Kudos

People build up too many expectations around life.

It’s made of, what? Eight decades, tops? Then everybody gets all worked up about what you are going to do with it… I really don’t get it.

If I were to plan a great deed I’d need the first two decades to figure myself out, then another two to study everything that has been done in the past and what improvements I can make, how to be original and not just do something that someone else did exactly like me a couple of thousand years early. There goes four decades down the drain, only in preparation, you got half in front of you.

But then, that half has been possibly damaged by environmental factors, so you’ll lose between five to ten years to cigarettes, drugs, alcohol and stress. Which brings me again to the next half: generally, we fall in love. There goes four decades for you, between falling in love with your spouse and falling in love with your grandchildren.

Just a simple little life, that’s what you get in the end, no big plans, ‘cuz you didn't have time to see them through, that’s for the highly lucky, exceptionally talented or extremely well positioned people.

To you and me, kudos, we get life.

D.

New Year Kind of Thinking

By D. Salazar

Faithful to the worldwide tradition of ‘finally deciding to change my life and become that thing I always wanted to be’ –for better or worse- here I am, writing at least a page a day, following Stephen King’s advices. I started the task where most of us would, googling “writing tools” and expecting to find a software that would enable me, the writer, to be an unparalleled genius and cure writers block and find that powerful will which will sweep my fingers upon the keyboards while writing the new millennium’s Swann’s Way.

Instead, I found a picture of a pen.

The right side of my brain grinned gleefully and the left side, then they both settled to write something.

The other thing that tends to impair writing –my writing at least- is the publishing issue. I’m an ambitious person, I want to see my work out there and I want fans wearing my signature on their t-shirts and standing outside my hotel window craving for a line of my magical thinking, like some South American writing messiah (then you wake up and Paulo Coelho is still there). I went around newspapers checking what is being said out there, trying to find a tiny little spot on the market for me, but newspapers are too wrapped up around politics (after all, newspapers tend to be used to pick up disgusting things you don’t want to touch with your bare hands), and I’m not a political writer, I don’t know anything about politics beyond being able to tell when someone is being stupid or downright genius -the line is very very thin.

The second before I reached that state of mental chaos which preludes writers block, I realized I have a blog and felt stupid enough to write without the urge of ambition.
My words may not be worthy of a fanatic wave, but they put my brain in motion, so as not to die completely unnoticed.