying about the extensive number of people I have pissed off over my life and where they will possibly hide my body (or if Dr. Brennan and Booth can be reached to solve my murder), I have been at a loss of time to update this and keep a conversation and interaction going with you.
But not anymore. I hate to be one of THOSE people who have New Year's Resolutions, mainly because I find the people who do make them are doing so for the same reasons that people who spend hours exercising and dieting with a scale and mirror no more than 15 feet away from them at any point inside their home, vain and shallow (I can be such an ass sometimes). If things were really that important, then it would be a priority year round. BUT, here I am, in the same shallow end of the pool with the same vain and lazy folks I grew to have a distaste for over the past 26 years. I will go as far to say that I am not making a year long resolution, but rather a month by month resolution. Maybe my resolution is to have monthly resolutions (or whatever). I find this to be a more realistic approach to getting things done, something that doesn't look so staggeringly monumental that it can't be achieved realistically. Like most great ideas that are passed off as our own, I immediately stole this when I read this interesting article and passed it off to you, here. I believe this can be taken from the perspective on writing and adapted to any facet of life, though, I am just mainly sticking to the writing thing because writing seems to be the only thing in this world that makes sense to me anymore.
So here it goes. For the next 25 days (26 if you want to be a stickler and count today and this post) I will be posting something different and new, ranging from documenting my early twenties mid-life crisis-esque nomadic ventures and exploits, which may or may not be finished, to current art and writing projects, sports, movies music, and my pup, Bookonon, may even make an appearance.
Even more than that, I want to interact. This blog is not a soapbox, and I do not want to use it as such. I am no one special for you to hang on every word for your entertainment and you are smarter than to allow yourself to do so. I know there are things like Facebook (and the joke it has become) and Twitter to connect with people, but in a life where everything is a lack luster distraction or forced into 140 characters, it's hard to be able to seriously relate to one another.
Two things to leave with: 1. I hope you are as excited about this as I am (but I doubt you are. Why would you be? We just met, you don't know me...).
2. I never know how to end these things so I'll leave you with this ridiculous poem I just made up about a squirrel I almost pet yesterday:
No Bread
Walking to work
and there was no mail in my slot today.
I passed a tree,
a MIGHTY one at that,
that was clothed by catatonic leaves and
one MIGHTY squirrel.
He looked at me
this MIGHTY squirrel,
with one eye to show he was manlier
than I.
Fearless, he scampered around the trunk,
twice,
and I stood in bewilderment at this
MIGHTY squirrel.
"It's January," I said,
"Shouldn't you be asleep?"
Immediately he knew I was no man
of science.
He raced down from the tree to my feet,
save half my height,
and looked me in the eye,
this time with both of his
as he took a slight scamp closer.
"I have no food for you good sir,"
I tell him,
"No bread at all to share."
He turned and climbed back home,
that MIGHTY,
fearless
January squirrel.
But not anymore. I hate to be one of THOSE people who have New Year's Resolutions, mainly because I find the people who do make them are doing so for the same reasons that people who spend hours exercising and dieting with a scale and mirror no more than 15 feet away from them at any point inside their home, vain and shallow (I can be such an ass sometimes). If things were really that important, then it would be a priority year round. BUT, here I am, in the same shallow end of the pool with the same vain and lazy folks I grew to have a distaste for over the past 26 years. I will go as far to say that I am not making a year long resolution, but rather a month by month resolution. Maybe my resolution is to have monthly resolutions (or whatever). I find this to be a more realistic approach to getting things done, something that doesn't look so staggeringly monumental that it can't be achieved realistically. Like most great ideas that are passed off as our own, I immediately stole this when I read this interesting article and passed it off to you, here. I believe this can be taken from the perspective on writing and adapted to any facet of life, though, I am just mainly sticking to the writing thing because writing seems to be the only thing in this world that makes sense to me anymore.
So here it goes. For the next 25 days (26 if you want to be a stickler and count today and this post) I will be posting something different and new, ranging from documenting my early twenties mid-life crisis-esque nomadic ventures and exploits, which may or may not be finished, to current art and writing projects, sports, movies music, and my pup, Bookonon, may even make an appearance.
Even more than that, I want to interact. This blog is not a soapbox, and I do not want to use it as such. I am no one special for you to hang on every word for your entertainment and you are smarter than to allow yourself to do so. I know there are things like Facebook (and the joke it has become) and Twitter to connect with people, but in a life where everything is a lack luster distraction or forced into 140 characters, it's hard to be able to seriously relate to one another.
Two things to leave with: 1. I hope you are as excited about this as I am (but I doubt you are. Why would you be? We just met, you don't know me...).
2. I never know how to end these things so I'll leave you with this ridiculous poem I just made up about a squirrel I almost pet yesterday:
No Bread
Walking to work
and there was no mail in my slot today.
I passed a tree,
a MIGHTY one at that,
that was clothed by catatonic leaves and
one MIGHTY squirrel.
He looked at me
this MIGHTY squirrel,
with one eye to show he was manlier
than I.
Fearless, he scampered around the trunk,
twice,
and I stood in bewilderment at this
MIGHTY squirrel.
"It's January," I said,
"Shouldn't you be asleep?"
Immediately he knew I was no man
of science.
He raced down from the tree to my feet,
save half my height,
and looked me in the eye,
this time with both of his
as he took a slight scamp closer.
"I have no food for you good sir,"
I tell him,
"No bread at all to share."
He turned and climbed back home,
that MIGHTY,
fearless
January squirrel.
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