Don’t Read It

All I want to do is create.
My passion,
I hope to use one day to ease this financial burden,
I didn’t ask for.
Although, this means so much more,
Than making a living.

My soul is crying out.
Pieces of me are dying,
Every day that I waste time NOT writing.

And this generation,
Said to be more self-centered than those that came before us.
We have the Renaissance.
The scientific revolution.
The age of enlightenment.
We have the signing of our constitution.
And yet another revolution.

That last one,
You must have learned about in high school.
But let’s not get too ancestral.
I know it’s easily forgotten,
When your mind is overflowing,
With the opinions of other men and women.

After all,
The key lies in modernization…

So what do we have now?
The social media era?

And what will come of all that has begun?

When all you have is 140 characters,
And if you say too much,
No one will want to read it.

Every word I write,
I fucking bleed it.
But if it ain’t a selfie,
A text from a fuckboy,
Or a cute cat video…
This generation doesn’t see it.
They don’t need it.

But my dreams will not be jaded.
This fire within me will never die.
An attempt to extinguish it,
Will leave me feeling suffocated.
So this hunger I have,
I must feed it.

And one day I’ll be able to say, “I made it.”
There’s no doubt about that,
It’s for this day I live,
And I WILL obtain it.

And half of those I know right now,
Will see my posts and probably scowl,
“This is too long, I won’t read it.”


*Side note: In case you were wondering, yes, “When your mind is overflowing with the opinions of other men and women” is totes stolen from Sherwood Anderson’s “his mind filled to overflowing with the words of other men.”

A few things:
1: I don’t normally do this sort of thing. (Ya know, plagiarize dead people.)
2: I just REALLY love the quote.
3: I don’t think he’ll mind…


Rice Speck

I have the day off from my soul crushing job today (it’s really not that bad, it’s just not writing.) Had an appointment thing mid-morning, came home, ate, took a shit, meditated, and now it’s been time to sit down and write since like 3:30.

And here I am, staring at my screen, obsessing about the piece of yellow rice that is on my living room floor. I vacuum just about every day, rarely ever going more than 2 days without doing so. I have no idea where the rice came from or how long it has been there. How long have I missed it while sweeping? Was it lodged in some corner or crack, and is just now suddenly appearing? Did my cat or dog find it and attempt to eat it?

Because the history of this rice speck is sooo fucking important…

Now, if I vacuum the living room floor, I’ll have to vacuum all of the floors. If I vacuum all of the floors, I might as well do the handful of dishes that are in the sink. If I do the dishes, I’ll find myself wiping the kitchen counter. If I wipe the counter, I’ll have to wipe all of the surfaces, everywhere.

By that time, I’ll be thinking about bathing my cat, cleaning the hamster cage, clipping my dog’s toenails, clipping my toenails, reorganizing closets and cabinets, cleaning the litter box, dusting baseboards and blinds, windexing windows, cleaning the fan, making the bed, deep cleaning the toilet and refrigerator, and checking my cup of pens to throw way the ones that are out of ink.

Hours will pass and I’ll build up an appetite. I’ll cook, eat, and create dishes. Then I’ll have to vacuum the crumbs, wash the dishes, wipe the surfaces…

It’s best I stay right here. Talk, well apparently write, myself through this ludicrous, completely mental idea that a rice speck is actually having any sort of impact on my day. Because it’s not really about the rice speck, is it?

Perhaps it’s about fear or intimidation or doubt. Perhaps it’s about having to do something that can, at times be relatively challenging, while the rest of my days are filled with tasks that are rather simple.  Perhaps it’s something a little more mental than all of that.

But it doesn’t really matter….

In fact, I can get up, throw it in the garbage, come right back to this desk, and get to work on what I always say is one of the most important things in my life- what I claim is my passion.

Or I can sit here, keep myself fixated on it, while simultaneously yelling at myself “just write, asshole”, accomplish absolutely nothing, and then lie awake tonight thinking about how I wasted my time today.

I think I’ll just throw away the rice speck…