No, it has nothing to do with “Wayward Pines.”
I’ve debated about regurgitating my eclectic array of thoughts and ruminations onto a medium that allows for more subtlety than the 140 characters of Twitter or the meme-laden discourse of Facebook for some time now.
Honestly, it’s been more of a struggle than I care to admit, in more ways than one.
I first sought out all of the different blog websites (there are plenty) in order to ascertain the best option, and then I agonized over a title with which to ordain it.
Then when I wasn’t bouncing unoriginal name propositions off the walls of my sleep-deprived mind, I was attempting to generate topics for my next greatest soliloquy which I hoped would bring enlightenment and entertainment to the masses.
This was more than six months ago, and I hardly produced a tweet worthy of such praise, let alone a soliloquy, in that time frame. I made constant notes to myself, both to remind me of subjects and motivate me to put pen to paper (or, perhaps more aptly, fingers to keys), but it was all a farce.
I couldn’t manifest the courage to take such a leap. I was afraid my ambitious endeavor would be deep-sixed upon arrival; people would write me off as an average-at-best writer suffering from irreverent delusions of grandeur.
Not long after this realization, another reared its ugly, familiar head. Depression had struck me like a sack of bricks, and it left me reeling.
It’s a condition I have fought for years, and I’ve been in dark places the likes of which I wouldn’t wish on another human. It sapped my self-esteem and my intrepidity, threatening to whittle me away until I was nothing more than a soulless husk of a man.
Such grim recollections, however, brought forth an auspicious realization: I have dueled this shadowy beast multiple times, and I have emerged victorious after each bout.
Writing is my passion. The written word, when utilized to its fullest potential, can topple the greatest of obstacles and erect the sturdiest of bridges. It can solicit the strongest of emotions and empower the brightest of minds.
Some feel most comfortable when playing sports or solving complex math equations. For me, it’s typing behind the keyboard of a computer or scrawling notes on the pages of a steno book.
It dawned on me that this would be my biggest fight yet. It was the fight for what I loved, and I was going to be damned if that was going to be ripped away from me.
It has taken time, self-nurturing and the support of some wonderful people, but I now once again have the confidence to give this a shot.
I re-approached with a different perspective. I realized that I have never been one for tidy, meticulous planning like I was attempting to implement before.
I have always been about riding the wind like a dandelion seed; I can be difficult to control and I don’t take to rigid authority well. I ask questions, and I am not afraid to be critical. I fight strongly for what I feel is right, and I meet challenges with a bravado that can border on arrogance.
Such behavior earned me some choice distinctions in my youth, but I’ve refined these qualities over the years to the point where it certainly feels more balanced and responsible.
However, that vital spirit still burns in me. It warms my heart every day, and it’s what motivates me to write. This soul-searching exposed the perfect descriptor: Wayward.
It doesn’t always carry a positive connotation, but one of the beauties of language is its ambiguity and adaptability.
Why does the following definition (brought to you by dictionary.com) have to be seen as bad?
It doesn’t, because “right” and “proper” are largely subjective terms. So I am out to turn “wayward” up on its head. I paired this misunderstood adjective with an appropriate noun, and it’s a blog name I can finally take pride in .
I’m ready to share so many of my stories, and I truly hope all you wonderful people will come along for the ride.