8 Ounce

I turned my first piece in for my creative nonfiction workshop today. I emailed my professor yesterday worried that I had too many pages, which was a first, and that I wouldn't be able to get it together before the due date Thursday.

His response was to inform me that he too was concerned, the number of pages didn't matter, and the due date was actually Tuesday. You see we don't have class on Thursday, one of the only times not having class turned out to be a detriment.

I wrote 4 pages on Sunday and came to no point. It may not seem like a lot, but for me it was a large chunk of writing. I don't write a lot, a blog post is my most frequent style. The longest thing I've written in my life besides research papers is a mildly entertaining screenplay of a miraculous 8 pages of trite descriptions and epicly awkward dialog.

My piece is about a trip to climb Mount Baker with my dad and beyond some supposedly good descriptions I had no idea where I was taking the paper, much less where the story was taking me. I started working on it again at about 11 oclock on Monday and kept piecing it together until about 6:30. I bugged Sam to read and she did, all 11 pages of it, and confirmed my worst fears - it was rather emotionless. There were highlights she pointed out that I hadn't been to proud of before but I started to like.

It's frustrating to want so badly to do something, to reach some kind of goal and fall flat. I guess most people know that, but I'm only reminded every so often of the fact that many things, so many things, take skills that I don't have; or at least that I don't have yet.

It reminds me of sitting in the Shriver food court when Mike asked me what three skills I would want if I was granted them without any effort, without learning or practicing - to just wake up one morning and suddenly be able perform beyond expectation. I remember one of mine was writing. Michael chose cooking.

It's an interesting question and the ultimate illustration of our lazy asses. What would you do if you didn't have to actually do anything? Well, shit, I'd do any number of things, but limit it to 3 and it becomes a great philosophical debate: do you choose for the benefit of yourself or all of humanity? Do you become a neurosurgeon for the thick wallet, or to save the lives of strangers? Is it okay to be motivated by both?

When I think about that question now I wish I had chosen motivation. If I woke up having gained the skill to hone motivation into action I would have an endless ability to chase after any other thing I might want. It would be making your first wish for infinite wishes.