Progress in the works
Time for a much-needed update. I liken writing about my life to scraping the Jiffy tub for that last bit of peanut butter. That being said, I hope you had a big dinner. :)
I started the day in a desperate battle. Late last night, someone broke into my room. He wasn't armed, but he wasn't expecting a fight, either. We wrestled for a long time, and our short, quiet grunts were the only sounds betraying the solitary battle. We were both becoming tired, but he was the first to try and flee the way he came in. I refused to let him go so easily, and I spent the last bits of my strength trying to hold him down. In the end, everything ended as it had begun so long ago in the middle of the night, and sleep, once again, got away.
Aww, Will, you had us thinking that something exciting was happening in your life. I hope I actually did, voice in my head, but things aren't quite so disappointing if you look at things the right way. Take my writing for example. You mean lack thereof? Hush, now. I'm talking.
The company that is helping me with my career path, Life Careers, first wants to get to know me. To accomplish this, they first had me write out my 15 proudest accomplishments (along with dream job stuff, too). In coming up with them, I was reminded of 3rd grade. It was then that I can first clearly remember writing short stories for the sheer pleasure of it. It was also then that I began my grammar-school-long hobby of drawing out ideas for wondrous inventions. Marvels of kiddy science, really. At any rate, spending my idle moments ordering words around became an on-and-off hobby during my younger years. Upon arriving at Clemson, though, it stopped. I have often wondered at this, especially considering how much writing had become a part of my personal identity. After a bit of soul-searching, this is my preliminary prognosis: I am afraid.
It might sound strange to be afraid of your own ideas, but I think that over the years a deep fear of failure and disappointment has grown within me. It touches every part of my life now. I think it also masquerades as the fatigue I feel with life at times, when my only response is a bitter pride in an old soul who's really too young to know the difference.
I said this was only the prognosis, though. A treatment of courage and godliness falls to me for administration. Beset on all sides by mediocrity and voices that would have me stay safe and comfortable, I will now be put to the test. My heart is under seige. Adventure is upon me, friends. It always has been. Cheer for me as battle comes, weep for me when I must strike myself down, and smile for me as I spill my life for Truth and Beauty. The Victory, for us all, is already won, and all we know now is only the beginning.
Nicely said.
Thanks.
...can I come back next rant?
Keep on sucking up and we'll see.
I started the day in a desperate battle. Late last night, someone broke into my room. He wasn't armed, but he wasn't expecting a fight, either. We wrestled for a long time, and our short, quiet grunts were the only sounds betraying the solitary battle. We were both becoming tired, but he was the first to try and flee the way he came in. I refused to let him go so easily, and I spent the last bits of my strength trying to hold him down. In the end, everything ended as it had begun so long ago in the middle of the night, and sleep, once again, got away.
Aww, Will, you had us thinking that something exciting was happening in your life. I hope I actually did, voice in my head, but things aren't quite so disappointing if you look at things the right way. Take my writing for example. You mean lack thereof? Hush, now. I'm talking.
The company that is helping me with my career path, Life Careers, first wants to get to know me. To accomplish this, they first had me write out my 15 proudest accomplishments (along with dream job stuff, too). In coming up with them, I was reminded of 3rd grade. It was then that I can first clearly remember writing short stories for the sheer pleasure of it. It was also then that I began my grammar-school-long hobby of drawing out ideas for wondrous inventions. Marvels of kiddy science, really. At any rate, spending my idle moments ordering words around became an on-and-off hobby during my younger years. Upon arriving at Clemson, though, it stopped. I have often wondered at this, especially considering how much writing had become a part of my personal identity. After a bit of soul-searching, this is my preliminary prognosis: I am afraid.
It might sound strange to be afraid of your own ideas, but I think that over the years a deep fear of failure and disappointment has grown within me. It touches every part of my life now. I think it also masquerades as the fatigue I feel with life at times, when my only response is a bitter pride in an old soul who's really too young to know the difference.
I said this was only the prognosis, though. A treatment of courage and godliness falls to me for administration. Beset on all sides by mediocrity and voices that would have me stay safe and comfortable, I will now be put to the test. My heart is under seige. Adventure is upon me, friends. It always has been. Cheer for me as battle comes, weep for me when I must strike myself down, and smile for me as I spill my life for Truth and Beauty. The Victory, for us all, is already won, and all we know now is only the beginning.
Nicely said.
Thanks.
...can I come back next rant?
Keep on sucking up and we'll see.
posted by Aisyrn | 9:19 PM
3 Comments:
Ah, the battle against fear. How many have stood against that faceless killer? How many have fallen? Fortunately, there was One who conquered and offers hope to us all.
Truth and Beauty, eh? All you need now is Freedom and Love, and you'll be a true Bohemian!
Be reminded of the duality of the universe. Failure is scary, but you cannot truly enjoy success if you do not also know failure. And you won't fail, not forever - success will come once you give it a try. Don't you think it's worth taking a chance?
That's just the thing. Despite how disillusioned I feel at times, I feel like I can't give up. There's something inside me that screams for something more. Sometimes it feels like it would get rid of me if that would let it fill its longing if only a bit, but it would rather share the journey with me. So it only lets me sit out a goal or two, but not the entire game.
Somehow I doubt that Bohemians and I would share the same definitions for those particular proper nouns.
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