Why do I write
I don’t believe in being politically correct and I have a hard time accepting evolution but stand ready to commit to revolution of basic common sense and logic. I know that someday I will leave this world and I doubt very seriously I am coming back as a cat thus I don’t believe in reincarnation or biological evolution. No disrespect to Darwinism but I have my own thoughts on that matter.
However, I do believe in God our Creator and without a doubt, I pray on a regular basis for peace, kindness, and compassion. Not just for those who are poor or unfortunate in their own ways but for my friends, family and strangers.
I love my coffee in the morning and am even tempted to drink a hot cup or two at night. It is not unusual for me to dunk a donut or cinnamon roll when relaxing with a cup in my hand either in bed or at the kitchen table. I sometimes blurt out words, and sometimes fart in public when its impolite or people around but I don’t kiss or lick anyone ass for I believe that it’s not necessary to do so when you are already grown up and free to think or act the manner I wish.
I don’t believe in reincarnation. Once we leave this world, there’s no coming back. Oh that’s right, I already said that. I have never met a person who I liked right from the start or first impression. All my best friends are people who are called difficult people by others.
Thus, if you paid attention so far, I am less than perfect. I have been told by many that even the best aren’t perfect. I like t write, and blog feverishly to get my thoughts out there on the web. Yes, granted, I’d rather be an Edgar Allen Poe or a William Shakespeare or a T. S. Elliot or an almost forgotten Socrates in terms of artistic ability and professional recognition than shoving my poetry down someone’s throat for a few coins on Google Plus or posted flyers out on a street intersection.
I am aware that Rome wasn’t built in a day, El Chapo, the infamous drug lord, didn’t walk out of that Mexican maximum security prison on his good looks alone, and am fed up with the ‘lives that matter’ malady that has swept the country. Nobody needs to convince himself or herself who are important and who really matters – we are all connected and equally important. Anything else is a delusion of one’s self-importance and sheep like thinking.
Writing is an art and whether my art is kindergarten variety or novice or expert level is up to the reader’s own view and joy of what they read. I pretend to have talent and skill and hope someday it becomes worth the nickel I have spent trying to learn the art. In all reality, I started writing late in the years as I thought I had a natural ability to communicate effectively. It was certainly not something I was born with nor has it been perfected. In fact, it is far from perfect.
I know I need to spend lots and lots of time developing relentlessly over the rest of my lifetime to encourage other people to recognize my so-called talent so I can actually make a living applying it as a profession but I am not holding my breath in thinking I will meet the ‘once upon a time’ introduction line of a famous writer.
I write what I think. I write what I think is an important point to make or think about. I indulge in writing poems, prose, short stories and books or manuscripts just to pass the time and not make a living. In my own justification, I think what I have chosen to do is an extremely healthy indulgence to my allegiance to do what a lot of other people want to do but never pick up the time to do so.
I possess a supreme level of self-confidence that is most imaginable in size or content because I write mainly for myself and therefore, I please only myself in the process. If this leaks over to others, the blessings are only so much greater. I do it for free, but most of us know, nothing is free so where the sacrifice is made or how the cost is incurred, only time will tell. Everything worthwhile can only truly be gained through hard work.
So, now having revealed my obsession to write what I feel driven to write, yes I am crazy. Each time I write something, it brings me that much closer to my goals of becoming a self-respected author that others will one day (maybe–hopefully?) say, oh yeah…I knew that worthless bum when he wrote that nutty blog on Google+!
Some people go to the gym to exercise. For me, writing is like any other kind of exercise. I put sufficient time in to get the desired results and realize that no matter how hard I workout, it may never manifest to the levels of expectations. To me, it doesn’t matter if I am famous or not, my satisfaction is based on thinking really strenuous thoughts about how to write something impressive as they are.
Bottom line, I write because I love to write. I need to write. Writing is as much a part of me as my body or as the serious crush I had on my 11th grade English teacher (oh God was she amazing….). life is about passion and the release of my thoughts on pen or paper is my contribution to civilization whether it accepts it or not.