4:19 PM Friday afternoon
32°F and flurries
“California Here I Come” — Bill Evans
People have told me they enjoy my writing, which to be frank flat-out astounded me when I first heard the sentiment. I struggled mightily throughout my formal schooling to piece together essays and fulfill creative prompts. Writing has never felt natural to me, and I suppose coincidentally I am not at all an eloquent orator. There are so many words and ways to arrange them. I’d almost rather not even try.
But writing is therapeutic for me. I can’t deny that. The times in my life when I’ve kept handwritten to-do lists and diaries of my days, I’ve felt more as if I’m moving somewhere forward. I can identify hurdles, actively stumble, and transgress ingrained tendencies into new existences. The act of bringing semi-physical manifestation to the abstraction of thought is powerful. From the visibility of nothing comes something, and an incredible cascade of action can electrify the consciousness. There are few greater catalysts; stagnation knows not the mirror.
So … I’ve decided to make a return to writing. Not just privately through the scraps of paper littering my desk, but also in the public eye. Blogging is an extension of the primordial ink that blackens the pulp, and it forces me to delve further into that which intrigues me. Dialogue can ensue; understanding be met. It seems to me a worthwhile endeavor and craft to hone — I’m the first to admit I need the practice. I can’t say I’ll maintain my penchant for in-depth, well-developed thought pieces, but that’s okay — and perhaps it’s better if I float more shallow introspections and investigations and open myself to fault. Is anyone ever right, anyway?
Topics of interest and that you can expect; these are a few currently:
- Electromagnetic fields
- Freedom of thought (and action)
- Piano jazz
I tend to be fickle and what captivates me at one moment may not the next. Oh, twenty-first century, how have you jaded me. Let’s get excited again.