Hi. It's been awhile. Hello. I've missed the sweet aroma of the keyboard keys slapping down ferociously while my brain mumbles out the words way to fast for my poor little fingers to keep up. It's late. Okay, not that late. But late enough for most people. I'm not tired. My brain is awake and active as if it had never needed sleep to begin with. Most likely running on the massive amount of chocolate sugar stored in various parts of my skull parts.
So why now? Why now of all times on a random Sunday night, in the middle of August, do I decide to write. I'm glad you asked that, and the political response would be to say "Why do any of us write?" But I'm not a magician of words who will manipulate the question for misdirection and philosophical questions.
Oh no, not I. I am hear to begin a story.
A short story, depending on how you read it, but a story nonetheless.
And before I begin, can I just say that 'nonetheless' is cheating the other words from being together like them? I mean, they get to be all super close, the none and the the and the less. So unfair to the rest of the language.
But I digress.
I've found a passion. For me. A drive. A goal. Not a purpose, no. But definitely a goal. Lofty ones, maybe. I've never had a goal. Nope. Not like this. I've done things, tried stuff and moved on. I've had whiffs of "I'm gonna be the best at..." or "I'm gonna win all the ..." but fleeting would be a kind way of saying "I gave up" or "I got bored".
Ha, bored. Always bored. I'd move on from things quite quickly. My attention was obviously difficult to obtain as it was always distracted by so many things. Maybe it was my brain unable to control itself from thinking of possibilities, or maybe it was just that I suddenly became uninterested.
Nope. Not anymore.
It doesn't matter what it is that I have found that forces me to work hard. It doesn't. The truth is that I've discovered a passion for it. That I struggle, that I learn, and grow from mistakes. So many stupid dang mistakes. I live in a cave with all the words and things and stuffs to force myself to get to that next level. If I could just, if I could only, if if if if and IF.
But here I am, to say that I'm not just saying IF and not doing it, I'm doing it.
Nothing great happens without hardwork. Nothing.
Flukes happen without hardwork. Gifts, presents, natural talent, those be not the hardwork I speak of... and suddenly I was a pirate? Sure. Why not. I'm sailing the ship of hope to the island of success!
Storms happen, waves crash, the ship gets rocked and damaged, but I swear I'll captain the crap out of this ship and get to that stupid awesome island, even if I have to kick while holding onto some drift wood.
I've been away from friends, from family, and mainly anything that could possibly take me away from my focus. Can't say that that is sacrifice as all of those people that are part of the things, places, and events, are proud of me. They're counting on me. Hmm... counting is too much. They're hopeful for me. They're excited and anxious and realistically expecting me to succeed in my own personal mission.
And why not? I can do it.
I could honestly talk for hours upon days, for weeks, with months added, about the things I'm working on. I could talk both ears off, a nose, and one eye, as I drag you out of bed to continue to talk for a billion seconds about the incredible that I have been doing. Sadly, it goes over MOST, not all, but MOST peoples heads.
People. sigh.
Does it really matter if you understand what it is I'm actually doing? Does it? I'm not murderising people. Or selling drugs to kids. I'm doing something that utilizes my skills as an individual, and learning how to be successful for me. It's a fascinating journey.
I love every minute of it. I am happy. I am blessed, lucky, and filled with hope.
Oh sure, I still have the depression. I still have the chemical inbalance of the brain nodes. And ya, it can affect and effect me randomly. But it won't stop me. It can't stop me. This has become more than a game. More than a goal. A dream? A future? I shrug. But I know that I'll get there. I don't care how sick I get. I got the best support I could ask for. And, honestly; I'm happy.
Despite some hardships, some low points, and some random difficulties in my struggles with my cranium pudding, as well as my battle for the ongoing uphill success of my forever future, I'm really geinuinely happy.
Not just content. Happy.
I know, for a fact, at this very moment, who my friends are. Who is there for me. Who is supporting me. Who has my back every step of the way. Understanding isn't required. That's what real love is.
And if you made it to this part, I appreciate you. Someday, when I make it to my mountain, the top of my glorious mountain, I will laugh so hard with water streamin' from my eye holes.
So why now? Why now of all times on a random Sunday night, in the middle of August, do I decide to write. I'm glad you asked that, and the political response would be to say "Why do any of us write?" But I'm not a magician of words who will manipulate the question for misdirection and philosophical questions.
Oh no, not I. I am hear to begin a story.
A short story, depending on how you read it, but a story nonetheless.
And before I begin, can I just say that 'nonetheless' is cheating the other words from being together like them? I mean, they get to be all super close, the none and the the and the less. So unfair to the rest of the language.
But I digress.
I've found a passion. For me. A drive. A goal. Not a purpose, no. But definitely a goal. Lofty ones, maybe. I've never had a goal. Nope. Not like this. I've done things, tried stuff and moved on. I've had whiffs of "I'm gonna be the best at..." or "I'm gonna win all the ..." but fleeting would be a kind way of saying "I gave up" or "I got bored".
Ha, bored. Always bored. I'd move on from things quite quickly. My attention was obviously difficult to obtain as it was always distracted by so many things. Maybe it was my brain unable to control itself from thinking of possibilities, or maybe it was just that I suddenly became uninterested.
Nope. Not anymore.
It doesn't matter what it is that I have found that forces me to work hard. It doesn't. The truth is that I've discovered a passion for it. That I struggle, that I learn, and grow from mistakes. So many stupid dang mistakes. I live in a cave with all the words and things and stuffs to force myself to get to that next level. If I could just, if I could only, if if if if and IF.
But here I am, to say that I'm not just saying IF and not doing it, I'm doing it.
Nothing great happens without hardwork. Nothing.
Flukes happen without hardwork. Gifts, presents, natural talent, those be not the hardwork I speak of... and suddenly I was a pirate? Sure. Why not. I'm sailing the ship of hope to the island of success!
Storms happen, waves crash, the ship gets rocked and damaged, but I swear I'll captain the crap out of this ship and get to that stupid awesome island, even if I have to kick while holding onto some drift wood.
I've been away from friends, from family, and mainly anything that could possibly take me away from my focus. Can't say that that is sacrifice as all of those people that are part of the things, places, and events, are proud of me. They're counting on me. Hmm... counting is too much. They're hopeful for me. They're excited and anxious and realistically expecting me to succeed in my own personal mission.
And why not? I can do it.
I could honestly talk for hours upon days, for weeks, with months added, about the things I'm working on. I could talk both ears off, a nose, and one eye, as I drag you out of bed to continue to talk for a billion seconds about the incredible that I have been doing. Sadly, it goes over MOST, not all, but MOST peoples heads.
People. sigh.
Does it really matter if you understand what it is I'm actually doing? Does it? I'm not murderising people. Or selling drugs to kids. I'm doing something that utilizes my skills as an individual, and learning how to be successful for me. It's a fascinating journey.
I love every minute of it. I am happy. I am blessed, lucky, and filled with hope.
Oh sure, I still have the depression. I still have the chemical inbalance of the brain nodes. And ya, it can affect and effect me randomly. But it won't stop me. It can't stop me. This has become more than a game. More than a goal. A dream? A future? I shrug. But I know that I'll get there. I don't care how sick I get. I got the best support I could ask for. And, honestly; I'm happy.
Despite some hardships, some low points, and some random difficulties in my struggles with my cranium pudding, as well as my battle for the ongoing uphill success of my forever future, I'm really geinuinely happy.
Not just content. Happy.
I know, for a fact, at this very moment, who my friends are. Who is there for me. Who is supporting me. Who has my back every step of the way. Understanding isn't required. That's what real love is.
And if you made it to this part, I appreciate you. Someday, when I make it to my mountain, the top of my glorious mountain, I will laugh so hard with water streamin' from my eye holes.
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