Monday, September 5th, 2005

Time	Event
9:11p	The beginning Hello. Here's the first piece of prose that I wrote since the end of the thesis. There was a poem written on the spur of the moment at a wedding that was technically the first thing, and it was important to me, but it also kind of sucked and I don't have it anyway. This isn't fiction but what the hell, for the record's sake: submitted for review: The problem is not that I am alone, but that I ever believed that someone else could bridge the miles between me, myself, and I. The solution, then, is nothing less than reshaping the ground upon which I live. The solution is to reunite the trinity: to bring body, mind, and dreams together into the self that will always be my companion. For some time, I've looked for a purpose that electrifies me into a state of belief. The solution is this mission of simultaneous excavation and construction: a capital project completed only in the death that vivifies us. (Comment on this)
9:18p	The mission At some point along the line, I stopped working. I'm not sure why, I'm not sure how. Maybe I used the work that I was doing for school as an excuse to not work outside of that realm, and maybe that's fair. Nonetheless, instead of filling the time with thinking about how I was going to improve in all of the areas that bothered me - I'm lonely, I'm too fat, I'm don't read enough, I don't write enough - I focused on the first problem as if it would solve the rest, as if another's acceptance of the way that I was would allow me to accept myself. For a while, this worked - I've always looked for something to obsess about, something that would fill the empty hours between every minute, and the long line of shes helped a lot. But here I am now, after a summer wasted in sloth, after a year spent gradually becoming afraid of my own writing and my own growth, a year of looking toward you not like a man but like an addict. And if you're reading, I'm sorry - that's one of the factors that turned a good thing bad. It's time to rebuild. The people that I admire accomplished the things that amaze me through sheer sweat. The problem was believing that I could become the person that I wanted to be without the work that's always at the base of everything good. It's time to work. It's time to build the person that I want to become - not expecting results, but believing that the work itself purifies me. The work itself - reading, writing, exercising my mind and my body - is the good life. Anyway, this journal is part of that. I need another reason to write, so here's one. Thanks for getting through all the rambling above, here's a story. ( The Seeds ) (Comment on this)

2005/09/05 [Calendar]

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