A Writer Who Does Not Write

I am certain I am not the only writer who feels all of the sentiments contained within the above blog title.

It is of little comfort.

In an effort to rectify the situation, instead of sitting down to write only when I am inspired or feeling the need to get something out of my head, I am going to schedule a healthy block of time once per week devoted solely to practicing my craft.  If I manage to sneak a bit of wordsmithing in betwixt the day job, parenting, and exhaustion so much the better.

Returning to the title of this entry, what is the good of a writer who does not write?  I am of the opinion that as a practitioner of a craft, be it an intellectual pursuit, artistic pursuit, or physical pursuit –  the simple of act of doing is virtuous in the traditional sense.  I do not claim with my words or by my actions to be a consistently virtuous human being, but when it comes to writing, or even reading for that matter, I attempt to be that classical champion of virtue.

Imagine the shame felt of having left my sword to rust!  All of the reasons I gave myself held hints of validity, but as I examine them in retrospect they ring hollow.

A writer who does not write is not a writer.  It is as simple as that.

I have no problem being known as, and even embodying, a husband, father, brother, son, friend, and those myriad other designations we as humankind ascribe to ourselves and have ascribed to us by others.

But what else am I?  What am I known as aside from the obvious?  What is my purpose?  Does it even matter?  These are the questions I ask myself consistently.

I am a writer of words.  I am a writer of words!

No matter what else is bouncing around inside of my cranium, that is the answer that bubbles to the surface time and time again.

The jury is still out on whether or not that is my penultimate identity or being, but aside from my family and friends it is the one pursuit and practice that sings out to my innermost self.

Whether tapping away on a keyboard or scribbling in my notebook I feel completed when creating words that express feelings or ideas.

Even if no one ever reads them the act of bringing them forth into existence outside the confines of my own brain gives me a completeness I do not otherwise feel.  That sense of completeness is how I know I am following a good and true pathway.

I am of the opinion that we all have an innate sense that can guide us throughout our lives once developed.  Some are more aware of it than others.  Others deaden it through various distractions to the point that it may be difficult to call upon for guidance in times of need.  Many willfully ignore it outright.

To continually strive for completeness is not realistic for most human beings.  Mundane life tasks, physical or mental limitations, and a host of other barriers tend to obstruct the way.  Some of these obstructions represent parts of my existence that I cannot see myself living without, but others must be excised in order to make room for the goodness and truth that comes out of practicing my craft.

That is my challenge going forward.  My quest!

I must shed the detritus to create space for the completeness that comes of writing words.

Additionally, it is my sincere hope that by reading these words it may at the very least, provide a sense of solidarity in knowing that you are not the only one struggling when it comes to practicing your craft, whatever it may be.



Sunday, Funday, Punday?

I have a confession to make…

I am perfectly content sitting around in my quitters listening to podcasts solo dolo.

As I age the urge to get out there and get after it on my weekends continues to gradually ebb.

Now if you’ll excuse me, this IPA won’t drink itself.

A Return…Of Sorts

I am taking a hiatus from social media until after the 2016 Presidential election in the United States of Amerikka.

I have zero interest in being shamed for my refusal to continue to prop up a political machine designed for the singular purpose of maintaining the current status quo.

For those that are unfamiliar with the current status quo let me break it down for you.

We exist to feed the wealth and power generating machines that are the boards of directors and shareholders of the mega-national corporations.

Sure they throw us a bone every now and then to keep us in line when they are not rolling out ever newer and greater distractions to accomplish the same goal.

They keep us divided by promoting imaginary differences.

I have it a little bit better than you because of my lack of melanin and an extra chromosome.

Buy into the scheme and you might advance a level or two before you pass on to whatever comes next.  If you are really smart you might be able to use the Warp Whistles of athletic achievement, good looks, or technological genius to skip several levels.  But you are still a piece of shit as far as they are concerned.

Me?  I am getting closer and closer to just opting out of everything and having my friends and relatives look at me crazy for not using credit cards and maybe retiring to a remote permaculture farm.

My lifespan is too short at this point to worry about more than making sure my wife and kids are provided reasonably happy and healthy.

If I can accomplish those monumental tasks I will at least be able to die in a long, long time feeling reasonably satisfied with how I got by.

Hopefully I will be back tomorrow.

Every Rhyme I Write Is 25 to Life

I am feeling salty tonight.  As such I figure it is time to remind everyone what I am about as well as what I worry about.  Life is about honesty and communication:

1) Dope Music

2) Craft Beer

3) Social Justice

4) Dismantling Corporations

5) Cooking delicious meals for the fam

6) Localization

7) True morality

8) Fossil free

9) Due diligence

10) My friends

I am ready for a new paradigm.  I am ready for a new world order.  The Empire has fallen whether it knows it or not.  It is time to take responsibility for our actions and the actions of those we fund through our taxes.  Next year I am withholding a percentage of my taxes because of the illegal wars this nation wages.  This year as much as humanly possible I am spending my money locally instead of corporately.  The longer we wait to revolt against this sick sadistic system we have all supported directly or indirectly, the more quickly our mutual destruction looms.

Yet here I sit.  Waiting.  What am I waiting for?  When will it be enough?  I honestly agonize over this shit.  I honestly believe we are traveling upon a road to ruin.

At the end of the day I guess I have to be happy with resistance.  I guess I have to be happy with the personal actions I take to go against the tide.

At this point I still have something to lose.  I have to feed my children.  Will my children thank me in 20 years?  Will they scorn my actions as cowardice?

These are the types of thoughts the stroll through my conscious.  I fear we have waited too long to act.  We are so close to the precipice…