As I set off on this endeavour, I take a moment to savour the sweet sensation of expressing myself in complete sentences, with thoughts unconstrained by microscopic SMS-format messages. One could say that concision is the essence of all wit. I can even tentatively state that it is well suited to my attention span, barely longer than that of a goldfish. However, the opportunity to stretch my mental legs in this blog, and in future literary enterprises is refreshing.
As a desk jockey, my most creative texts tend to revolve around formulaic applications of templates to achieve a given effect, one which has probably been attained countless times before. A simple cut and paste, swapping of dates and polishing the rough edges is all that it takes. Thank goodness, since there is so much paperwork to wage through in order to ensure that the people I work with and for can get their own jobs done, I don’t think I’d ever see the light of day if it were any other way. I suspect my creativity has atrophied somewhat as a result. However, a strong dose of rehabilitative therapy can fix just about anything.
I therefore have begun pouring over the mountains of notebooks I have scribbled in over the decades. I have trundled these books in boxes or in pockets around the world. They have followed me over numerous moves to new abodes. Many have not felt the sweet kiss of fresh air in years. I’ve found old school books, sketchbooks, pages ripped from meeting minutes with doodles and concepts, as well as a few pocket-sized moleskine notebooks which I tend to keep close at hand to capture ideas before my wandering mind meanders to some other subject and the ephemeral moment is lost for ever. I am certain that a few very inspired concepts which could solve all of the world’s problems have escaped me due to a lack of diligence. I beg your forgiveness, world.
As I put pen to paper over the years, I never had any grasp of the task it would be to go back over those notes, sifting through a sea of ideas to find a pearl to be used to garnish a tale with. I can’t help but think that a lot of what I wrote down was pure gibberish, or worse. However, there are some ideas that, even though they originate from a very young mind, have merit. In hindsight, I am glad I went through the pain of taking and preserving these records for posterity. It has taken a lifetime to fill the vase of life with stories worth sharing. I am now realizing that my vase is cracked and leaky. Were it not for these precious tomes, I would have less rich a palette to work with.