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\u201cI suppose, as a poet, among my fears can be counted the deep-seated uneasiness surrounding the possibility that one day it will be revealed that I consecrated my life to an imbecility.\u201d – <\/em>Mary Ruefle<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n If there was a gun to my head, and I was forced to share the truth about why I am building this blog\/site, I think I would have to choose death. Since high school, I have always wanted to be a writer. For a short time I made a living as a journalist and over the years have had a variety of writing projects, but I still struggle to tell people I am a writer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n That being said, I write some, daily. I don\u2019t really write as a way of expressing<\/em> what I think and feel as much as a means to figure out<\/em> what I think and feel. Very rarely, when I start writing do I have an end in mind, and usually when I do begin with a specific purpose, I struggle to bring it to a close I am satisfied with. For me, writing feels like struggle, struggle, struggle and then a quick burst of comprehension. It is a lot like training a new technique in grappling or wrestling and trying it over and over and failing. Then, once you get it, it works every time \u2026 until it doesn\u2019t.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n I read a quote by a writer named E.L. Doctorow once: \u201cWriting is like driving a car at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n To that end writing has often felt like a very personal experience, a way for me to figure out how and why and where I walk in the world. It has never really felt like it is for others to read. In fact, every time I write something I am told to or because I think it may have some commercial value, I am never happy. I never feel as though I have evolved at the end. Even when I write for myself, by the time I feel like it is decent enough for others to read, I am over it. I have learned the lesson and the writing no longer has any value to me.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n To paraphrase Ivan Drago, I write for me! For me!<\/p>\n\n\n\n And so why publish anything for the world to see? Are you really a writer if at least there is not the opportunity for others to read it? For those who bristle at the contradiction, get to know me better. This inconsistency will seem insignificant compared to the others I embody. I am nothing, if not a contradiction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Boxing writer AJ Liebling wrote, \u201cA writer, like a boxer, must stand alone. Having your work published, like fighting in a ring, puts your talent on display \u2026 Sometimes the results can be disastrous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n So, here it is. This is not a place for discussion or politics and I don\u2019t intend to write anything controversial, although I know that anything we don\u2019t agree with can appear controversial. The good news is there is an \u201cX\u201d in the upper corner. If you don\u2019t want to read it, click it. My ideas and thoughts will disappear.\u00a0 That may be a good suggestion anyway, as I may not always be right. I write each word and think each thought based on the mantra of, \u201cI don\u2019t have to be right, but in the end, I have to get it right.\u201d What that means, is if you don\u2019t like what I say, check back in a bit, I may have changed. I like to keep trying on hats, even after I have decided on a favorite. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Why Hunting for Unicorns? It was a name I had for a blog years ago when I thought I wanted to promote myself as a writer or a thinker. I picked it for several reasons. I see myself as a \u201cseeker,\u201d always looking for magic and the most amazing of things and ideas – unicorns.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I also know that unicorns aren\u2019t real and spending time in search of one is frivolous. It is a waste of time to look for something that isn\u2019t real. If I do find one, I will kill it so I can get back to the business of real shit. <\/p>\n\n\n\n There is a contradiction in my belief in magic and my faith in logic. I am aware of it and I struggle to synergize it daily. If it bothers you, see above.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cI suppose, as a poet, among my fears can be counted the deep-seated uneasiness surrounding the possibility that one day it will be revealed that I consecrated my life to an imbecility.\u201d – Mary Ruefle If there was a gun to my head, and I was forced to share the truth about why I am…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":95,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_coblocks_attr":"","_coblocks_dimensions":"","_coblocks_responsive_height":"","_coblocks_accordion_ie_support":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-21","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/rickrandolph.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/21","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/rickrandolph.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/rickrandolph.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickrandolph.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickrandolph.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=21"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/rickrandolph.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/21\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":111,"href":"https:\/\/rickrandolph.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/21\/revisions\/111"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/rickrandolph.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/95"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/rickrandolph.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=21"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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