I Think We All Know This Isn't Working

I've got to admit, I got a little caught up in it. I think I fell for what they were selling without even realizing I was in the market. It wasn't until I realized how much I was talking about it, how much I was googling it, how often I clicked on links in Facebook that I knew I'd be suckered.

Of course, I'm talking about American politics.

I've always been of the opinion that anyone who makes it so far as to be up for election for public office is probably too far removed from my needs to ever care for them. There's a reason things get so regularly better for rich white men and everyone else just has to cope. (Before we get into it, I realize I'm a white man and probably share in quite a few more privileges than most. Maybe that makes it all the worse if even I can see the system is rigged.)

This year, though, there seems to be a clear villain, or maybe even villains, painted. There are Bad Things happening this year and I don't think anyone would disagree with that. I got caught up in the story of Good vs. Evil, however good can be defined in this particular tale. I forgot that evil, essentially, is the system anymore. Evil is the thing that's doing good only for itself and ignoring the needs of so many.

I still got caught up in the normal reality tv drama that an election always turns into. It was exciting, in a way. I could come into the work in the morning and have something to say about current events. That's not always true of me. I usually don't care.

I think, after falling into their trap and now, slowly trying to pry it apart and wiggle my leg free, I have an observation. I don't know if it's worth anything, but I have one.

You are never, ever going to hate someone into believing what you believe. There is no amount of yelling, demanding, bullying, or even tricking that you can do that's going to swing someone to your side of an issue. It's not that it's unlikely. It's impossible.

Instead, be kind. Be unfailingly kind. Love people too much. Listen to their stories, even if it's so much unlike yours that it makes you squirm in your seat and need to step out for a moment to collect yourself afterwards. That's okay, really. You should be uncomfortable once in a while. 

I think, in a way, we're all born glass vases. We're pretty and we're delicate and before long, someone's going to break us. Even a perfect life has a shattering moment or two. So we collect the pieces of ourselves, maybe even leave some of the worst ones behind if you're lucky, and keep moving. After a while, we're all just these sharp parts of vases, jagged shards walking around and cutting each other each and every time we make contact. 

Now you wouldn't tell a child, or anyone, to go collect a pile of broken glass off the street with his bare hands, but collecting beach glass is something I remember doing as a little kid. That's because, through years of contact from the ocean's waves, these shards have been changed. Their sharp edges have been dulled.

We too can change ourselves and each other, for the better, through contact with one another. It's uncomfortable work, but it's so necessary.

Because right now, it doesn't seem like the stabbing each other, with our political opinions or otherwise, is getting us anywhere but hurt.

I Broke Myself, I Think

It's probably a combination of a lot of things, but I don't like that since I wrote about writing on here, I've been having more of a problem with it than I have been in a long time. The old idea that if you talk about your work, the chemicals in your brain make you believe you've already completed it keeps coming to mind. Usually that's related to someone praising you for what you've done, but the idea is still there.

Did I break my good streak of writing by talking about it or are these just the normal hills and valleys that stuff like this go through?

Admittedly, I'm writing something long-form in a new format with absolutely no plan of where it's going, so there's going to have to be bumps. I'm aware of every time I use a "be" verb. I don't always know how to do what I'm trying to. Sometimes, like that, I end sentences in prepositions.

So again, I wonder, is it because writing is hard or did I actually break myself?

I guess time will tell and until my fingers fall off or something, I should probably just keep writing anyway. Any step forward is better than standing still.

What Goes Up Must

I blogged last week because I could say that I was having a good time writing. Because I was writing a lot. Then I had a whole week where nothing seemed to go writing, in terms of writing. I wrote about the same amount in the whole week as I wrote each day the week before.

It didn't seem fair to come here and say things are going well and then not come here when they aren't.

I could make a million excuses and in my head, trust me, I am, but I'm not going to do that here. There isn't an excuse good enough to explain why I just don't or can't write sometimes. Even if there are excuses, none of them are good.

I was sitting here for a while, after that last paragraph, unsure where to go. I'm in my backyard and it's warm but not hot and it's sunny but I'm in the shade and it's just wonderful. I'm listening to Atlas: Year One, an album by Sleeping at Last and watching my wife play with the dogs and the dogs play with tennis balls.

While all of this was going on, a song called Lights came on and it has a recurring lyric: "I'll do better."

And I will.

So I Guess I Have a Blog

I started writing this post on Saturday and I never got around to finishing it, so instead of doing the normal thing, I'm going to start over. I think I can do better.

I've forgotten about this blog lately. I used to write in it twice a week because I needed a break from the projects I was working on. I used to be so overwhelmed by not being good at writing scripts that I'd need to take two days a week where I could write a blog where I pretended like I knew what I was doing.

Well, I still don't know what I'm doing, but I don't feel like I have to prove it as much. Instead, I just keep moving forward. It's a slow, unsteady road and I lose my footing more than I'd want, to use a metaphor that sounds silly even as I type it. I don't know if I am a writer or if I'm becoming a writer or if there's a difference, but I'm trying every day.

For now, that's going to be enough.

Hey, I'm Still Alive

It's been a while, hasn't it? By my count it's been over a month since I last decided I had something to say here. The other day my mom asked if I was still writing, so I figured it might be time to catch the rest of you up.

I am, in fact, still writing. Every day for the last 125 days or so, if I'm reading my tracking app properly. It's not as good as the streak I broke a while back, but it's getting back up there.

Writing lately though has been an uphill climb. It's honestly been a challenge to make any progress on the project I'm playing with (which we'll keep a secret for now because why not?) and some days it seems to go only a sentence at a time. It's hard to come on a blog and say writing is going great when something like that is going on.

I also don't want to come around and complain about how hard things are because really, it's a pretty common thing. And really, I've written about it before, probably plenty of times.

So all is still well here. I hope things are good there. Now back to work, all of us. There's plenty to do.