Poetic Referendum(s) On Life

Unscripted/Evolution of a Writer

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WARNING! EDITORIAL  WARNING! OPINION:

Unscripted small talk can make you cringe or it can make you smile. And when it can make you smile, it can REALLY make you smile. I think about this when I watch certain segments of television programs. I especially do not like news anchors pitching their banter about at the end of a newscast. I know they need to kill time before going into station break, but some think they are witty or even funny. Could we just script the small talk, too? Just run a few more words through the teleprompter and save us the embarrassment of watching their gaffes unfold live on the airwaves. The movie Anchorman went overboard with how inanely unintelligent television broadcasters can be, and yet underlined the truth about how undereducated, underinformed these mouth pieces can be.

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I feel like Erkel sometimes. Ever write something and then come back to it and think, "Did I write thaaaaat?" It's like getting out of bed at night to use the toilet and having no memory of it. It's like driving down those lanes in life before you realize you can't remember passing the Jiffy Lube or the hamburger joint enroute to your destination. And of course, and possibly because of the denial, how that bag of chips magically disappeared when you reach for another nibble and nothing there.

It's weird reading stuff I've written and think about the state of mind I was in. Sometimes, it feels like I've become a completely different person. Some things I write I nail down the first time out. Other times, I struggle with much of the baggage this craft has to offer. I wonder how I can be so different day to day. I wonder how it is that I could leave a little piece of myself behind and not know it, not relate to it. I start to look at the past and think, that wasn't me. It's like you can step out of your shell and into something new. Maybe, like trading in a vehicle. You want something roomy, a little more comfortable. And don't we all upsize with age?

Whatever it was that was me, it's gone. I can't relate to it, as it's in the past. Have to put all that stuff behind me and focus on the road ahead. I really don't know who I was anymore. Just little bits and pieces of me stayed, like the core players of a football team. I just go out and draft a few more character traits, seek to upgrade my talent pool via free agency, maybe develop some undrafted sorts who have what it takes to make my team. I keep rebuilding with the same, or similar emphasis on, my overall game plan and/or concept.

The more I work at this craft, the better I should become. No matter how many skins I shed, it's all for the good. I'll eventually find my goal through this massive transformation as a writer. And if I don't make it, I'll have the journey and the trail I can trace back to the past to bring me forward again.

ah, yeah. did I just write that too? Wonder how many times I'll look back at this and think someone else could have wrote it.