Not that I expect any. I don’t advertise, nor have I even told my friends or even my wife about this blog. I am just writing stuff down.
I may have to get my act together, though. I just realized today that this month is NaNoWriMo. I am writing a novel. I use that phrase lightly, since this blog up to this point in the late evening is the totality of what I’ve written today (excluding text messages). If I’m to actually write a novel, I need to actually open up my novel’s file, and put black on white. I’ve put my own self-worth into this project. I don’t care if it gets published. I just want to write a story. I keep on making goals for myself and breaking those goals and finding ways to tell myself that it doesn’t really matter.
But it does matter. Who am I that I can’t even keep a promise to myself? It would be too easy to say that I don’t keep promises because I hate myself. I’m going to state the ugly obvious: I’m lazy. I don’t want to admit it. But it’s true. I hate myself because I don’t keep promises. That’s not the type of person I want to be, and that’s exactly the person I am. At what point is it too late to change who you are? Am I just some guy who will write a blog, but not the book he so desperately wants to write? Can I just lie down and play videogames instead of actually running or working out (again, like I promised myself I would do)?
I’m bearing in on 30 in the next few months. Should I vow to change and become the man I want to be, or am I just setting myself up again? Or maybe this time, after getting back up on that horse, I finally won’t get bucked off. I’m the only one chiseling the sculpture of me, and I hope I still have enough marble left to work with.