Much of my motivation to write was due to loneliness. Basically, to connect with others in a way that would otherwise not be possible.
I was lonely. I still am.
Democracy is said to consist of our peers. my peers consist of diasporas who connect via zeros and ones. Physically separate, not completely feeling what it’s like to actually be in the presence of kindred spirits.
It’s better than nothing, though. I wouldn’t have it any other way, since there was no other way back in the bad old days.
mostly for the love of writing. it provided, as it still does now, a wild card in a world of predictability which I felt was foreign to my… nature.
Life was way simpler then. I am quite fortunate to have grown up the way that I have. I have nothing but gratitude for those whom have helped me along my lifetime. We may not have always agreed, and perhaps we may have been at each other’s throats in the past, but I believe that time and forgiveness heals all wounds.
Money, as far as I was consciously aware, was never a factor when it came to choosing what words I would type. in retrospect, maybe that was because I wasn’t living on my own back then.
And I didn’t have a child whose future I was to concern myself about.
Had no care for the price of raw, bloody flesh at a nearby supermarket (to the cent, calculated on cell phones more powerful than the first computer I’ve ever used in my life) so as to make sure that my body doesn’t cannibalize itself… back then. Without thought, my meals were prepared for each day.
My money was spent mostly consuming experiences, new food, drink, physical therapies and media that transported me to exotic places and allowed me to take on the roles of fantasy characters for extremely limited spaces of time.
I’d say more, but the 201X years have me in quite a different headspace. So maybe later.
The inspiration for this post comes from a notepad I purchased on a military base nearly a decade ago. Back when CD’s were more popular than MP3s (to me) and my favorite musical group was Portishead.