Fragmented Thoughts

This isn’t fiction.  Well, maybe it is, because maybe every encountered experience is turned into fiction in the act of retelling, but then again I don’t really think I’m retelling much of anything, rather than randomly talking.

Most of the little scenes here are based on reality.  In fact, it’s pretty easy to tell which ones are.  My true fiction, aimed at being fiction is a little more…fleshed out in some areas than the stuff that’s based on truth.  But even then, most of these things happened over a year ago, and I’ve combined a few experiences together.  For example, more trips to Sheetz are pretty damn boring.  But those of you who go to Sheetz probably realized that already.

I keep wondering why all of these things keep popping in my mind and demand to be recorded.  For the most part, it’s the act of recording some of these experiences so that they aren’t lost.  In a way, it’s a journal.  But that’s not the whole extent.  I could write a thousand posts like this one, recalling events as I remember, and taking an outside perspective, but then that seems dull.  I have an actual physical journal for those sort of things.

As a writer, I’ve always been more attached to the realm of fantasy and fiction.  I was imaginative as a kid, mainly because there’s not much else to do when you live in the middle of the woods and have to spend most of your time on your own.  You learn to make up your own little games, and your own stories.  Sadly, those stories get more and more realistic the older you get, till the point when they start entering reality and are based on “Jeez, what would life be like if I had this job?”  Or assorted other subjects which I frankly consider bland.

But at the same time, while it’s important to maintain a sense of imagination, you also really have to look inside the bounds of reality as well.  When you’re a kid, anything seems possible, but once you’ve gotten done with college and still are searching for some aim or concrete purpose, you start asking yourself bigger questions.  Like what exactly to do with life.

One goal I’ve always had set for myself is that I’ll eventually be published.  I’m just going to keep writing until it happens, and whether I find a stroke of luck or face Larry Brown’s dilemma of submitting thousands of stories before being accepted, I’m confident it’ll happen some day.

So now I’m trying to find stuff in life to be attached to, and I realize that writing about life does mean stealing from it.  All of this is more of an experiment in storytelling, trying to find a sense of style that works for the stories I want to write.  And strangely enough, I’ve actually come to a point where reading non-fiction and writing on ordinary topics is exciting.  There’s so much humor and discovery to gain that can be often overlooked, and along with that, it’s just fun to reflect at times.

This was originally going to be a post about one of those ‘stare in the mirror’ revelation moments, but I digressed.  I’ll write about that kind of revelation later on, I’m sure.  And I’ll also be scanning back over the past for anything that seems to make a decent little short story.  I wish I could remember more conversations from the Symposia.  Along with pornographic opera, some of the ideas spawned from that time were incredible.

I hope you enjoy the little vignettes.  They’re simple, short, sometimes pointless, and hopefully at least a tad enjoyable.