Starts are always tricky, so I’ll skip them. I often find myself in what many call “Paralysis-by-analysis”, a state where the over-researching and over-anticipation of something actually keeps you from doing it. I’ve wanted to write - for some time now - I did, for a couple of days maybe a year back, I’ve always dreamed of this moment, somewhere far into the future where I can look back at all of my essays, reflect, and say “what a life”.
A particular image that comes to mind - often while in the shower, for some reason - is me, sitting by some big time New York reporter - a pretty woman, in the image - in a high-rise New York City building, with a small crowd. There, she asks me about this new revelation I’ve just made to the world, my writing. In this particular scenario, I’m some big time ceo, some important guy, and for years - and I mean years - I’ve been writing, every day, journaling and recording every part of the journey, and detailing what it’s taken - really taken - for me to be where I am today - or then, rather. I’ve done this anonymously, of course, and with a bit of luck, somehow people found my writing, and it became a hit. Everyone started trying to decipher who this guy was. Trying to piece together the piece of the puzzle left in the writing. The part they miss though, there’s no puzzle. He’s no mastermind, he’s simply an average guy who’s trying to be great.
Anyways, back to reality. If you’re reading this, perhaps I am that guy, perhaps I am that big time ceo, that incredible entrepreneur, the guy on tv, and on magazine covers. Another possibility is that you’re reading this also, and I’m not. I’m simply another guy - in a pile of 8 billion other people - who tried to make it big, and failed. The last of the possibilities - at least the main ones, allow me not to think about death, for now - is that you’re reading this, and I’m still on my journey. Whichever one it is that is true for you right now, let’s acknowledge how incredible of an occasion this is - I’ve written, and put this somewhere (that somewhere is yet to be decided, or created, as of this writing) and by the grace of god, the universe, or whatever you believe in, you’ve come across it. I don’t yet know that miracles happen - I guess we’ll find out through the story - but let’s take this as one. Come along, and whether you’re reading about an average guy who got great, an average guy who failed to achieve greatness, or an average guy who decided to keep average, know that this is real. This isn’t some biography written by a famous author, nor is it a recount of memory, nor will it be three sentence recounts of my days - I’ll try, I promise - it’ll be me, tirelessly recounting every detail of what’s happened in my life, in an attempt at creating that thing I always wanted - knowing what it really took for someone to do something.
In an ode to authenticity, I guess this will be the introductory writing that everyone will see. I don’t particularly think it’s great writing, nor do I think it’s the most enticing and thrilling introduction a story has ever had. But it’s real. In the end, I don’t even know if there’s a goal, but if there was, its truest form would be serving those who simply find this and are willing to give it a chance, not make this some overtly advertised piece of garbage.
Sitting here, in an old chair at my school’s library, I am trying to think of a way to end this. It seems so important, so transcendental in a way.
Click here to see the journeyThanks, and good luck.
- an average guy trying to be great
