Writing goals

Can it be done? Can I do it? I think of words, and that is it? At least here I can see my word count so there's no reason why I should not delay in putting down the words I want to say. When time began I was aware that this was here and that was there, I saw the world through tiny eyes, a slanted world, an awkward time. Do I dismay of things undone? Or do I dream of worlds begun? What aught to be, I aught to see, I then will feel, and I will be. I am alive and living now but will be gone when the bells sound. My time is short yet words are many, I can find these thoughts are plenty.

[I need 313 paragraphs to reach 40,000 words.]

Ok so what I recall my youth in broken fragments, jarring from one time to another. A coloured block, some childhood marbles, a walk down the sidewalk, digging in the sand, sitting by the playground hill looking up at the sky. Dreaming of the future, and thinking about my place in time. Was I aware back then, am I aware now, how these moments are connected across time, at least in my mind?

Can I look back upon my past and reflect on the thoughts a younger me had about my future self? Do I need to return to that time/space place in order to understand the benefit of thinking about myself across time? Awareness of the present moment, the past and future and all the choices I could make if only I had a time machine. I recall a book I read that proposed the air in the future would be toxic, and a unicorn from the past though mythical and magical as it sounds, would not either be able to survive for long in air that is as polluted as the future was expected to be.

Was this, the start of my thoughts of life? Or was it later when I was dreaming of my possible career options, to make social media, to make podcasting, to innovate artificial intelligence, to research ancient history, to think about the size of the universe, and the scale of cells and electrons? I studied Chemistry in high school, yet the lectures (and math) I was expected to perform seemed less interesting than the music I could hear in my bones. The feeling and excitement of sound was overwhelmingly my obsession through my teenage years as I carried my guitar from one place to another, in hopes of catching the beat of the moment and creating something novel to inspire.

No I was aware much younger, running down the street, as fast as I could to see the blurring of my vision and the wind underneath my arms! If only I could just get enough speed to lift myself up in to the sky like one of those flying dreams. Looking at the stars and the moon, imagining a small hexagonal capsule crashing in my back field. Imagining the future of spaceflight! Dreams of youth.

And yet the older I get more curious I become, and the more I think I know the less I am certain of. But reaching for greater and greater understanding and trying to ask better and better questions has helped me grow. Now I have new perspective and understanding that, while tempered by my skepticism, forces me to keep learning. Not knowing what you dont know is one thing, and then knowing what you dont know is another. And as I discover what this world is all about, I think about what is most important to me, and what my dreams were as a youth. What sort of a future I hope to see, but more importantly my place in that world. Standing on a hill, by the playground, watching the Moon rise and the evening sun Set. Where could I be in 50 years? What would I do, if I could?

More important in my present age, is to do what I can do today before the sun sets and writing 700 words seems to have been accomplished, something to check off my list. Perhaps if I am determined I can write a novel one day after all, if my next writing goal turns out to be something readers want more of. More than seven hundred words, written. Stephen king might be proud.

@Darkflame