Saturday, January 1, 2011



This is the 23rd year I have been in. I am becoming more and more aware of the world around me. I have only seen a slice in my time. I have only made a tiny difference. The butterflies keep flapping their wings and I keep thinking. Effects.

This blog had its start last year. I left it alone for months and months. There were two posts until earlier today. Until I deleted them. I wanted something different out of this blog. I want it to be part of my life.


I have not always been a fan of New Year's resolutions. I think any given day of the year is just as good to set a goal and get your affairs in order, though perhaps none look and sound as good. Truth be told, I am taking full advantage of this New Year's Day to start anew (this blog for instance).

Mother said what I do today is indicative of what I will do for the rest for the rest of the year. Again, it is just as good a day as any, but why not take advantage of one that will forever be January 1, 2011? If it is a good enough day to raise up a whole new calendar, it ought to be a good enough day to raise up your life.

Thus, I give in to the mass In 2011... I want to write in my journal each day, write a poem each day, do at least 50 push-ups daily Monday through Saturday (the least I could do for a healthier bod), and post on at least one of my several blogs each day. I'm tempted to add "watch a movie each day" (myself and others know I want to) to that crowd, but I know it may not always be probable. As far as my cinephilia goes, I hope to increase the number of films I have seen to 1,000.

If tomorrow I wake up and think of something I want to do or make a habit of, I hope I act immediately. Because once I am there, it is still "today" and that is as good a day as any (even if it is not the first day of the year).


I remember a line from the Army's propagandous ads that would show between segments of Channel 1 News, which was really my only source of gathering reports (domestic and abroad) in middle school. To paraphrase the tough voice, "If someone were to write a book about your life, would anyone want to read it?" The question has oft led me to contemplation.

Perhaps we have a desire to read books about the people we know. For Christmas I received two bound publications, one written by my mother, the other by my father. They are memoirs from their lives. The startings of choice autobiographies. They are treasures and more valuable to me than any other gift. Actions speak louder than words... I will start reading from each before I sleep again.

Before these volumes fell into my hands I have enjoyed reading from Lewis Family Stories, a compilation of writings mainly about my father's ancestors, parents, and siblings. A story from my own life (written by mother) concludes the work.

Hundreds of millions of dollars are forfeited on single film projects all the time and yet one can get pen and paper for close to nothing. Both are mediums for telling tales and relating experiences. What was that I heard about J.K Rowling writing the beginnings of "Harry Potter" on napkin? An idea that was carefully cultivated and grew to be a series deemed worthy of adaptation into eight films costing over a billion dollars to make.

Film (or whatever vehicle you care to consider) is limited, but it is surely ever growing. However, I do not believe writing is the same. A pen and paper reach boundlessness in terms of what the holder is able to do with them. You cannot put a fence around one's imagination. The only element in the equation that is finite is our time. Ergo I want to create each and every day. I do not wish to unpack anything and everything from the boxes within my cerebrum, but I will carefully withdraw much.

I am special, you are too. I am rather strange, as are you. I am worth writing about, you are too. I am worth reading about and so are you.

Does that mean you will want to read The Tome of J.S. Lewis? To answer the question the Army asked myself and millions of other teenagers ("If someone were to write a book* about your life, would anyone want to read it?"): that is for anyone to decide. All I can do is write about my life and give them the option.

This blog is meant for me as much as anyone. Still, I aspire to let family and friends into my life some more with this undertaking.

Happy New Year.

*Clearly this is not a book, but a blog. I feel the terms are interchangeable in this case. About my life and built from words, that is what we are dealing with.


  1. I'm honored to know that our two books were your most prized Christmas gifts. We both will be interested in what you think about our stories as you get into them. A blog is an online journal, so it is part of your history. Love You!

  2. Cool post, Bubs. I've read their histories (I edited them), and I can tell you that you're in for a ride. You'll learn a lot!