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So much thought and planning. Tossing and turning.
The machinations of work and objects of thought.
Let not this be too separate from action and motion.
And like all good things—don’t think practice constitutes
a race. You have to sign up for these things in life.
Make them happen. They don’t just appear, and you
want more than a pile of notebooks buried with
you when you die.
I wonder if the writing is for me or for something greater.
Not sure where it even came from.
My college writing course is the first time I can recall my gift
for writing—and also the ability to take copious notes
on a topic as it is presented, and follow along.
In some ways, I might be able to do it
along with whatever is happening, since
it also calms me and gives my mind something to do
when surrounded by life’s bluster and commitment.
All these words and thoughts.
Yes, I do not wish for these thoughts to have been in vain—
and yet, for what do I write? For whom?
And what is my style and genre?
Who is my muse?
What even is a muse—do I need one, do I have one,
does it matter?
No. In this arena of freewriting, nothing matters.
It is just ink rolling out on paper.
There are beautiful passages,
art that needs to get out—
and you can feel it trapped in your chest.
Look at you, writing like no other.
Being able to keep that above all else.
Like a furious compulsion,
the one thing you can manage
when you wish to do no other.
Think through—and do.
Writing is my obsession and unique ability.
It is my sword. My instrument.
And I just have to look for the story.
For there is a story—
it is my job to figure out how to unlock it
before time runs out.
If time is always running,
how can it run out?
Where does it go?
You can’t see it, feel it—
it belongs to none.
In this regard, time seems wholly made up and fabricated,
a measuring instrument—
which is quite something I enjoy.
But on the other hand,
it just isn’t real.
And I’m not sure that it always proceeds
in such a linear fashion as our instruments suggest.
Our understanding—and the limits thereof—
also only allow us to measure in those same directions.
You can only know what you can measure.
And as your knowledge grows,
then there will be new ways to measure, compare, cut, and design.
Use the time you have wisely.
Every second counts—
and those that do not,
they count as well.
When you have downtime, ensure to recharge properly.
And yes, there is downtime—
and times when you need your battery full.
The soldier is always preparing
and ready for the call and battle of life.
These are easy times in comparison to others lives and times—
and that needs to be taken into account.
It is your duty to write and contribute
and do something useful with your time here—
brief as it is.
Only an obsessed mind
can manage to produce a truly significant work of art
in the time allotted.
For most weary folk—
perish early and dwell—
there is only one way:
produce
and keep producing.