My father wrote a blog. He got the idea from me.
I've read it. It is well written. It makes for and interesting read, and provides food for thought. It touches upon complex subjects such as the Singularity. And it puts everything I have tried writing for my blog to shame.
I never even finished my second blog post. It was supposed to be about my first visit to a nightclub, as it happened on Halloween. But it was so trite, so boring, even I couldn't finish writing it. It was an experience countless people have had, but the post would not have made it fresh. It was nothing more than a dry summarization of events.
No, I take that back. The truth is, I
couldn't feel bothered to finish it. My father on the other hand, he speedily wrote three or four times what I was planning to write, but never did. It's somehow a whole new layer of humiliation to know that your one-upper is actually more motivated than you were. My failure to sit down and write something has been at the back of mind taunting me for years now. My few real attempts ended in unfinished, unbaked pieces that I couldn't bear to continue. And now, to be so savagely outdone by the one who keeps insisting that I am "a good writer?"
There are a few feelings I have around that, none of them good. Anger and hopelessness are the two big ones.
So now that I have written down how I feel fairly concisely, I feel some of the feeling slipping away. What happens now?
In an hour or two, I will no doubt forget my troubles by sinking time into one of my video games. Or reading online works of literature that put to shame anything I can create. So what can I write until then.
I suppose I am at least writing
something. It might be little more than a chronicle of petty jealousy towards someone who can do better than me, but it is at least written with feeling. But that I am feeling, well, less of those feelings, where can I go from here?
Perhaps I can speculate in typed words about how to continue this flow of writing and turn it to other things. Granted, I do it a lot in my head and nothing has come of it yet. But whatever.
It should be noted that all my previous works have been written under duress, not because I wanted to write them. In all cases, I enjoyed writing the piece but wouldn't have written them if I wasn't forced, if I hadn't had a deadline and someone else pushing me on. That includes this blog entry; I am writing this so that my beloved computer (which I may or may not marry some day) is not confiscated.
So...is that the answer? Arrange for an external pressure to make me write? I suppose it is a start. It has turned out this post, which is something.
And now, how to end this? My time is running short. I have heard that endings are difficult. It seems fairly accurate. Maybe I can wearily throw up my hands (metaphorically, of course) and declare hopelessness, which would be in keeping with the first half of this blog. Perhaps I can make it a flourish, something like "Signing off, and keep watch for my next aimless ramble!" Only somewhat cooler. Maybe end on a note of hope? tempting, but perhaps cliche. I suspect I don't like writing happy endings anyway (Just read my Turtle story).
Endings seem difficult, and I don't feel like putting the effort into a rigid and definite ending, so I will just leave those thoughts up there. Fitting, I think, for this
is supposed to be a recording of my thoughts.
Oh, and I might as well leave this here.