Well, time to kick off my shoes and start writing again.
You thought you'd get rid of me that easily? Well, I certainly did.
But, as Pokemon's X and Y titles are just around the bend and my impatience grew larger, I found myself rereading my old stories. A small spark ignited in me.
Almost as if to say... "I want to write for this website again."
It's a little iffy though. I've grown in my writing. I've become a connoisseur, an anthropologist, a cosmologist, a sociologist, an archeologist, and anything else that involves that of my likings.
I gave it plenty thought. I wondered about by my future career. I wondered what I wanted to accomplish and what I wanted to gain. As I thought, I realized that I didn't want anything but these joys that I was already experiencing. These thoughts that lined my head, this form of thought that grew wonder into nostalgia and then into a commodity all in a matter of seconds. It is... how to say... somewhat like Butters once said, "I'm happy that I'm sad because that let's me know that I'm alive". In the very sense that, I like thinking such thoughts. Makes me feel human.
But the problem lies therein. I still have yet to realize just how much I've changed. For the better or worse. This is the same style that I've written nearly all of my stories in, but far deeper than it had once been. I realize that literature is a dying art in these days, philosophy even more so. Like making a self-proclaimed indie game that boasts intellectual expressionism as a concept. symbolism ad such rather than actual gameplay for it to be worthy to be read.
To give an update on my current status of work, I've been trying to write, edit, review, and publish a psychological drama story that dwells within exploring the human psyche by battling philosophical doctrines with ideals. This is the type of thing I'm talking about.
In the end, I'm not saying "Who would even read this?" because that makes it seem like a sort of ploy, saying that I'm writing to have readers read my things. Which is too far from the actual truth. What I'm saying is, I'll keep asking myself the question all throughout the process as I have now even with this story that I'm writing. That's the worst of it. Knowing that I have poured my entire being into the piece that I'm working on now and returning to this line of work as a breather. It makes me wonder whether if any of it will even sum up to the stature of my current work. The work that I've amputated arms and hands for.
In the end, that is my predicament, even though I'm not entirely caring of it. It is as the saying goes. "Our greatest accomplishment is our greatest failure." because from that point on, it will make you wonder whether you're just rehashing that line of work with other pieces. You'll wonder if it even comes close to that goal.
But despite my rambling, it doesn't quite phase me so much. If it had, I wouldn't be writing a "Hey guys, I'm back temporarily to finish my other pieces of work" blog post like this. I'm excited to get back to writing after having read some of my earlier stories. I gave myself a nifty pat on the back and a thumbs up, only slapping me occasionally for unintentional screw-ups on grammar and the likes.
Looking forward to spending these thirteen days with you guys (until X and Y that is. Like hell I'd still be writing after that.)