Discipline.

Discipline.

I’ve always said that I really only write when inspiration strikes. I’ve said this for two reasons. Reason number one is that I have an overly romanticized view of art, or to put it another way, I am stupid. Reason number two is that I am (quite) lazy.

Let’s take a look at the first reason. I’m not sure where this idea came from, but ever since I first began to feel the desire to create, I’ve been burdened with the notion that art must be directly inspired, that it must have a cause, that it must have a purpose. I simply couldn’t shake the notion that forcing the creative process somehow cheapened the final product or made it less vital.

Like I said, I’m stupid.

I’ve always had the cause. The cause was the creative desire that I already felt.

As for the second reason, It’s a chicken and egg scenario, isn’t it? While my personal take on the creative process allowed me to indulge or rationalize my laziness, my laziness subconsciously fertilized, incubated and nurtured a value system based on a fallacy that further entrenched and coddled and blah blah blah blah blah. I rendered myself a perpetual stagnation machine.

So, to review, I am stupid and lazy.

Also, I have a crippling fear of failure, which is why...

I promise you nothing.

(See what I did there?)

I Promise You Nothing.

3/23/2010

I promise you nothing.

My roommate told me not to write a blog about writing a blog, and I know that it’s terribly trite and predictable... but I also know how much he likes to say, “I told you so”. Also, he kind of needs a win.

I’m writing this on a brand new laptop. Did you know that the term “brand new” is a term that was originally used to advertise new brands of goods? I did not fact check this, but I heard it somewhere at some point.

Many of you know that I recently quit my job. This is something that most people would advise against, particularly when you don’t have a new job lined up. I’m also relocating to Nashville in 9 short days. I’m just kind of hoping to sort out that whole career thing when I get there. I know that I must sound awfully cavalier, but yesterday I signed a lease on an apartment with another unemployed roommate and a second roommate who works at starbucks, so I’m not going to sweat it. These things just work themselves out, right? I haven’t even started looking for a job. I hear that there’s money in stripping copper wiring.

So I haven’t worked in a week and a half. What have I been up to (nobody asked)? Well, I’ve been working on stand-up comedy material. I’m hopelessly nervous and awkward, and my sense of humor has been described as alienating, so I feel that this choice is in keeping with my new life strategy, which apparently consists of making significant and life-altering decisions that can be described as crazy, reckless, and dangerous.

Here’s a sampling of my stand-up material--

The bit about Santa and Superman having a neighborly feud at the North Pole.

The bit about the UPS delivery man who introduced himself to me as the gentleman who totaled my parked car in front of my apartment.

The bit about “The Secret: Teen Edition”.

The bit about a vanity license plate that I misread as “Asshole 4 God”.

The bit about writing a screenplay for a horror film titled “Carnivhorse: Mane of Terror”.

The bit about creating a product called “Sport Face” that is essentially black-face for kids so they won’t get picked last on the playground (I know, I know, but it’s ok, i’m allowed to tell that joke because my president is black).

The bit about how Andy Rooney is Jerry Seinfeld for old people.

The bit about Hoveround commercials.

I know that some of the material might be a bit controversial, but I’ll be sure to check out the audience beforehand. I really don’t want to be dragged into the parking lot of the comedy club and beaten to death by outraged elderly people.

I’ve also been toying with the idea of writing the novel that I’ve been telling people I’ve been working on (for the last 2-7 years). The truth is that I have been working on it (kind of). I bought a corkboard and a stack of index cards a while back so that whenever I had a great idea for the book, I could write it down and tack it up for future use. This seemed like a fantastic idea; however, I have been reading these cards for the past week, and I’m having some difficulty remembering what a lot of them mean. There’s a card that literally reads, “Aaron Neville robot.” Um... There’s another card that says, “He introduced himself as ‘D’artagnan’, but he was textbook ‘Porthos’”. It’s as if someone was taking dictation of things that I had muttered during a fever dream. Most of the cards that do make sense are even less useful. I’ll probably scrap all of them (although, I think that I may be on to something with that Aaron Neville robot idea).

Well, I’ve never actually read a blog before, so I hope that this will resemble one. My roommate did give me one more piece of advice. He said that he hates it when people end their entries by saying, “More to come.” I’m going to listen to him on that one.

I promise you nothing.

Tylere Perron