On Living

I am a killer. I don’t mean to say I am a Jeffery Dahmer or a Charles Manson. I am not a murderer even though some may try to label me as such. I killed as a professional and I was under the rule of law. It was a skill set; a job. I was a Sniper. I ruled the battlefield and my enemies feared me. I even had a price on my head.

It’s an odd thing to write down, now that I think about it. What I mean to say is this; I was educated and trained in the art of killing. I took the classes and practiced every day. I was shaped and forged. Take my word for it—the training worked. I am undefeated in gunfights; I guess that is a little obvious since I am sitting here writing.

Why start this blog? Why add to the billions of words already floating around the Internet? It is simple really. The State taught me how to destroy. I am good at it. Not the best but not the worst either. My wife, on the other hand, is an artist in the best sense of the word. She creates beauty. She has crafted a story and written it down as a novel. Her art hangs on the wall of our little apartment. Think about it, her womb can even bring a new life into this world. I only ended life. That is not enough for me. I am past the days of my youth when I thought myself indestructible and my every action righteous. I want to create something and I have chosen to do so with words. If you could see me draw or hear me sing a tune you would know why the pen is my outlet. With this blog I hope to learn a mastery over words. I want to become as skilled a wordsmith as I was a marksman. I strive for the same commitment to precision. In this day and age can one still be thought of as a man of letters?

Words have meanings. I chose the title of my blog to express an idea. When I was fifteen I read Carl Von Clausewitz’s On War. It is the classic manual of war. After experiencing a war I was left with the strong desire to read a manual on life. That is what I decided to write about, life. The blessings and curses of the world we live in has become my muse.

I choose to write essays because of the words of E.B White: “The essay, although a relaxed form, imposes its own disciplines, raises its own problems, and these disciplines and problems soon became apparent and (we all hope) act as a deterrent to anyone wielding a pen merely because he entertains random thoughts or is in a happy or wandering mood.”

Twitter is no place for thoughts that struggle in my consciousness. I need a bigger canvas. Welcome to my canvas.