So you want to be a writer.

OK. Decision is made. I'm gonna be a writer. Change the world with my youthful idealism and paradigm shifting ideals.

No wait, that's been tried before. Maybe I'll just sit back and cynically comment about current events, all the while lamenting for a return for a simpler and more invigorating time that happened long before I was born and I'll never really know about. Yeah, maybe that will work.

Pfft. Right. Here's the issue that's plagued me since I decided that maybe writing could one day possibly or possibly not be a career choice for me, that time way the hell back before descended testicles and awkward acne. What kind of style am I going to have? The thing that separates writers from others is their style. In this day and age is it truly possible to cultivate a unique writing style? In a hundred years, what (if anything) will English Comp 1 students be writing 3 page essays about who and what I was? Most notable writers were crazy motherfuckers, living lavish lifestyles way beyond their income range, defying all odds and living the good life. Well, that or they were tortured poets who didn't gain fame until a decade after they died and a demolition crew fished their apparently spectacular writing out of the dry wall of their homes.

Is this worry I have about style a justified one? I honestly cannot answer that shit. It's always been my way to question why I'm doing what I'm doing. That combined the with fact that I'm the most ambivalent motherfucker ever spell a recipe for a life of mediocrity and missed chances. So maybe it's high time I realized what so many people have realized before me. Fuck all the self doubts and recriminations I have. If I'm going to do this thing, might as well jump in feet first. No pussyfooting around. Do it or don't. Shit or get of the pot. One of the ten billion cliched phrases that exist about this situation.

It's time to take this shit seriously.

Warning: Major Philisophical Shit follows:

Statement: There is no doubt that THE ROCK is cooking.

Mind boggling shit: The only question is... Can you smell it?

Change.

Change. Change is one of those things than you scare you to death, forever make you turn away against the inevitable rising of the tides. It can also be a refreshing welcome to an otherwise stagnant and shitty world. Bizarrely enough, its most often both of these at the same time. This is a thing I've just recently come to realize. I had to do what could only be described as the hardest thing in my life in the past day. I had to tell my parents that I was wrong. Wrong in my career choice, wrong in my class choice, wrong in almost every problem on almost every test I've taken since starting the semester.

I've never had a problem failing classes before now. It's always been a case of me not trying hard enough, not having the motivation, or trying to strike away against what others declared right for me. Before now, it's always been a point of delinquency to fail a class, a conscious choice. Now though, failing at three classes that I genuinely want to pass? It's enough to wreck my shit up. Having to ponder withdrawing classes I want to pass, both my parents want me to pass, my classmates want me to pass? Withdrawing from classes I should be able to pass, but for some reason can't. That shit's heavy, man.

To tell the truth, I'm glad this decision was forced on me at this time. It's a shame I didn't realize it three months ago, but there's no point regretting that. If I had gone on to pass these classes, continue on that path of the thing I didn't want to be, the rest of my life would have been as shitty as the past several months. A series of entirely forgettable events, with me not being the man I want or could be. Christ, why would I want such a miserable thing? Someone particular close to me is undoubtedly questioning whether I truly tried at all. So I say this for all to read. I tried as hard as I knew I could ever try for such a thing. I could try no harder, and if that is so, then what I thought was right for me, was extremely wrong.

So. Here it is. The decision should have come much easier, years ago, when I could have ensured it being much easier on me and those around me. But, that's not who I am. Because of that, I will have to pay the consequences for my fucking around. I can do that though. All I've ever really wanted to do is strike out on my own and take whatever life tries to throw at me. Try or die, that sort of thing. The true test of a man. I know those of you experienced in such things will scoff at such a statement, and such is your right. But by god, tests of fate and chance are what make a man a man. Life can't possibly be worth experiencing if I take the safe route.

I feel if I want this thing to work out, I have to write even when I have nothing to say.

Since I never feel like I have anything to say, this is especially important to remember. I'm kind of at an impasse of what I want to make this thing about. I feel like all the other people who have blogs write about a singular topic, be it food, or movies, or technology, or arts, or what have you. I don't particularly want to limit myself to anything of the sort. Seems to me that to constrain yourself is to detain yourself. Because using a synonym that rhymes is the best way to make a point and/or practice redundancy.

Primarily I want to use this blog to find out if I'm actually any good at this writing thing. I feel like any other career choice would just be a bad move for me, and I don't want to get sucked into a life of regrets like so many other people do. So this blog is mainly for practice, to truly learn the ins and outs of writing, and more importantly to see if anyone even cares enough to read my bidness. Because if I can't make at least a living wage off it, forget it. The whole idea of the penniless counter cultural artiste is painfully bad. It's been done guys. Find a new thing.

I feel like the biggest problem with this whole blog thing (and really the internet as a whole) is that it's destroyed the notions and ideals of art and originality. Chances are that by now if you're saying something, five thousand people said it before you. In a world where every viewpoint and idea can be shared simultaneously, the idea of original becomes laughable. For someone who wants to stun, wow, and amaze, the internet might as well be your worst enemy. If you're truly good enough, you can rise above it to gain that notoriety. But in a world where any person at any time can tell you what an idiot you are? The whole pursuit has seemed futile before now.

But now is the time. I know that if I pursue my current course of action, I'll end up dying embittered of what I could have been, but was too scared to attempt. Now is the time to do the proverbial putting up or shutting up. So internet, I am here. To amaze or to fail, I'm here to give it my best shot. Because if I don't, then why am I here?

Now would you look at that? I went and said something.

First off: A small list of things you should know

I consider myself an average internet user. As a member of this super elite group of people, I have knowledge about certain things that no other people do. One of these is that if you don't hook your audience within a few seconds of baiting them, they'll get away from you. I'm pretty sure its just the internet and fishermen who know that fact. So to all of you who couldn't even make it this far, good riddance. To all of you still reading, what up?

I'd like to start this whole bloggarino off with a small list of things you should know about me, if that is okay with you. If not, stop reading now.

• I consider Politics to be a nessecary and redundant evil.
• I don't know what I'm doing with my life.
• Ghostbusters may in fact be the funniest movie of all time (with Chairman of the Board in a close second).
• I like long walks on the beach.
• How bout that airplane food?
• When living life, I try to look at everything from a humorous perspective. This helps. A lot.
• I think it's kind of nifty that these words I'm writing now are about to be published to the internet for up to dozens of you to read.
• These bullets are cool, man.
• Every Fourth of July and New Years I buy a pack or two of bottle rockets. In the four years since I've started this habit, I've launched maybe 50 of them total. I have several hundered just sitting around my room, stuffed in drawers and lying on the floor.
• When I was 15 I purchased a ceiling fan with a blue neon light instead of regular ol' fluorescent or what have you. I've used this light less times than the bottle rockets.
• There is a poster of a unicorn on my wall. No, I'm not gay.

These are all the facts I'm going to tell you for now. Hopefully I've hooked you enough to where you'll stay on the fishing analogy.

test

one, two, shrimp cocktail.