Day: September 24, 2018

Garbage in, Garbage out is a philosophy of words and worlds I continue to hold dear. I believe what you read and watch greatly influences what you choose to and have the depth to write. It used to be that I consumed a massive amount of fantasy and as a result I wrote fantasy stories. After I found my way to Gibson and Stross I started writing science fiction. I suppose the point can be made that my writing is largely referential of these artists, but I would argue they are more so the gateway drugs to the genres they inhabit. I also think that I get inspired by what I perceive as good writing. Stephen King stories make me want to write great stories.

Beyond these inspirations I remain driven by the situations that arise in and around my life. I want to tell these stories as well. I prefer to tell them in a different context (mostly sci fi) but there remain human stories that need telling. I still feel a responsibility to tell them.

Some Thoughts:

1. I am starting to release some of this obsession I have with my kids’ success in youth sports. I think that is happening because I am starting to recognize that they aren’t as good as I want them to be and aren’t on the kinds of teams that they need to be in order to be elite.
2. No, I don’t intend to become the dad who coaches such teams. I do want to have some fun with my kids in a different way. I want to learn how to have fun with them in other ways than just these sports that have become so all consuming. I’m not mad about the sports stuff and still enjoy it, but I am getting worn out on it and nobody else in my life seems to appreciate it in any way, which makes it feel like it is me and the boys fighting to preserve something that isn’t making us entirely happy. 

We are all just temporary. That is the thought that plagued me throughout the day. Being sick usually reminds me of my mortality and leaves me thinking about how temporary and, in a sense, futile life can be. In the darkest moments I feel like we are all just serving the whim of some greater master. We are pawns or rooks or knights in service of a yet to be revealed king. This is not about religion or aliens or anything like that. This is more of a social commentary on the ‘rat race’. I wind up thinking, “what am I doing it all for?” and in those moments of bleakness I can recognize what it feels like to want to commit suicide. It represents some small moment of choice and power. It is a chance to embrace the invisible (yes, I am watching the Purge) on your own terms. 

Then I remembered how good it feels to love and to be loved. That will always be my path back to sanity. As a fellow writer argues, everything is about giving or receiving love. I think about this in the context of my own kids who have continued to destroy our home environment and display an incredible lack of consideration for each other and for me over the past few months. Where is the love in that? I feel like they are operating out of recklessness and a need for love and order. It is my responsibility to provide them with that and I have allowed myself to slip away from such responsibilities.

This can also be said of the writing. I should be further ahead of where I am, and I need to very much make the changes necessary to fix that. I have spent a lot of years being devoted to my laziness. It is such behavior that makes these moments where I question life feel all the more meaningful. If life is just temporary awareness, then shouldn’t we all make the best of that moment?