September rain

Every so often we find ourselves at a crossroad. When we realize that among the vast ocean of our dreams, the best we can hope for is to scoop a precious handful to be with us the rest of our lives. And it seems, for me at least, that each scoop is smaller and smaller, containing only the most urgent and precious of ambitions. That's not to say that we lose our dreams throughout the course of our lives. On the contrary—if we didn't let go of some of our goals in life then none of them would come true. Instead, I see it as a refinement. When a diamond is cut, it increases in value and decreases in quantity, and this process of sifting through our ambitions in life is similar. It is only by consciously choosing what to focus on, and realizing what we give up in the decision, that we truly discover what matters to us most.

Have you met my friend Billy? Billy's a great guy, really smart, really cool, but he doesn't get things done. Sure, he's a Microsoft, but that's not his ultimate goal in life. He has a multitude of projects: media browsers, building a motorcycle game, yoga. His variety of interest is great, boggling even. He'd be the start of a true renaissance man—if he ever followed through. I've seen his repertoire. It feels like reading through a thousand post-it notes, and scrawled on the back of each one is an excuse:

"I need to find more people to collaborate with."
"I don't want to start building something now and end up using obsolete technology by the time I finish it."
"I think it's a great idea, but I just haven't found the audience for it."

Not each one is an excuse in the pejorative sense. Some of these projects were refined (to use my own terminology) for obvious reasons: the dot-com bust. Some startup stole his idea. But others do seem like they might fly, and yet poor Billy holds them back. And every time Billy tells me about one of these things, I have to resist the urge to kick him in the butt. It's almost like he's afraid that he'll actually succeed.

Billy's an extreme. He's a shotgun artist. He throws a thousand blind darts and hopes that they stick. He doesn't see that sometimes, you have to stop waiting for that ideal point in your life to finally pick up and do that thing you always wanted to do, go that place you always wanted to go, or talk to that girl you always had a crush on. I see in this idealism a lot of naivete. And eventually his dreams lose their romantic energy and they peter out. And at the end of the day, always, gargantuan plans, always. But nothing accomplished. It turns out that Billy doesn't refine. He just gets bored.

Meet my other friend, Walt. Walt is my age (whatever that means to you). He works at a government job where he can't get fired and he lives with his parents. He sits in his room and downloads gigabytes and gigabytes of anime. I have the feeling that, if you looked really hard, you could find some stains in his carpet that are ten years old. Or twenty. I don't have much to say about Walt, other than his goals in life amount to nothing more than to inherit the house that he lives in. I've never heard him talk about his goals. I don't think he has any. This paragraph is probably the most that anyone will ever write about him. And he's perfectly happy with that.

As for me, I'm trying to stay somewhere in the reality between these two. I can see elements of both of these people in my own psyche, and that's scary. In order not to turn into either one, something's gotta give. It's difficult to live with too many hopes and aspirations; it's impossible to live with too few. The more thought I pour into what I want to do with my life that's truly mine, I come up with one answer. It's an answer that I've often visited, but only now do I make the commitment.

That long-winded intro is basically padding for my announcement.

I'm writing a book. That's it. I said it. Now it's out there, and I'm accountable. I might post some snippets on this blog from time to time. And if you care, if you really do care, then you'll bug me about it incessantly, to make sure I don't give up. Believe me, if you do, you'll earn a special place in my heart (and potentially dust jacket).