100 Resolutions

Greeting from the future. The world keeps spinning, time keeps moving, and the snow continues to mount an unending assault on the city that always sleeps. Due to quarantine and a lack of motivation, I have re-discovered my love for Russian water, or in lamens terms, vodka. Sigh! What am I doing with myself? The new year started off as it always does; the promise of a fresh start, a sever hang over, and countless resolutions. Now less than a week in, I am facing those old familiar doubts and obstacles. My sever anxiety is rearing its ugly head again, as are my infamous mood swings. I am in a constant state of worry and exhaustion. But enough about me, how is your new year grinding your gears? Marital troubles? Finances? Economy? Dose of the clap from the hooker in Reno? That's tough, kid. My deepest sympathies. Sometimes it feels like this stupid blog is the only thing that keeps me going. Well, that's not entirely true. Actually, that is not true at all. I still have my hopes and dreams. Unfortunately, my hopes and dreams usually consist of unicorns and never ending rainbows. Man, this is really going nowhere.
I'm sitting here with a glass of my favorite brand of Russian water, attempting to conjure up ways to entertain those of you who might still stumble onto this every now and then. As you can tell.....things are looking bleak. This whole blog thing was meant to be a form of exercise. A way to be creative on the spot, and to keep my writing skills fresh. I honestly do not remember the last time that I sat down and wrote something truly for myself. Lately all of my writing is directed towards the unending bullshit that I have to crank out for school, and this here blog. It is upsetting in a way. I find some sick pleasure in doing this, even though it counts for absolutely nothing, and I am sure that most of you who read it are disappointed with its content, or lack there of. However, I really need to get back to being creative for myself. The worst thing that a writer can do (and I do not consider myself a writer by any means) is to write for someone else. The second that you start taking other people into consideration, or worrying about what other people will think is when everything goes to hell. There is a reason that so many writers can only create one piece of work that is truly amazing. That's because they started giving a shit about what people thought and wanted. With any amount of fame and recognition, even in the slightest, come expectations. Attempting to live up to the expectations that other people set for you is truly a dangerous, destructive, and dreadful thing. If you have a passion for something, do it for yourself. Whether its writing, painting, music, miniature golf, or blow jobs, do it for yourself. Well, I guess you can't really include blow jobs under that list. Use your imagination. Sheesh. I can't spell everything out for you people. The point is, notoriety is great. It's amazing to gain notoriety and recognition for something that you have done. Especially if that something is your true passion. But to cater to the masses only cheapens what you are doing. That takes all of the passion out of it. Look at the Beatles. A couples of fine looking men from across the pond, playing rockin' tunes, dressing for success, and kicking ass and taking names. Then shit hit the fan. What happens next? You've got four hippies, wearing ponchos, singing about eggs and a walrus. Then things only got worse. There is a difference between artistic evolution and going plain nuts. Enough about the Beatles. In all honesty, they were a terrible example and I could give a shit less about them. I guess I'll go all motivational speaker on you and say 'do it because you love it'. That's one of the greatest things and one of the shittiest things about the world we live in. You can do anything. That doesn't mean you're going to be good at it. Doesn't mean people have to like it. And it certainly does not mean that you will get paid or laid for it. Shit. More than likely you're going to suck at it. But as long as you have a passion for it, and I mean a true passion, do it. Love music? Start your shitty garage band, post your videos on YouTube, and face the ridicule. Love art? Get a canvas and paints and do your best impression of a piece of shit. Who knows? Maybe someday you will strike gold. More than likely not, but at least you tried. And remember, with everything that you produce and put out into the world, the criticism comes with it. Nothing you can do about it. No need to defend your piece of shit output. Because for every terrible mess that you can create, there are a million other people who create a bigger mess, a million more to rip you to shreds, and maybe two more who can do it to perfection. This was fun. We should really do it more often. Now that I have inspired the masses, and possibly helped to mold a couple of future Nirvana cover bands, I will leave you with my parting thoughts. The new year does not bring on the promise of bigger and better things. Waking up on January 1st does not negate the past, and will not vanquish what happened last year. Once that ball drops in Times Square, magic does not happen and all is not forgiven. I have learned that the hard way every year. I will continue to fail, as will you. We will all do stupid and horrible things this year. Next year will be the same. The year does not dictate the person that you will be, or the things you will accomplish and fail at. You do. This year can be great, but it sure as shit won't be perfect. You will still fuck someone you shouldn't have, talk shit to the wrong person, watch a great person die, and eat at the wrong Chinese buffet. But can you look past those things and realize that the new year was never a starting over point? Can you do something for yourself, and make at least one of these days this year extraordinary? I think we can. Here's to 2010! Just another number on a calendar. Use today as a starting point.