Sometimes I wonder if all this work and effort is actually holding me back. It is as if I bearing the weight of the sea on my shoulders. As if the sea were not enough, I am taking in lakes and streams. At which point will I wash away?
Is this why I am floundering in life? Is this why I do not feel as if my knowledge is very deep? Is this why I have made little or no progress with my career. I have not penned a single story. Hell, I haven't read a single piece of literature since 12 grade. (Apologies for not including David Sedaris in the list of literature.) I used to read voraciously. I used to read and my life would change. Island of the Blue Dolphins. David and Jonathon. I would sit down outside under a tree and read a book. Now? I read comic books, but I read them much differently than when I read them in my youth. In my earlier days, I read the passages slowly. I remember walking up the hill from Gina's apartment in Cincinnati to the CVS and picking up the lastest X-Factor or Generation X. I read them so slowly because I knew I would perhaps not read another one in months to come. I had no money, but my sisters always would give me a few dollars to buy comics. I still have them.
What has happened to my love for words? I still love to write, but I no longer have an enraptured audience. I felt it in my bones that I would write a novel. Now I am settling for blogging. I know there are enough hours in the day and night. But why must I always run short?