This morning I was on my way to work when I saw this guy with a sign saying he needed money for his eight year old son. I'm usually skeptical of stuff like that, but I took off my headphones and asked him his son's name. Then I asked him to tell me about his son. I still wasn't sure. His sign said that Jesus was coming, and on the other side it said his name was Merlin.
Then he said he also did psychic readings, and I realized that with all of my explorations of the mysteries of the world, I'd never had a psychic reading before. He said he's always hanging out on hippie hill in Golden Gate Park, and everyone knows Merlin there, and he's always spot on with his readings. He asked me to give him something metal, so I gave him my keys, and he told me immediately that I was a writer, or that if I wasn't, I should be. I was wearing my blazer and a button down black shirt with a collar and had my hair down, so perhaps I looked the part, as least in a place like San Francisco. I let him continue, but then he told me that I needed to switch to technical writing, and that's where I would make my money. If I wasn't so tired I would have punched him in the stomach right then and there. But instead I told him that I was a poetic storyteller, and that I already made money by teaching, which wasn't as good as making money as a writer, but was at least better than making money as a technical writer. He said, "You aren't a purist, are you?" It wasn't about that, I said. I just knew what kind of writing I knew how to do and was worth everything I had been through. When he could tell I wasn't going to budge on this, he decided to change topics and switch to my love life.
He told me to give up on whoever I was interested in right now and that I would meet my love at a teacher's convention in two months. I have absolutely no interest in attending teacher's conventions. I had to go to something similar at San Francisco State a few months ago for my job, and I was bored out of my mind by the dreariness of it all. I like my class for now because it gives me freedom to teach what I think is worth spending time on. In fact, at the end of the day today, my boss said he had no criticisms of my class whatsoever, said I had far exceeded expectations, and that he hoped he didn't lose me. We'll see what the future brings. But storytelling is my passion, my craft, my greatest joy and my greatest unique gift to the world. It is the best way for me to spread knowledge, wisdom, imagination, inspiration and creativity. Eventually I gave this lazy guy a buck for his time, and he said he usually gets five dollars for his readings. I said, "Yeah, but you might be wrong," and he smiled and said thank you.
I was still annoyed that he told me I should be a technical writer, and then I realized the entire problem. Why would I ever give someone else the keys to my destiny in this world--let alone some lazy guy who barely used his imagination--to guess what would happen to me in this world? It only further fortified me in my determination to pursue this writing path as intensely and passionately and courageously as possible. I didn't go through all of these journeys, all of this pain, all of this doubt, all of these risks, all of this solitude, just to have someone I don't know tell me I should give up and take the safe route. I don't care which mythical wizard he named himself after. I am Ben, and I've got the keys in my hand.
That being said, if I'm going to give him a dollar for his lame imagination and guess work, the least I can do is start charging money for my own exertion and skillful contributions to this world. Sometimes I give bums dollars when they ask, but first I make them give me advice, or tell me something that could make me happier in this world.
Speaking of which, the final draft of 345 is forthcoming.
Stay tuned in. Although that book will cost money, because I ain't bein' no technical writer just cuz some guy who can't even think up his own identity told me so.
We need to listen to each other, even the strangest of us, or we would only take in a small portion of the world. And you can always find a story and perhaps a legitimate clue as to what you're supposed to do, even if the one you're talking to bothers you and doesn't have a clue as to what's true for you. Obviously a learned master well-versed in parts of your path can assist you in moving forward. Even then, they aren't you, and the best ones know that and will tell you to follow through on what you feel beating inside of you. Beyond those masters, never let anyone else tell you what you're supposed to do or go through, because they couldn't possibly care about your dreams nearly as much as you do.
Listen to the voice beating inside of you.
It's Chung Fu.
It will tell you what to do.
It loves you.
Push on through...
Then he said he also did psychic readings, and I realized that with all of my explorations of the mysteries of the world, I'd never had a psychic reading before. He said he's always hanging out on hippie hill in Golden Gate Park, and everyone knows Merlin there, and he's always spot on with his readings. He asked me to give him something metal, so I gave him my keys, and he told me immediately that I was a writer, or that if I wasn't, I should be. I was wearing my blazer and a button down black shirt with a collar and had my hair down, so perhaps I looked the part, as least in a place like San Francisco. I let him continue, but then he told me that I needed to switch to technical writing, and that's where I would make my money. If I wasn't so tired I would have punched him in the stomach right then and there. But instead I told him that I was a poetic storyteller, and that I already made money by teaching, which wasn't as good as making money as a writer, but was at least better than making money as a technical writer. He said, "You aren't a purist, are you?" It wasn't about that, I said. I just knew what kind of writing I knew how to do and was worth everything I had been through. When he could tell I wasn't going to budge on this, he decided to change topics and switch to my love life.
He told me to give up on whoever I was interested in right now and that I would meet my love at a teacher's convention in two months. I have absolutely no interest in attending teacher's conventions. I had to go to something similar at San Francisco State a few months ago for my job, and I was bored out of my mind by the dreariness of it all. I like my class for now because it gives me freedom to teach what I think is worth spending time on. In fact, at the end of the day today, my boss said he had no criticisms of my class whatsoever, said I had far exceeded expectations, and that he hoped he didn't lose me. We'll see what the future brings. But storytelling is my passion, my craft, my greatest joy and my greatest unique gift to the world. It is the best way for me to spread knowledge, wisdom, imagination, inspiration and creativity. Eventually I gave this lazy guy a buck for his time, and he said he usually gets five dollars for his readings. I said, "Yeah, but you might be wrong," and he smiled and said thank you.
I was still annoyed that he told me I should be a technical writer, and then I realized the entire problem. Why would I ever give someone else the keys to my destiny in this world--let alone some lazy guy who barely used his imagination--to guess what would happen to me in this world? It only further fortified me in my determination to pursue this writing path as intensely and passionately and courageously as possible. I didn't go through all of these journeys, all of this pain, all of this doubt, all of these risks, all of this solitude, just to have someone I don't know tell me I should give up and take the safe route. I don't care which mythical wizard he named himself after. I am Ben, and I've got the keys in my hand.
That being said, if I'm going to give him a dollar for his lame imagination and guess work, the least I can do is start charging money for my own exertion and skillful contributions to this world. Sometimes I give bums dollars when they ask, but first I make them give me advice, or tell me something that could make me happier in this world.
Speaking of which, the final draft of 345 is forthcoming.
Stay tuned in. Although that book will cost money, because I ain't bein' no technical writer just cuz some guy who can't even think up his own identity told me so.
We need to listen to each other, even the strangest of us, or we would only take in a small portion of the world. And you can always find a story and perhaps a legitimate clue as to what you're supposed to do, even if the one you're talking to bothers you and doesn't have a clue as to what's true for you. Obviously a learned master well-versed in parts of your path can assist you in moving forward. Even then, they aren't you, and the best ones know that and will tell you to follow through on what you feel beating inside of you. Beyond those masters, never let anyone else tell you what you're supposed to do or go through, because they couldn't possibly care about your dreams nearly as much as you do.
Listen to the voice beating inside of you.
It's Chung Fu.
It will tell you what to do.
It loves you.
Push on through...
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