Professional Athlete Trapped in an Almost Professional Athlete's Body...

Yes, not only do I write, but I'm an athlete too. Aren't I a catch? Joking aside, the problem is, I've come to realize that I'd be happiest if I could just run track and write for a living, but both things don't exactly put bread on the table. Writing wise, I've paid my dues, refined my craft, and gotten to a point where I'm able to put my pen to paper with the best of 'em, but writing alone still isn't all that secure of an occupation. Athleticly speaking, I'm a world class runner... if you count those guys from the tiny countries who get smoked in the olympics (my times are on par with theirs, so yeah, I'd be the fastest guy in the country...of Kazakstan or Slovakia), and I pretty much just missed the cut off for being noticed by any colligate programs where I would get scholarships, extensive training, and a chance to really improve, sooo, despite enjoying the sport, there's nothing more I can really do with it. (So count yourself lucky Usain Bolt... for now)

Anyway, in both circumstances, in track, and in writing, I'm right on the cusp of being able to make a living out of it, but I'm not there. For writing, I'm planning on becoming a professor and making a steady income that way, but for track, I just have to face the facts that I'm faster than your average joe, but not fast enough to earn the money to pay for a cup o' joe. Although today, I spent about three hours promoting the track team I've been organising during my time here at St. Joseph's College of Maine, and despite doing nothing but posting flyers, taking names, along with thinking and talking track, I was just as happy as when I write a great poem. Figures, the two things I love doing don't pay a damn thing, so whoever said, "do what you love for a job" can bite me. However, should I turn around and find a way to make a stable income off writing and running, I will of course appologize to that sage speaker, and revoke the "bite me" declaration.

In summation, this was a rant. Nothing elaborate or cleverly designed, just me ranting away, and for that, I thank you, the reader, for spending (or wasting) your time reading this.

I Can Stop Writing When I'm Dead...

I've neglected this blog for quite some time now, worrying about grad school applications, current classes, responsibilities, etc... but I'm a writer, a poet, or if nothing else, a guy with writing devices that he enjoys using, so why stop or refrain just to dedicate time to more pressing issues? After all, grad school means nothing if I don't continue writing, I'm an English major, so classes aren't all that hard, and sure, I have a ton of responsibilities, but my most important responsibility is to myself and my readers. So, I'm back. Hopefully you didn't miss me too much.

The idea of dedicating time to "more pressing issues," "more suitable endevors," or in blunt summation, "shit that will make me money in the long run," seems a little out of whack to the romantic in me, but strangely logical to the pragmatist portion. Sure, I could instead be pursuing love, passion, justice, nirvana, and all that jazz, but what good is it if I'm the broke, bearded, lunatic raving from his hut in the middle of the woods? Who would lend my voice an ear, or my writing an eye? Plus, if I were to find true love, first of all, how happy would my ideal, timeless beauty of a wife be married to a raving bearded bafoon? Fortunately, I'm not partial to beards, but all the same, sadly, but truthfully, to be happy, there must be some kind of success, and success, for the most part, is measured in dollars in this culture.

Honestly, I'd much rather be scribling smiles onto people's faces, erasing their tears, and printing passion within their hearts, and doing nothing else, and accomplishing nothing else, I'd be completely happy. The means by which that can be done, however, and to the degree I feel necessary, requires a decent amount of distribution, and that requires a decent amount of funding... which for an undergraduate college student, such things are in short supply.

But hey, I'm only 21 right? Sure, this would probably be where most people would be having a mid-life crisis a few hundred years ago, but now, I still have at least three more quarters of life left... unless the nut jobs are right about 2012, in which case, congrats to them in advance, cause if they're right, there will be no one around to hear them say "I told you so..." Anyway, the question is, to live every day to the fullest, despite sacrificing potential financial gains, or to put joy on the back burner, and till the fiscal field so that potentially greater joys can be harvested later? I'm neither a cook, nor a farmer, just a writer, so for now, I have no clue...