It’s rather cloudy out today, and I think it’s going to rain later, as it has each night. I don’t know what’s going on with the weather, but there have not been a whole lot of high and dry days. Every day, there are clouds. I don’t mind too much because if the clouds and rain never came, it’d be hot as balls. But I would at least appreciate some morning shine.
Life has been good these past two days. I’m very relaxed. I feel little pressure. It’s nice to not be stressed. It’s nice when life is as simple as it is for me now. It is true that the more things you cross off your to-do list, the closer you get to being fully present and fully happy.
It’s certainly been a long-term work in progress. But I feel it . . . I’m getting closer to having more and more shit taken care of, and the closer I get, the lighter I feel. In this way, the grass is greener on the other side.
I’m not sure what I want to do today. I’ve got work until a little after noon. After that, I think I’ll head over to a cafe and have a cappuccino and get some more writing done, but after that, I know not. I guess it depends on the weather. I’ve been out on the islands the past two days, so I think I’ll be staying downtown today. Although my friend wants me to hop on a boat with them tonight. I’m sure that’d be nice, but I just don’t know if I want to drive all the way out there. Seems tedious. Perhaps a walk will do.
Part of me still wants to go to grad school. The funny thing is that I despise college classes. I want nothing to do with the education system right now.
But I enjoy the community that it offers . . . In the context of higher education. It’s not just like a bunch of random people who have come together at a restaurant to make money or some shit like that—not that that’s a bad thing. But at school, everyone is pursuing their betterment in a particular and relatable industry. I don’t know. I’m not sure what I’ll do. I don’t really feel lonely. I have a good number of friends around here. And there are many things I’d like to do in these next couple of years that a return to college would hold me back from.
Still, I must admit that I am a little scared. Am I just going to do this all on my own? As in, will I ever be a part of anything ever again? I always come to despise being a part of something for the time and commitment it requires of me, not to mention the pressure of constantly having to be somewhere at some time. But this, I’m coming to learn, is a necessary sacrifice to a good life. Because we are human. We must be a part of things.
But aren’t I a part of things out here? I’m deceiving myself again. I am a part of Charleston. I am a part of the soccer community. I am a part of the café community, if that’s even a thing. I have joined groups. I have random friends all over. Need I really join a master’s program in order to be a part of more? Need I really be a part of more? Don’t I see that my desire to join things is an attempt to get away from myself?
I’ve debated this a lot. And it’s true: my desire to join things, be it a school or a cool job, like working at a ski resort or something, is rooted in a lack of self-belief and self-knowledge. Because if I were completely bold—if I believed in myself and was not, for example, afraid to talk to strangers and have fun on my own (something I’m in the process of practicing)—I’d never opt to get a job. The job, to me, is a sort of crutch.
I’ve found it’s important to pay attention to what drives particular desires. Do you want this because you’re taking the next bold step? Or do you want it because you’re compensating? If you believed in yourself, if you were living as well as you could, would you make this choice? Or are you doing this for comfort? Are you approaching this matter from a state of lack or abundance? Are you desperate and forlorn or are you contented and joyful? Is this really what you want? Is this how you thought, when you were a dreaming child, you’d be living at this age? If not, how did you think you’d be living? What’s holding you back from doing so?
The most addicted people are the most adept at identifying and implementing barriers.
The more I follow my intuition—the more I do what I think I’d like to do, overlooking whatever the world tells me I can or can’t do—the more I come from a place of purpose, rather than compensation—the more proper my path.
I think I’ve made the right decisions. I don’t think I’d very much like to join any sort of college. I think I just need to keep writing, and making money, and traveling whenever and as much as I can.
There really isn’t much more I’d prefer to be doing than what I’m doing right now when I think about it. I feel, sometimes, like I let life slip through my fingers because I keep running away instead of enjoying myself where I am. I’ve gotta be patient and cultivate the soil beneath my feet rather than heading off again, somewhere, under the impression that the soil elsewhere is better. I’m right where I need to be.
There was once something so vain about my writing efforts . . . A part of me that was driven by my ego. And there sometimes still is, and I’m not so sure if it’ll ever go away. I like being good at things, yes, in part because I enjoy doing great things for the sake of being great, but also because doing great things earns me a recognition that feels good.
I think, more than anything, it was the fact—it being the vanity of my writing—that I was banking on my creative capacities to earn an income, which took the joy away from the process because there was a pressure to it.
Some people say you must create with the audience in mind, but I just don’t see how that‘d ever be a good idea. I think that if I ever created with the audience in mind, I’d not be able to get a single word out. I am my audience. I create, as a bird does its nest, for myself. I’ll put it out there for people to see if they’d like, and if they don’t like what they see, then it doesn’t matter!
The less I write for the inherent enjoyment of the process itself, the worse my work will be. I think it is this prestige that gets attached to creative endeavors which undermines most in their own.
These sorts of things, be them writing or drawing or even some athletic pursuit, grow optimally from boredom and no-strings-attached curiosity.
I do feel quite invigorated these past few days. Whenever I used to get invigorated, I felt a slight anxiety because I anticipated a proportionate low. But now, it feels like smoothe sailing. I suspect this is because my life is simpler now . . . That I’m not just riding a fleeting high. Because I am more or less a free soul right now, I don’t feel like I only have certain parts of my day to look forward to. I have instead all of it.
The only reason I’ve ever felt inopportune about a place is because I’ve not put myself out there. There is something magical about having the confidence to speak to anyone about anything at any time with no strings attached. If your world is gloomy, go give a few strangers some compliments and see how you feel afterward.
My sense of opportunity skyrockets when I start talking to strangers.
It matters not if they are a pretty girl or an old hag. Because if you want to attract people in your life, you’ve got to connect with people on the inside, not judge them from the outside.
How did I ever come to be a boy afraid of speaking to strangers? I don’t know. I was always shy, certainly. But what about my childhood made me so afraid? I have an idea, but I think I’ll keep that to myself.
It is true, however, that society has become so estranged. I mean, a good interaction with a stranger is far less likely than not. How did we come to this? Is this how it’s always been? I don’t know. And I don’t know if it matters. If anything, it’s now easier to set oneself apart by being that bridge, that connector of souls. It only takes a few words. The trick, really, is to just get into the habit of speaking to people whenever you’ve got something to say, and if you don’t, then that’s fine too. Stop trying to achieve ends. No need to schmooze, to try and master pick-up game. Master get-to-know-you game and the world will be yours. Understanding is the game of life. The more you understand, the more you connect.
Not sure what I’m gonna write about right now; I just feel compelled to write. After my morning shift, I pulled up to Island Provisions, as planned, to continue my work for the day. I plan to edit & publish after this, but I just needed to get some words out before doing so.
I really haven’t much to say. Of course, I only say that because I’m keeping the momentum. I always have plenty to say.
The day has turned out well. After this, I reckon I’ll go grab a sandwich, stress-free, having made nearly $180 this morning (I think). And after that, I may try and get into a pool, and perhaps I’ll walk around the city, and maybe take a nap. Still unsure how I feel about heading out to Sully’s to boat around tonight. I still largely prefer to stay downtown. But I’ve really not got much to do, and a boat ride wouldn’t be so bad.
I can only ever write what I’m willing to. I prefer it that way. William Zinsser apparently does not find writing so enjoyable, at least all the time, and I can’t recall whether he says it is standard to not enjoy writing, but I prefer it when I enjoy it, and when I don’t enjoy it, I prefer something else, like a sandwich, or exercising, or walking, or talking.
Everyone has their way of going about things, and it is true that I’ve had more than my fair share of not enjoying writing, but I seem to have found that it is far wiser to go about it in an enjoyable way, especially if I am to sustain this habit for decades to come, which I plan on doing.
I’ve got the hard part down; really, I do. I can write well. I’m far more practiced at this craft than 99% of the population. Now all I’ve got to do is figure out how to package it and put a bow around it. Why is that such a hard thing for me to do?
I’ve thought about this today, actually—that selling insurance may help my writing, more than the fact that it grants me time, by providing me some funds to hire some services that I really prefer not to have to do myself. You know, those sorts of services that publishers used to do for you. Namely, the marketing stuff.
I’ve always had a problem with marketing. I remember telling my mother at a very young age that I thought marketing was mere deception.
I’m not sure whether I still agree with that. You know, kids tend to see things in a clear and simple light . . . Perhaps we are wiser when fewer things stand in our way.
It feels I could keep going indefinitely. Maybe that’s what I should do. Just keep going. If I’m enjoying myself, what’s the point in rushing publication? I know this won’t bring money any time soon. And if it’s such a pure endeavor, shouldn’t I not care whether people see what I have to say? Of course, I’d like to affect the world, and I’ve hardly ever seen a better way to do that than with words.
Perhaps I just need to find a way to enjoy editing. Because when I’m at a cafe, to not write would be to not fish by the ocean. Where is a good place to edit?