On dreams ... and what I think the meaning of life might be ...

I know it’s been a while since I updated here. Not really like people are reading much right now anyway. I don’t expect anyone to be wandering by my little home in cyberspace right now. It’s new, brand new, and if I’m not exactly sure what I want it to be how can I expect other people to understand it either? Is it a place for me to write my essays about Utah sports and what it’s like to be a starving writer or would people come here because they want to know my personal rantings and ravings? I don’t know. I know that I have a journal over at livejournal that people read, but what I have there isn’t what I want this to be. But what, then, do I want this to me.

Oh, the way my mind works. Really, don’t worry. It doesn’t make sense to me either.

It’s so strange now. I mean, we’ve got twitter and facebook and myspace and livejournal and all these places out in cyberspace where we can go to express ourselves and connect. We connect with faceless entities and make connections that dare to be even more real than the connections we have face to face with people. Introvert, extrovert, we flock to this world here because it makes more since than the insanity we see every single day around us. Here we can bond much more easily over our fandoms and the worlds that do connect us and it’s so much easier to push away the things that divide us. For all you might not like someone, they love the same ship you do. It’s just easier to connect. To find the numerous similarities.

Am I even making sense? I don’t know right now.

I know that I come here under the guise of a writer. I come here because it’s what I know to do. I come here because I know that no matter who else is out there, no matter what publishers tell me I can’t or I suck or that it isn’t worth it, that here, someone might read what I write. I know that I can connect to my muse here – just as I connect to her in my paper journal. You know, those things that bookstores still sell so obviously people are still buying them in droves? I know that when I write, the world makes sense and when that happens, I don’t need anyone else to read it. Does it make sense? Not really. But in my mind it does.

Hell I don’t even know what I’m saying right now.

This has a point. Believe it or not.

I went to see the Star Trek movie today. I sat in a theater full of people, just enthralled with this reboot of the series. I loved everything and even the things I didn’t like, I learned to like. I came home after that and watched more of my re-watch of Battlestar Galactica. And it’s in moments like this that I want to curl up and cry. Why? Why when I am able to experience such glorious talent do I want to curl up and cry? Because I want to know that I have that kind of talent. I want to know that I will someday touch someone as these writers have touched me. I dream of someone closing a book of mine someday and wanting more, wanting to feel more, to find more, to know more just because my words moved them. I know that people read what I write and that they like it. But I’m in this limbo, a limbo that I hope leads to much better things. A limbo that includes a mostly finished novel, and a job with a zine that I love but that doesn’t pay me. A limbo that means that in just under 9 hours, I will be at my day job. Gotta pay the bills somehow right now.

Maybe … I just don’t know how.

Maybe my dreams are so big that there are moments when I can’t bring them down to the smaller levels. Those moments happen less and less anymore, but they happen. I have moments when all I can do is imagine sitting in a room with Ron Moore and telling him my ideas and he smiles at me and says that he will help me see them done. When I am told by Aaron Sorkin that he likes the way my characters play off each other. When Chris Carter is excited about the mythology I create. Some would say I should feel silly, but it is these moments that make me even more devoted to my dreams. Even if these moments never happen, there’s something more to live for. It isn’t fame. It isn’t even success as defined by American culture. It’s about seeing your dreams come true. And that’s healthy. Even for someone with an imagination like mine.

So yeah. I really don’t know what this page is supposed to be right now. I just hope … I hope as I continue to find my way down this road and I figure it out, that it becomes clear to other people as well. Until then, keep reading. Keep reading what I write and what others write. Remember – reading … it’s sexy.