Yesterday, I watched the documentary Gonzo, which detailed the life and work of Hunter S Thompson. Immediately after watching it, I thought, “Wow! I want to start writing. I’m sick of feeling scatter-brained and posting incoherent thoughts to an insignificant blog in the galaxy of worthless opinions. I’m going to unhinge; any thoughts I have are going straight to the keyboard.”
Yet, as I sit here writing this, I find myself doing what I do every time I want to write: writing by the seat of my pants. None of this was thought out before writing it. I have no objective for writing this other than the hope for attention and criticism.
I told my brother yesterday that he shouldn’t talk so aimlessly because he didn’t have any reason to say the things that spewed from his mouth. This morning, I can’t help but wonder if I was justified to say that. So what if he has no motive in telling me his uninformed opinion on which console is ruling the present gaming market? Who am I to say, “You shouldn’t talk about things you don’t understand?” We all need to learn somehow. Don’t get me wrong; I explained to him the little more I understand about the gaming industry on top of minimalizing his opinion. I’m not that cruel of an older brother (I hope).
Right there! (and here) I completely diverted from the subject at hand, switching from questioning my authority as a conversation moderator to justifying my status as a good brother. Edit: I have no idea why I wrote this. Do I find any reason I can to distract myself? Was I making a point? This is the problem i have with writing. I could very well completely abandon this post because it all sounds like nonsense upon review. The fear of sounding like a raving lunatic is ever present. Ugh… no wonder Hunter wrote so much about fear and loathing…
I want a motive. I want to focus. Drifting around the infosphere is fun for a while, but seeing others cruising a structured route and making tangible accomplishments fills me with envy.
In times like this, I try to remind myself of Steve Jobs’ message to a Stanford graduating class – take life as it comes, it will all piece together when the time is right. I can only hope that my decaying short-term memory and my inability to filter my thoughts as fast as they escape through my mouth and fingers doesn’t hinder what good I have yet to bring to the world. I can’t imagine how many others in my age range can identify with this; I know I’m not alone.
Once again, I leave you answerless and probably less informed than you came. Hopefully you can relate, though, and ask me questions that my working memory hasn’t yet processed.
Edit: I’ve spent entirely too much time reviewing this and wondering what others will think of it. It doesn’t matter; I’m as clueless as the rest of you and I should stop pitying myself for being so. In fact, disregard this paragraph; I don’t want to delete it because I want to look back years from now and know the full extent of my paranoia.