Earlier, I lamented about how I shouldn’t repurpose my old content and have it remain behind the curtain of academia. This feeling was based on my initial reaction to trying to create content solely for its own sake. At the time, I thought and said it was shit. But as I look back at it again to use as fodder . . . er research for my next piece, I realized that it might not be that bad. Not now, at least. In fact, what may have made me so judgmental was when I ran it through Grammarly and saw my text light up like an error-filled Christmas tree. I thought to myself, “That’s how much I need to rewrite?!!”
For those not familiar with Grammarly, it’s “spell-check” on steroids. As long as you don’t let it dominate your editing process (like I let it earlier), it’s a somewhat helpful tool. Zoe Bee did an excellent video about the pitfalls of the program, which you can see below.
Anyway, after relegating it to what I called “run-of-the-mill, undergrad fare,” I’m starting to change my mind. Although I still acknowledge that it lacks the polish that it would have gotten had it not been written in haste, I think it might have enough substance to stand on its own. At best, that “nugget of insight” I believe is still there, is there. At worst, it’s a lesson on how maybe I shouldn’t flaunt my old work as “good”. Nevertheless, it still merits some sort of repurposing.
Whatever the case, here is my new plan. I will once again repurpose my old content, use Grammarly (sparingly), and bank on the fact that it wasn’t as shitty as I thought it was. Worst case scenario, I can use them as examples of the futility of polishing turds.
A long time ago, I thought repurposing old content was trite. I erroneously thought that doing so eroded its authenticity, but now I see it as misguided. To be honest, that image up there (and others in this entry) wasn’t really what inspired me to write this. It was a random post on Linkedin from the many writing companies I “follow” but don’t actively engage (sigh). Whatever the case, it does encapsulate how I felt when I decided to repurpose my old college writing. I needed to put something out there to substantiate my claim as an “emerging full stack storyteller.” Little did I know how insubstantial it really was. No amount of Grammarly.com or creative rearranging prevented me from turning my frown upside-down.
While the content was, to put it mildly, shit, it had relevancy, at least compared to what interests me today. I still want to talk about ethical theories, sociological paradigms, and Hofstede’s cultural dimensions. Generational, organizational, and media studies still interest me. What has changed is my purpose for writing such works, spurring my desire to rewrite them.
I realize now that, when I wrote these “articles,” my primary focus wasn’t so much excavation of truth but instead ticking a box. These were homework assignments, after all. I just wanted to churn out something to be graded. And, as I reread them, that fact did sure show. It also didn’t help that I rushed much of my work (Yep, I’m one of those dreaded, 11th hour, last-minute writers). Looking back, I’m pretty sure my instructors fairly assessed my work as run-of-the-mill, undergrad fare (or were too overworked to care and just gave me the pass). Perhaps they should stay that way rather than something I should rewrite.
So, given this revelation, I cannot, in good conscience, repurpose old content when it has already served its purpose. Or maybe I don’t yet have the skill to polish these turds, meaning they need to stay where they are, in Academia Limbo. However, I can definitely work with the concepts I had in mind when I wrote these pieces. Therefore, that will be my current plan. I will take something that I wrote, oh, three to five years ago, and rip it the hell apart. But then I will take that nugget of insight in that pile of crap that I think is worthwhile and make a less stinky pile of crap around that.
I don’t miss the military life for one second. Ok, maybe I do sometimes. It’s been about a year since I “retired,” and I still have no regrets. I feel I always have to emphasize this point because, as I’ve said before, it isn’t a retirement but rather a transition from being in to NOT being in. The culture shock hit me hard when I realized the same job security didn’t exist in the civilian world. To this day, I still struggle with finding employment. But, it has less to do with my job marketability than it does my desire to “change careers.”
I worked in intelligence for about half my enlistment and aircraft maintenance in the other. While I don’t mind going back to the former, I’m sure as hell in NOT wanting to do the latter. I don’t think I’ve reached that point of desperation . . . yet. I’m thankful for having been a veteran, but they weren’t without conditions I couldn’t help being beholden to. It’s almost as if my situation was a series of double-edged swords.
I was fortunate enough to leave the military with some semblance of dignity (and sanity). But then I needed another to better provide for my family. As a veteran, they told me I’d have everything I’d need to find another job in the real world. And, they were right. Multiple organizations have websites, workshops, online communities, and programs aplenty to aid vets like me.
In fact, The U.S. Veterans Affairs paid me to go to school. And that was great, as long as I met the requirements. If I failed or decided school wasn’t for me, I’d lose that pay, most of which I use for all my bills and expenses. And, while I did have other resources to guide me back into employment, their focus was towards the same occupations and positions that drove me to “retire” early in the first place. There’s a reason why the enlisted military is rated as the most stressful job 5 years running, and for obvious reasons, I’m not privy to go walking that same path to burnout.
Perhaps I’m too presumptuous in my decisions. Maybe my outlook on this need not be as grim as I’m making it to be. Should I bite the bullet and go back to aircraft maintenance? Well, I still get shudders at the thought, so, nope! But, every time I look at my shrinking bank account, my mind starts to shift farther from “nope” to “eh, maybe.”
The next time I get paid to do something, I keep telling myself it’ll be for something I enjoy (hell, I’ll settle for mild contentment at this point). That’s looking like less and less the case, and it worries me. Sometimes, I wonder if I should’ve stayed in the military. Thankfully, I come back to my senses. I believe I’ve mentally and emotionally recovered enough to the point where I can take to task whatever challenges I’m presented with to the best of my ability. But, I’d like to do that with something I like, like what I’m doing right now . . . writing.
In the meantime, I’ve been doing what most “recruitment gurus” suggest NOT to do, and that is rapid fire copies of my resume to any and every online job posting that Linkedin and Facebook think I’m a match for. I’m pretty sure it’s counterproductive and there are better, more efficient ways of approaching the job market (as in the many job fairs I apply to but always chicken out of at the last minute) but perhaps when I get desperate enough (as in my bank account starts dipping to critical, poverty-inducing levels), then I might just go about it in that smarter and less stupid way.
Why’d I take so long to write something here? The short answer: life.
The long answer: It seems between my cuckoo aspirations of becoming a journalist/author/YouTuber/all-around artistic douche and well, my cuckoo life now, I’ve come to some conclusions.
I’m never gonna be a writer. Scratch that, I’m never gonna be the writer that I’ve idealized in my head for the past, oh, 25 years about. These ebbs and flows of inspiration and drudgery are becoming tiresome and I no longer have the ability to entertain these flights of fancy, now that I’m married and have a child. To (mis) quote the great law enforcer and statesman Roger Murtaugh,
I’m too old for this poop! (image from lethalweapon.fandom.com/wiki)
Because I’m too old for this poop, I no longer have the drive, hunger or guts that guys half my age have to pursue their dream as a journalist/author/etc./etc.
That being said, I believe I can still write. I just can’t make a living out of it.
It’s possible that I’ve grown up and grown out of the entrepreneurial artist phase that a fair amount of my friendshavefoundsuccess in that, perhaps, that is not my path to take. Although, I can never really ever rule it out. That’s why I’m here, right now, typing this journal entry that, maybe only two or three of my friends will read, but I’m ok with that.
So, it’s a hobby of mine, a passion of sorts. I’m hoping that telling myself this will take the pressure off trying to “make it.” Perhaps if I write enough, run into the right people, make connections, continually push this site, write some more, get some readers and feedback, use that feedback to write some more, get some clout to finally have some motivation to create valuable (monetized) content and perpetuate that cycle over and over until I’m a halfway marketable writer.
Or, I just continue writing like nobody’s reading. In the meantime, I gotta find ways to feed and clothe my family.
I’d like to think this is all part of the process, the self-doubt, the laziness, the lack of inspiration. And maybe it is. But right now, it feels as if I’m making a big mistake and should turn my attention toward other means of sustaining myself and my family; ones that are more stable, less unpredictable, and otherwise practical and realistic.
I can already feel the artist side in my cringe and squirm and fume and rage. “Really?!! And go back to the 9-5 BUUUUUULLSHIT you narrowly escaped with some of your health and a little bit of your sanity intact?!!” is what I can hear echoing in my head as Kanye West’s “Jesus Walks” plays on Spotify.
And to that, my rational side retorts, “Fuck you!! I got a wife and future kid to feed, and right now, sitting on my ass trying to become some self-important writer isn’t doing that!” So yeah I’m conflicted.
I’ll admit in my younger days, as well as times in the near past, I really wanted to become a “famous” writer. I wanted my words to captivate an audience and catapult them to another world full of wonder and magic. That’s when I wanted to be an author. Then I wanted my words to be thought-provoking and offer different perspectives to topics my audience have yet to consider. That’s when I wanted to be a journalist. I’m just now coming to terms with the fact that those are statements that border, check that, are bombastic, grandiose and ego-masturbatory (is that an adjective? Fuck it! It is!)
In other words, maybe I’m not as much into this writing thing than I thought. Maybe this wasn’t the next career I was thinking of embarking upon. Maybe I should go back to my lane and become . . . well what?
I tried the aircraft mechanic gig and hated it. I could change my attitude about it. It is the most accessible job I have right now. In fact, I’ll be in a pretty lucrative position as a supervisor, never having to touch a wrench, sitting in an office, handing out jobs to other mechanics and making sure they’re doing what they’re doing. Attend daily meetings and let the higher ups know that nothing, NOOOOOTHING has changed since yesterday (until it has of course, which is when those face-to-face meetings would actually make sense). Deal with office politics (that ALLLL offices deal with) except really, I don’t have to handle it, because you know, Human Resources. Sounds pretty cake.
This is where my artistic side does this to my psyche. via GIPHY
And I get where he’s coming from. I’d like to think that, because most of my friends are creatives, I too was meant to be a creative, thus the whole on-again, off-again relationship I have with being a writer. What I wrote up there feels as if that is the antithesis of being a creative. “Meetings? Supervision? Human Resources? Pfft, not me,” says the artist. While my rational side (how many fucking sides do I have?) is starting to wonder how much truth there really is to those outbursts, I’ll have to focus on what I need now. Right now, I need to get back into the workforce so I can supplement the rapidly shrinking pension I’m getting now. I need it so I can stop worrying about whether I have enough money to take care of my wife, prepare for my child, and build us a good home.
NOW, if I can do that AND land me a writing job, that’d be alright
(Normally, this is where I’d insert some self-deprecating gif to subvert my expectations, but I’m not gonna do that. One, I think I’ve put too many of those in this post anyway, and two, I’m gonna stay positive and optimistic on this one. It probably helps that Method Man’s “Bring the Pain” is motivating me a little)
Well, he’s not completely gone, but until I can get my shit together, he’ll be on indefinite hiatus. So, this next incarnation of mine, Literary Journeyman, isn’t as bombastic, but still has that artsy odor normally associated with coffee shop hipsters who, too, cannot get their shit together.
But yes, this one doesn’t feel as hyped-up for the audience and anxiety-inducing for me, but still has enough of an identity to be marketable. (which translates to, “I was able to buy the domain name”)
I…you know…this is exactly the same thing I was crying about 15 posts ago. Come to think of it, I sorta had the same crisis, er, a post ago. I suppose I’m still in my feeling out phase. Maybe it’s not that I can’t get my shit together, it’s that I need to get my shit together before I get my shit, together right?
This is about the time I turn to Medium.com, a website filled with articles for writers, freelancers, content creators and full-stack polymaths who somehow have time to write life-lessons articles in the middle of their podcast/photography/music composition/freelance brothel running activities (probably? I’m jealous, just sayin’)
“At the end of the day, they [my wife and future child] are what drive my decisions. If I can take care of them, and continue to grow as a writer, great! If not, I’ll have to make some tough decisions. It’s not like the terms “side gig” or “passion project” don’t exist right?”
On a whim, I decided to feature a cover song of a talented artist, by another talented artist. (or course, talent may vary and is subject to listener’s tastes) I called it “Take Cover July,” and I introduced it on my post two days ago and titled it “Look at the sky, Take Cover, it’s July.” So, did I really do this on a whim? Did I do this for my own amusement or did I have some ulterior motive? Well, I started it on this page but, because I couldn’t get any of the WP auto-post plugins to work, I decided to move it to Instagram instead, where I was more or less, “successful.” And this is where I start to question my intent. Am I doing this whole, “Take Cover July” thing to show that I’m a whimsical fellow, like the male version of the Manic-Pixie-Dream-Girl? Or do I expect some sort of return from this? Well actually, I am getting a return from this, in the form of likes and add requests, but is that what I really want?
To try to answer this question, I turned to the boundless wisdom of Google and typed “does social media kill creativity,” and the first post that popped up was New York Times bestselling author, J.T. Ellison’s article on, word for word, the answer I was looking for. After just reading it, (which is literally right before I wrote this sentence) I think I may have found the insight I was looking for. (which is kinda sad because this is the first time I’ve heard of J.T. Ellison, let along her blog) She says social media is cool, if you manage it correctly, along with your time and feeding your “muse.” She recognizes the need to use social media for networking purposes, but if you’re wasting time on social media trying to get add requests, likes and . . .
So, what now then? What do I do? I’d like to say buck up, put that smart-phone away and get to writing, but I’ll need to address some issues I have first.
I’m still in college. Granted, it’s Brandman University, which is mostly an online & brick-and-mortar hybrid school where all homework is due Thursday and Sunday night of that week, meaning I’m able to schedule my time around it so, well…fixed that.
I’m about to have a baby. Most of my attention is devoted to fulfilling any and all of my wife’s pregnant whims, which can come out of the blue, but is still manageable due to the fact that she is the most patient and understanding woman I know. Sorta nipped that one in the bud-ish.
As a retired military member, I’m given a lifetime monthly pension to keep my head above water financially, but it’s not enough to prepare for rainy days and emergencies. Therefore, I need secondary income.
It’s the third issue I need to contend with. Am I comfortable with my financial situation or will I need to get a job? Or, should I continue taking “gigs” from Upwork and Textbroker, and call it good? The funny thing is, I reeeeally haven’t been taking that many gigs. (and by not that many, I’ve only taken one job, which only paid my lunch for the day) Maybe that’s it. Maybe I should just get my feet wet in the business, even if it is a content mill. It’s better than saying you’re a writer and having nothing to show for it.
So, I started with writing about how I wanted to be all cool by introducing “Take Cover July” and ended with wanting to make a move towards just writing for a damn content mill to get some writing experience. This isn’t the first time that these thoughts have crossed my mind, but this is the first time I’ve written about it. Maybe this time, I’ll actually stick to my haphazardly laid plan and finally grow as a writer, which is taking me a hell of a lot longer than I want it to.
Well damn it has, hasn’t it? I guess the last post I made wasn’t so much a post than it was a test to see if I knew how to use a WordPress plugin.
Anyway, as much as I’d like to start tonight, I don’t think it’s happening. I’m still picking up pieces of my brain off the floor after watching the season 2 finale of WestWorld. Instead, I’m doing the cop-out repost of what I think my best post has been so far.
It’s a serious piece I did on Professional Burnout in the military, the lesser known than PTSD but still dangerous consequence of serving not only in the front lines, but in support of the mission.
This is another test of the NextScripts Social Networks Auto Posting System.
If this had been an actual post, it would have been published within the desired parameters of the blogger. Due to his old age and limited knowledge of interwebs magic, he is currently having trouble with WordPress. It seems he is also so dense that he is unable to follow advice in the forums or guidance from YouTube. Therefore, he’s going to use the trial-and-error, shotgun method, also known as “spray and pray.”
Last time, he said something douchey like “you would have gotten a self-important recap of the week’s events, a pompous breakdown of military cultural elements, or an angsty, LiveJournal-esque soliloquy aimed to evoke sympathy but only provoke aggravation.” So far, he hasn’t been delivering on those things so, WTF?!! Stop wasting time by going on what you say to your wife are “1-hour” hikes when they turn out to be “5-HOUR” hikes! Therefore, you come back home every time with beat up feet and your angry better half on maniacal pregnancy hormones screaming your ear off about how you’re, well, beating up your feet.
Anywho . . .
Eventually, he hopes to get a grasp on his hiking addiction, so he can get back to blogging. (although most likely, he’s gonna go back to YouTube and watch more in-depth discussions of Westworld, like the one down below)
Hey!! How about you conduct this test first THEN watch the video for the 1000th time?!