Welcome back to Mr. Faded Glory.
Actually, I should phrase that differently. In fact, you should welcome me back to Mr. Faded Glory. I’m writing again, or at least I’m trying to write again.
I’ll spare you any gory details of my hiatus. It was busy. the painting is done. More stuff has come and gone. But I’ll spare you. After all, you don’t care. You’re not even reading.
Do you realize I’ve written at Mr. Faded Glory for more than 6 years? More than 6 years! And through that time I’ve barely grown from a personal web journal into whatever this thing is about today. Sure, I’ve had some traffic spikes after The Wire analysis or Keurig coffee rants. Believe it or not, I’ve even gained some Cubs followers from time to time.
But largely, Mr. Faded Glory remains undiscovered, or worse, a listless blog that’s not really about anything. That’s the most painful thing of all, actually: the listlessness and meaninglessness of this space. After all, in my normal, day job, I work in marketing. I actually function from time-to-time as the in-house copywriter or de facto creative directorfor a successful company. I can sell shit; or rather, I can package it and write about it and convince you to buy it. I’m good at it.
So why can’t I sell myself?
This blog is about nothing. There’s no wheelhouse. There’s no focus. It’s kind of like me. I don’t really care about anything. And, I simply write. I don’t lazily paint straw-man arguments, nor do I immediately react to each and every minuscule sporting news like the apocalypse is imminent.
Instead, Mister Faded Glory illustrates the frustrations found in idle, lazy passions of consumption– sports, culture and more – when all you’re really frustrated with is your own limitations. Of which there are many.
But, I hesitate to bore you with my internal struggle. (I know, why stop now?) Instead, Mr. Faded Glory will exist into the future as long as I feel it’s necessary to write.
And it’s necessary. Outside these pixels, it’s been quite a month and a year, for me, my family, my friends, and more. A boss once told me that “the 30s are the worst because it’s when life goes to shit.”
And I guess that’s sort of true – the 20s are a stilted period of wistful adolescence; and the 30s are, for better or worse, what happens when you realize who you are. Or who you aren’t. And I should know, I wrote a whole book about the wistful adolescence of 2osomethings. As you might have guessed, it ain’t selling, either.
But who I am is manifested here. I’m a talented writer who’s written a book at least as good as most of the crap out there (He’s modest, too!), but who remains undiscovered because I can’t distill anything about myself into an elevator pitch. I can’t even listen to my own advice. I can’t even change, for crying out loud.
But I’m still here. And I’ll write on. A talented, famous, established writer once told me, “assuming a baseline of talent, the success is largely dependent on perseverance.” And I think he’s right; but perseverance is, of course, the hardest part. Duh.
But my venting is now concluded, and I can move on to other, less melancholy, more futile pursuits. This was surely a roundabout way for me to announce that this fall, Mister Faded Glory becomes the leading Indianapolis Colts blog on the web. You know what? I’m not being fair to myself. I can change. I can announce seismic shifts in our coverage in separate posts, rather than casually dropping a nugget into a personal odyssey.
