How I Became A Serial Killer- Or The Headline You Hate

Jews praying in the Synagogue on Yom Kippur. (...
Jews praying in the Synagogue on Yom Kippur. (1878 painting by Maurycy Gottlieb) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Technically it is the day after Yom Kippur, or the Jewish Day of Atonement, but in reality it is only a handful of hours since I broke my fast.

It wasn’t the most spiritually fulfilling of days for me. I have had other “Yom Kippurs” in which I felt moved, refreshed, rejuvenated and recharged.

But that didn’t happen today. Didn’t happen for a bunch of reasons and now I feel disconnected. Or maybe I felt disconnected before and that is why I didn’t get as much out of the day.

People Don’t Pay Attention To Headlines

Do people pay attention to headlines. I am not really asking the question. I am just sharing a few, random thoughts that are floating around inside my head.

I suppose it is because I have blogged about building community and talked about whether comments are currency. I suppose it is because I have been thinking about my definition of what success is and have wondered if it would change me as a blogger.

If I captured lightning in a bottle would I spend more time trying to keep it locked up in a jar. Would success make me feel freer than I feel now or would it place invisible fetters upon my body.

Sometimes I think it might create the sort of shackles I don’t want, but then again I have a hard time truly picturing that. I suppose it is because I do as I will here.

I don’t spend much time working on headlines because I don’t want to spend my time there. It is not where I want to focus my energy.

That has an impact upon my traffic. I wish that it didn’t, but I am fairly certain it does. If I spent more time there I could probably help bring more people through the doors.

Yet I don’t want to because I want to play with many words and not just a few.

Chagall's Parents
Chagall’s Parents (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I am a writer but I wish that I could paint. Marc Chagall is one of my favorite artists. I look at the painting above these words and see a million different stories and ask a million different questions.

When I look at the painting it makes my heart hurt and sing. Part of what I love about being a writer is the ability to use words to paint a picture. Much of the time I use words and hope they make you feel something.

Up until now I haven’t discovered a hidden ability to paint, although I suspect I could do a decent impression of Jackson Pollock, but I don’t want to be him. I want to be me.

I Am The Reason Why My Headlines Are As They Are

I am the reason why my headlines are as they are. Old Jack writes them for you and not for the search engines. I write them quickly and hope that you will take the time to read the words that lie below and that the content will captivate you.

Does this make me a lazy blogger. Does this mean I am shooting myself in the foot and sabotaging my effort to be successful, whatever that may mean.

Maybe.

Maybe my refusal to focus on one topic hurts me. Maybe I would be nominated to be the best dad blogger if I did nothing but focus on writing about my children and what it means to be a father.

If my son/daughter wrote these words you have read and asked me to share my opinion I might quiz them about the headlines. I might ask them why they don’t spend more time there when they clearly have the ability to write.

And if they were me they might respond by saying it is because they are irritated about the constant chirping from the ten thousand experts in social media. Maybe they would talk about why they hate the term content marketing and how some bloggers have gone nuts when I have shared that.

Bob Dylan- Wedding Song

You might wonder what Dylan is doing here and how he fits. That answer isn’t blowing in the wind. It is simple, the man is an extraordinary writer. I could share a dozen different songs but right now I am having too much fun with the Wedding Song.

These lyrics paint a picture and I see stories in them. I wish I could do what he does, but I haven’t found that skill just yet. But I have more hope here than I do of becoming that painter.

In the end it doesn’t matter because who I want to be is me. I know who that is today but tomorrow is yet to be defined. I’ll leave you with a few lines to ponder.

“You turn the tide on me each day and teach my eyes to see
Just being next to you is a natural thing for me
And I could never let you go, no matter what goes on
‘Cause I love you more than ever now that the past is gone.”

 It is almost 2 am and the dawn breaks here far too soon. See you on the other side.

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