This is a bad idea. By “this” I mean “this blog.” It’s a terrible, no good, very bad way to spend my time. Now, why would I say that? Is it because, really, the last thing the internet needs is another person sharing their thoughts? No. Is it because it gets to the point where putting out a new post becomes an overwhelming feeling, and squeaking out a crappy one incites feelings of guilt and self-loathing? Not that either.
This blog is a bad idea because I really, truly, sincerely, need to shut. the. mother. fuck. up. and get out of my own head. The amount of success I have at something is inversely proportional to how much time I spend thinking about it. It’s like if you got weaker every time you picked up a dumbbell. By the logic of that metaphor, I basically live at the gym but have the physique of a skeleton wearing a too-small skin suit.
I chip away at whatever big ass rock of thought has cratered through the top of my skull and landed in the middle of what should be a functioning mind. I chip and I chip until I unearth some epiphanic golden nugget of truth. I stake my entire fortune on that nugget for the next week if I’m lucky, the next few months if I’m not, only to find out each and every time that it is fool’s gold.
In other words, making declarations about what my problem of the week is, or worse yet, what the solution to that problem is, does nothing but lock me into yet another mistaken course of action (or inaction).
So to sum up for those who were too tired to google “epiphanic” and otherwise follow the incoherent ramblings of a man blasting “Say Anything” into the recesses of his mind:
Declaring things—whether in my own head, to other flesh-and-blood humans, or into the vast echo chamber of the internet—is a bad idea.
This, of course, begs the question: why the fuck does this post that all two of you are reading even exist?
Because I could use some bad ideas. More specifically, I could do with acting on some bad ideas. If acting on good ones was going to get me somewhere, it would have already. I think that’s because good ideas are worth their weight in pompous bullshit. They’re not hard to come up with. You know that thing you want to do? Or maybe not want to do, but at the very least should do? That one gnawing at the back of your mind? Or maybe it’s staring you in the face; I really don’t know. Anyway, that thing? It’s probably not that hard. Or at least, it’s not that complicated.
Want to get in shape? Eat right. Exercise. Want to have a more orderly life? Start by cleaning off your fucking desk. Tired all the time? Sleep more. Don’t have time because “you’re busy?” Then drink coffee, come to terms with being tired, and shut the fuck up. Annoyed with people over-simplifying your problems in arrogantly written articles? Close this window and then promptly get off the internet forever.
I’ve had at least one thousand and one ideas about how to better my life. I thought they were all brilliant—Write more! Write every day!—They were all blindingly obvious. And all of them have landed me nowhere.
I am the king of becoming what I don’t want to be. As a teenager, there was nothing I hated more than teenagers. All of their overdramatic garbage and ridiculous emotional drama made me want to strand them all on an island and then sink it. By the time I graduated high school, I was the most overdramatic one of the lot of them. I stopped talking to my best friend because it was “too emotionally taxing” to do so.
I KNOW.
I never, ever, ever wanted an office job. I have an office job—and I have not a single plan for how to move past it. I am that guy with the job that, when you describe it, bores and horrifies children. (Disclaimer in case my boss is reading this—I feel very lucky to have my job, but it’s not exactly “astronaut” or “CEO of Facebook,” you know?)
In other words, putting my mind towards something never, ever yields the result I’m hoping for. Thinking about how I think and what I want to do and what I need to do is a bad idea. Writing this blog is a bad idea.
Good ideas have gotten me absolutely nowhere.
This is nowhere.
Welcome back to Nick Writes.
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Songs on Repeat at the Moment
“Every Man Has a Molly” – Say Anything
“Six Six Six” – Say Anything
Things I’m Reading Today
“Loon Lake” by E.L. Doctorow – Finished this morning