Passion (4/90)

I am driving myself crazy. Time to blog.

Today, as I had hoped, went much better than yesterday did. I was actually pretty productive today. I woke up at 9:30am instead of noon. I laid out and studied in the sun. And I've made some progress with this article I'm working on.

Yes. This damn article that makes me honestly want to throw my computer against the wall. That one.

I have only myself to blame for it. I threw the idea for it together at the last minute. I have had plenty of time to do more research, talk to more people, really get a feel for what's going on so I can whip up a semi-decent story. I've had plenty of time to submit drafts and get others thoughts. If I had tried, this story could be much better than what it's turning out to be.

Truth is I haven't tried. I haven't done shit.

Again, I really would like to blame a thousand other things for why this story is looking to be just words on a page in which I've attempted to throw together in a coherent sense. But I know the real underlying reason for it. I know why I've poured so much time into the other pieces I wrote. Why I've worked so much harder to make them as best as they could be (in which I will go back and try again to make them even better). Why I've racked my brain over Title IX and contacted person after person for my article on Ball State's non-existent track team. It comes down to one little word.

Passion.

Don't get me wrong, this piece I'm working on is something that was thought of out of passion. It's focusing on pets and the economy. How shelters are seeing on a daily basis people trying to come and drop off their pets because they lost their job, they're house was foreclosed, or they simply can't afford to take care of their beloved animal. Considering that I have volunteered countless times for animal shelters, was once a huge advocate for Peta (until I discovered how crazy they are...eek!) and even went vegan once, it's safe to say that I truly care about animals. I took in a cat last summer that kept hanging around our house and now she is a ball of fur that sleeps on my bed and lifts her name at the sound of "Lil Bit". I once took in a cat that was hanging outside of Target and scaring customers away because it was a black cat. A female cop wouldn't go near it (she had a cat phobia) and an hour later when another cop showed up he refused to do anything with it because it would give him "bad luck". So I scooped up the poor creature, plopped it in my sunfire, and drove it home until I could take it to a shelter the next day. Considering it was highly malnourished and very ill, my parents weren't too happy about my attempts to "save" another animal.

But hey, I have a heart. Better to try than not do anything at all right?

My hope in this article was exactly that. I can't go out and save the world. I can't keep pet owners from losing their jobs, or idiots from abandoning their pets on the streets. I can't force people to get their dog neutered, or to adopt instead of purchase from a breeder. There are a lot of things in this world that I can't do. But to shed some light on a subject? To use writing as a way to get into someone's head or toy with their emotions? To tell a story that represents some truth that will have some sort of impact on someone's life?

That I'm not sure I can do. But that I can try.

So you can imagine my frustration when I look at my word document and see a thread of words that don't represent how I'm feeling and what it is I want them to do. You can imagine my regret in realizing I poured perhaps too much of my passion into my other two stories that I am bone dry and just done with this one. You can picture me pulling my hair out as I stare blankly at my computer screen, both wanting to try to save this story and at the same time just drag it to the trash can icon and never think of it ever again. Unfortunately it's the latter that it is truly tempting me right now.

If it wasn't for grades and passing classes I honestly would print this story out, take it outside, pull out my lighter, catch it on fire and then let the ashes sink into the earth and realize I don't ever have to deal with it again. I do this with certain things. Last summer I had a field day burning photos from my past that evoked too many bad memories. I regret saying that this story is turning into one of them.

Regardless, I have a deadline. I have a class that I have to pass. I have to turn this in, despite the fact that it truly is a "stinking pile of dog shit." I just wish I had just an ounce more of passion to save it.