I just finished David Sedaris' book When You Are Engulfed in Flames. It has been one of my favorite reads in a pretty long time. His writing style is that of something I could only hope to achieve. His bluntness, his observations, his inner thoughts are all so colorfully worded and really speak to the human mind. I found myself totally engrossed in the chapters, unable to break my focus. I don't know what brilliant message I have now that I have read all the way through it. It inspires me to try and word every experience into something extravagant. His entire life (or at least most of it) is detailed in this book, and there are so many stories that are obscure or what some would originally call simple that he is able to explore and really embellish on every details and minor things from his memory.
I found myself comparing myself to him a lot in his book. In one passage, he talks about having the ability to request even the most frivolous of items delivered to one of the many hotel rooms he might be staying. Instead, he might feel to guilty to place a burden on anyone else. I think of myself in a similar manner. I could have all the power in the world, but would still take out my own garbage.
I wonder how difficult it would be for me to write what I have experienced. I don't feel like I have the best stories, or even the funniest. My memory is good, but I don't remember the label or slogan of the last pack of toilet paper I bought was. I'm encouraged to sit down and attempt it. I say I want to attempt a lot of things - comics, art, music. I usually get to a competent area of completion and then I stop. Most often, it's because of time restraints. Everyone knows how college likes to absorb every minute, and sleep conquers the rest. I know I'm capable of setting aside 15 minutes to an hour every day to just write or practice a musical instrument or something that can help me better myself and step towards something else. I just get distracted easily.
The things I have done every day that have grown habit are taxing since college. I remember having skilled hands with a pair of drumsticks. I remember having an inner voice that spoke wisdom. I am out of practice. I'm constantly looking for ways to do it all. By all, I mean everything in the world. I want to learn the arts, languages, writing, automobiles, martial arts, science, sports, training, everything. I've spent my whole life trying new things, I need to slow down, and dedicate myself to only a few important ones. I can't keep my love and passions in one area long to let them grow into something more significant. I often feel I'm neglecting myself for the things I need. I don't blame myself, but I do feel regret when I don't pursue something to the best of my abilities. Other times, I don't feel it's my fault and somebody else should be pushing me. It sounds selfish and arrogant to blame anyone but me for my shortcomings, but it's there in my mind. It may be in all of our minds.
