Category: Writing

There are only so many hours in the day. For many of us, we don’t know how to use them.

They get used. Hours pass. Regardless of what we’re doing.

Sometimes they feel slow. Sometimes quick. But they pass. 

What’s “rigjt” now, may not have been right a hundred years ago.

What we think is right now, may not be in a hundred years.

Yet must of us think we’re certain of what we know. Perhaps as should be a bit more curious.

When we assign priorities, we judge based on our own particular criteria. What I find important, others may now. And vice-versa.

But the one thing we all must contend with is time constraint. We can’t manufacture time, so we’re left with doing one thing instead of others – the opportunity costs.

Not that we necessarily consider opportunity costs in everyday life, but even lacking tacit understanding, we make choices based on these considerations.

The push towards boredom isn’t really about boredom. It’s about being alone with your thoughts, which is something we’ve lost. The tv, internet, phone. The way the three overlap, and make up a huge part of our lives.

When we’re alone with our thoughts, we have to time to explore. And that’s one way discoveries are made.

In the process of preparing my new place, I’m struck by how much I’ve accumulated. And, for the most part, I like it. I like my things.

But recent loss has led me to wonder, what about when I’m gone.. What then? Who does the accumulated dross of life go to?

For most, its their children. Those who are left behind.

And then what? Will this stuff matter to them? Probably not. Maybe some things.

So, I guess, what’s the point? Something I’ll have to think about.

I was discussing writing recently, and the question of whether there was any fear with putting work out came up. The thought of criticism, dislike, or similar result can cause writer’s block, or other issues.

But, I’m not sure that’s the worst case. What if what you’re putting out doesn’t even matter, to you or the reader?

Stakes. An artist needs stakes. Otherwise, is it even art? Not that everything has to be life and death, but there should be a little blood on the page.

America is an immigrant country.

We may try to ignore that fact, or dispute it.

But we only do so at our own detriment.

We interweave in a way that makes sense, and yet doesn’t. Every human interaction is a part of a larger ecosystem of connectivity.

We do not operate in a vacuum.

When acting, it should be the very least we can do to consider those who may be affected by those actions.

We live in a time where so much is dedicated to self-optimization.

On its surface, prioritizing our “best life” seems like it should be a benefit.

But what are the costs? Do we beat ourselves up over missing some arbitrary benchmark?

Focusing on relentlessly improving every aspect of life can lead to anxiety, burnout, and a feeling of never being enough. So that’s something to caution against, or least consider before embracing.

Most failures are thought of us negatives. But here, in the start of the year, it’s a reminder that beginning again is just as posisble on any day.

A failure is momentary, and the ability to begin again is possible every time.