Here Goes Nothing

Well, it certainly has been a long time since devoting energy to this medium. Excuses ran rampant at the time of procrastination but vacate my memory now. Momentum stalls with the lack of comments on the blog. Why publish material for myself when I can read my own ramble on the pages of a tattered-spiral notebook? Why waste the electricity it takes to operate my laptop? Good questions. But today I'll utilize technology to force words upon abandoned creativity.

They say that practice provokes progress; if you don't practice your craft you'll never get any better. I believe that--wholeheartedly. But what if you feel that your craft only exists within your mind, and no amount of practice will ever make you any better? Your mind convinces you that you suck and the absence of comments on your blog confirms this logic. Anyone who may have accidently stumbled upon your blog has promptly and involuntarily fallen asleep shortly after arriving there. I'd fall alseep too. The challenge of finishing an article before I tire of it is a task I have yet to master.

During the months of non-writing the tireless nagging has kept me company. I should be writing. I didn't write today. I don't have enough time to write. My mind has become very skilled at demolishing optimism and denying any success of putting words on paper. So practice does make a difference; I'm really good at shooting myself in the foot with an unloaded gun. Lets see you do that Annie Oakley.

The writing bug is here. I cannot ignore the impulse. Truth lies within and stories need to be told. Maybe I don't have to know everthing today or at least during this very minute. And if I don't have to know everything then I can express myself as it occurs trying to avoid boredom and eventual paralization of my organs.

This piece is an offering to the practiced negetivity of "I can't." Well... I did, for now.