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16 November 2014 @ 12:16 am
The Time is Now  
There's one thing that I've always wanted to be one day and that is a published writer. In my teenage years and early twenties, my muse was my own misery, self-loathing, and lustful envy. I composed many pieces with a majority being dark and/or sexually charged. I was full of anger yet hollow with sadness. Much like the lyrics of an Everclear song, I wanted a lover to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be all right. I wanted it to be and her against the world without a thought of how things would turn out after the lights blinked out in that 'Happily Ever After' sign that was lowered right before the credits started to roll. As a result of the many poor decisions that I've made over the past two decades, and not just in my selection of writing topics, I've ruined my credibility as a writer, tarnished my honor as a man, and have mucked up many personal relationships, social circles, and assorted gatherings of those that I would deem peers, friends, or equals. I am a creature of the absurd, but so was Graham Chapman, Douglas Adams, and Hunter S. Thompson. Each of these three men made a bunch of poor choices but they pushed through and didn't let them stand in the way of their pens.

Four years ago, I met Kirsten and my muse drowned in waves of happiness. Before her lungs filled with joy and pushed the last ounce of life up her windpipe and out of her nose, I was able to scribble 'Strolling Before Sleep'. I've not written anything since that time save for time entries at work. When I would look at napkins, I found no words to leave there. Holding a pen, I found it difficult to write anything more than my signature. I lost the ability to write and all because I'd finally found that happiness from that I so long sought. I've struggled these past few weeks to kick start my penmanship, even going so far as to listen to all of the moody music of my youth that used to inspire me so well. Until yesterday, when I bore witness to Carl laying Ian off. I do not fear that Carl will soon cut me loose, too, but rather suspect that I'll be the last one out the door before himself should the company ever close it's doors. However, a flame was sparked within me when a simple thought entered my head: "The time is now".

The time is now for my pen to once again become an extension of my body. There is nothing for me to fear by leaving ink in my wake. There is no reason to let anyone or anything prevent me from achieving my goals. I presently have an notebook filled with prompts, blurbs, and ideas for 70 different stories. I will write them, I will publish them, and then I'll come up with 70 more. If I do not write these stories, then they die with me and that is what frightens me the most. For some reason, I used to say to myself "The greatest stories are those never written" but I know this to be wrong. The greatest stories are those that are shared with and enjoyed by many readers, ideally with proper grammar, punctuation, and spelling. And maybe turned into a movie during my lifetime. I can't let these characters or their stories or their worlds die with me. They must outlive me and perhaps one day become public domain.

However, I cannot do that here on Facebook contrary to what I stated in an earlier Note. It is far too noisy and full of distractions, but it is useful as a key and also to keep track of friends so I will not shut everything down. Instead, I will drift away to a familiar place that's quiet as a tomb now and wield this fire burning within my chest to accomplish the one thing that I've always wanted. Those that wish to follow my progress already know the way back even if they don't remember.
Current Mood: determineddetermined
Yar McYarrbigheadedknight on November 16th, 2014 05:17 am (UTC)
And that place is here on LJ, of course. =)