This, right now, was once the future. Isn’t that wild? And, what used to be happening is now all behind us. Guessing games and wishing for time machines won’t get us any where though, will they?
That’s what I was afraid of.
Oh, us humans and our struggles in the forth dimension! It’s interesting, almost complete madness, how my former fear of the future makes me ache to have the past back again. And how my past unhappiness of my own fabrication made my disdain for the present and my hope, fool’s hope though it may be, to get a better future. I don’t know if you all struggle with it, but hindsight has certainly provided me with a plethora of grief and guilt and regret. Of course I’m not counting my many accomplishments and successes in all that. Why? Because I don’t think about those as much. I am consumed much more by my failures but then again, I always have been. Then again, who among us isn’t?
There’s a guy who wrote song involving something like that. The line in reference was something like-
I’ve never learned to count my blessings,
I choose instead to dwell in my disasters.
Great song, if you don’t know it. Some bloke out of New Hampshire penned it. You can find it if you like. If you’re reading this, you clearly have access to the interwebs.
I could bore you all for ages by vaguely describing the specific regrets that plaguemy heart. I could, but I won’t. I won’t because it’s probably most definitely inappropriate and, more importantly, there is nothing that me telling any of you about it is going to do to make it go away. It doesn’t apply to you, unless it does, in which case, you’re already very well aware.
See? There’s progress!
I think I’ll count some blessings instead.
To start, and I don’t mean this to be insensitive, at least I don’t live in the Middle East. If I did, there would most likely be a lot more bombs happening in my life. Everyone and there sister over here in the West has their two cents or fifty billion dollars about how to fix the problems in Syria, Iraq, Gaza, Afghanistan and so on but I can tell you for certain what won’t work. I can tell you this because if you look at the history of the human race it becomes tremendously clear. What won’t work is violence. It never has and I can prove that it has never worked because there are still people, a good number of times children and other innocents included, who are being killed by someone else’s bad intentions. If violence worked to end wars, I would have to imagine we would be done with that business by now. Yet here we are, more violent than ever.
Alright, well I’m doing real grand with this counting the blessings things since my first attempt was to say, “well at least I’m not some dead Palestinian kid.” Let’s try to move on.
So, I finished the first draft of my first novel. It’s incredibly messy and needs a good bit of revision but I’m working with my editor on that one. Some day, I’ll figure out a method of payment for her.
Anywho, I have now created a story that begins and ends and that people who have read it seem to like. There is still a long journey ahead to get it out to all these strangers in the world, and possibly even longer until it inspires folks to try and save our planet but it’s been written. Sure, it was heartbreak and pain and guilt and anger and the sort that made me pump out the last fifteen-hundred words in a week, but I’ve heard myself say that pain can truly make some beautiful things. At times. Not all the time. Sometimes pain makes bombs.
Was that better? I thought so. It’s like I said right off the bat, I’ve never been very good at counting my blessings. I also hate the word blessings. I don’t like fortunes either but that might only be because I have been very fortunate in my life. In fact, aside from a a small few traumas, most of my misfortunes are self-inflicted. I’d stop it but my younger self always seems to have it out for future Brian. Every since elementary school, the Ghost of Brian Past has really been making sure that Future Brian has a lot of work to do. The Brian of Christmas Present only does so much to help either of them out. His problem, like when in school, was staring out the window too often. He is a creature of fantasy worship which has gotten us (by us, I mean me) into many of our current predicaments.
But like I told my editor, we’re making progress. Those damn creative types though, always trying to milk their misgivings and misfortunes. If only they would have let themselves be happy way back when. Time is tricky like that. Around this time last year, I was in the writing room of my greatest inspiration’s, greatest inspiration. My idol’s idol, if you will. That was a very good day. I’ve had a lot of those. I hope to have them again.