Appreciate Every Moment

Do you seek greatness or are you content to just wade in the sea of adequate?

 

Fate is truly fickle. How does one person repeatedly rise from ashes again, and again, and another falls to the winds of fate.

 

I have survived 2 lightning bolts, a near miss with quick-sand, numerous car accidents, 2 terrorist bombs, several bar-room brawls, a fifteen-foot fall onto a concrete pavement (dislocated elbow), a twenty foot fall onto a concrete warehouse floor (broken neck), intruder in my home, tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquake, and surgical extractions of a few body parts, but was I lucky or does fate have something special waiting for me? 

 

The romantic side of me believes my continued existence remains intact only because I have yet to accomplish what I was put on this earth to do. (I sure hope I find out soon.) Now on the flip side, if I were to compare my life to that of my fathers, I seriously doubt that I am all that special.  He survived 38 months in the south pacific during World War II, and was awarded two Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star for Valor. He also worked 45 years at the steel mill and fathered 5 children. I always viewed my father as great man, although I am positive he did not think the same of himself.

 

         Greatness is defined by how many socks you save have from the dryer.

 

The problem I am faced with now is that my past experiences have created a monster. I constantly wonder why am I still alive, and for what purpose? Sadly that question has become a burden in my everyday life. I often gaze at a blank screen, hoping for a distinctive pattern of words to magical appear before my eyes. Why wouldn’t something spectacular suddenly materialize, after all, I’m obviously still alive for specific reason, right? Naw, I’m at least smart enough to know that greatness is achieved, not perceived, or conjured.

 

                                  I wonder if Thomas Jefferson ever quoted himself.  

 

The pedestrian side of my brain has no time for thoughts about ‘what is the meaning of life’, or believing that fate is predetermined. The sarcastic cells floating in my grey matter envision that I am on a never-ending quest to find a comfortable pair of shoes and become king of Easter Island.

 

     

             With Sarcasm is how a historian answers a difficult trigonometry question.      

 

Whatever is in store for me, be it near or in the distant future, I will always cherish my brushes with death. They miraculously transformed me into the diverse paradoxal creature I am today, and for that, I am forever grateful.

 

“Mister Kafka, how did you feel when you dislocated your elbow or when your kneecap was detached after a forklift fell on your leg?”

 

“I felt very paradoxal, jimmy.”

 

The significance of your life truly flashes before your eyes, when a 60,000 lb. forklift rolls on your leg. (Yeah, I got hurt bad that day!)

 

I have a hideous green bath robe that I will never toss out, because it may be the key to my existence. I call it my lucky charm.

 

Anyway, whenever the guy dressed in black, holding a scythe comes for me, I will surely thank him for all the chances he gave me to make something of my life.

 

It is not how you lived yesterday or even what you remember, but how you choose to live today, and worry only about tomorrow when it arrives with the morning sun. 

Warfolkan

 

(This article was previously posted on 15 June, 2014)

I am still alive!

 

-jk- 

 

 

 

 

 

Write Like You Mean It

 

“Write like you mean it” has been and forever shall be my motivation.

 

But what does that suggest, imply, or insinuate?

 

For instance; once something is said, it cannot be unsaid or unheard no matter the circumstances, and often is the case, it is precisely what the person wanted to say, even though they probably shouldn’t have.

However, when applied to writing, that is when the magic arises and the story becomes believable; writing precisely what you wanted to write without fear or having to apologize.   

 

Normally, writing like you mean it occurs during the first draft and writing your story is pure joy. The words dance onto the blank pages with unbridled delight.

 

What transpires next is a nightmare for most author’s – rewrites, corrections, plot enhancements, more character development and self-doubt – basically it is the apology for writing like you meant it. Readjusting your story is sometimes very painful.

 

Wherever you are, you are never alone

Then, the publication of the book. The words are printed and distributed for all to see and they cannot be unread once they are read.

 

My first book, I wrote like I meant it, and then revised it several times. I was very sad throughout the entire process, because it felt like I was draining the life from my story, the magic, and the soul. I was wrong. I had given birth to a story and all the pricking and poking I did on the original manuscript was like nurturing a child through life. Or like any invention – the first attempt is never the final product.

 

The lesson learned – writing like you mean it is the whole of the story, from the first word to the last, and from the first draft to publication.

 

Writing Like You Mean It is making your story the best it can possibly be.

 

Editors Note: I have spoken about this subject on many occasions and some folks suggested I write a book about it. (I Laughed) Oddly, I feel more comfortable talking about this subject than writing it down. Some things are better said aloud, I reckon.

 

The first draft of this article was approximately 2,500 words. It seemed a bit excessive. I trimmed the fat and now the reading time is about 5 minutes. 

You’re Welcome.

 

 

j/k