Monthly Archives: May 2014

Diary Entry #1

An open and true account has always been my goal, but i’ve never quite figured out how to incorporate that into the “about me” section of this website dubiously titled “i am me” until today. However, this is only one particular story where words stop short on the edge of an idea.

Working 20 hours a week brings to mind the concept of delinquency or academics. And since I work for the company that I do, she assumed it was latter. I corrected her with the slight interjection that I wanted to write. “Oh,” she said as she filled me in on the details of how she used to broker books through an internet company. “Everyone wants to write a Pulitzer Prize winning book,” she started, “but if you want to make a lot of money, then write romance novels… but use a pen-name — don’t use your real name. Then you can use that money to support yourself for your career.”

I’d rather be a poor unknown than write romance novels. I’m still not even sure that I want to be completely known, actually. But, what she said made me think about security. I’m scared shitless of what I’m doing because I know my decisions now will greatly affect me as an old man. Will I have enough as an old man if I continue on this path? Will I be able to make a living? How far will this set me back if I keep doing it?

The thing is, I love my life now. I am writing, and thinking, and doing what I know I am supposed to be doing. But, I still seem to have this nagging thought that I am borrowing against my future.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be famous — most likely not. I don’t know if I’ll ever sell anything that I have written — I hope so. And even though I am scared, I am doing something I enjoy, and that is enough for me to know I am doing the right thing even though I freeze, or stutter, or want to hide and wait for it to all go away.

But when my mind is still, I breath and relax: “You’re doing the right thing,” I tell myself. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Then I start.

Tagged

Kissed on the lips by a Libra

Kissed on the lips by a Libra; I saw it once. The painting was of a knight kneeling at the feet of Christ on the cross. And Christ leaned down and kissed this man. I don’t remember the title but it was Pre-Raphaelite.

The painting cultivated some vivid emotion from deep down but it went away as if I drew my name in the sand at high tide.

How did he do that? — The artist, I mean — The knight was worn, nearly forgotten, bloody-bruised. And Christ kissed him softly. I can’t help but think of the archetypical man, a boy scout in some manner: the knight in front of Christ, the Libra, the ultimate judge; and then the gesture.