I’ve stopped and started this blog more times than I can remember. More times than one really should, perhaps. Or not. Maybe there are real writing rules or maybe there aren’t any. Like everything these days, I don’t know if the fact of either of those statements matter, people will believe what they want. “Write for yourself” “Write for your audience” “Don’t worry about whether people read it or not” “Worry about alienating your audience”. These are probably all true at different stages.
Anyway, here I am, trying to write again. Or doing it, depending on whether you’re reading this…or not. The world is topsy-turvy and we’re living in the Upside Down, so I guess I’m not going to worry too much about pigeon-holing myself anymore. I guess I’ll just write whatever I feel like and it may or may not make any sense when looked at from afar, as one life-long body of work. I tried writing about movies ( I still may if I feel there’s anything to say) but I know that there are people that do that much better than I do. I tried a quick hand at “lifestyle blogging” and “top fives” and there are literally millions of those that also do it much better. None of my stints have ever lasted very long. My constant struggle is the one within myself about my ability to be original or unique or authentic, and ultimately just feeling like any opinion I hold is the same as 50% of the population and the exact opposite of the other 50%.
So maybe consistency should be my sole goal. Just writing a blog on any sort of regular basis, whatever that time frame may be. That might be enough. It might help me finally put to bed the ghost of my College Internship Advisor whose sage advice to me, a journalism major at the time, was “well writers write and if you’re not writing, you’re not a writer”. The fact that that man was probably tenured and might be receiving a pension, two life benefits I’ll never have the chance to attain, is still a matter that makes my gall bladder seize every time I think about it.
I guess I just want to be sure that, since my generation has all of this technology for free, I didn’t waste it; that I left some sort of digital footprint. I need to at least cling to the idea that, when I’m gone and Adam has successfully transitioned to my legacy contact, that everyone can
fondly look back, or maybe find anew, all of my literary treasures. Like that time I was convinced that I could name all of the actors in Hollywood that look like they could be twins. I mean, you can’t find that shit with Hemingway or Austen. Sure, the end of the Internet is probably near, but now is as good of a time as any to start rambling. Besides, I do pay a fee to keep this domain name
(admittedly, it’s a very small fee) and I wouldn’t want someone else wandering around with the SufficientCynic handle, sullying my name. Anyway, here I am, again, for now…again.
Maybe I’ll think of some good things to say, at least for a little while.
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