A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval.
Herman Melville
*****************
Maybe that's my problem. Have I grown too comfortable with myself?
I have written an essay in this journal everyday since 2004, except for the six weeks I spent with the phone against my ear listening to scratchy disco music followed by silly instructions from even sillier tech support people, crawling around on the floor unplugging and re plugging Ethernet cables in a vain attempt to get back on the Internet. When it was finally determined that the problem was with the computer itself some kind people got together and got me a new one so I could keep on supplying the great googleland with my thoughts and words.
What's happened? I genuinely love and appreciate the few who still read my rambling reads. But I have lost so many readers over the past year that I feel I must be doing something wrong. It can't just be "Let 'em eat facebook." I've tried pinging my entries. I've tried registering with this and that. But when I end a day with one comment and only 7 hits on the entry, as happened the other day, when I used to get between 35 and 50, I know something is wrong.
An independent publisher likes my entry of the 17th well enough to republish it. Where is everybody else? Have I become too maudlin, inane, humorless, uninteresting or sophomoric? Whats a mattah ya don like my pitchah?
Ah, I know what you're saying "He's whining again." No I'm not, I'm asking. What do people want to read? I don't have a garden to weed or a lawn to mow. I have no grandchildren to brag about or pets to take cute pictures of. I don't want to write about my physical condition, that got me into trouble before. Have mercy on me. I am bereft. Left with nothing but my imagination and 7 decades of life experience. I will write what people want to read, whatever it is.
I don't know how to specialize. I don't have enough recipes, I'm not interested in sports and there are only so many theatre stories I can tell before I bore myself into oblivion. So what do I do? Puzzles?
Cryptograms are hard work and no one does them except Bill, who rips them off before his first cup of coffee. Otherwise my puzzles and seasonal questions have become some of the most unpopular things on the web.
I really, truly am searching for a whole new approach to my writing because I enjoy writing and I enjoy writing to people.
I read through all the blogs on my blog list today and on some of them I left the 15th, 30th or 80th comment. At 11:25 p.m. on my blog I have 11 visits and 2 comments. See what I mean? I am grateful; for those comments. I am. Thank you Rose. Thank you Ma.
Maybe I'll do what some people do, knock off for a while, forget about it, spend the rest of the year just painting pictures and writing stories. Change my name and start a new journal about something as yet unknown.
Help.
DB - The Vagabond
Showing posts with label journals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label journals. Show all posts
Monday, July 19, 2010
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Yesterday's Yank 10/08/09
It's definitely a struggle to prove yourself just as a good human.
Tina Yothers
****************
Hello.
___________________
Yesterday my life changed. It felt like a sea change or a tectonic movement. In some way and in some degree I'm not the man I was yesterday.
I have been known in the past as a generous person. I was generous with my money whenever I hade any. I was generous with my time and energy. I took a year off from my career to administer a program to help New York City kids improve their arts programs. I took supporting roles in productions that other actors wouldn't bother with in order to offer my talent, enthusiasm and ability to help make it a good show. I always took time to talk with young actors about their careers and give them advice and coaching. Some older actors don't want to do that.
Ten years ago I was doing a play with an actor who was contentious and difficult to be with. I tried to treat him with respect and friendliness. We were the two leading players. Because there was a musical number in the play, we had a choreographer. One day in rehearsal he said to me "I admire the way you handle him. You're a good man." I thnked him and went out behind the theatre and cried. I cried because I was 60 years old and that was the first time in my life anyone had ever said that to me. I had to wait until I was 60 to hear someone tell me I'm a good man.
I can't explain why but sharing has always been one of the foremost motives of my life. To share what I have, what I know, my ideas, my thoughts, my feelings, my stories, my jokes, my love. Sometimes it isn't appreciated. But sharing with others has been from the start the main purpose of Vagabond Journeys and my other blogs.
I've had a lot of trouble lately, financial, physical and legal, and I see more on the horizon. Maybe as a result my writing isn't as sparkly as it used to be and my words don't carry the spirit and enthusiasm they used to. No doubt that's true. For that reason and also because my readership has been severely and saddeningly declining over the past several weeks, I'm rethinking my whole commitment to what I'm doing here. I read more journals than I get readers. There are 86 journalists that I read regularly, some with more than one blog. Like most people I may not always leave a comment but if there's a new entry I read it and look at the pictures. It says at the bottom here that I have 82 followers, plus I have 16 regular email companions. But if almost all of them are not reading me I wonder why I'm writing. It's a big fabulous world full of interesting people and I like to keep in touch with as many of them as possible.
Yesterday was a very windy day here. As I was coming back from the market I stopped to rest by a fence next to a tree filled field. I heard a loud cracking noise and a large branch from high up on one of the tress broke off and crashed on the ground in front of me. The tree was no longer interested in the branch. The wind took it over and handed it on to gravity which threw it on the ground. Nature's epiphany. I am not the man I was yesterday. I feel I might soon have an epiphany of my own.
DB
****************
Tina Yothers
****************
Hello.
___________________
Yesterday my life changed. It felt like a sea change or a tectonic movement. In some way and in some degree I'm not the man I was yesterday.
I have been known in the past as a generous person. I was generous with my money whenever I hade any. I was generous with my time and energy. I took a year off from my career to administer a program to help New York City kids improve their arts programs. I took supporting roles in productions that other actors wouldn't bother with in order to offer my talent, enthusiasm and ability to help make it a good show. I always took time to talk with young actors about their careers and give them advice and coaching. Some older actors don't want to do that.
Ten years ago I was doing a play with an actor who was contentious and difficult to be with. I tried to treat him with respect and friendliness. We were the two leading players. Because there was a musical number in the play, we had a choreographer. One day in rehearsal he said to me "I admire the way you handle him. You're a good man." I thnked him and went out behind the theatre and cried. I cried because I was 60 years old and that was the first time in my life anyone had ever said that to me. I had to wait until I was 60 to hear someone tell me I'm a good man.
I can't explain why but sharing has always been one of the foremost motives of my life. To share what I have, what I know, my ideas, my thoughts, my feelings, my stories, my jokes, my love. Sometimes it isn't appreciated. But sharing with others has been from the start the main purpose of Vagabond Journeys and my other blogs.
I've had a lot of trouble lately, financial, physical and legal, and I see more on the horizon. Maybe as a result my writing isn't as sparkly as it used to be and my words don't carry the spirit and enthusiasm they used to. No doubt that's true. For that reason and also because my readership has been severely and saddeningly declining over the past several weeks, I'm rethinking my whole commitment to what I'm doing here. I read more journals than I get readers. There are 86 journalists that I read regularly, some with more than one blog. Like most people I may not always leave a comment but if there's a new entry I read it and look at the pictures. It says at the bottom here that I have 82 followers, plus I have 16 regular email companions. But if almost all of them are not reading me I wonder why I'm writing. It's a big fabulous world full of interesting people and I like to keep in touch with as many of them as possible.
Yesterday was a very windy day here. As I was coming back from the market I stopped to rest by a fence next to a tree filled field. I heard a loud cracking noise and a large branch from high up on one of the tress broke off and crashed on the ground in front of me. The tree was no longer interested in the branch. The wind took it over and handed it on to gravity which threw it on the ground. Nature's epiphany. I am not the man I was yesterday. I feel I might soon have an epiphany of my own.
DB
****************
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Shuffling Solo 5/20/09
Do as much as possible, and talk of yourself as little as possible.
Sallust
**************
Dive in, the water's fine.
------------------
What I don't understand is why I have no time. I'm a retired, senior citizen, I have no pets to take care of, no family to visit and nothing much to do. Why don't I have the time to do it? If one were to describe my life he would say "Aw, he just sits around all day reading, napping and tinkering with his computer." So where do the hours go.
I make an entry in my journal every day. In this age of twitter, facebook, bebo, blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, elderberries, my space, your space, my tube your tube and the other guy's tube, journal keepers seem to be way behind in the human race and blogging is an anachronism, slightly better than snail mail.
Considering the vast amount of communication going on in the world, millions of items being tossed back and forth, all bouncing off the satellites as they slowly drift along avoiding space junk, bloggers are a small sub group of humans who read each other's journals, But sitting down to write one is a solitaire game. The only things answering me right back are my own words and I hold all the cards.
But everyone's life is a metaphor for living if it is examined well and it's a library of wisdom to share with those interested enough to look and listen. Everyone's life is a journey, as one of my blogger friends put it recently, a journey that is still progressing. It has reached its destinations, but one destination leads to another.
My life has been a vagabond's journey and I draw from it experiences useful to illustrate and clarify some part of the metaphor. There isn't much in that journey to brag about except to say that I spent most of my life, as troublesome as it was, doing the work I love.
I read other journals, many more than I comment on, and in them I read about the great, infinite examples of human life in its various forms. What I try to give back, I hope, in my shuffling manner, is a continuing appreciation and respect for life.
I will go on doing that in my anachronistic journal. If I can find the time.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
_________________
Don;t read everything you believe.
*******************
Sallust
**************
Dive in, the water's fine.
------------------
What I don't understand is why I have no time. I'm a retired, senior citizen, I have no pets to take care of, no family to visit and nothing much to do. Why don't I have the time to do it? If one were to describe my life he would say "Aw, he just sits around all day reading, napping and tinkering with his computer." So where do the hours go.
I make an entry in my journal every day. In this age of twitter, facebook, bebo, blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, elderberries, my space, your space, my tube your tube and the other guy's tube, journal keepers seem to be way behind in the human race and blogging is an anachronism, slightly better than snail mail.
Considering the vast amount of communication going on in the world, millions of items being tossed back and forth, all bouncing off the satellites as they slowly drift along avoiding space junk, bloggers are a small sub group of humans who read each other's journals, But sitting down to write one is a solitaire game. The only things answering me right back are my own words and I hold all the cards.
But everyone's life is a metaphor for living if it is examined well and it's a library of wisdom to share with those interested enough to look and listen. Everyone's life is a journey, as one of my blogger friends put it recently, a journey that is still progressing. It has reached its destinations, but one destination leads to another.
My life has been a vagabond's journey and I draw from it experiences useful to illustrate and clarify some part of the metaphor. There isn't much in that journey to brag about except to say that I spent most of my life, as troublesome as it was, doing the work I love.
I read other journals, many more than I comment on, and in them I read about the great, infinite examples of human life in its various forms. What I try to give back, I hope, in my shuffling manner, is a continuing appreciation and respect for life.
I will go on doing that in my anachronistic journal. If I can find the time.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
_________________
Don;t read everything you believe.
*******************
Monday, May 18, 2009
Quality Quest 5/18/09
The man who really knows is the man who is always willing to learn.
DB - The Vagabond
***************
Hello, whoever you are.
----------------
No man is more certain of his knowledge and wisdom than an ignorant man. I've known many. In fact, I used to be one myself. No, don't laugh. I was. I was a first rate, award winning, loud mouth dope. Thank goodness those days are over (now you can laugh). Now, of course, I know everything. At least I thought I did until I read a few items in today's paper.
There's a big difference between ignorance and stupidity, Ignorance is a condition that's curable, like youth. Stupidity is forever. I think ignorance comes about because people are afraid of change and challenge, or else they are too old and tired to face them and just want to dig their heels into the ground they know about. What a shame.
A friend's daughter, a school girl, was keeping a journal. She entitled it "Things I learned today." I thought it was a good idea, so I started to keep one of my own. But I divided the entries up into three columns: things I learned today, things I knew but forgot about, and, things I already know. I finally had to give it up because the columns were getting filled up quickly. But it did develop one valuable habit, the habit of seeking out new information, noticing it when it came upon me and comparing it with what I already knew or thought I knew about the topic.
Intellectual curiosity is an exercise that doesn't wear one out much, doesn't require a lot of equipment and isn't likely to cause any bodily harm. Why do people shun it as if it was going to send them up river to the funny farm. "All that reading of books isn't good for the mind."
Some of the women bloggers that I read can talk about what is growing, now that spring is here, outside their houses and in their gardens and I enjoy reading about them even though I don't know one flower from another. I never had the ability or interest to find out. I never lived anywhere where there was an active garden. About flowers I'm ignorant, I admit it (I can't even make a cactus grow), but I admire the people who know about plants and flowers and can write about them in their journals. So keep growing them girls, and keep telling me about it.
In fact, I admire anyone who knows a lot about something that I know little or nothing about, especially when they share their knowledge with me. It means there is always something for me to learn.
I like to have an open, enquiring mind. There are still a lot of mysteries to look into. I finished writing my novel "Brian and Christine" and posted the last entry, yesterday afternoon. Then I took a nap. When I awoke the first thing I said to myself was "Okay, what's next?"
DB
___________
Have a good, happy laugh today.
********************
DB - The Vagabond
***************
Hello, whoever you are.
----------------
No man is more certain of his knowledge and wisdom than an ignorant man. I've known many. In fact, I used to be one myself. No, don't laugh. I was. I was a first rate, award winning, loud mouth dope. Thank goodness those days are over (now you can laugh). Now, of course, I know everything. At least I thought I did until I read a few items in today's paper.
There's a big difference between ignorance and stupidity, Ignorance is a condition that's curable, like youth. Stupidity is forever. I think ignorance comes about because people are afraid of change and challenge, or else they are too old and tired to face them and just want to dig their heels into the ground they know about. What a shame.
A friend's daughter, a school girl, was keeping a journal. She entitled it "Things I learned today." I thought it was a good idea, so I started to keep one of my own. But I divided the entries up into three columns: things I learned today, things I knew but forgot about, and, things I already know. I finally had to give it up because the columns were getting filled up quickly. But it did develop one valuable habit, the habit of seeking out new information, noticing it when it came upon me and comparing it with what I already knew or thought I knew about the topic.
Intellectual curiosity is an exercise that doesn't wear one out much, doesn't require a lot of equipment and isn't likely to cause any bodily harm. Why do people shun it as if it was going to send them up river to the funny farm. "All that reading of books isn't good for the mind."
Some of the women bloggers that I read can talk about what is growing, now that spring is here, outside their houses and in their gardens and I enjoy reading about them even though I don't know one flower from another. I never had the ability or interest to find out. I never lived anywhere where there was an active garden. About flowers I'm ignorant, I admit it (I can't even make a cactus grow), but I admire the people who know about plants and flowers and can write about them in their journals. So keep growing them girls, and keep telling me about it.
In fact, I admire anyone who knows a lot about something that I know little or nothing about, especially when they share their knowledge with me. It means there is always something for me to learn.
I like to have an open, enquiring mind. There are still a lot of mysteries to look into. I finished writing my novel "Brian and Christine" and posted the last entry, yesterday afternoon. Then I took a nap. When I awoke the first thing I said to myself was "Okay, what's next?"
DB
___________
Have a good, happy laugh today.
********************
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