I. She (The Fiction of it All)
There is a blogger I follow, and she’s inspiring to me. I may have mentioned her before–her writing, her style, her romanticism. Her being mentioned may have happened once or several times, but regardless of the quantitative notion she has simply been mentioned. It’s hard to take her seriously, and it could be astrological reasoning. The rationality could be there, y’know, in the stars. This blogger’s posts, her words and actions are beginning to not sound justified. She is being redundant, and everything begins to sound the same to me.
It’s the same feeling you have towards someone when you finally realize, after taking a step back and objectively analyzing the person head-to-toe and brain-to-mouth, that this other is spewing nothing but bullshit.
Yet, I cannot avert my eyes from reading her. She is a siren. She’d tear me apart if our paths were ever to cross. She’d stab me in the eyes with pens; that statement is completely hypothetical and unrealistic, I assure you. I still feel whimsical after digesting her style and words. Simply so, her writing keeps me on the right track, which pushes me to justify my words and actions more often. I rationalize more often and think before I act/speak/write. Her poetry and prose spew not bullshit in the grand scheme of things, but the redundancy still bothers me. The prose has gone from poetic romanticism to almost a sing-song woe-is-me saga complete with an overdramatic head turn with the back of a hand upon her forehead.
It’s difficult not to ask: Why?
Clearly, this woman has everything going for her: confidence, employment, beauty, passion, the ability to write, the ability to be grammatically correct, and she lives in a place that I could see myself living.
Perhaps this is all in my head, and perhaps this envy has blossomed into full-blown jealousy.
Hey, whatever keeps us going, right? These feelings keep us grounded and rational.
The ability to be honest is a wonderful thing. It’s beautiful. It’s cut-and-dry, fluffless. It’s a punch in the face, but feeling the pain is a good thing; you know you’re alive.
She probably doesn’t read/subscribe to this, which isn’t a bad thing. I’m not that good.
II. He (The Nonfictional Core)
There is a blogger I follow, and he’s inspiring to me. I may have mentioned him before–his writing, his versatility, his professionalism. His being mentioned may have happened once or several times, but regardless of the quantitative notion she has simply been mentioned. It’s easy to take him seriously, and it is only fitting to do so. Unlike the former, this person is real to me and interaction with him is inevitable and favorable. His posts, professional and personal, are justified and never irrational.
The other morning, no specific day despite it being a morning of the past, we had a chance to connect and talk; we came to find out that we both have a lot in common. It’s not scary, but more or less fitting when you consider the funk that we find ourselves in at this current stage in life. Our funks are defined differently, and that is neither here nor there. Our pasts, relationships especially, are parallel but with obvious differences. Our currents, interests included, have the same name and personalities [seemingly] (as well).
With confidence, he and I spoke of creative and professional endeavors. There was no holding back, and the trust is there not to snag and steal thoughts or otherwise.
He mentioned How I Met Your Mother. This was along the lines of being able to hash it out with friends old or new about life, relationships, personal dilemmas, and otherwise. That otherwise can be replaced with writing. In his spare time of the busy life he leads, he’s working on scripts, screenplays, and movies. We spoke of (500) Days of Summer and Joesph Gordon-Levitt’s progression of being the kid from 3rd Rock from the Sun to becoming a clutch actor, taking on smart roles rather than flat characters.
Tangibility and relativity is what we aim for, because we want to engage and connect with our audience. However, my friend has some great ideas for various genres; he’s also hellbent on getting Harrison Ford the awards he deserves. We cannot blame him there.
III. Me (A Piece of Work)
Between my two blogs, this is my 200th post. Not too shabby, eh? That is all. Now…
It’s good to have inspiration. It’s good to have people to bounce ideas off of, even if you really aren’t brainstorming with a purpose. You have to take into consideration conversation, listening specifically, no matter the topic. You may not have the most fantastically romantic of relationships or adventurous friendships, but you have the people in your life you should be grateful for. Whether the person, despite their existence is through words on a website or they are an actual human being in the flesh, will never be a part of your life or you shake hands with them on a regular basis–well, it comes down to some kind of human connection.
Life, as much as you want it to be ideal and comical to the concepts of Friends and How I Met Your Mother and even the non-pressure nothingness of Seinfeld amongst others (these three pertain to me), you have to remind yourself that you are able to have this. You are able to have Friends and simply live without the expectations that Seinfeld illustrates. It will be different. The pressure should not be about How I Met Your Mother, but it should be simply based and shortened to: How I Met You.
Life is about relationships. Improv is about relationships. Both life and improv is about taking the good with the bad and rolling with it.
I completed an objective recently, successfully. The next objective pertains to maintenance. While speaking to a couple friends the other night, the path I am currently on is going well. Essentially, I am surrounding myself with the people who I am supposed to be around.
If I take anything for granted, please let me know. You can even slap me in the face.