The Fire

I’ve had a lot of unproductive days lately. It’s not for lack of trying, because I’ve been trying quite hard. I’ve been writing, coding, data-mining, job hunting — virtually anything to help me feel productive. But it’s yielded nothing.

I want to be the kind of scrappy person who can patch together a life where only my art matters. I want to get lost in something that is cosmically consequential to me. I want to be the kind of person whose fire is fed by a passionate chase for a dream.

But I can’t stop thinking about the $6.99 I spent today for lunch, and the $10.99 I spent on toilet paper and the $2.99 I spent on toothpaste — all while making absolutely no money to make me sustainable. And because of that distraction, I can’t find the peace to go away and make good art.

I keep thinking about the fire, eating away at the wood in the pit, and how I need to feed it — how I need to keep it going. I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if the fire went out. I want to be the kind of person who would find another way to start the fire. I want to be OK with that. But I’m finding it hard.

I don’t feel sad or depressed, but rather reflective. Maybe in a few months I’ll look back at this and think it was silly that I was complaining about my lack of productivity. But those are the type of thoughts one has when he has something to focus on — a mission to accomplish.

I want to be thinking about what it means to be human, what it means to be alive, what the universe could be, what the universe could mean, the vastness of the world, the nature of reality. And I guess, in moments like this, I do think about those things. As the fire gets dimmer, I guess the stars do get brighter.

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