Ya know, two years into this work, and I thought I’d be better at this.

No honestly, I’m quite proud of all the work. I have a blog! It’s a year and a half old! It’s got a voice and a style. I love going back and reading my old stuff.

I like that it’s evolved; the poetry, the reviews, the open mic, sharing my work more broadly.

I’m really proud of the commitments from volunteering, to logging the workouts, to the semi-regular posting.

I’m still not exactly sure where this is going, although travel blog seems wonderful a la Bourdain-esque.

But that hardly matters. I’m honing a skill set. I find myself better at crafting stories and paying attention to my wording. I can draw out essays faster than before. I have moderately helped my editing skills. I’m by no means a grammar hound but it is less detracting to my well moving plots.

I have a constant creative outlet, something that I’ve joyfully and sustainably added to my life, which is an enriching experience.

I’ve seen readership go up! A hundred or so unique visitors a month isn’t nothing! I’m always grateful that anyone would spend time absorbing what I’m putting out. All eyes are appreciated. [Like, Comment, Subscribe, Share on FB/IG/Twitter/SnapChat]

Here’s the truth. It’s hard out here for everyone. Doesn’t matter the privilege, doesn’t matter the obstacles. Humanity is meant to suffer, as we make Archangels of our own demons. There’s no choice but to journey on. Yet many have found ways to overcome, to push through, to press forward regardless. It doesn’t get easier for the resilient. No matter how high you climb, humanity is still to suffer.

The joys are fleeting elation or humble peace.

I’m practicing to find both.

It’s not easier than anything else, as I juggle hosting events, building bridges, creating pieces worth sharing, honing skills, making random shit, a workout routine, maintaining the relationships with people I love, and rotating list of house chores.

Nor is it necessarily building towards anything, as I workout regularly but without dedicated training or direction. I volunteer consistently without finding greater recognition or much outsized impact. I meditate in the quiet moments that I can get away from everything plus cleaning, washing, and meal prep in a depressively endless cycle of maintenance and work.

I truly don’t know where it’s all leading. I truly battle regularly with my laundrylist of demons, call them self-doubt and starving validation, the meaningless absolution of the universe, my tendency towards hedonism, women, and general laziness. Plus, over confidence, over commitment, and a lack of regular sleep.

I write down what faces me.

I hope that it inspires or excites or is at least readable.

I am more fulfilled doing the work.

If I’m going to flex a bit, I truly think you ought to be following. I’m working on great things, and I’m aspiring to be all love. It’s a collaborative effort too; I’m only here because of my support system. The more you put in, the more you’ll get out. I’m a multiplier, my potential is exponential, get in on the ground floor.

This elevator goes up, and it gets bigger and faster every time someone gets in. I’ll be your bellboy if you keep calling out the floors and we’ll keep climbing if it takes me physically pulling the pulley.

Anyway, the writing is going well. It was my birthday today and after sleeping in until 3pm, having breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen, I was anxious to get writing.

I’m always buzzing with ideas, and if the well runs dry, I at least diary about my days. Over and over again. Until something comes up. The shiny brass of hundreds of hands. The bark worn smooth. The trails carved through bramble.

Creativity is by iteration, and it’s the late nights, by myself, tired and desperately wanting to sleep that I can clasp the most words that mean nothing and try to divine god from the scramble.

Meanwhile these are my, if not daily, regular prayers. As I gym. As I write. As I cycle through this life. And I’m glad and I’m proud I’m doing them.

I really hope you’re trying things too. Things that excite you, things that you love.

If not, I hope you enjoy reading my struggles! I’m not sure what ya’ll are getting out of this [let me know in a comment] but I get a lot out of writing it!

Love,

Peace,

Winston