* Insert page break, please
Hello,
Now I am wishing that I would have written myself a letter for this day. You know, to write down my hopes and aspirations for the upcoming year and then compare it to where I am and how I have changed over the course of the year. I remember starting this project at a little round dinner table in Alaska. There was most likely some SPAM and spaghetti cooking on the stove and Mountain Dew chilling in the fridge. You could find me reading on the couch or walking in the woods. I was student-teaching in a remote “bush village” and life was good. I never would have predicted that life would bring me there. It was a blessing from God. I met extraordinary people that inspired me every day to be a better teacher and to be a better person. I was missing being around my friends, family, colleagues, and other students back in Michigan, but I knew that was the spot I needed to be.
* If you get tired, take a mop.
For a long time, I thought about when life would finally settle down a bit and I would have plenty of time to write. I thought I would have to move away into the mountains just to find that peace. I guess I did. Spending time with all the wonderful people in my life is a blessing, but I was also happy to be away. It gave me time to think. It gave me time to reflect on all the places I’ve been and how I ended up there. It gave me time to decide where I really wanted to be and what I really wanted to do. I could walk out my front door and in two minutes I could be in the woods or be walking beside the Yukon River. Every Saturday I could find the same mama moose hanging out in the woods, watching me carefully as I strolled through the snow. And every day there was plenty of time to sit down and start something that I dreaded for years: a blog.
*I own 43 misspelled worms
I wanted to write and I wanted to write publicly. I was tired of being scared to put myself out there. I was tired of being scare to fail. But I knew I needed a niche. There’s nothing initially unique about someone just ranting about their thoughts and feelings online. The internet is full of opinions. I wanted something that would force me to write more fiction and force me to focus on a subject in a concise format. I assumed that most people don’t read blogs and I have never heard one of my family members or friends talk about a blog. The reading habits of our society have morphed into short statements, headlines, and memes. Our attention span has significantly decreased, in part because there are so many entertainment options to keep our minds occupied. I assumed that my readership would be small, but I still wanted to write as if I had thousands to keep happy. Popular blogs have a lot of content. What better way, I thought, to have lots of content than to write every day. And not only that, but it would be a new subject each day. The stakes were high. I was putting my personal ego on the line. If I quit, then I would quit publicly. That would have been hard to do, so that's why I jumped into the flames. And in the end, it was all about my journey and breaking down that wall of discomfort. In the end, as we are here now, it doesn’t matter to me who reads this and who doesn’t. I’m not sure what is important anymore. All I know is that I am not that scared man anymore. I am a slightly older man who is excited that this is almost over and very happy I kicked myself off the cliff.
* The last time I felt this good was two seconds ago. Ope, there it goes again.
For so many days it was hard to write. When you’re trying to enjoy life with other people, time slips away quickly. When I got up at 5:30 and worked all day and spent another three hours at robotics and then got home to have dinner around 8:30 or 9 and then wanted nothing more than to relax and sleep but knew I had something to write...it was hard. I complain and complained to myself a lot, scraping my eyes in hopes that something unique would suddenly pop into my brain. I listened to music and distracted myself on Facebook in hopes that something I heard or saw would give me an idea. That strategy was rarely successful. I hit the backspace button often. I deleted paragraphs and poems. An idea would seem great for one minute, but then all I could type was black and white crap. Every day, I wanted to write something that I could be proud of. I quickly gave up the notion that I would ever displease my handful of followers. And if anything was ever bad they wouldn’t say anything because they are loving people and took time out of their days to support me. No, at the end of the day I only had one person to impress. And there were many days where I said, “It is better than good; it is done.”
* This blog is known to heal minor cuts and abrasions.
Then it was there. That last period. The picture was chosen and set. All I had to do is press Publish and copy the link to Facebook. Every freaking day that moment felt so wonderful. Every day those shots of dopamine always lingered on the horizon and I knew that I wanted another hit. Even if it took two hours to write a haiku, I was happy. And some days it did. Nothing compares to the feeling of a day well done. And every day this was important. It allowed me to sleep. It allowed me to know that no matter what I did, I had this one thing done. I could send another piece of writing out into the world and hope that a stranger will find it years later. And hope that the people that were supporting me would enjoy a slice of my brain.
* If you are the winner of the 50/50 raffle, please come claim your 90210 DVD box set at the buffet counter.
I have plans. I have ideas. My writing journey does not end here. Really, it’s just beginning. I don’t know if any of my plans and ideas will come to fruition, but I can hope. I’ve pondered a lot about what I will do when this is over and I am excited to start those journeys. But I also have written two novels that I have never fully reread, revised, or edited. I have a nasty habit of taking a break after doing something big and feeling accomplished. And then that break turns into forever. Whenever I tell people I am going to do something, somehow I end up not doing it. So, I will stay quiet for now. There’s a good quote that goes something like this: “Writers don’t talk about writing. Writers write.”
* The weather inside is RBG ( 0, 51, 102)
I don’t feel the need to impress anyone. I don’t feel the need to impress myself. None of those statements are true, but I am trying to get there. I am much less worried about doing either. Life is way too short to worry about much. I’m working on letting things go and focusing on the moment. Focusing on the simple things that make me happy and not try to please those around me. I have to be true to myself first. I have to be kind to myself first so I know how to properly be kind to others. There is no need to cling to any regrets or lost happiness. Any decisions made in the moment are there for a reason. Wherever we are, we are here.
* I hear American Eagle is having a sale on vintage ice cream.
It’s all building toward something. What? I will never know. But I am writing this and you are reading this and that is that. It’s another whittle in the statue of life. Did I complete my goal? Yes and no. There were a few days that I didn’t write because I was busy enjoying life with people. That seemed like an even trade to me. Through my stumbles, I learned to forgive myself and accept my flaws. But I did write 365 posts. And that is something. That is something.
* Won’t it be fun to see all of this in a blink of a bunny rabbit?
What else is there to say? Nothing for now. I think the world knows where I stand on issues of moose and metaphor rivers and random observations. I suppose there is more that I could say, but I’d rather keep it to myself for now. There’s no use getting worked up over chocolate cake; it will be in my belly soon. I don’t know what that means but I wrote it anyway. You’re the reader; you figure it out. That’s two semicolons in one paragraph. I’m skating on thin crisps.
* After the movie, we should all go get a hair cut.
Do you want to see a magic trick? On a nice day, go out into the woods and stare at the trees. Stare at the bushes and the leaves. The random rocks and broken branches. The mushrooms growing from the souls of the past. Just stare at the forest and do your best to let your eyes rest. Don’t try to focus. Let it all blur together until it looks like you are looking at Van Gogh painting too close. Let it blur so long that your eyes become scared. Let it blur until you realize that every little speck of this world is connected. Every tree, building, and car. Every smile, every wink, and every hug. Every daytime television soap opera. Every lost key. Every octopus at the bottom of the ocean. Every spark of energy that was ever dreamt is still finding new life and new death. The All of Everything is equal to One. It is messy. It is fucking beautiful. Every eye, every hand, and every heart. Every me and every you. You may not know this and I may not tell you this often enough, but I do love you. Every single person reading this has my love forever. Thank you for walking with me on this journey.
* Be kind, please rewind.
Author’s Note #365: Well, I’d say that’s enough talk about me. How about you?
