Chapter 1: The Weight of Words

Writing has never been a gateway to notoriety for me; rather, it has served as a means to engage a wider audience with my thoughts and insights.

Photo by Manikandan Annamalai on Unsplash

Lately, I've been navigating through a fog that I find difficult to articulate. Much like a gasoline engine relying on a backup battery, I’ve had to limit my activities to just the essentials for survival. While I didn’t completely retreat to bed, I engaged only in what was absolutely necessary to maintain a livelihood, going through the motions while largely pretending everything was fine. It’s a dark place to be, which is partly why I paused writing this column for a while.

I often struggle with maintaining focus on any single project for an extended period. Monotony leads to restlessness and ultimately burnout. Repeating the same tasks incessantly drains me. I thrive on novelty, spontaneous moments, and unexpected revelations.

During my college years, I worked as a laborer in construction, and nothing felt more soul-sucking than the mindless routine of transporting items from one location to another. Lifting, placing, and repeating was a thoughtless cycle that I absolutely detested.

Conversely, writing daily is essential for my mental health. It allows me to process my experiences and connect with the world around me. I strive to reach out to others in the way that feels most authentic to me. I’m open to sharing nearly anything about myself—perhaps even details you'd rather not know—provided I can express it in my own style and timing. The knowledge that others are reading my words helps me navigate through the day. My hope is that my writing also serves as a source of comfort for others, creating a mutual bond. The pact is simple: I write, you read, and together we manage to face another day.

For a long time, I believed I was in pursuit of fame, but I’ve come to realize that it was never about that. My true aim has been to find an audience. I mistakenly equated the two concepts. If an audience becomes sufficiently large, it can certainly be seen as fame, but correlation does not imply causation. Just because one follows the other doesn’t mean they are inherently linked.

I wasn’t chasing fame. My desire was to be recognized so that more individuals would engage with my writing. The very reason I established this column is that the style of writing I pursue necessitates that readers come to understand who I am and how I express myself. Having readers who actively seek me out is crucial for that connection.

I aim to foster an understanding among my audience about this journey, so they’re never bewildered by the premise, distracted by the title, or misled by the subject. I have no interest in crafting clickbait headlines to draw readers in under false pretenses. I’m also not interested in writing for mere applause, attempting to pander to those who applaud simply to affirm their own beliefs, rather than being enlightened by my words.

I want my readers to experience the story without preconceived notions of its direction. I want them to trust in my narrative, to wander alongside me until we find our way back together. This aspiration is significant and, in truth, quite demanding.

Paul Hostovsky’s poem “Coconut” often resonates with me, and I find myself reflecting on it frequently. It explores the elusive nature of happiness.

Bear with me

I want to tell you

something about

happiness

it’s hard to get at

but the thing is

I wasn’t looking

I was looking

somewhere else

when my son found it

in the fruit section

and came running

holding it out

in his small hands

asking me what

it was and could we

keep it only

cost 99 cents

hairy and brown

hard as a rock

and something swishing

around inside

and what on earth

and where on earth

and this was happiness

this little ball

of interest beating

inside his chest

this interestedness

beaming out

from his face pleading

happiness

and because I wasn’t

happy I said

to put it back

because I didn’t want it

because we didn’t need it

and because he was happy

he started to cry

right there in aisle

five so when we

got home we

put it in the middle

of the kitchen table

and sat on either

side of it and began

to consider how

to get inside of it

So here I am, contemplating how to delve into this experience, although I’m not entirely sure if it’s happiness I seek. Perhaps it is. At times, I believe that the journey itself holds the key. Life gains significance through our experiences. Today is your life. Tomorrow is your life. Yesterday has passed.

Judd Apatow once shared that Gary Shandling advised him early in his career not to focus on accumulating wealth, reasoning that there’s little worth buying. After achieving financial success, Judd recognized the truth in Gary’s words. Money can provide comfort and security, alleviating worries about bills and allowing for decent living conditions, but it doesn’t translate into happiness. He also discovered that what he cherished most was the filmmaking process itself, rather than the final product—be it a box office hit or a flop. It was during the act of creation that he felt most content.

Many writers claim they dislike the act of writing but take pleasure in being writers. I don’t share that sentiment; however, I once felt similarly about running. My wife has been an avid runner long before I entered her life. In the early days, I ran alongside her, a testament to my infatuation. Though I never enjoyed running, the feeling of accomplishment afterward was invigorating—not due to physical energy but because I had completed the task. I suspect many writers share this sentiment.

I might differ in that I genuinely enjoy writing. I also appreciate the sense of completion, especially when my work resonates with others. Yet, the exhilaration is fleeting, necessitating the creation of the next piece. It becomes an unending cycle—lifting and placing.

At least I’m seated while I write.

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The first video, "Alley Dukes - Look Somewhere Else," invites viewers to explore the theme of searching for connection in unexpected places, resonating with the sentiments expressed in this piece.

The second video, "Somewhere Else," complements the narrative by illustrating the human experience of seeking fulfillment beyond the familiar.