On the Nature of My Writing

I have this problem in life. Life, in general, no specific area. There are those people who bite off more than they can chew, who always seem harried and in a rush. These people bother me. I want to grab them by the shoulders as they run past, to interrupt for one brief moment their overscheduled day. To shake them vigorously. Maybe trip them getting off the elevator. (Yes, I know. What I just wrote is the script of at least 34 different Hollywood films. Except, I don’t want them to slow down because there is this woman who works as a florist and if I can mess up their schedule for only one day they’ll end up getting married, happily ever after. Or they’ll save a kid from imminent death if their groove just gets tweaked by two minutes and they miss their train, thus throwing their life into a progression of comical and yet eye opening little incidents culminating in a heroic and death-defying flurry of activity. No, I want to stop them simply because they bother me. That’s all. Thought it’d be deeper than that, didn’t you? Those people are just exhausting to be around).

Then there are those people like me. The ones with the converse problem. We are the people who have a superfluity of apples, and yet never even bite because, after all, where to start? We don’t bite off more than we can chew, we just simply don’t bite because we know that to begin chewing is an endeavor we aren’t certain we’re ready to embark on. Take, for instance, my writing. On a given day I have 3 good ideas pop into my head, and 1 great idea. Now, if it’s a Monday, forget about writing any of these down. I’m lucky to be on the conscious side of a coma. And Tuesday is small group. Wednesday? Never heard of it. Thursday is quite simply a preoccupation with Friday, thus leading to the inception of the weekend which I’m not convinced exists yet because I can never seem to remember it until Sunday at 6 p.m. And so by 6 p.m. on Sunday night I have a grand total of 21 good ideas and 7 great ideas, and not the slightest filter to divide them into some relevant categories. So I just don’t. I usually eat instead.

The end. Well, not quite. What I just wrote is quite simply an introduction to my next post that I will write tonight. And if no next post comes? The above is my explanation (not to you, more so to myself).