Adventures of Mr. Sporadic Fox

He likes to go to the library. He likes to type things on his laptop. He thinks one day, “I could write. I could be a writer.” He thinks about how often he reads a piece of work or listens to music and finds himself ill satisfied with the words being written to convey a message. Sometimes the wrong words pieced together. Sometimes he feels like the authors are looking for some sort of validation from the audience by using “BIG” words to display some sort of intelligence (yes, I’m speaking of you Mr. Capote; In Cold Blood was good but the story was there for the taking… Your sometimes use of unnecessary “BIG” words seemed like your way of stamping your mark on the work instead of adding actual value). He likes the way things are put together. He likes to tell stories. Likes to hear and read stories. Maybe this can be a new endeavor for Mr. Sporadic Fox, who seems to find himself in a new venture every year or so.

This may be fun after all. He has detested writing for most of his life (of what he can remember anyway). But as Mr. Robert Kiyosaki says, maybe it’s the things that one hates to do that they must do in order to achieve the life and freedom they dream of. Writing, I guess, can be unsatisfying, when writing about topics that you have absolutely no care for. Me? I mean, him? He cares only about life. What’s being doing with life. How people choose to live and use this small amount of time we have. I think he could go on but for now he’ll cut this short here. Mr. Fox says he’ll see you all next time… whenever that is.