Made it

This is a post for all those times that i couldn't write. It was for all the times that i had an idea and i just let it slip away because i was too lazy. I am not a modest animal, i think i am beyond the rest i think i am unique. It is this quality which sets me apart from almost every one. Yet this is the quality which is crying of mediocrity from every single pore.

Though i want to be special, shouting out for some unique quality, i know i am just about as average as everyone else. The searching quality in me is not new, i search for that je ne se qua, just like every other being.

Though life is said to be easy, it bites you in the ass to remind you that it is not. The corollary to which, is that each time you take life to seriously it beckons you to its lighter side.

So is it balance that we are all looking for, the elusive state of being between seriousness and callousness, stupid unhindered actions to carefully thought out machinations.

Is the search of such a balance our quest in life.

All i know is that i want to write, i want to talk to the world, i want to leave something for people to read, to experience, to ponder over - to love.

I can't think of a more glorious way to do it than to write - to put to the test that which is my calling. The job of a story teller, the one who writes fables, histories, biographies, fiction and states facts. Volumes of two score, to parchment of dirt. Anything consequential and yet absolutely worthless.

I set out to write something , i believe i achieved what i set out to do. Was it short? Did it say what i wanted to?

I do not stop to ask such questions. I answer to a higher cause - that which still remains elusive.