Oh Dear

I lost my point in that last post; let's start with the same line: So again, I haven't written anything for awhile now. This could become a bad habit. ... see but that's just not true anymore, I just wrote that other one.

I've spent all my writing time as reading time. That reminds me, I used to work with a fifth-grader. I followed her around school for two months. For two months, I was a fifth-grader, quietly attending class. At the end of each day, they had a school-wide quiet time, known as D.E.A.R., Drop Everything and Read. This pertained to students and teachers alike. Parents not participating were scolded by office workers, who all had their noses in their books, unwilling to assist them pick up their child early. The principal had a big rocking chair in the entryway that she always used. I spent the time writing. I'm such a rebel. Usually, I wrote about the equal importance, in my mind, of writing, not just reading... that as a child I did not enjoy reading until I discovered that I enjoyed writing. But sadly D.E.A.W. just doesn't have the same ring to it as D.E.A.R, thus my bubble bursted.

Again I'm off track. I'm reading a memoir. The Tender Bar. Strange enough, I actually bought it... at a grocery store no less. It was the only thing I bought. It's a pretty good book. It has, however, led me to a few conclusions. Most importantly, I was coddled as a child. Oh sure, I could point to this or that and say 'Oh Poor Me,' but the bottom line is that my childhood involved no great ordeals, no great singular character building struggle that shapes who I am. 'Oh no... I didn't get DuckTales for Nintendo one year for Christmas, Poor Me.' I'm not saying that I would redo my life, looking for trouble, but what stories do I have, where's the drama? Where's the heartbreak? Where's the climax? ... I'm still trying to figure that out in the book - the last few pages I'm holding out on... Where's my memoir?

I mainly just think it would be cool to be in a barfight.

I've also realized further by this book that some people re destined for some things. For me, it may be greatness, but whatever it is, it won't land in your lap unexpectedly. If luck favors the prepared, than destiny favors the determined. A great part of the book, one of many that struck me:

...I told him I was giving up.
"That would be a mistake," he said.
"Why?"
I gave him an opening to to say I had talent. He didn't. He said
simply, "because giving up is always a mistake."

I find the book oddly inspiring. Odd because if some people are truly destined for something, then why did I buy a book I had never heard of. I'm not even sure why I was in the grocery store. But part of me wants to drop everything and read, while part of me wants to drop everything and write. A big part of me, however, just wants to drop everything and play NCAA Football '05.