When emotions start to fly at 3 a.m., it’s usually time for bed. But not tonight.
After some thinking, I have decided to retire my love of writing to maybe secondary. I don’t want to be just a piece of paper someone reads or a screen someone looks at. Everyone says to go on and strive for greatness, but greatness is in the eyes of the beholder.
If only doing enough to get someone there is good enough than that’s greatness. If only having a few thousand people on a Twitter account keeps someone going, then so is that.
You don’t have to strive to become the best of the best. In fact, that damages you. It pushes you to limits beyond limits. Sounds all brave and heroic and shit, but really I praise those who are working in the small schools and don’t get paid enough to even raise a family with every struggle in the world. But getting love out of what they do.
As I go through college, I’ve found all the people I’ve met try to do something beyond normal compacity. Maybe I’m wrong, but there’s no need to rush a system of getting there. Your own time is the best time. I don’t plan on doing anything more than I have to. I have a few years. Truthfully, I question just about every day if I’m wrong for choosing journalism as my calling. Right now I’m stuck with it.
The problem with life is we go through finding ourselves and for what? A nice deathwish and a few thousand flowers and then forgotten the next day. So why must I hurry up and get my life together when the only time it’s ever even seen as fulfilled is if I die after 50.
I have a lot more talent than I show for, that’s for sure. I don’t try hard enough when I know someone will read it. I don’t care almost, but I do. When it’s just myself, here, I feel complete. Like I could do this for the rest of my life. Hide behind a screen. I’m realizing that what I’m doing, living, is for my benefit short term.
Sure, I’ll apply myself, question who I am at 3 a.m. and eventually have something out there worth reading, but this blog is nothing more to you guys than a girl writing. But to me, was a huge step in the right direction. I’m not always proud with what I write. In fact even some of my stuff I publish, I absolutely hate. Never satisfied. But do I have to be? Who gives a damn if the writer is satisfied? It’s all about getting out there and accepting what may or may not be a success in the public.
I don’t mind if I start early or go on to another life and start there instead. Kind of like those dead guys we didn’t care to listen to or read about until they were actually dead.
We may think the world is our (insert cliche), but we don’t really care about anyone but ourselves at the end of it. So the world isn’t that. It’s just a playground for the writers, the businessmen, the artists, the musicians, the athletes and the explorers.
However, there is hope that the public one day accepts, you as whatever you are, by picking up whatever it is you have published, created or been in. I’ve lost a lot of drive to continue on in sports reporting. I took a semester off from keeping up with it and only recently jumping back in. But now I question if I really want to. If I really want to start over back to square one. If it’ll be worth it. Maybe. But maybe it won’t be. I suppose we’ll see, right?