So catching up on some journaling, and what do you know, Fridays topic was to reflect on my weeks worth of journaling. Laugh out loud. Reflect on what this newfound practice has been like. It’s been a pain in my ass. I’ve gotten so used to writing on my own terms, when I felt like it that it’s hard to break that habit and force myself to write. I have always felt my talent was pure and unadulterated, tainted by no one or nothing. I was always the captain of my destiny and I steer my vessel where I want it to go when I want it. I am not a for hire ferry, I cannot be chartered to a destination not of my choosing.
Here is the problem with being the ferryman of your own destiny, places to go and the true ability to chart the waters. It’s only so long before you ship’s moored up because of failed adventures and unfinished trips, with little to show for you eventually give up. I have been an independent captain too long and now must accept that passengers have destinations not on my itinerary. That doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy the trip and make a few stops along the way. Like Ishmael I am merely a lover of the ocean and like all men eventually drawn there by nature.
In other words I cannot always be the person to always dictate my content, occasionally, more frequently than not, I must write what as others have written. Hunter S. Thompson retyped The Great Gatsby and Farewell to Arms to feel what it was like to write a great novel. My one gray hope is to write something a fraction as well as the greats, but mostly to stop using the word ‘fuck’ so much and use proper grammar. Heres to hoping.