Ever so slowly reading through The Proud Highway. Volume 1 of Hunter Thompson's Gonzo Letters. It's fascinating so far, though I doubt that I would be so into it if I wasn't trying to study the origins of my favourite authors voice. I'm picking up so many new names to look up and techniques for improving my own style. It's important to stay loose and write frequently if I'm going to improve at all.

I find a great deal of potential in writing letters and blog entries. They are immediate and have specific goals to convey information. To tell a story of the events of your life. To reflect and draw purpose from experiences.

Ah. If only I was as passionate at a young age.

I suppose this is as good a time as any to pen my recent experiences.

I just returned from a weekend at Kristin's cabin. The whole experiences was full of drinking, relaxing and more then a little drama. I returned to town on Sunday feeling a little hungover and more then a little concerned about how quickly I get tired these days. This is no way to live while still this young. I am grinding away harder then ever at work but with no potential to further my passions I'm more then a little depressed about the upcoming months. It doesn't help that I have loaned out a significant chunk of money.

Alas, real interaction has found me and I must away.

Got Soul But Not A Soldier

The idea of being a specialist has been on my mind a lot lately. Everyone knows what a specialist is but how often do you think about what you give up by being one? If you want to be really good at something you've got to dedicate yourself to it. Dedication means a heavy time commitment to what you're doing and usually less for everything else.

I have dreams of being a professional writer. A journalist, reviewer, researcher... so long as I get to hunt down truth and sive it from the mistruth I'll be living a life that I'm happy with. The biggest obstacle I have been finding these days is sharing my time between what I want to do and what I have to do. A lot of things that need to get done these days have a way of bringing me down. They've been doing so for quite some time. I've had my joy in my job eroded for quite some time now from excitement to boredom to frustration to white, burning rage. Writing is something I love. These days I can't do it. My writing boils down to dissatisfaction with my job which is just too specific to draw any decent content from.

Which brings me back around to the point. Unless writing is what I'm doing for my job my skills are going to degrade. If I can't write I can't improve and I can't get a job writing. It's time I gritted up and got serious about finding a style and a speciality that's my own and that I can perfect. I've got ideas but I need time and that's a scarce resource these days.