I don’t know if it’s personal atrophy, a sign of cultural disease, a consequence of information overload, the privilege of optionality, or nothing at all, but I can’t seem to commit to any passion or interest for any meaningful duration (to the point that it’s probably not fair to call any of my forays – perhaps teaching aside – passions). Basically, and I know this isn’t a unique phenomenon, I get really into something, invest an unsustainable level of energy and care into it, then witness the gradual deterioration of this (typically intellectual) sprint.
Damn you, Ice Cube. When you casually admitted, in a song largely about women using their butts in a sexually appealing manner, “life ain’t a track meet, [nope], it’s a marathon,” I should’ve heeded your wisdom. Alas, I find myself pursuing one thing, riding it into the ground, then unapologetically moving onto the next thing. I worry that this will happen with my current writing effort, and I worry too that it will happen with this blog and podcast. Because…what else am I not dabbling in? There are so many other things to try out there, right? And it’s way easier to keep trying a bunch of stuff rather than commit to one thing only to see it inevitably fall apart. Perhaps dabbling is my shield against entropy…
OR dabbling is my enemy, and I should declare fidelity to my writing, which includes this blog.
Let it be known then: writing is and shall forever be my passion and my pursuit…my life’s project.