Sober

These are humanizing days. All of us, even the wealthiest and most talented, are faced with the reality of Time. We've screwed ourselves over with greed and fame. Those of us who search for greatness, who dream of being everyone else's dream, will be squashed by the over-stimulation of the public. Sure, at best, a few million people might enjoy our song, our novel, but we'll be forgotten tomorrow. There is no more superstar. I might venture to say the reality of the superstar died with Michael Jackson.

We're all grappling for a place, a significance. I think this economy is sobering up the nation. Our over-spending has caused a return to the bare necessities. We can't all have the impact and the image that we strive for; this fact is hitting us hard. Still we try, it's part of the human condition.

I believe that we should all try, at the very least, to have an impact, a positive indentation in the lives whom we can reach and be content with doing so. What you say, do, create and share with others does have an impact on those who receive. Some may even be touched, in the most sentimental meaning of the word, by you. So, you might not feel that what your doing has any purpose, but it does.

For me, I might not have the job I want or yet be a published fiction author, but the friends and family whom I share my words with are changed because of it. No matter how visible your impact on them may be, you've had one. Always remember that. Without you, or me, or the funny looking bearded man across the coffee shop, this world would not be the same.

I apologize for being away for so long. I've been busy muddling through what feels like failed attempts at writing. Job applications happen here and there. Still no luck. I hope to have a story completed in time for the Esquire magazine fiction contest (due Aug. 1), but plot details evade me. I've been reading, also. Go about your surfing in peace and hopefully I'll be writing here again soon.