Click. Click. Click.Your thumb practices physics as it dances with the end of a ball point pen. Your mighty scepter, as some call it, bridging the thoughts and inklings in your brain to the empty canvas of lined paper, or computer screen in today's age. The most powerful tool that has served society for centuries. The tool that recorded events and speeches for so long. These thoughts flood your mind like monsoon season as you hold the reluctant scepter. Click. Click. Click. "Why can't the words just appear?" You repeat to yourself over and over. "Where's this magical word tree located that all the literary gods before me have harvested their legendary works from?" You begin this philosophical approach to all of life's problems and future one's that you assume will soon follow if you aren't able to guide your sturdy scepter along the vast, undiscovered sheet of paper that you have willingly and voluntarily sat in front of. Your fault. You did it. You sat in front of it, and have taken the responsibility that comes along with it. Your mistake is your problem. Deal with it, or just gouge your eyes out with said scepter, since that's the only purpose it will serve since you're not writing with it. Let the stress flush through your body while you tense up with every passing heart beat. Scared yet? I bet you regret learning how to write now, huh?
Welcome to the mistake of penning thoughts and dreams on to paper. It sucks something awful. Sucks something so putrid you wish you didn't have have a nose. Now that you've done that you can't stop. You have to keep writing those thoughts because you keep forming new ones constantly. "Damn brain, why you work so well?" Now you've reached a point where you feel almost obligated to continue this endeavor. Albeit, it's not an endeavor built on excitement or hope for a gain of knowledge and insight. It's more or less an endeavor of surviving. Not much success going on when you can barely keep your head above water am I right? Wielding these tools of mass construction weighs an abundance of pressure on one's shoulders. You probably know how Atlas feels now. You guys know...the titan who was condemned to an eternity of earth lifting for opposing Zeus. Yeah...think before you try to overthrow a THE Greek God of Everything.
Anyways, with all of this stress mounted on your bones, there's one mindset you have to keep in mind to maintain your sanity: They are just words. Probably the hardest of beliefs to accept as true at an age where words are your career and life for that matter.Whether they are the shittiest of words or the most eloquent of words, they are still a combination of letters with a purpose to describe what one feels about something. A little precocious if you ask me. When faced with this dilemma of words clotting up your pen just give it a little shake and unleash what you really wanna say. If your paper is filled with words that you approve of then kudos to you. If they're complete garbage and deserve to be mangled and reformed in to something meaningful then so be it. Thank the man above that erasers and the backspace key were invented. Had they not...well, that's a whole other blog post right there. Let's not dwell on the unknown.
Life may not come with an eraser or backspace key, but it's a good thing that it's equipped with a pen capable of creating more chapters worth reading. No matter the chapters one encounters, the story doesn't end until you say so. So have a say. Make it LOUD. HEARD. READ. Do what you can to make that mistake of putting pen to paper worth reading. People may enjoy reading about various conflicts, but they love the hell out of reading a great ending. So live your own ending.
This situation is one of the only where a sequel is not frowned upon. I repeat: Do not make bloody sequels to movies that serve no purpose to better humanity. Case in point Transformers should not have even made it to a franchise. Just saying.
Meanwhile on the blog of mistakes. I've stated my peace about stresses, fears, loathings, and optimisms of inking your feelings on paper. So do something worth writing about. Actually write it. Maybe it'll be so scandalous people will pay you to write more. But hell who am I kidding? I'm only a college kid who dreams of succeeding by unleashing my mistakes on the world.
Pens wielded: check. Blank, promising canvas: check. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
Prosperity is only a click away.
Till tomorrow's tomorrow,
Six Pens None the Richer.
No comments:
Post a Comment