I’ve had several short burst of distractions in the form of potential business ventures, but I solidly stuck to pursuing my dream. I even went so far as to write the first draft of a story this week, although admittedly I have been struggling to get back to it and rewrite the second draft. I want to assume the title of prolific writer, but as I struggle to even write the few words I rattle out in this diary and on my weblog, I’m not sure that such a sobriquet will ever be my namesake. Though I wonder, what would make me such? Is it, as Seneca once said, that writing is easy if you have something to say. Perhaps that’s it; I don’t have much to say at the moment. Perhaps it’s because I’ve spent so much of my past time not using my mind for anything beyond the trivial pursuit of ordinary functional day to day living.

There are men of words and there are men of action so says the poet. I would say I am a man of action who wants to be a man of words who wants to be a man of action.