Hi, Old Friend. It's been a long time since we talked. Too long. I've been trying to make something out of myself, but it seems that what I've made is not what I'd intended. There was supposed to be creativity and prose involved, not business emails and revenue watching. How did this happen? Slowly at first, and then all at once.
There are actual living beings dependent on me for survival, so I do what I do and my family survives- even flourishes! I don't feel like I'm flourishing. I feel like I'm jumping through other people's hoops for prizes and acceptance. I'm more comfortable financially now, probably the most comfortable I've ever been, but something had to be sacrificed for that to happen. There was a price that had to be payed. The death of a dream, maybe.
You get older and you watch things fade. Eyesight. Speed. Dreams. I'm not the dreamer anymore. Now my kids are the dreamers, and I help facilitate those dreams. But do my dreams have to fade out of existence? I don't want to accept that answer.
So what were you willing to do without? What were you willing to forego for comfort and security? Was it worth it? Maybe some questions should never be asked. Maybe some questions should, once asked, be forgotten and never answered. The truth can set you free, but it can also wreck you.
Am I happy? Depends on the definition of happy I'm using. I'm not depressed to the point I used to be anymore, but I'm not cured. I'm not satisfied. I keep trying to write, but the writing just peters out like a fuse once lit that doesn't ignite the dynamite. There is no boom- no creative payoff. So I write, but not in the habitual way I used to write. I guess I need to do the hard thing. I need to place the writing in the important spot that it needs to be. That will mean sacrifice, but the things being sacrificed will be of my choosing, not reluctantly given over to the bloodied altar with regret.
Sharpen your knives, fate. I intend there to be fresh meat on your altar. Light the fires. Burn away my malaise, ennui, and sleeping-in. This is the only way. Believe it. This is the only way.
Comments
Years ago I set up an RSS reader and added all my old blog buddies' feeds, then watched as one by one they stopped writing and the whole concept of "blogging" devolved into "professional blogging," similar to writing a column for The Atlantic but with much less pay. The original bloggers moved over to Facebook and Twitter and learned to stuff their imaginations into those rigid formats, or just quit all together. But on the internet, blogs are forever, and so are their RSS feeds, so I saw this post of yours, and if you had written it twenty years from now, I would have seen it then, too.
As usual, I don't know what you are saying here, but I'm happy to see that you are saying it, and I'll read into it what I want, thank you very much. Google has made it difficult to comment on Blogger blogs, as I have lost access to my old Blogger blog and now Blogger thinks I am Nobody. But I do still have a blog at revision99.com, and I hope this message reaches you. I'll try my best, but we rarely win against Google.
UPDATE: Turns out I DO have access to my old Blogger identity, but google is still hassling me. You can find me at revision99.com
-Larry Jones
I'll swing by and check on Revision99 soon. Hope all is well, man. Take care.