Saturday, April 21, 2012

In too deep now to ever swim against the current...

So this is it. I just pushed several keys on my keyboard and formed this sentence. Moments after the thought went through my mind, it gradually exposed itself on my screen. You see, the last time I spewed my stream of consciousness onto the world was in September of 2008 on this very blog. Or maybe it is on a different blog. I hate the word blog and I still haven’t quite figured out where I will be posting this. Regardless, minutes ago I tried reading through that last post. I got a good paragraph and a quarter in, and then I closed it. It was written by a 19 year old me, who had already figured out the world. And in that moment, I really had. I was enjoying life and making progress, so who can say that I wasn’t doing it right. Unfortunately the world has a bittersweet tendency to change.
I guess this is the future. Twenty-twelve, the year I could hardly put together in my mind’s eye just four years ago is here. There’s nothing particularly special about this year, but when the world is zooming by every second is the future, and every second counts. Biographers can articulate a person’s life in 600 pages, using a typeface no larger than this one here. It is an incredible feat when you consider taking just a single four year slice of your existence on earth and imagine the differences between these two points in time. The shear amount of things that has changed couldn’t possibly be chronicled in even the most expansive collection of volumes.
               Writing, in general, has always intrigued me simply for the vastly different dynamic it provides from other means of communication. As I sit here and type this, I am constantly going back and correcting my words. Fine tuning them, into the perfect combination of these 26 letters, and even going so far as to alter punctuation to encourage replication the specific tonality that I have in my head. This privilege, of having the time to go back and correct every aspect of your message, is not always afforded to us when speaking. Being able to hone in on what makes your sentence sound exactly the way you want it to can open a world of possibilities. In fact, although some of you already know me as this person, many others’ perceptions of me might be changing as they read these lines. Granted, it’s probably not for the better (I get it, I'd probably laugh at me too), but the point is that it works. It works, and I enjoy using it to my advantage in life, in business, and for entertainment (mine or yours).
Why don’t I write more? It’s mostly because I tend to harbor the “try everything once” mentality, and once I’ve completed a task there seems to be little reason to revisit. But what does that have to do with why I don’t write more? Because I’ve previously stuck mostly to blogging, (both here and on a few others, which are likely not known by anyone reading) and blogging means individual posts which are a job done and completed once they are over. Still, it seems like some of you actually liked those posts from back in the day. I wrote about Brighton, procrastination, touring around the country for work, and all the other awesome things that had entered my life back then. There’s a sense of closure at the end of each post (except for that Brighton one, which never did get its long-promised part 2) and, since there is nothing to “finish”, there’s little pressure to write more. The next step seems clear: a book. But even in my twisted, but pleasant, egotistical universe there isn’t even the slightest part of me which thinks that I have had enough exposure to the world, or tucked away enough experiences in my Facebook albums, to ever write a book about my life’s observations that would be worth reading. That doesn’t mean I can’t start. Seems logical enough that I will eventually lose the experiences I do have, much like I’ve already lost countless others, to the passage of time. Likewise, it seems plenty logical to start writing them down now, in the hopes that I will one day have enough to share with the world in a rich smelling, leather-bound, mahogany perfumed (for class) set of processed trees. I’m already practicing my autograph.