The Besz Dispenser - This Week's Rant

For the week of August 25th, 1999

Get aboard the Soul Train

Sometimes, when it's late at night and I can't sleep because I'm going through an insomniac phase, I wonder what would happen if I just quit my job, sold all my belongings save maybe a few books, use the money to buy a ruck sack, sleeping bag, tent, and knife, and just hiked my way to the Yukon, where I could build roads and go on my own journey like in "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac. ‘Course, I can't and wouldn't do that because I'm too responsible, and although I'll drive practically anywhere on a whim, and do anything for money (which the usual limitations what people have when they confess they possess morals and ethics and shit), I wouldn't just jump up and go. I'd have no security blanket, and I don't know if I would survive on my wits. It's like the ultimate test of strength; to give up everything you know to do something you don't, simply because you don't. I don't want to know, really.

That's probably the one thing that gets to me about life. We're here, but you can never know what you're supposed to be doing. Believe in what you want, but no one really knows. We are just here. To do stuff. How do you know what stuff to do, or if you're even doing that stuff well. I don't. I've tried my hat at acting: no go. Stage fright sucks and usually I find no one should hate what they've just done, no matter what happened or what lines of dialogue were missed. I've tried computers: nada. I am slightly knowledgeable, but no nearly enough to get a career. And as far as learning the trade, well, unfortunately I just was never good at puzzles, problems, and patience. Scratch that off the list. Comedian? I've never taken insults very well when it's something I think I'm good at. Since that's really all comedians do day in day out, I decided away from that. I was running out of ideas.

Which brings me up to the moment I dropped out of university. I had no future plans, no career plans, didn't know what I wanted to do, what I wanted to be, or even why I existed. These questions don't leave your head, and usually if not kept in check, will take over every waking thought. So, since I wasn't going to get any school work done that way, I quit. If any of you even considered checking out my bio, you'd know all this.

Fast forward to the present. I'm working a "McJob," praying to get out, wondering how I'm going to pay the rent, and thinking that life back in Burlington can't be all THAT bad. That's when I saw that through it all, after everything was said and done, the only thing that stuck with me was my need, my drive to write. Some of the people I know say I do it well (but they are, of course, biassed), and I don't mind my writing, which means that it doesn't make me want to vomit at the very sight of it. Unlike my grade eight school photo.

So, after something close to ten months, large amounts of soul-searching, copious amounts of caffeine, and a little bit of liquid courage, and I've finally decided that I'm going to become a writer, even if it kills me (which more than likely will happen regardless). But this desire is new, and something I've never known for any job I've ever wanted. I'm doing in now, even though it pays no money, even though it really isn't a stepping stone anywhere. I'm just doing it because I'm a moody SOB who needs to vent out his frustrations at an audience. Guess what? You're it. But it does give me practice, and although I'm never really on time with these things, at least I keep plugging away at it until I do get to be a good writer, who sometimes happens to be slightly punctual.

Since I'm plotting, I'm going to tell you the time line I've designed for myself. Why? Because if I tell everyone I know, hell, even don't know, will read this, and since it's now in writing, I'm more likely to follow my word than back away. So, here we go.

Part one: I work my McJob until just after Christmas, something close to January. Why? Because I've got bills to pay in between now and;

Part two: I rejoin the University of Waterloo, and plug away at the workload until I receive my B.A. in something English. I really could give a rat's ass what right now, it's too much to think of. Which leads me to;

Part three: I look for work that probably won't be there, but now I'll just make my own job. Just because I'm odd that way. So, now I have a goal, and a plan. A start, but only time will tell if I actually get anywhere with it. Which means now you have to stick around and read this to find out if I do make it after all. There will be a quiz later.

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