500 Words Per Day: Day 4
1.14.15
Day 4
Which story would you rather read?
Story 1
Day 4 and I’m already dreading this writing process. I hate sharing these journals because I feel like they are not very useful to anyone other than myself. I’m having my doubts about this 30 day project.
Story 2
It’s day 4 and I’m just starting to find my groove. I look forward to writing these journals every day because I’m spending my time doing something new. I have no idea where this is going but I can be guaranteed that my life will be different because I decided to do something different. Even if it’s just 500 words per day it’s still meaningful.
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Camp was much more enjoyable today. I’ve had a few questionable moments being away on this trip. I’m a year in and have seen and filmed some of the pieces so many times that I recite the script in my head when I’m taking a shower. Redundancy is like an itch on that one part of my back that I can’t reach without dislocating my shoulder. But these last 2 days I’ve been more involved with the students. Part of it was me deciding to engage with more humans (less camera and computer screen) and the other part was that the modules required my participation.
And it brings me back to this lesson that won’t leave me alone – I am a fat, lazy kid trapped inside an ambitious adult’s body.
Make no mistake, I hate working. The idea of it. It terrifies me and forces me to act rebellious.I go as far as getting depressed about the idea of being forced to work, like I am a slave. But here’s the funny thing, once I start working I could never be any happier. I know this. Still I choose to forget, or temporary misplace the information, the consistently proven fact that I think too much and it ruins my life.
Then there’s Greg, who somehow manages to be simple and a genius at the same time. He’s never off, always producing, never compromising integrity, and thinking differently than anyone else I know. If I were smart I would follow him around with a journal and write down what he says instead of spending so much time being obsessed with myself. He must have made a decision one day, maybe when he was born, but he must have decided that he wasn’t going to give into the suffering caused from mind games that the other 7 billion of us put ourselves through. 300 days I spent with him last year and not a chink. I don’t get it. But I’m certainly trying to emulate. With some success. But mostly not.
I can’t look at white rice anymore. But I’ll eat it again tomorrow. I eat plate after plate and still feel nothing, except somehow fat and starving at the same time. I think of green juices and my insides cry.
Back to the stories from the top. Nobody wants to hear people whine. They listen because they feel like they have to. The world doesn’t want more excuses or battered souls, it wants heroes.
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