When I say "cheap," I'm not talking about how much it pays. To be perfectly honest, I'm kind of banking on some poor soul (or I guess a rich one) paying me a decent amount to write and talk. But that's not for a while.
Let's talk about today, shall we?
Or better yet, let's not talk. How about we actually get out and do things, meet people, have adventures, show we care about each other, and live life the best way we know how.
I have spent far too long just speaking, just writing. And whether or not there was really anything behind my words, I haven't been doing enough living. I had good intentions, but that wasn't enough. So you know what I'm going to do right now? I'm going to stop writing, and I'm gonna live.
Ok, I'm actually gonna go to sleep. But hey, that's a part of living too.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
The Untitled Post
It's no secret to anyone who's seen me in the last few days that I'm going through a rough time. Really rough.
But I'ma be ok. Excuse my slang. But I think now is a good time to be real. I hide behind my written words so much, it's time I stop that.
It's gotten so bad that when I started to write this, I spent far too long trying to figure out how I could tie it into some sort of sports metaphor.
But here's the thing: Sometimes you don't need a pretty lead. Sometimes you don't need an interesting anecdote. Sometimes you don't need to use perfect AP Style.
Because this is one of those ever-increasing times where I have life put in perspective for me. I don't need writing. I don't need bylines. I don't need prestige. I don't need that perfect job.
I just need those people in my life who are dear to me, and who say I am dear to them, and really mean it. Those who stick around, pray for me, talk with me, text me, call me, skype me, write me. Those people I can always lean on, and then turn around and let them lean on me.
This is one of those times when I could care less about grammar, or how interesting this post is, or how many hits I'm going to get.
Because this post has but one purpose: To thank all of you have been there for me. I can save a Word document. I can read the next chapter later. But I can't take people for granted and put them on the back burner and expect them to be there just when I need them. I can't treat people poorly for selfish reasons and then throw a woe-is-me pity party. I should give to people what they've given to me; and more if I can.
It's time I gave back.
7---12
But I'ma be ok. Excuse my slang. But I think now is a good time to be real. I hide behind my written words so much, it's time I stop that.
It's gotten so bad that when I started to write this, I spent far too long trying to figure out how I could tie it into some sort of sports metaphor.
But here's the thing: Sometimes you don't need a pretty lead. Sometimes you don't need an interesting anecdote. Sometimes you don't need to use perfect AP Style.
Because this is one of those ever-increasing times where I have life put in perspective for me. I don't need writing. I don't need bylines. I don't need prestige. I don't need that perfect job.
I just need those people in my life who are dear to me, and who say I am dear to them, and really mean it. Those who stick around, pray for me, talk with me, text me, call me, skype me, write me. Those people I can always lean on, and then turn around and let them lean on me.
This is one of those times when I could care less about grammar, or how interesting this post is, or how many hits I'm going to get.
Because this post has but one purpose: To thank all of you have been there for me. I can save a Word document. I can read the next chapter later. But I can't take people for granted and put them on the back burner and expect them to be there just when I need them. I can't treat people poorly for selfish reasons and then throw a woe-is-me pity party. I should give to people what they've given to me; and more if I can.
It's time I gave back.
7---12
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Here We Go Again
The newspaper I am the sports editor for will see its first issue of the year drop tomorrow. I'm really excited for it, but I can't really sit back and enjoy the feeling. Like a baseball player who just hit a home run and admires the ball flying through the air. Like a kick returner watching himself take it to the house on the big screen. Like a basketball player turning to the crowd after nailing a three-pointer.
I can't do any of that.
It's like what coaches say after winning big games: You can't celebrate it because there's another one tomorrow, or next week.
Here's how I'm looking at it: This was game one of the World Series. I won. At least I think I did. I didn't get out without injuries though. I'm beaten, bruised, and very tired. But there's no time for recuperating, because I have to be up early tomorrow and get ready for game two. And this isn't a best-of-seven series. I still have several hundred games left before I can take home the trophy.
That is, if I win at all.
I can't do any of that.
It's like what coaches say after winning big games: You can't celebrate it because there's another one tomorrow, or next week.
Here's how I'm looking at it: This was game one of the World Series. I won. At least I think I did. I didn't get out without injuries though. I'm beaten, bruised, and very tired. But there's no time for recuperating, because I have to be up early tomorrow and get ready for game two. And this isn't a best-of-seven series. I still have several hundred games left before I can take home the trophy.
That is, if I win at all.
Monday, September 5, 2011
No Turning Back
If you're good at something, never do it for free. Please, do not discount these words just because they were said by a psychotic fictional serial-killer. If anything, that should increase their legitimacy.
I take this saying to heart, because I made a career out of the only thing I do well. But today, I don't have any words, so where does that leave me?
Broke.
Broken.
The urge to write comes from every emotion you can think of: boredom, anger, hurt, depression, laziness... hunger. At least, I think it did before today. So now I'm just typing whatever words pop into my already-sleep-deprived head as they come to me.
The thing I secretly love about writing is that backspace button. If you only knew how many times I use it during a blogpost or story...
I like the backspace button because of how many times I mess up. I kinda wish there was a backspace button for all the mistakes I make. Because then it's so much easier to come up with a crystal clear picture of what I'm really trying to say. A much happier ending. Without that button on my keyboard, my articles would be jumbled and confusing. You might see what I'm going for, but why hassle with all the slips of a keystroke?
Maybe I should spend less time writing and more time trying to invent that ever-elusive CTR-Z button for life.
I take this saying to heart, because I made a career out of the only thing I do well. But today, I don't have any words, so where does that leave me?
Broke.
Broken.
The urge to write comes from every emotion you can think of: boredom, anger, hurt, depression, laziness... hunger. At least, I think it did before today. So now I'm just typing whatever words pop into my already-sleep-deprived head as they come to me.
The thing I secretly love about writing is that backspace button. If you only knew how many times I use it during a blogpost or story...
I like the backspace button because of how many times I mess up. I kinda wish there was a backspace button for all the mistakes I make. Because then it's so much easier to come up with a crystal clear picture of what I'm really trying to say. A much happier ending. Without that button on my keyboard, my articles would be jumbled and confusing. You might see what I'm going for, but why hassle with all the slips of a keystroke?
Maybe I should spend less time writing and more time trying to invent that ever-elusive CTR-Z button for life.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
The Calm Before the Storm
Earlier I mentioned one of my favorite phrases. "Ain't nothing left to do but to do it."
As a writer, sometimes I think I do a little too much talking (or typing, as it were) and not enough doing. I'm working on this. And this summer taught me a lot about that concept. But I know that this semester will test my ability to "do" more than ever before.
I may be concerned about juggling classes and jobs. I may be unsure if there are enough hours in a day to get it all done. I may go into this with a lot already on my mind. I may already be sleep-deprived. But am I scared to death? Yeah, pretty much.
That doesn't matter though, because I'm going to do it. I'm going to do it all. And I'm going to do it all well. I'm not one for overconfidence, or any kind of confidence for that matter. But I'm sure of two things: First, that I'm going to try my best (because what else can I do?). And secondly, that it's going to be interesting.
As a writer, sometimes I think I do a little too much talking (or typing, as it were) and not enough doing. I'm working on this. And this summer taught me a lot about that concept. But I know that this semester will test my ability to "do" more than ever before.
I may be concerned about juggling classes and jobs. I may be unsure if there are enough hours in a day to get it all done. I may go into this with a lot already on my mind. I may already be sleep-deprived. But am I scared to death? Yeah, pretty much.
That doesn't matter though, because I'm going to do it. I'm going to do it all. And I'm going to do it all well. I'm not one for overconfidence, or any kind of confidence for that matter. But I'm sure of two things: First, that I'm going to try my best (because what else can I do?). And secondly, that it's going to be interesting.
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