revjim.net

November, 2006:

finding ghosts

Do I really need a cigarette, or do I just need some time to think? Do I really need coffee, or do I just want an escape? Do I really need a drink, or do I just want to put my cares aside and take the opportunity to be irresponsible? Am I really excited, or do I just want a distraction or feeling of acceptance? Am I really angry, or do I just want somewhere else to place the blame? Do I really need to eat, or do I just want to feel full and safe?

finding ghosts

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Taken at a small Ghost Town in West Texas en route from Marfa to the Mexican Border.

Learning to distinguish actual physical feeling from mentally fabricated desire is tricky. I still don’t have it down, but I’m learning. At first, I went about it the wrong way. I assumed that since the mind is flawed, the physical feeling should be trusted. The problem with this, however, is two-fold. First, the only access I have to these physical feelings is through the mind since my entire body is wired through it. Secondly, even if I could rip them out and access them, say, with a computer, it would be, once again, my mind that I’d be using to interpret the results.

So, despite my initial reaction to the contrary, it seems that the most direct path toward clearing the mind is through the mind itself. By feeding the physical needs in regular recurring intervals with known measurements I’m able to force my mind to realize that it is impossible that I am actually feeling what it thinks I’m feeling. I can then decipher the mental desire behind the physical feeling. By acknowledging these mental desires for escape, solitude, acceptance, distraction, rest, security, or responsibility, I will learn to recognize the mental need instead of the false physical feeling.

Once I am able to recognize these mental desires accurately and regularly, then I’ll have to decide how I want to handle them. Maybe getting a cup of coffee is a safe, acceptable, non-harmful way to acquire a much needed escape from time to time. If so, I don’t see any reason to stop doing it. However, recognizing my need for escape instead of my desire for coffee will allow me to control myself better and not allow me to use a false need for coffee as an instrument of escape and procrastination.

Of course people have lots of other addictions with their own corresponding false physical feelings and the mental desires that cause them. I’m only hitting on the common ones here.

(419 words)

a crystal-clear canvas is my masterpiece

While I’d prefer to pummel you with deep thoughts and unending wit, I imagine any update, no matter how banal the content, is better than none at all when I’ve only made 4 posts in 12 days and I’m aiming to have 30 written this month.


passion on a wooded path

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Taken at River Legacy Park in Arlington, TX.

I am highly allergic to Poison Ivy. Just thinking about its existence can cause a small rash to form. Two weekends ago, while taking photographs in Arlington’s River Legacy Park, the Poison Ivy capital of the world, I, apparently, got a bit too excited about the photographs I was taking and forgot to be cautious of what I was rubbing against. Needless to say, I now have a bit of it on both arms. I’m trying desperately to be good, apply my medicine, and not scratch, but DAMN does it ever itch. Thankfully, the photographs I got were absolutely worth it.


We saw “Mike Doughty”:http://mikedoughty.com and “Barenaked Ladies”:http://bnlmusic.com/ this past weekend in Austin. Of course, I was on my feet the minute Mike took the stage and dancing though almost every song. He even played “Saint Louise”, which made me really happy. Toward the end of the set, some asshole came up to me and asked me to sit down because his daughter couldn’t see the show. I wanted to say “Hey, buddy! You’re at a rock concert! If you’re not standing up and dancing, you may be at the wrong place.” Of course, at that particular moment, the standing people were way out numbered by the seated people. Once BNL got on the stage *everyone* stood up for the entire show. I wanted so bad to go back and find him and ask him if he wouldn’t mind sitting down so I could see but it just wasn’t worth it.

After Mike’s set, he spent some time signing things. Jess got her shirt signed and gave Mike a hug. I was once again faced with that situation where I want to express how important and instrumental someones art has been on my life without sounding like a total goober fan boy. With my infinite wisdom, naturally poetic speech, and rapier wit, here’s what I came up with:

Great show, Mike. Come back to Texas soon. Please.

I hope some day to see Mike play a show where he is the headliner. But, this exposure is very good for him and was very glad to see him there.

The Ladies were fantastic, as always. They are such outstanding performers that, even if the music wasn’t all that great you’d still find the show interesting and fun. Coupled with fantastic music, as far as a live performance in a large venue goes, it’s pretty hard to beat. They even played “When I Fall”, which is one of my favorite songs ever. Those of you who can think back about 4 or 5 years in my life might recognize just how much the song means to me. Maybe these lyrics will help you recall. If not, that’s okay.

I look straight in the mirror, watch it come clearer
I look like a painter, behind all the grease.
But painting’s creating, and Im just erasing.
A crystal-clear canvas is my masterpiece.

– Barenaked Ladies / When I Fall


Jess and I spent 3 hours or so at “Hamilton Pool”:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hamilton_Pool_Preserve which is easily one of the most beautiful and peaceful places I’ve ever seen in all of Texas. I’ve seen thousands of paintings where I’ve thought to myself, “yeah, but places don’t look like that in real life”. Well, I guess they do. And this is one of them.

The leaves shed by the trees have fallen directly into the crystal-clear creek water and there are fish and turtles swimming below them. On either side of the creek, there are trees half full with leaves of every color. Rocks and boulders outline them and, beyond that large amounts of rock form walls on either side, as if protecting this place from the outside world. The hike is difficult enough to feel good, and lazy enough to be relaxing. And, at the very end of all of this there is this beautiful, crystal-clear pool of water in a grotto with a falling waterfall. It’s utterly breathtaking.

For a moment, if I could have had any wish come true, I would have buried myself deep in the rocks and dirt becoming part of this place forever. Of course, we had places to go and things to see and, after a few hours we made our way out and back into the harsher world.

(785 words)

West Texas Bound

This weekend Jess and I are driving down to Austin to see Bare Naked Ladies and Mike Doughty play together. Jess has only been to Austin once and it was a pretty hectic in and out. I’m hoping to take some time enjoying the city and its culture.

The weekend after that a bunch of friends are heading down to the Texas Renaissance Festival near Houston. I really want to go (less for the festival itself and more for the people that are going) but I don’t really want to go without Jess and she has to work that weekend. I’m not one of those people that refuses to do anything without his/her wife, girlfriend, significant other, or best friend in tow. Quite the contrary, actually. Jess and I have very entwined lives but, at the same time, we both have our own hobbies, friends, and activities that we do away from one another. But this is one of those situations that is made drastically better by her presence and in which so many wonderful memories will be made that I almost feel bad for experiencing them without her knowing that she’ll be sad that she couldn’t go too. On top of that, we’ll have just gotten back from Austin the weekend before and will be heading out to West Texas for 7 days the following week, so spending a weekend at home might be a good for the wallet and the household chores. So, I’m considering staying home. I know that doing so will make a lot of people sad and possibly even upset with me but, I have to take care of Jess and myself first and foremost.

gold-tipped world

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El Capitan’s south eastern face at sunrise. Taken in the Guadalupe Mountains National Park.

But, oh! West Texas! My heart is already beating uncontrollably at the thought of standing at the foot of those mountains again and looking up at them so high. So high and so beautiful in fact that, at first, you only glance in small doses, fighting off vertigo. Until finally you steady yourself, and stare into them until your eyes weep from lack of moisture. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you climb inside them and wrap yourself in each majestic fold. And then, as you come down you see the vast expanse of flat land between these mountains and the next, and you sit and stare into the majesty of that. I can almost feel the cool dry air entering my lungs. I can almost see the incredible desert sun rises and sets.

My last trip out there really broke me down and then built me back up. It took everything I had in me to keep moving. I would have been content with leaving myself behind, growing my beard out long, and living in the towns and wilderness until I grew old or died for exhaustion or malnutrition. It planted a sweet, simple tune in the very center of me that is easily drowned out by the clatter of daily life. I have to listen carefully to hear it. But Jess! Oh, Jess! With our lives so tightly twisted together, she has to listen carefully too. But I couldn’t explain to her what to listen for. I tried. Believe me, I tried. It’s just too much to describe. I might say that I saw the face of God and good and evil in just one glance, but how do you explain what that means to someone?

I took thousands of photographs and yet I’ve shared none of them. Despite how beautiful the photographs are, they’re not the same. Something is missing. It’s almost like photographing a woman with the most beautiful eyes in the world and, afterwards, finding that, in every photograph, she’s got her eyes closed. You start to ask yourself, does she really have those eyes, or did I just make them up?

(641 words)

addictions

I was once addicted to cigarettes.

Contrary to popular belief, howver, I was not addicted to nicotine or smoking. I did have a small physical dependency to nicotine, but I am a very strong willed person and that dependency was easily broken. In fact, even as a smoker, it was very simple for me to go 10, 12 even 15 hours without a cigarette, as long as I knew when my next one was coming and nothing stood in its way. I was not addicted to pipes, cigars, cloves, chewing tobacco, or pot. While I may have used one or more of those things from time to time, an addiction was never formed and using them certainly would not have served as a substitute for cigarettes for me. On March 10th, 2005, I made a conscious and deliberate choice to end my addiction to cigarettes. The physical trauma was easily endured. The psychological trauma was long lasting and is still present in some respects to this day. Since that time, I have casually smoked cigars, cloves, and hookah. I am still absolutely afraid to even consider taking one drag from an actual honest-to-god cigarette. Some day, one day, I’ll conquer that fear, and I’ll have a cigarette, and I’ll maintain my separation from the addiction to them. But that day is not here just yet.

So “what is addiction”:http://addictionis.org/? Is it a “brain disease”:http://www.issues.org/17.3/leshner.htm? Is it a “matter of choice”:http://abcnews.go.com/US/story?id=90688&page=1? The word addiction is defined in “many different ways”:http://www.google.com/search?q=define%3A+addiction depending on ones personal bias, ones experience with addiction, and ones belief in what makes human beings work the way they do. Some insist that an addiction is a constant recurring craving for a substance or chemical. This, however, would imply that one cannot be addicted to gambling, sex, sleep, television or some other activity. Others state that an addiction occurs if cessation causes trauma. However, not breathing would certainly cause trauma but I don’t think it’s fair to say the entire nation is addicted to oxygen. Other definitions use words like “uncontrollable” and “involuntary”. However, these definitions would suggest that “curing” an addiction without physical restraints or chemical assistance would be impossible.

There is a “difference”:http://www.aarpsegundajuventud.org/english/health/2003-nov/glossary.htm (though the two are often related and/or caused by one another) between addiction and physical dependency. We are physically dependent on food, oxygen, and water, for instance, but these are not addictions. People who are addicted to gambling, for instance, certainly aren’t going to suffer any physical illness if they should cease such activities. Alcohol is a chemical many people become addicted to, where the chemical manifests itself psychologically. It is this psychological change that people become addicted to. However, as tolerance increases and the body’s inability to cope decreases a very “real and dangerous physical dependence”:http://www.emedicine.com/EMERG/topic123.htm can be formed.

In the case of the abuse of most habit-forming drugs, a physical dependence is eventually formed. Either physical trauma must be endured or detoxifying chemicals must be administered in order to relieve this physical dependence before the addiction can even be addressed. This is why rehab clinics start patients off with a detoxification phase before beginning to relieve the feeling of addiction. However, generally speaking, the lower the effect a particular chemical has on the body, the less intense the physical trauma will be when that chemical is no longer ingested. Caffeine and Nicotine are good examples of chemicals that create a physical dependency that most people can endure the pain of ceasing without the aid of other chemicals. It’s the addiction that is more difficult to control.

Let’s compare, for a moment, an addiction to cigarettes with an addiction to food. In my observations, there is as much evidence that smoking kills you as there is evidence that “Trans Fats”:http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/health/healthmain.html?in_article_id=391523&in_page_id=1774 kill you. In fact, people don’t actually die from either. If it wasn’t for “smoking” being the official cause of death for any person who died of a smoking related disease who also happened to be a smoker, officially speaking, no one would die from smoking. The fact of the matter is, while smoking has an outward appearance of being a horrible thing, and food with Trans Fats in them doesn’t appear to be horrible at all, there are roughly equal amounts of proof that either of them actually “kills” you.

So, the smoker takes a puff of a cigarette and he feels just fine. The food lover eats a super sized McDonalds French Fries and he feels fine. They tell the smoker he will die from smoking and he keeps puffing away. The tell the food lover he’ll die from Trans Fats and he pushes three or four more fries into his mouth. Most people would call the smoker an addict. Unless the food lover is very overweight or happens to eat the same Trans Fat filled food every day, most people would not label him an addict. Yet both “know” that what they are doing will kill them yet they continue to do so. In fact, even the potential harmful secondary effects of these two things are similar. So really, what’s the difference here? Why do so many people urge smokers to quit, yet never bother telling the food junkies in their lives that they need to give up some of their favorite foods?

Let’s assume for a second that there are no physically harmful effects to cigarettes or Trans Fats. At that point, the only ill effects of either activity would be either monetary or external. If this were the case, what’s wrong with smoking 5 packs of cigarettes a day or eating McDonalds French Fries with every meal?

Another problem with addictions is that they are disruptive. Addictions tend to create a need in the addict to sustain that addiction. If the smoker goes too long without smoking, he gets antsy. If the food lover doesn’t eat at regular intervals, he gets moody and unable to cope. In most cases, especially with physical dependencies that are not all that strong, these psychological effects are easily handled: stop and have a cigarette or a quick snack. So the level of disruption is really not all that intense. Addictions that are harder to satisfy or more expensive to sustain, or that present stronger physical dependencies can create even greater problems, of course. But, if all substances could somehow be made magically safe and all substances could be made cheap, legal, and in great supply so that their disruption to life would be limited, then what’s the harm in addiction? Addiction itself is only harmful because of the effect the addictive substance or activity has on the addict. If the substance does not harm the addict, then there’s no harm in the addiction.

So many people in my life were eager to see my addiction to cigarettes end and were incredibly supportive through the entire process. However, most people failed to see the entire picture. My addiction to cigarettes was not my strongest addiction. My addiction to cigarettes was not my most physically or mentally harmful addiction. In ending my addiction to cigarettes, I acquired several new, more potentially harmful yet more socially acceptable, addictions. Now that I am aware of this, it is a personal goal of mine to rid myself of the harmful addictions I have and to cherish and nurture those that bring me joy.

I urge you to dig into your own lives and minds and find the things that affect you. Consider the things that you do or have or enjoy that life would be very unpleasant without. Analyze what potentially harmful effects those things might have on you, not only in a single dose, but as a repeated event. Determine which things would make you antsy or anxious to be without. Consider how improved your life is by having those things.

Make sure you consider things that seem like they shouldn’t be considered. Take clothes for instance. How many of you wear them? Daily? What would happen to you and your life if it was suddenly determined that wearing clothing drastically increased the chances of getting cancer? How uncomfortable would you be without clothing? What if you were the only one affected by clothing and others continued to wear clothing while your doing so would give you cancer? I think you will find that many of you are addicted to clothing. I’m sure that most of you would opt to remain clothed despite your increased risk of cancer. Besides, it’s not like wearing clothes causes you to feel immediate pain. If somethings happening to you, you can’t feel it, so it’s not that important, right? Welcome to the smoker’s dilemma.

I’m not suggesting you rid your life of clothing (although I’m not exactly opposed to that either). I’m not suggesting your purge your life of all addictions. In fact, I strongly believe that our small addictions are often what make us who we are and what make our lives worth living. However, I am suggesting that you take a quick inventory of your own life.

Imagine all of your addictions and consider how they might be harmful to you. Then determine if its worth it to try to end that addiction. Take McDonalds French Fries, for instance. Let’s assume for a moment that what we are told is true: Trans Fats will kill you. Is the satisfaction you get from that food worth the years of life you are losing thanks to them? Is it even worth it every now and then considering what it does to you?

Think not only of the physical effects that your addictions have on you. Quantity of life is not the only thing worth considering. Think also of how you are affected emotionally, mentally, monetarily, and temporally. For instance, does your need to see the next episode of “Lost” cause you jump through hoops, cancel plans, push away friends, and fail to meet obligations just to see it?

Imagine if something you love and cherish was suddenly determined to be harmful. Would you stop? How would you cope with that? How would life be different? Remember, at one time, cigarettes were considered to be a perfectly acceptable pass time. They were cool, mysterious, and intriguing. All the celebrities smoked. There was no reason to believe there was anything wrong with them. Cigarette ads appeared on television and in newspapers telling you of how satisfying they are. Those ads are no more, however. They’ve been replaced by advertisements showing fit, attractive, young people stuffing their faces with McDonalds French Fries and proudly stating “I’mlovin’ it!”. What will you do when your favorite addiction is deemed “bad for you” by some inconclusive evidence?

(1819 words)

two tickets to paradise

Remember that time when I said I would be posting long, personal entries each and every day for an entire month as an exercise in testing readership and feedback, to examine new means for personal growth, and in participation of NaBloPoMo? Hahahaha. Wasn’t that a funny joke?

well worn path

(click to enlarge)

This path made of bricks leads to an old home near the center of town in Marfa, TX.

Truly, I intend to make the best attempt I can so I’m not giving up yet. My problem these last few days is, of course, that same little thing that plagues all people who try to write about their life as it happens: The more busy and interesting life is, the less time one has to write. Friday and Saturday both were days on which I left the house near 6am and didn’t get home until after 11pm. Add in an hour to get ready in the morning and an hour to take care of basic household tasks when I get home, and all that’s left is about five hours, during which I am asleep.

When my schedule is this packed a lot of things suffer: my contact with other people, phone calls, cleaning the house, photography and photographic commitments, meeting deadlines, finding time to relax, and, obviously, my personal writing and reflection time. Case in point: I’m reading “James Frey’s”:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Frey “A Million Little Pieces” (yes, I am aware that it isn’t an entirely factual account of anything at all) and I’ve only got about thirty enthralling pages left that I just can’t seem to find the time to get through.

But the truth is, I prefer to be busy. Ideally, I’d have a mostly full schedule with just enough holes, hobbies, and friends to do something spontaneous from time to time. But, I’d choose utterly busy over utterly bored any day. I had a conversation last night with Jess and a few friends regarding a very similar topic. The meat of the conversation can be summed up in the following question: given the opportunity to take a seven day dream vacation where would you go and what would you do? Regardless of how you answer the question, in most cases it can be placed into one of two categories: relax or adventure.

No matter how nice the spa, how luxurious the hotel, or how fantastic the food, give me the choice and I’d choose adventure over relaxation any time. I argue that, if I’m going to relax, I can do that in town. Massage therapy and mud baths are available right around the corner, and my bookshelf, television, or DVD player is quite capable of providing hours and hours of entertainment that isn’t in the least bit physically demanding. If relaxation is what I need — and sometimes, I do — I can get it right here at home. But if I’m going out of my way to pack my bags and get in a car, plain, train, or boat, I’m going for the adventure.

Sometimes, however, life does begin to wear me down a bit and relaxation is required. More often than not, my body makes that choice before my mind and the rest of me just agrees to follow along. Today is a good example of that. I got up with the best of intentions. Despite a moderately late night, I was up and out of bed by 7am. I checked my email, sent out a few photographs, started to catalog some of my more recent work, and began to make a stab at the Myscheivia photographs. Then I came downstairs for a quick breakfast and something on TV.

One thing led to another and now, 6 hours later, I’m still sitting here in the living room. I haven’t dressed or showered. I have, however, watched seven episodes of House. Give me a few more hours and I’ll be back to normal and ready for adventure again.

(641 words)

Saturday Night Coffee

I’m having a very, very, very busy day today.

But I want to let you know that we’re having another coffee meeting tomorrow (Saturday 11/3) night at Jupiter House at 9pm. Hopefully, it wont be too busy. If it is, we’ll meet across the street and parade around in women’s underwear until some seats open up or our legs shatter from the cold.

So, yeah. Tomorrow @9pm. There will be prizes for most scantily clad, most frequent flasher, and first coffee spill that doesn’t result in scalding.

(No this doesn’t count as my NaBloPoMo post. That’ll come out later.)

autonablophlebotomy

I don’t fancy myself a Novel Writer. In fact, as much as I enjoy writing, even the idea of writing something as long and involved as a Novel bores me to tears. So, my heart goes out to those of you participating in “NaNoWriMo”:http://www.nanowrimo.org/ this year, but it’s just not for me.

However, I do enjoy writing poetry, short stories, essays, and personal notes and am rarely known for having a lack of words. So, I’ve decided (a day late) to perform autonablophlebotomy on a daily basis in participation of what is certainly the silliest named National anything ever: “NaBloPoMo”:http://www.fussy.org/nablopomo.html. I’ll make up for yesterday’s missing post by posting twice one day this month.

I’m putting an added restriction on myself for this exercise. The topic of this blog has always been all over the place: politics, news, technology, sex, photography, sexuality, weblinks, nudity, meme city, debauchery, personal notes, sexual advances, poetry, boobies, and depressing cryptic entries about my life in its various states. Over the course of this month, however, I’m restricting myself from using making purely technical or political entries, will be avoiding memes and surveys, and will not post weblinks without copious amounts of personal commentary to go along with it. Basically, every entry will be personal, even if it touches on technical or political themes. Of course, I may make more than one post on some days in order to overcome this restriction.

And what a better topic to start a solid month of public writing off with than the topic of public writing itself.

I haven’t been writing publicly much lately. If any of you noticed, you were very kind to let me enjoy my unannounced and unintended hiatus in peace. It’s given me a lot of time to think about why I write publicly in the first place.

Sometimes I write because I think those that read what I’ve written will find personal gain through it. Maybe I’m writing about the best way to wash your cat, the great book that I read and feel you should read too, or the terrible product I recently purchased. Maybe I’m offering a tutorial on how to do something or suggesting better ways to go about a common task. In these cases, the only benefit I get from writing it down is that I can refer to it later in the event that I forget something I once knew. Since I have no advertisements on my site, and have received exactly $0 to date in donations from my writing, making this public brings me no benefit. The reason for doing so is purely the satisfaction of having done a good deed.

Other times I write in order to figure something out. The sheer act of being forced to make sense out of something enough to put it in writing brings clarity that I wouldn’t otherwise have. Rereading what I’ve written causes me to see things in myself and in my situation that I wouldn’t have seen otherwise. Making these writings public serves to offer readers insight into the life of another person which may help those readers to learn something about themselves. If a reader chooses to make an observation about me based on this writing, then I gain insight into myself, that person, and humanity as a whole through that observation and it is a truly rewarding experience. If no observations are offered to me, then I receive no benefit.

Other times I write because I’m directly seeking help, advice, pointers, suggestions, and observations. These are often personal in nature but can range from “what color looks best on me?” to “do you think I should sleep with this chick that has scabies but is really, really hot?”. When responses are produced, this information is often very useful. Additionally, other readers with the same question may find an answer for themselves in your answers. Without responses from readers, this writing serves no purpose to me or my readers.

Other times I write to share something beautiful. Maybe it’s a poem, a photograph, or a short story. While criticism is certainly appreciated, it is not expected. The only benefit I receive is the satisfaction of having shared.

If you take all these reasons for writing and boil them down to their essence, you will see only two reasons remain: I write publicly because I want to share or because I desire feedback. Sometimes both. This brings me to the point of today’s rambling.

First of all, If I’m writing because I desire feedback, then there’s no point in writing to an audience that tends to not provide feedback. In fact, doing so is downright futile. So if I’m not getting feedback from pieces intended to solicit feedback then I either need to write something else or write to some other audience.

Furthermore, sharing for sharing’s sake isn’t really all that fun or interesting if you don’t know that someone — at least one other person — is benefiting from it or enjoying it or learning from it. Without that knowledge, it just feels like a fruitless exercise in futility.

Reader feedback is one way to know that something has been enjoyed. While some people are against the “I love this” and “thanks for sharing” style comments because they offer no useful information to other readers, I enjoy them because they let me know that what I’ve shared is appreciated enough to cause someone to take a few seconds of their time to tell me so.

When the amount of reader feedback I receive began to drop drastically, I decided to redirect my readers to read my words directly from my website. Whether you came from LiveJournal, Tribe.Net, MySpace, or an RSS feed, you had to visit my site in order to read all of my words. By coming to my site I was able to obtain statistics and glean from that a measure of how well liked a particular piece was. This worked pretty well for a time. Eventually, people complained about having to make that extra click and insisted that they would read and enjoy more of what I had to offer provide more feedback in return if I didn’t impose that requirement. So, I switched back. As expected, outside of search engine hits, my website visits dropped to an all time low and, as I expected, reader feedback barely increased if it did at all.

If I’m not getting any form of feedback, either through statistics or comments, then I have no way of knowing that others are enjoying what I’ve shared. And if it’s not being enjoyed, it’s utterly pointless to continue to do it. I either need to write something else or write to come other audience.

So, I either need a new reason for writing, a new audience to write to, or something different to write. NaBloPoMo couldn’t have come at a better time. I intend to use this month as an opportunity to explore new topics, expand on older topics, and experiment with new methods of obtaining user feedback and new styles of obtaining statistics from my writing.

(1199 words)