Nothing to Write About


Ah, the point in every blog where the initial luster fades, leaving you, your computer, and the realization that you didn’t actually have anything to say!

But is writing truly about having something to say?

I have always had a hard time writing with something to say because I look back upon what I wrote and can’t help but feel redundant. I gain passion and momentum enough to sit down and write about what’s on my mind, something that’s really bugging me, and as I finish what I wanted to write I can’t get away from the feeling that my writing has somehow made the issue… smaller. I find myself saying “did I really care about this enough to write about it?”

In fact, aren’t most classic novels written for the joy of writing; perhaps to make some money, perhaps for the exercise of putting pen to paper, finger to typewriter… and isn’t the meaning then ascribed by the populace upon reading, the deep details and metaphor being given posthumously to the text by critics, by others?

To write is to write. Tell a story, say some words that are beautiful, be vague, be explicit; but through it all discover that sometimes you don’t have anything to say, that the purpose for your writing comes after you begin writing, not before. It brings to mind the idea behind the age old question “which came first, the chicken or the egg?” in that – especially in the blogging world – we want to put the cart before the horse. We want to move forward with an idea in a moment of inspiration – perhaps I’ll write about this topic or that – but when the road gets hard and we become stuck we leave the idea by the wayside: Left to die, never having fully lived.

I originally set out with this blog to be a “current trend” “lifestyle” blog – a way to practice my SEO skills on a real site, and to try and get ranked on search engines. But these inspirations last only so long in a world where the “current trend” today might not be the current trend tomorrow, and so I’ve become determined to accept this and let my mind wander. There is both a beauty and a tragedy to losing your path, and instead of using this blog to discipline myself into staying on track, dwelling on the tragedy of a lost cause, I want to find the beauty in it. Like the Elliot Smith song.

Being Born


If you’re reading this, you were born.

You came into the world as the product of two; screaming, curling fingers and toes, not knowing what comes next, the only moment of true emotion, devoid of anything but what you’re feeling as un-curated flesh. In that moment, you were human, both as far away and as close to your maker as you’ll ever be.

From that moment on, you were being molded by those who came before you. You were shaped by those who had that same stunning moment years before. They curated you as those who came before them curated them, and so on until you go back to Adam. They might mold you based on what they are – carefully convinced that they can pass their favorable qualities onto you effortlessly – or they could try to form you based on what they aren’t, letting those traits they’ve envied the most in life come to the forefront of their interactionary face.

There is nothing more – and nothing less – to life than this. Until the day you head back into the earth, you will forever be clawing and get clawed at by those around you, the idea in your head of what life is will shout louder still than anything you say or do. You were destined for this, from the first words you hear till the last words you speak.

What is that idea for you? What is it within you that proclaims itself as you more than your words? Once you have it, know it, and understand what you’ve tried to give to the world, ask yourself one question:

Did you help?

For Feeling Nothing


In your adult human life, you will feel very many things. You will feel anger, resentment, fury, love, happiness, grief, arousal, and disappointment. You will then feel what no living person can describe, which is how it feels to die.

But what of those times that you feel none of those things? For as colorful as life is, there is an equal amount of dullness. Every summer, coming with its vibrant greens and warm heat, gives way to the death of autumn and the bleak, cold, winter.

I find myself feeling nothing, the weight of my soaring indifference a seeming contradiction to the expression of others and their bright facades of real emotion. But I know that they, like me, feel as much nothing as I do.

But is feeling nothing less impactful than feeling something? Is not the winter equally as punishing and nurturing as the summer? Does the death of autumn not enable the life of spring? We must feel nothing, for the burden of feeling is heavy, and to always feel is to be weighted down, pulled into the dread of forever, no rest, no rest.

The feeling of nothing is not just a place absent of emotion, but rather the end of the emotional scale. The complete opposite end of the scale is what it must feel like to die.

If I Only Knew



When attempting to capture the situation of the world today, and to gain perspective from people that are not you, you find yourself wondering “if I only knew”.

I’m a straight white male living in America, what could I possibly know about those who are different? What insight do I have into the life of women, of foreigners, of vagabonds and parents and children and those who have no insight into themselves to begin with? Introspection is a luxury for the comfortable.

This site, however, is not for me to display what I know of the others, or of living a life apart from my own, or what I’ve learned. This site – and all of what we are – is to appreciate that we are here, we are now, and we are alive. What makes you happy? What brings others joy? Why does that one person do things the way they do? It just seems odd.  Yet we are all bound by hearts that beat blood, lungs that breathe air, and feet that tread the same earth.

So let’s share. Let’s read and laugh and cry and solidify the bonds that were forced onto us weakly through the experience of living. Let’s stop and think about being alive in the 21st century and all the conveniences and struggles within.

Let’s turn “If I only knew” into “I’m closer to understanding”.