Mild Success

Blogging is daunting. I'm not sure how many of my three readers actually have ever attempted to blog, but the "new post" screen is horrifying. With the new Google layouts, it's all sorts of whites, grays, and weird in-betweens that mess with my eyes and make me question my vision. I do not like questioning my vision; it’s one of those simple aspects of life that I don’t totally understand, but I appreciate it nonetheless. And here Google and the writing world are pushing themselves into my head and questioning this mundane fact, a mildly irrelevant fact at that. Please, allow me to see without needing to question it; I wanted to write, not wonder about the state of my eyes. Moving along, writing: it can be as fierce and precarious a task as battling the weather.

Frequently, when it snows, I have this fantastical moment of surveying a world blanketed in white, undisturbed and untouched. As a child, I woke up on a snow day exhilarated. No school. No homework. And, most importantly, nothing to do. Except sled – and sled I did, along with other snow appropriate activities. I have created many “igloos”(half-covered, half-walled, not-even-half-safe-structures), made snow-people (Frosty would have been disappointed), and had a snowball fight or two. But before all of these shenanigans could commence, I first had to step into the snow. I bundled myself – layer after layer of material that promised to keep me warm and dry. Then, once I was safe from the frozen elements drifting about outside, could I step out into this wonderland. Approaching my favorite sledding hill, I was often delighted to find I would receive the pleasure of making the first track. Sled in hand; I would pause to decide where exactly was the perfect point to launch. Ten minutes before, I could not contain my anticipation of the snow-dusted ventures; but now, faced with a sea of white, I hesitated. The sun glinted off every shimmering surface, and, just for a moment, I was blinded by the vastness of this world that had overtaken my backyard whilst I slept.

After hours of frozen fun, I would come inside bleary-eyed and exhausted. I would take my sweet time to thaw back out, exchanging my soaking clothes for a warm shower and a cozy afternoon complete with hot chocolate and a good movie. But then, inevitably, sometime later I would again crave the excitement and adventure I found in the snow. Against my mother’s advice, I would venture out, this time undaunted and unshaken by the cold, wet world that waited outside the comfortable confines of my warm house.

Writing, much like a splendid rendezvous in the snow, can leave a person bleary-eyed and exhausted, but somehow craving just a little bit more. It is a myriad of complexities, yet a third grader can do it. It brings to mind a single question and obstacle: how to fill a blank whitish page with words, coherent ones at that, preferably ones another human might want to read? Throughout the past 4 months, I have tussled and attempted to overcome the giants of subjects, structures, and entertainment – my formidable opponents. Generally, I instead pursue my other hobbies and put a hold on any writing projects. Instead of accepting defeat, I prefer to think of it as prolonging the battle.

A vast world of writing lies ahead of us - well me, a world of reading ahead of you perhaps. I will be honest with you: today I have wasted your time. I have had a lovely exercise in creative writing, but often blogging, like gallivanting in the snow, is utterly pointless. I led you in here with a decent title and the promise of some sort of entertainment, or at least some thoughtful insight. From my first paragraphs, you might have assumed I would talk about how to write or a cute tale of winter exploits, but really, I have shared nothing at all. I harbor a great appreciation, however, for the superfluous moments in life. The fact that you read this, possibly even in its entirety, suggests that today my opponents were vanquished. Thus, think what you will, but I consider this small post a mild success.