Some people are born with talents that just can’t be replicated. A select few have told me that I have such a talent with words, but many more have consistently found faults in my work. Perhaps they are unfair criticisms, but the especially less constructive jabs at my abilities do sting nonetheless. At times I used to brag about my writing talents, but not so much to over-inflate my ego, and instead to infuriate those who rail on me for not really trying in letting the prose flow.
Not long ago I found comfort in the night, and while many of my words continue to be penned under the cover of darkness, it’s not that I wish to work in the obscurity of the twilight hours. The words are often a result of my allegorical nightmares keeping me from any sort of restfulness, so in my anxious midnight periods of half awake melancholy, taking to the pen is perhaps my greatest way to chill back out.
Whereas morning was once a call of duty for me, that hasn’t been the case for some time, other than to put myself to some productive task. Yet I still feel the compunction to overwork myself to some degree in educating myself in fallback plans if the money somehow dries up, and it always has. I continue to be very reactive, which perhaps worked to my advantage in the short term for some time, but is no longer suited to the extremely laid back existence I lead now.
It feels a bit bizarre to me, in the wake of what essentially was a wasted cross country trip, that now I actually long for the slow march of the midnight hours to eventually bring me the dawn. Perhaps for me it was not wasted at all, giving me time to reevaluate my overall perspective and to finally acknowledge the seriousness of my litany of allergic reactions to things unseen but clearly there and toxic to many more besides myself.
Indeed, darker days are ahead for many in this wacky world, and so much of the downfall of humanity is allowing ignorance and reactionary trends to get the best of many of those who probably meant well to begin with. It’s strange to me that I’ve been able to dodge cancel culture and the tick-tock round the clock new wave of crowd-sourced viral video social media without any serious repercussions to my own well being.
I’m well aware, unlike many, that the content creators bubble, while I’ve enjoyed plenty of its highs in certain areas, is bound to burst sooner or later. The more clever Creators have already hedged their bets, but most haven’t seen the long term inevitably of passive income from ad revenues due to dry up sooner than later.
Sure, subscriptions probably will be the way to go for many creators going forward and I don’t see those drying up as soon, but I refuse to go to a subscription pay wall for my contents, even if my insights are perhaps worth a few extra dollars here and there, but people need to be much more mindful of their use of the limited feat currency they acquire and I refuse to become a money sink.
Still, while there are many bubbles still to burst in the coming year or so, the dawn still comes and time still flies regardless if you’re having fun. Truthfully, I haven’t had much fun in some time, attempting to extract whatever scraps of joy i can, but long ago abandoning the mindset of finding joy in anything I set myself to do. For so long, writing became my only way to live a barely subsistence existence. The art lost its luster for me, and it became dry and factual for the benefit of no one.
Sure, my more well trafficked pieces get eyeballs on them, a handful far more than others, and the ones which succeed tend to be curious picks. You’d think as a professional content marketer for so long I’d know what works, and I’m here to tell you, you never do. You can learn how to be flexible and ride the trends as they come or instead aim for the planting of an evergreen forest. The forest needed a lot of tending recently, but I’m back to becoming the content ranger of my archives once again.
To see how many others live on my recent escapades, I know I must consider myself extremely fortunate. There are those who simply live to hope others fail and ride them on the way down for the sake of cheap entertainment. While there are a few unfortunate souls that probably deserve to be derided, most tried hard and failed spectacularly, as I have so many times, so I genuinely feel the pain.
But, watching the typically slow and steady get derailed by a few nasty comments and narcissistic, petty morons strikes a nerve with me. I’ve watched too many I once respected in my life fall from grace too quickly because they reacted badly. I never had that grace to begin with, and you can’t fall too far when you’re at near rock bottom anyway. The further you have to fall, the more the rotten among us will work to ensure your downfall, when that energy would be much more productively spent on improving their own fortunes, but positive outlooks seem to have become overrated.
As I seem to ramble on endlessly through the thick darkness, the dawn is creeping up upon me, and I for once actually welcome its appearance. There is too much left for me to say that needs to be said and no one can translate these thought-streams inside my skull but me. It seems after nearly three and a half decades on this spinning globe have I finally hit on some sort of prosaic stride. If I find a way to combine my article writing routines with my cover of darkness vibe sessions, I may actually be onto something.
Bring me the dawn. May it shower me with inspirations unbound. Amen.
~ Amelia Desertsong