The Glass is Half Full #
A little over fifteen years ago, I had completed a piece of writing. It was just about long enough to be called a book. Still clueless, I figured I’d send that masterpiece straight to next best publisher. Gotta get that work out into the world, after all. So I wrote a letter (or email — I’m a little fuzzy on the details here) and, lo and behold, a few weeks later I got rejected.
Apparently, they would only publish well-known writers. Truth be told, I was really pleased that quality wasn’t at the top of their list — and so I saved a cat from a burning house, got my picture published in the local newspapers, made a couple of appearances on TV and, as soon as I was famous enough, I would update my résumé to get in touch with the publisher once more. You’ll find a detailed account of what happened next in my upcoming book1:
In all seriousness, that publisher probably ended up doing me a favor. I mean…as unbelievable as it might sound, back then my writing was even worse than today. Saved us all the embarrassment. I guess I didn’t know it at the time, but my attempts to convert my thoughts into something that even remotely resembles natural language were unsuccessful at best and downright confusing at worst. And my sentences were even longer!
At any rate, there I was…stuck inside of my head, unable to map my thoughts to words and to arrange them in ways that would make sense to anyone but myself — which would obviously end up being one of the ingredients for loneliness.
And here we are…welcome to The Struggle!
Dress a Word Salad #
Expressing ourselves can be quite difficult. And let’s face it, by the time we finish school we’re probably equipped with an unfathomable amount of rules. As a result, most of our thoughts are usually lost in cognitive bureaucratic processes before they ever see the linguistic light of day. On top of that, if you’re exposed to enough people, you won’t have any trouble finding someone who’s eager to remind you of how you’re supposed to express yourself — inevitably leading us to Human 2.0: the mime.
Yeah…I had been deeply sad once too. Then, I decided to shift my focus from philosophy to its building blocks. And I realized that there is no such thing as philosophy. You confused? Don’t worry, at some point that thought will feel liberating — if it doesn’t kill you first. Of course, the following morning you’ll probably wake up getting the heebie-jeebies because, at that point, you’re facing what you might want to call the void. Again, no cause for concern. That is just a matter of perception; you’ll realize eventually — if you didn’t succumb to its depressing outer layer first. However, once you manage to live and play with what appears to be some sort of nothingness (whatever that’s supposed to mean), you’ll slowly start to see a bunch of possibilities emerge.
And here we are…welcome to the Playground — exploring natural language is on the menu now. And them rules are off the table too!
Sobering Up #
Imagine a hypothetical reader who’s just finished reading the above section. Having barely survived what appears to be a slap in the face of punctuation and other crimes against grammar, he proceeds to single out the key phrase/words there’s no such thing, void, and nothingness. At this point, we can only assume that this particular reader won’t have anything other to say but to exclaim: Sacré bleu! Dis auteur is nothing but a nihilist! Perplexed I take a look around, still trapped inside the void, and answer politely: If you want to build your representation of me like so, then indeed, in your cognitive realm I shall be nothing but a nihilist. Then, I move on never to return to that reader’s realm, for I shall keep working on my own — where there is no such thing as a nihilist. Also, I want to explore other realms. Like yours, for instance. Who knows what I might encounter there…Of course, for that to happen, one of us will have to make the first step. So how about I publish this piece?
Publish to Perish #
Some people think that writing takes time. Indeed, if you’re still a proponent of handwritten work (insert-your-god bless you), it might take a while to write a book. Or a medium-sized essay. Using a typewriter, on the other hand, you’re either a slow typer or you have to rely too much on your Tipp-Ex — causing corrective delays. As for me, I’ve moved on. Using one of them modern computers now. And dare I say: my typing is quick. What’s that? Do you hear that faint noise in the background? Yeah, that’s a bunch of court stenographers laughing at my naive definition of quick. Again…just a matter of perception, ain’t it?
If you dedicate enough time to the wonderful art that is writing, you’ll come to understand that the speed of writing isn’t primarily determined by your dexterity. At least not in my case. I’m not a stenographer, after all. No, the true challenge starts by mapping what’s inside of my cognitive sphere to natural language — as mentioned earlier. You feel it, don’t you? That struggle, ever-present. Once we’re caught up in it, anything is possible — but silence is the most likely outcome. Well, time to focus. Gotta piece this puzzle together.
A couple of years later…nothing but crickets! No sign of life. Just for you, though. You see, I’ve been busy all this time. Writing, thinking, restructuring these words into something mildly coherent. That’s when the work happens. You don’t see it. You never do. For all you know, I’m probably dead. Or definitely outta sight, outta mind. Then, with a click of a button: published! Some of those strings of words I’ve been working on suddenly become a blip on your radar. A blip? Please…You call bullshit. Your radar will never detect this piece! Too insignificant. I give up. Back into the drawer. This piece won’t be published…
Post Scriptum #
At some point, it is probably wise to come to terms with the fact that the best we can do is a work in progress. Something that will become part of a larger discourse — or fade into obscurity. Doesn’t matter. Whatever its fate, it will always be one of many notes contributing to that song. You know, the one that could be attributed to that artist known as Human. And as for the struggle, it simply serves as the playground for composing and listening to our music.
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self-published ↩︎