You poor, misguided fool...

I'm sorry, you must have mistaken this blog for something that won't tempt you to take your own life after you read it.

Here at Steve Vincent vs. Productivity, we (well, I) guarantee that we (ahem, I) seriously don't give one solitary rat's arse whether or not you are remotely entertained by the horrific abuse of the English mother tongue that is so obscenely displayed upon this pixilated landscape.

This blog is strictly for me.

I used to write a blog that had a similar title to this one, and I had a great deal of fun with it. It was incredibly rude and fairly vile, but I'm proud of the way some of those posts worked out. I actually think they were quite funny, but there was one real problem with them. I was trying too hard! I would spend a few hours on each post, trying to make it have some sort of (dare I even say it??) point. <----Horrific misuse of a perfectly good word! The result was that, at my highest frequency, I would post maybe once a month.

That, my friends, is just plain dumb.

As of recent months, I have definitely felt a serious urge to get back into some kind of writing. Over the past year, I have actually been doing some freelance writing FOR MONEY (a fact that blows my mind every time I think about it... It will only be a matter of time before they figure me out and lock me up somewhere rather unpleasant). But what I really want to do is just write. I want to tap into somewhere deep in my brain that hasn't had to show up to work since the last time I was trying to finish Golden Axe 3 in the arcade on my 3rd quarter.

The fact is, I feel fairly creatively flatlined at the moment. For me, this is a problem.

For a significant portion of my life, I have been a musician. Well, a bass player, but still. Every NFL championship has a kicker that gets a pity invite to the after party. I am that kicker, and you bastards need us. Anyway, being creatively drained as a musician can be a bad thing, because it has a way of turning something you love into something more like work. Or wait, that might be marriage. Either way, I think the concept applies.

As much as I love music, I have a lot of other interests in the creative world. Sadly, none of these things will ever pay me any real money, so feel free to send care packages of foodstuffs and warm blankets whenever your pity levels reach critical mass.

So I figure that my music would benefit if I started exercising my silly imagination towards a different horizon. And though a blog is typically a place where people waste the marvel that is the Internet on showing pictures of dogs in crocheted hats, or sharing recipes for low-fat/ludicrously high-sugar muffins, my blog will serve a greater purpose. It will be like that least smelly portable water closet at an open-air festival. Not quite the Palace at Versailles, but serves a vital function.

And for all you mega-nerds out there, I am aware that the palace of the Sun King did not actually have any bathrooms within it. This was a simpler time, before bran flakes.

The main issue is that I just need to start making things.

I need to create. I need to take whatever it is that my unfortunate collection of cells, cilia, bile, and other organic components collectively amount to and express it somehow. Oh, I am not daring to even think for a moment that it won't be TOTAL GARBAGE, but at least it will be mine. This blog will be like the treadmill in the gym of an extremely lazy man. It will stare me in the face, forcing me to use it just enough to keep me alive to watch M*A*S*H reruns for another week while eating cold beans right out of the can.

I don't actually eat cold beans out of the can, though I'd be lying if I said I hadn't before. They aren't really that bad. My apologies to the good people at Heinz. Particularly to the department that makes the ones with the maple syrup. Mmmmm.... My British heritage is actually salivating at the thought of cold baked beans.

Anyway, I'm going to wrap this up pretty quick just in case some poor fool actually made it this far. Me and my little iPad are getting pretty tired and need to get enough sleep to make sense of Introductory French in the morning. Oh yeah, I'm foolishly back in school doing a degree through Athabasca University. As if I didn't have enough wasted hours under my belt! But hey, at least now I know that Louis XIV didn't go number two inside his glorious house.

So here begins my quest to re-ignite my creative fires on all fronts. This might not be the best way to do it, but I don't exactly have time to backpack through all of Thailand's finest brothel districts. Well, that and my desire to write about myself is higher than the embarrassment I feel knowing somebody on earth may one day eventually read this.

Gulp....