I know that the page views here were always minimal, and I
don’t know if Snake even has access to the site any longer, but things have
changed for me over the past few months. For the last decade, I had an outlet
for my writing with my profession. The last few years of said career, other
responsibilities cut my writing down, and the writing I did was often rushed,
and my ability to focus limited. At the beginning of December, I changed careers.
One of the reasons was that I hoped to start writing again.
Well, it’s the end of March and I haven’t. I’ve tried with little to no
success. I’d like to place blame, but the reality is that I just haven’t had
any ideas that have sparked my imagination. It’s been disheartening, and I worry
that at almost 34, like an athlete, my prime has passed.
I was never more productive creatively than when we updated
this blog on a regular basis. So I hope by coming up with some ideas here, and
posting them, it will, as they say, get the ball rolling. If it doesn’t, well,
nothing ventured, nothing gained.
In order to do this, I needed something to write about.
Which has been the problem. Initially, I was going to do a top 10 list of my
favorite Bruce Springsteen songs, and I still might do that, but an old idea
popped in my head.
For better or worse, we’ve all been conditioned by TV and
movies to having music complement narrative. Many people, whether they realize
it or not, establish a soundtrack for the narrative of their lives. I’ve
certainly done that, whether intentionally on the spot, unintentionally by a
song being on in the background, or retroactively by associating music with
feelings, thoughts, periods of time and so on.
My intention is to create a series of posts – open-ended on
how many – where I am going to attempt to create/detail the soundtrack to my
life. My hope: is to listen to some music – which is good; come up with some
creative ideas – which is better; perhaps conduct some personal therapy for
what has been a sometimes difficult transition in my life.
So, I am setting back out on the path of the pen, and I hope
somewhere out there is somebody willing read.
Red
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