Writing is a funny thing. Sometimes it comes easy, sometimes it doesn't come at all. The range of difficulty encompasses everything in between (and maybe something outside that) as well. I've often believed that only in writing does man truly find in himself something deeper, everything else one might do or be is just a shadow of that deeper aspect. Who's to say if I'm right or wrong? Everyone who reads this I suppose; however, I will simply agree to disagree with you.
A life's work can be anything, it's true, but only in hearing about it, reading about it, or seeing it do you really get a glimpse of it; if not a complete understanding. Those three: hearing, reading, and seeing, are just a form of storytelling, implicit in the way our senses work. We tell ourselves stories all day everyday through our senses. That's all writing really is: storytelling.
If I could tell you a story now, I would (and who knows maybe I am already), but none come to mind. I sit here after a full day of ostensibly working on a research paper, but all I've done is learn how much I didn't, and that made it all the harder.
"Like a face, getting forced to the floor." That's a line from a new Chevelle song that just came on right now and it made me smile sadly. Sadly because it reminds me so much of what it's been like to try and write this research paper. I have a weak idea, and less interest in it than I do in watching the paint peel on the wall near my cubicle. That makes the writing go beyond difficult; into the range of near impossibility.
