I wish I could tell you I am a master of eloquence. Or rugged traveler, home from wandering the world. But I am neither of these. I am just a man with a laptop and a lot on his mind.
I have spent my life chasing. I have spent my days chasing grades, objects, people, happiness, and truth. And I still chase these, yet the past year has yielded a new pursuit. Not new as a pair of shoes waiting to be broken, rather, as an overgrown path long ago abandoned. A new pursuit. A dream, anew.
I had a dream. I had a dream, not of noble unity, but of simple desire. This desire was born in the dark places of a young boy’s struggle to understand. This dream began as a desire that began as an act of desperation. Beneath lamp light, stained in blood, this boy found a gift: a pen and notebook paper. Driven with passion, the two connected in a clumsy, disorganized manner. Those first ink-stained pages were the only testimony to a secret battle with demons.
With time, the clumsy prose was sharpened, and desperation gave way to talent. Talent weathered criticism, and continued growing until talent turned to passion. In those early years, the passion bore a dream—to write and, through writing, change a life or two. In other words, repay for that pen and paper.
But an immature man let a cruel world and the voices of his childhood demons steal that dream. The voices of Doubt told him he never would, and he believed them. So he said, “I never will. Those were the silly dreams of a child. This, this is real life.” And so he lived, but never really alive. Empty.
Empty has a funny way of spreading. And it spread, stealing the very marrow from his bones, the sinew from his muscles. Until, one day, he collapsed—no longer a person, just vacant skin. Suddenly, desperation was his once again. Through blood and tears, he fought to survive, but to no avail. He had forgotten his dream, his hope, the very breath that sustained him. Weary, his gaze fell upon a desk, illuminated by lamplight. Someone had left a gift at the altar, a pen and paper.
He remembered. He wrote. He dreamed.
Now here I sit, the pen and paper exchanged for a keyboard and blog. But this blog is more than a collection of writings (I tried that and failed). Rather, this blog is a post-modern sailor’s log of his journey through life in his search for truth. To this end, expect topics ranging from daily observations, to political or religious debates, to music, to interesting articles, and even possible original pieces of writing.
This online journal will contain my opinions, many of which you may not agree with. It is not my wish to stir up dissension; rather, I hope to challenge critical thinking. Posts may not be published on a regular schedule, but I will strive to maintain relevance. Constructive criticism is encouraged, but take baseless negativity elsewhere.
I am not always right; I am certainly far from perfect. This is just life as I see it.
This is What Doug Says.