Dear Man in the Mirror
Where does the time go? I’m starting writing a bit later in life than I’d recommend. The days of cocksureness gave way to the flaccid flip-flop of moderate life for me a couple years back. Instead, I find myself sitting in a cubicle imagining a world of greater responsibility affecting masses with carefully curated words. Instead of easily illustrating the ills of the world, I’ve become a bit apathetic.
I thought I’d enjoy some success, working a job, playin’ Army every couple weekends all while logging on to shout into the void that was on-line education. Now I’m endlessly employed, a cog in the military machine and walking down the street with a piece of paper (that’s not the god’s honest truth because they still need to mail it to me in a ‘Do Not Bend’ envelope), but I’ve produced nothin’ of any real worth. Certainly, nothin’ that will last beyond the time it took to put the words on the page.
Luckily, I’m on my way. I’ve not created anything lasting yet, but there is still time. I put in my time, learned the lessons and read, read, read. The man in the mirror may be the only one to read this and all the subsequent posts, but I would consider a shame if I didn’t reach the people out there in their cubicles with a little fire left in their bellies, or some vinegar in their piss. Sometimes ya gotta stop writing about what something is going to be and just write to see what it becomes. Looking forward to seeing you in the mirror.