Like I Was I Saying...
I'm not really sure when the fear, or The Resistance, as Steven Pressfield calls it, took residence. Hell, it’s been here so long it could retire in comfort. All I know is that it did. And it’s time I served Resistance an eviction notice and forced it to move on.
I want this blog to be about me asking Resistance or the fear to move on. I've wanted to be creative all my life. All I know is that I like telling stories. It started with acting. Well, I think I was writing bad poetry before I started acting, but I won't get into that this morning. I was thinking about this the other day; I've got loads of photos. Not great photos. Whatever a great photo means or is. But photos of trips or what I thought were cool shots languishing in my hard drive.
If I were to get hit by a Mack truck today, most likely, those photos would remain unseen. Maybe The Wife would go through them once or twice. Maybe The Kid. They’d mostly wonder what I was thinking.
But then somehow, someway, the photos would be lost. All the story ideas, those ones I never finished or published, would be lost as well.
And that's not to say this blog will end someday. I've never thought about how long a person’s blog goes on after they go to the great beyond. I guess when the credit card is canceled, and the subscription runs it course. But at least whatever story I had to tell would've been up for at least a little while.