I have always enjoyed and despised writing. For one, it makes my hand hurt; moreso since I broke my wrist snowboarding some years ago and have since discovered nerve damage, which is aggravated by the simple task of penmanship.

Still, on an emotional and intellectual level, writing has been at times the perfect drug of choice to appease my addiction of formulating ideas. (Argument being the other drug of course). Being enamoured by the power of words means that saying the right thing the right way becomes so alluring. It also becomes a burden. The faux-moral obligation of only writing a good, completed thought has robbed many inspirations, as I fail to begin for fear of not knowing the end. 

I wonder, is it still possible to capture complete and whole ideas when it is obvious they are incomplete? Or perhaps more true, that the writer is not complete in forming them?  I have a feeling there are good arguments for both sides here. 

I think it is going to be of necessity that I shun the possibilities of error and choose to write incomplete ideas. I’m old enough to have realized that most everything can change, especially an idea. And there is nothing here to be afraid of.

So… I have some ideas, and I am going to start writing them down.