Carte Blanche

Writing is fascinating; something I have always wished I was able to further grasp, utilize and articulate as more than just a tool to attain the passing marks or to use in this new age of impersonal communication. An entire language has been reduced to spKng lyk dis n I hop dat u can undrstnd me by a generation of kids who have been taught to take as many shortcuts as possible, and it really crushes my soul. Do you remember the scene in Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls where he uses a fork and knife on a porcelain plate as a torture mechanism? To this day, it still stands as one of, if not my least favorite experiences in cinema...reading the chicken scratch of 14 year olds today provokes the same emotions in me.

The next closest thing is the 120,000 hypodermic needle pit from Saw 2, but I digress. From what, I am not yet sure, but I am hoping to find my voice within the confines of this white box. Hell, I might give up on this bad boy by the third post...but I need to write at least 2. Be willing to try anything twice, because you may not like it the first time due to expectations. This may become a space of personal reflection, or somewhere I can reach out to someone in need. However, I promise to always leave it honest, open and as candid as possible. Living with fear is human. Writing with fear is a crime. No matter how vulnerable it may leave me in the process.

Hello Xavier, I want to play a game...the game of offering hope to the desperate for a price.

I came across a website today that was a list of 20 Awesomely Untranslatable Words From Around The World. The idea is that the English language in no way, shape or form could ever encompass every emotion and/or message we are trying to convey, and so the list comprises of...wait for it...words from other languages!

Which brings us to Toska.

“No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom.” - Vladimir Nabokov

This word holds a bit of weight with me, at the moment. I'm currently experiencing an overwhelming desire to start challenging myself again. I'm being both pulled by necessity and pushed by factors that are both environmental and interpersonal. While I was in school, I found that the idea of Toska wasn't an issue. I was pushing myself every single day to create more for myself, to continue to use my environment as something to help fulfill that need to get to the next level. And now, as a member of the good ole' rat race....I find myself failing to stimulate myself on those planes.

Where does your Toska end, and your fulfillment begin? Mine starts here.

I should have begun with a disclaimer: I don't proofread my work. I'll rarely revise it, and will almost never delete from here. So, I apologize in advance if my flow isn't quite right, or if my words are a little confusing. I know that my ability to be concise will come with time, and that my content will begin to string together much more uniformly.

But if you're willing to ride with me....then I'll continue to move forward.

-Andrew