It seems to be a choice. Get punched in the throat or kicked in the testicles?

For me, the most important and relevant piece of information to make that decision is the recovery time.

What this has to do with my current situation is a misnomer. We all do this, write down thoughts and ideas hoping that one sentence will be the one that turns us into incredibly famous internet people or gain just one more follower or recommendation. Honestly, when I started using Medium, I reckoned it would be a fantastic news feed. Better than Flipboard. Then I started typing things.

And I haven’t stopped.

Like anybody else with the ability to read or write, I’ve written reams of notes, stories, ideas and general musings with the hope that when I’m dead and gone someone will find them and exclaim “My golly, this is the best shit I’ve ever read in my life!". Send it to an amazing auction house / publisher and make millions.

I have yet to reach ten likes on Facebook. (It’s a work in progress.)

So, I end up with a juxtaposition. Do I let go of the privacy that I want to become famous or keep it all hidden and nobody remembers my name?

No, this is not a ten things to do before you die list. Or highly effective habits of the homeless. Nor do I recommend smoking crack or looking cool. I can say though, don’t try the last two in any order; they don’t fucking work. This is merely a piece of writing where more than two syllables formed a bunch of sentences to ask more questions than I can answer.

Writing is like farting. Slightly awkward but everyone does it.

I don’t recall ever having looked back at what I’ve written and tried to answer my own questions. Even the one bastard that won’t leave me alone. HOW LONG IS A NAUTICAL MILE? No Google on that one, I still like to actually talk to people and read books. Sometimes they don’t talk back and someone’s already borrowed the book. Yet to meet a sailor.

Do drugs. Do smoke. Do be cool. Don’t say please and thank you. Don’t fuck the police. Support the system! Leave the seat up. Drop the soap. Let a horse ride you. Learn to say no. Don’t smile. Give a damn. Don’t dance. Wipe back to front. Don’t conform to rebellion. Don’t eat bananas. Get stuck.

Be more confused than you were three minutes ago.

Still, nobody will care.

And that’s alright.