I cannot tell you how mortified I am for being so GD cliche'. This whole "New Year New Me" thing is on everyone's mind, as if the only time in your life you can choose change is the beginning of a week, month or especially, YEAR. I had been toying with the idea of picking up my blogging for MORE than a year. It never became priority enough to actually plant my ass and do it. Until a tweet. A specific tweet from someone I hold in great esteem: Patton Oswalt.To say 2016 SUCKED ASS for Patton would be the most monumentous of understatements. In April he awoke to find his wife dead beside him. I believe it was an aneurism but don't quote me. He woke up to find himself a single parent of their 7 year old daughter. It has always been Dave's biggest fear, and part of the reason I undertook the drastic measures I did to get healthier: so it hit a little close to home. Then, he had to deal with trolls on his twitter page that would drop "Hey, aren't you the guy who killed his wife?" in the middle of a thread. The first time I read that I gasped allowed and started crying. And I'm not the big crybaby type. It was just so...savage. And uncalled for. He faced these nasty assed bastards on a daily basis. Then, he watched his entire country go insane and do the unthinkable. Elect "He who shall not be named". For and intelligent, sensitive, and hopeful man this year was a repeated kick in the nutsack.
But a few days ago he was posting about writing. How it helps you grow and learn. And how it didn't matter what the fuck you wrote. At all. Just "write the shit outta next year." Talk about hitting a chord in me. I had no excuse to retreat, I had things to say, and it mattered not a wit if anyone read it. I just needed to write. Right in the feels I tell ya!
So, here I sit, typing gramatically incorrect sentences and just writing. I don't know where it will take me. Maybe a short story, or a play, or simply a post that someone, somewhere, will read and it reach them. Or maybe no one will see it, or get it, or want it. And that's OK too. The important thing is the act of writing. So here I go. Thanks Patton.
But a few days ago he was posting about writing. How it helps you grow and learn. And how it didn't matter what the fuck you wrote. At all. Just "write the shit outta next year." Talk about hitting a chord in me. I had no excuse to retreat, I had things to say, and it mattered not a wit if anyone read it. I just needed to write. Right in the feels I tell ya!
So, here I sit, typing gramatically incorrect sentences and just writing. I don't know where it will take me. Maybe a short story, or a play, or simply a post that someone, somewhere, will read and it reach them. Or maybe no one will see it, or get it, or want it. And that's OK too. The important thing is the act of writing. So here I go. Thanks Patton.