Back to the Beginning

Starting is always the hardest part. Isn’t that always the case? When you begin a new job you have a learning curve to overcome. Then you have first dates. some go great and others, well … they go not so great. Finally there’s a creative endeavor. Either you are the type of person who can dive headlong into a project or you sit there and try to think “how will this actually work.” I am the latter.

I used to be the former. An idea would enter my head and it would hit the paper minutes later. I’d drop everything to go after a creative spark the second it flared up. Then, I’m not quite sure what happened. The things I used to write about became my day-to-day job. I worked for some interesting yet questionable people who would take all your creative input and view it through their own rose colored glasses. I ended up giving away my ideas for a price and for awhile it was nice. When that happened though I had nothing left to say. Strike that, I had plenty to say but no time or energy left to say it.

It happens right? You lose the map to the divine intersection of where what you love intersects with what you are good at doing. That’s what I’ve been thinking today: ” How did I get so far away from just ‘doing’ the thing I loved to do?” My only issue is I’ve had trouble getting started. See, back the beginning. You like how I pulled that all together? Yeah, I’m smooth like that.

Like a drunk screaming Spaniard in the movie ‘Princess Bride’ I decided to go back to the beginning. I pulled out a handful of my old writings and read through them. They more than met expectations in the form of being crude, juvenile, narcissistic but god damn if there wasn’t some passion in there for what I was doing. With that thought as the new spark I want to peel back those layers of BS and dive into what I love: skateboarding, snowboarding, music, cycling, surfing, movies and the stomping grounds of pop culture.

Not much else to say for today but this: yesterday, I rode my bike. This is a bicycle now. It was good ride. The route took me thirty some odd miles through what used to be underdeveloped horse country here in Virginia. Now McMansions are sprouting up left and right. I think part of me wanted to pissed but progress is inevitable. Why is this worth noting? Nothing more than a realization that all of the yesterdays are long gone and if I want to have more yesterdays to speak of I better get moving.

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