The vanity of my humanity, English
Back in 2000, just when I had left school and decided I’d never want anything to do with an institution like that again, I was a very angry young man. Granted, I’m still bloody furious, but these days I try to channel it into other things… more creative things.
I’m a notorious project-starter; It’s in my very nature. I start projects with great dedication and enthusiasm just to let them die due to my inability to focus. This innate ability to fail makes me resonably useless for anything that even has the imagined look of being long-term, but when it comes to short and intense projects – I’m your guy!
Recently, I’ve taken up writing. Again. I don’t know if you’ve noticed. I’m still writing away at a novel (talk about a long-term project… jeez), and I’ve started this, yet another blog. It’s the squabbijillionth in a long line of useless lumps of text that in the end just fade out into nothingness. The reasons to quit have been many, ranging from just sheer uninterest in writing the usual drivel and swill that usually pass for blogging to either becoming intensely busy in actual life or rather the opposite: sinking into depression and shutting down activities one by one as I’ve gradually felt worse and worse. The previous blogs (oh how I hate that word; it kills my very soul everytime I use it) I’ve written have been your standard, typical emoesque ranting and raving about me, my life and the things I’ve done (and felt, don’t forget: EMO!). This has always seemed to be what the damn blogs are about so I thought that must be the way to go, but each and every time it has landed the project in a shallow grave faster than you can say “recycled letters”. This time, I’m trying something different. Well… different for me anyway.
Now, I’m doing what I’ve always done in my private journal: rant, rave and dissect things, create stories and just generally seethe against my own feeble mind. I’ve gone from sharing what a useless lump of flesh I am with the world to trying to improve upon it instead. Not just improving my language and my writing but also trying to fix those flaws in my character that I find so nauseating. For once, writing and posting things to the internet doesn’t feel like a job or a burden – it feels akin to trial by fire: the writers version of driving in New York. If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere. I’ve encountered less trolls than I suspected I would; the internet tends to be ripe with ’em, just waiting in the shadows for an unsuspecting victim to stroll by and make a mistake, a spelling error or a logical flaw to pounce upon with great vigor and alacrity. This leads me to my next thought.
Can I ask a question of you, you loyal few who read my ranting diatribes and weak attempts at creativity? It’s not a big thing, but it would help me a lot. Can you pipe up and leave a comment about how you like my writing? Doesn’t have to be much, just to get a general indication on if I’m doing things poorly or if I’m managing it decently. That’d be pretty damn awesome.
Now that my plea for help is coming to an end, I shall go and fight one of my other demons – my lack of sleep. In one hour, I pick up Z from kindergarten; until then, I shall remain unconscious. Until then, I leave you with a quote from my own personal hero, George Carlin.
“Don’t sweat the petty things and don’t pet the sweaty things.” – George Carlin