Journal : OpenRoadWorks

This happens every time - weeks on end and nothing to write. Then, a mental reminder goads my hands to type. Then, another few weeks on end. To those who sparsely read, I shall continue to promise remedy of this situation - but I will try to promise little and prove out much with actions. So what is there to say? The weather is getting better here in Maryland, I have a new boss at work as the company changes course, and I'm feeling good because I just started to exercise more regularly again. Besides wanting to take off a few pounds for my upcoming wedding, I would like to gain a bit more energy to pick up my out-of-work pursuits that have fallen a bit by the wayside. But I shall get more into this in upcoming entries. For now, I say hello goodbye - just like popping on and off of IM applications, I leave a message before going offline.

Martin Scorsese is one of the most accomplished directors of his generation. Oscar nominations for Raging Bull, The Last Temptation of Christ, Goodfellas (2), The Age of Innocence, Gangs of New York, The Aviator, and finally The Departed. Which finally won him a coveted golden statuette. That does not even include some of his other famous works: Mean Streets, Taxi Driver, After Hours, The Color of Money, Cape Fear, and Kundun. The list goes on and on - and so does Scorsese's curiosity, which brings him back again and again to project material that infuses the historical influences of his craft into a contribution to the profession of filmmaking. A small tribute to a man who should influence creative types in any media that the passion that drives someone to perfect his craft should be more than enough for pursuing the dreams of artistic expression. For the first time, Martin Scorsese scaled the heights of his profession - but it is somewhere he has often been, outside of indus...

Funny the circuitous route that one takes with a few idle minutes online. In one instant, I was researching online companies and the next I was deep in a Google web search for my name. That's ultimately how I ended up writing this blog entry, a full three weeks since the last entry. My lack of creative output is what happens when there are a million things to do at once - scatterbrained execution and lack of follow-through. It would be no surprise to say that there is no better time than the present to try something new/different/better - I've said the same thing a hundred different ways before - but what comes of that approach? What comes of the approach is likely a fresh feeling of openness results from such a mindset; that seems to be the end-result of other personal nudges to turn over a new page and get back to meaningful work. For a bit of inspiration, I decided to do another Google search for what "no better time than the present" turned up in images. It turn...

If ever there is something new, I find it sometimes in my shoe When I attempt to leave the house As quiet as a mouse. For all intentions best to hold Thoughts of grandeur, vision bold Are held up by the drowsy drain Of daily driving strain. In the traffic, can it be Such dreams of some reality That find attention somewhere far Away, now drowned by idling car? Here I sit with simple goal To scale the heights which often hold Pressing thoughts which force the sink Of vital time that makes dreams shrink. So here it goes, the days speed on, Past blurry daytime con Of man - yes, I follow thus Into the fold, awaiting such fuss - The cubicle of broken dreams. Lost somewhere off computer screen, Somewhere deep into routine, Thoughts that cross my mind at morn When shoes go on, slippers shorn, The time when vision still takes hold To beg attention beyond the cold Of morning air and waiting commute.

I notice over time that my creativity waxes and wanes like an ocean current. Over the course of a month, I might have some tsunamis of prolific creativity - and at other times, desert expanses of scarce output. In between, the swirling swells of creativity dart and dash to either power up or power down.... completely. There seems to be no sense of balance to art; rather, it is this extremes of Mt. Everest peaks and Grand Canyon valleys that define the creative process. It is the method behind the madness, perhaps - but madness all the same. My jagged consistency of writings at this site is a testament to this thought; tracing some of my output over the last three years suggests a proliferation of entries one week, a dearth for the next month, followed by fits and starts of writing clusters and silence. All I'm trying to do is get some consistency, but that simple goal is ellusive. So, here I am, trying to shake a groundswell to get me started again. Just a few creative waves, an...

I'm sneaking in a post before the midnight hour from the office on the upstairs of the house. It's quiet - our heat turns off right at this time to save energy. The house falls into a subtle flow of creaks and ambient noise (usually from the highway - you can check the traffic on the way out the door to work!), and your mind gathers room to wander. It is late, and I am wrapping up for bed; however, I wanted to throw some words on the screen. More of a shovel off my mind to feel better that I wrote something than a real deep reflection of astounding insight. Whatever. It's good enough to keep the mind active and the pen exercised at this point. More to come later. For now, it is a quick hit and then off to bed.

Whatever happened to getting out of the office at 5pm? Tonight, I have to drive to New Jersey on a one-day business trip, a little jaunt that typically takes a bit over three hours; up I-95 and into a lonely stretch of New Jersey Turnpike. A trip that I am not looking forward to take since I am a bit tired after a late night putting together more presentation slides for a strategic initiative. Strategy appears to be for me to hurry up and get out of here - I have a long way to go and a short burst of energy to get there. I hope the remains of the day will carry me there safely.